October 2018 Test Drive Meme

[sodder]

OCTOBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to October’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: HALLOWEEN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Wet and rotting corpses/zombies, ghosts, violence, blood, knives, possessed dolls, options for underage drinking

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

It’s not Halloween if you don’t make a trip to a cheesy haunted house. At least, that’s what everyone in Deerington likes to say. The old Victorian stands at the top of a hill, rickety and in desperate need of a new paint job. The yard and porch have been decorated with what you’d expect for your typical haunted house; fake spider webs spread across the overhang, painted foam grave markers with cheesy names like “Here lies Richard Cranium” and “BEWARE!!” in creepy letter etchings. You can see the blinking of variously timed strobe lights in some windows and the shadow of what you’re pretty sure is a full-sized doll standing in the window, meant to look like someone staring out at you. The rocking chair on the porch near the door has a skeleton with a bowl of candy in his lap, and a sign is propped up against the wall next to him.

“ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. TOUCH NOTHING AND NOTHING WILL TOUCH YOU!”

Well that sounds promising.

The first few rooms you enter are appropriately cheesy. There’s the silly burst of air that you hear just before a plastic figuring pops out of a poorly constructed coffin, the clicking sound of the machinery inside echoing in the room when it starts to pull back and the lid closes once again. There’s fog machines trying to give the appropriately spooky air, stuffed sheets shaped to look like dead bodies wrapped up laying in piles on the floor with fake blood staining the white fabric, black lighting to show off words scribbled on doors like “TURN BACK NOW” and “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.” Nothing you haven’t seen before. It might be even worse than things you’ve seen before, over the top cheesy, boring enough to give a yawn. Each door seems to open on its own so you don’t even have to touch the handles.

As you make your way through the next automatic door, the room you walk into is different than those before it. It’s a regular children’s room. A bed against the wall near the window, a dresser in the corner, a small desk with a chair. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the lights not being on, and the strange flickering light in the closet. You step towards it, figuring you’re in for another jump scare, but the door doesn’t open. Whether you’re naturally the curious sort or not, something in the back of your mind makes you want to open the door and see what’s on the inside.

If you fight it and walk towards the next automatic door, you’ll find you’ve walked out to the backyard of the house, those same foam decorations and a dozen or more jack o’ lanterns lighting your way on a path back to the town.

If you choose to pull the door open, however, it’ll take you into yet another room, with a flickering television playing nothing but static. Once you step past the doors of the closet, they slam shut behind you and whoever else dared to enter. The doors won’t lock no matter what you do, no matter how strong the person shaking the handles or pushing against the wood may be. You realize you broke the one rule; you’ve touched something. But can things now really touch you?

The only light source in the whole room is that television and it’s not lighting up much inside the room around it. If you squint when the TV is at its brightest setting, you can just make out another door. Your exit, you hope. But as you make your way towards the door, the flickering suddenly stops, the TV steadily bright, a low humming noise coming from the screen, and suddenly the door seems several more feet away from you than it was a second ago. Before you can reach the door, there’s the sound of trickling water from behind you. If you choose to look back, you’ll see something coming out from the screen - a girl with soaked clothing and pale, rotted skin. She emerges fully from the glass and starts to move towards you. You know it’s best to start running for that door. If you stay and try to fight, you’ll find that no regular weapons work on her, though special weapons and powers that are effective against spirits will definitely do the trick. For those who don’t have any of these at their disposal, however, there is one more hope besides just trying to run; two old school VHS tape sit on the table near by, a fancy machine between them that is meant to copy one to the other. Work as a team and have one distract her while the other records, and you’ll find that she disappears as quickly as she flickered on the screen and the TV will return to static.

Regardless of what you choose before carrying on, the next room you come to as the door slams and locks behind you is entirely different. Brightly lit and filled with what seems like hundreds of porcelain dolls, it’s almost hard to tell where there could possibly be another exit hidden among the massive shelves. You can start to wind your way through them, but before long, you start to hear the sound of running feet, the jingling of bells, the swish of satin, and most eerily the sounds of children giggling - but there’s nothing that sounds save about them. Some of the dolls you saw on the last shelf seem like they’ve moved and are sitting in the corner or laying in a new position on a new shelf. Sometimes you swear you can see their heads turn to watch you pass, but it has to be a trick of the light, doesn’t it?

That is until one of those dolls runs by you, brandishing something shiny in their hands - something sharp. A knife, you realize too late, as it tries to slice at your legs and knock you down. You can kick them away and they’ll go flying, and when the porcelain smashes, the doll will scream in agony. You notice there’s blood pouring from the hole that formed, spreading quickly across the ground. The dolls are easy to kill, but are they really just dolls? You can take your time to contemplate that later, as now you have to fight your way through the violent and armed toys to reach the door at the end of the maze of shelves. Hopefully you can get out without too many severe injuries.

When (or if) you do manage to get to the next room, you seem to have a chance to take a breath and tend to any wounds. It’s decorated like the room of a small cottage, a large pot over the fireplace that isn’t lit, and several jars full of (possibly rotting) food and herbs on the shelves. You see a book on the stand in the center, latched shut and covered in dust. You can open it, if you want, but remember the warning you ignored that got you in trouble in the first place. It’s probably better to carry on to the next room.

If you do choose to open the book, though, there will be eerily glowing text lining the pages, the light will seem to poor out and fill the room, and you’ll be transported back out in front of the house.

Those who continued through the door will find themselves out in the backyard. Just like for those who got out sooner, there are dozens of jack o lanterns, but the graves don’t look like they’re made of foam this time. They’re real stone, engraved with real names and real dates this time. And the ground underneath them seems to be moving, like someone’s trying to crawl out of there. Better not to wait around. Soon as you start to move down the path, you’ll start to hear the sounds of groans as the undead start to crawl from their own graves, pulling themselves up through the dirt, and determined to get to the only food source they see - you. The zombies seem like they’re never ending, coming from every inch of the yard, but at least they’re just like normal zombies - completely incapable of being killed unless you cut off the head. There are shovels lying next to a few graves if you need a quick weapon, but there’s also still always the option to run as fast as you can up the stone path to the front of the house and back towards the street.

When you do finally manage to get back to the front, there’s a momentary blinding flash of light, disorienting anyone near it for a few seconds. When it finally fades, any leftover zombies chasing you have disappeared and the house looks like the same, cheesy haunted house you walked up to in the first place. If for some reason you decide to go and explore the backyard again, the grass will be back to normal, and the graves will all be replaced by cheaply painted foam once more.

Was that all in your head? Who knows. But maybe it’s best to just get out of here.

WE DID THE MASH

Somehow the street lamps have all been converted to oil based flames, the Authority are in witch hats, and every where you go there is music that seems to be playing from faintly glowing bats hanging upside down from telephone wires. The bats will open their mouths in succession, seeming somehow capable of producing the sounds of instruments and singers alike of popular Halloween songs.

Yards are decorated as thoroughly as the front of stores. Maybe you haven't bothered to decorate, but your neighbor sure has! Fake gravestones are propped up in yards, giant fake spiders in trees, and no matter where you walk, the ground seems covered in thick, rolling fog from machines. Or at least you hope it's coming from machines. Hell, you can't even find it in yourself to be too worried! Everyone around you is having way too good of a time! And God, there is food everywhere! Might as well grab a bite while you're out, huh?

It's tempting to break loose and dance. Jack-O-Lanterns absolutely crowd the streets. There's more than you can even begin to count, and all of them are lit all throughout the night. Even if you accidentally trip over some, they don't seem to catch fire to anything or go out! Some neighbors have camp fires set up with marshmallows to roast, while others have...are those broomsticks? Well that's kinda cool, you guess. Correction: it's really cool since you can actually pick one up and take it for a fly! Make sure to attach a little lamp to the front though because God knows it's dangerous flying at night. The brooms only work if you wear the appropriately provided hats, of course, but you can keep both the broom and hat indefinitely and have a readily available means of flight in Deerington after! Be forewarned though: the brooms are as easily broken as regular brooms and the hats easily blown away in the wind.

TRICK OR TREATS

At any of the events, especially the nighttime partying, you can find any number of the following treats (and their potential side effects):

Donuts (Will make you deliriously happy. Everything is amazing to you. May cause a lot of affection. A lot of affection.)
Candy Apples (You will eagerly tell someone everything you like about them. Talk about a sweet tooth.)
Candy Corn (Will make you extremely sad. Like god, you'll be wondering why you hate yourself so much.)
Pumpkin Spice Lattes (Causes suspicious amounts of obedience and a desire to do what you're told.)
Hot Chocolate (Can provide some minor healing. Best stuff to drink with a common cold!)
Hot or Cold Apple Cider (Nothing will happen. It's just really good.)
Alcoholic Cider (This isn't your grandma's apple cider. This stuff will knock you on your ass. Anyone who drinks this will get wasted regardless of whether or not they are immune to alcohol or even ingest regular food. It only takes one or two before you start to get tipsy, but any more than that and you'll be well on your way to drunk. Please drink responsibly. We don't need any FUIs.)

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Comments

[4thwaller]

[ Wade has no intention of taking the alcoholic beverage away from the kid... There are worse things than alcohol, at least in his opinion. RIP Diarmuid. It'd be a lie to say Wade hasn't had his fair share of the stuff. Shit that can actually get him wasted? Uh, hell yes???? He's literally hoarding the shit in his fridge at home. ]

Might wanna go easy there-- [ Wait. Don't mind him just squinting behind his mask, which someone translates into those white eyes. Oh, and suddenly the dude dressed in red is getting a lot closer, and bending to look at Diarmuid's face. ] Peter why do you suddenly have too much hair and an accent?

[thenovice]

[Diarmuid absolutely startles backward at the face near him — not just a face! A white-eyed mask of some sort, something you'd hear from scary folktales. He drops his cider and grips the front of his monk robes with one fist, and leans sharply backward with a yelp. Nearly topples right out of his chair, he has to admit, with owlish eyes.

Ah, but many are wearing costumes... This is a silly thing to be startled by.

It's — It's just a costume, Diarmuid. You're being childish.]

I — I know nothing of this Peter, stranger; I've only just arrived in this place, and my wit came later than even that.

[............ Personal space, Wade.]

[4thwaller]

Are you punking me? [ Wade straightens up, head turning this way and that looking for the cameras. ] What was in that drink of yours?

[ What is personal space, can he eat it? ]

Sorry - I didn't mean to - [ He's used to people being afraid of his face, not his costume to hide said face. ] freak you out.

[ Wade's staring, sorry... ] Wait, rewind. Play. You said you just arrived?

[ Maybe this isn't Peter? Does he have a twin? Long lost twin? Does Wade suddenly have two children? ]

1/2

[thenovice]

[......... Diarmuid hesitantly turns his head to mimic Wade, trying to see whatever the heck he's trying to see. There's nothing there? He thinks? He does detour for a moment to look at the fallen cider, of which he'd only had one precarious sip. It was so bitter?

Oh, the staring's returned. He shrinks only mildly under the stare, something uneasy in him, when he has to catch the gaze of purely white eyes. They mind him of the kind that roll up from ailment or death, or perhaps someone knocked unconscious. He has only seen it once in the monastery, when one of his more sickly brothers fell ill, but...]

... Y-yes, that's the way of it.

Newly arrived. This place is... nothing like home.

[thenovice]

... What's — 'punking'?

[He hopes it's nothing of a violent nature.]

[4thwaller]

[ HMMM. HMMMMMM. HMMMMMMMMMMM. The cogs are turning above Wade's head... but nothing's really coming to show for it.... ] What's your name? Do you have a twin brother?

[ Wade pauses. ] Oh, you are going to Parent Trap the hell out of someone and as long as it's not me, I'm here for it.

[ Earth-548? Everyone's European, has an accent and dresses like a Sith Lord? ] What was home like?

[ Oh. He should probably offer some answers. ]

Punking is just playing a prank on someone.

[thenovice]

... My name is Diarmuid. I know nothing of my blood family, but — I imagine not.

[Unless his parents had many children, and potentially just abandoned only him; which would be a terrible thing, wouldn't it? He'd rather be an only child left behind by desperate parents. Or he hopes they were desperate; Father Abbott told him he had a very kind and loving disposition, when he was picked up along the shore.

He thinks of home again — like a knife, memories cut at him, and he pulls his cloak's hood more tightly around his bruised neck and unwashed curls. Maybe that one gulp of cider has really thrown him off; he feels kind of strange, and — sad.

The Sith Lord tries his best, though.]

Playing a...

I imagine pranks are a sort of mischievous trick.

[4thwaller]

Wait, wait. No offense, can you say that one more time. [ He's not trying to be rude, it's just a name he's certainly never heard before. Don't even ask how many X-Men he's asked to repeat their names already. He'd rather hear it right, learn it right and say it right than cause any bad feelings. ] And blood families aren't always what they crack up to be anyway.

[ Wade's has always been an F word for him. ]

You imagine correctly. So, the name Peter Parker doesn't mean anything to you? At all?

[ Should he be texting Peter right now? Or phoning an adult like Logan? ]

[thenovice]

D—Diarmuid. It's... Irish.

[He's so self-conscious right now, mostly because of how these questions fall in line, like perhaps he's... forgotten something. Someone? But there's no recognition in his eyes, when the name is spoken. More than anything it just confuses the situation more for him. And this strange feeling from that bit of drink he had isn't helping; was it drugged? Poisoned? Oh, Lord, perhaps it was ale after all.

... Well, it's spilt all along the grass now.

He hiccups, then reddens, though it's harder to see in the nighttime lighting.]

... I know nothing of a Peter Parker. Should I?

[4thwaller]

Oh. Cool name, little dude.

[ Wade's not even trying to make him feel insecure. He's just trying to get the facts. And the main fact is that Wade is pretty sure Peter Parker has a long lost dream twin. He should definitely be texting Peter about this. He'd want someone to tell him if Ryan Reynolds showed up... For more reasons than just the stalking.

The hiccup has Wade's head tilting like a curious cat. ] You alright? [ Sure, if he was drinking the stuff that Wade had, he certainly wasn't. That shit put the whammy on him, and he can never get drunk. ]

Not sure yet. We'll put a pin in that. How opposed to the idea that you have a long lost twin are you?

[thenovice]

[He hiccups again. His throat aches with it.]

... M'fine.

[He's tipsy. Terrible, just terrible, what a law-breaker.]

... A long lost twin...? [His eyes widen, and almost unconsciously he finally pushes back his hood to reveal his face more clearly. It's definitely the same build — only with darker smudges beneath the eyes and about the throat, perhaps, and a distinct lack of hair gel. Diarmuid wouldn't know much on that topic, but he does know what Wade's implying.] You — you know someone who looks like me? Surely, it's just a passing likeness.

[He looks like he's two steps away from falling sleep where he sits, were it not for Wade's interesting company. To be fair, the robes look particularly cozy, and he could practically drown in them where he's huddled.]

[4thwaller]

[ Wade's attention that had been locked on the kid's face falls and zeroes in on the bruises around his neck. The way he holds himself changes almost instantly, white eyes narrowing and shoulders tensing. ] Your neck. Who did that to you? [ His calculating gaze scans over the bruises before they're back up to this kid that looks way too much like Peter for Wade to even consider ignoring this. Not that he would or even could. Child abuse chills him to his very core, being a survivor of it. ] Was it someone here? [ Anyone who knows Wade knows that if this kid gave up an answer it'd be a death sentence for whoever did it.

The talk of Peter is put on the back burner for a moment. It isn't a passing likeness, Wade's already decided that. But for all he knew Peter could be a mutant that could Mystique it up or this kid could be. Who knows. Unimportant. What is important is who hurt him. Were there people here that would hurt children? Barring Cable... of course. ]

cw abuse talkin

[thenovice]

[His eyes widen a little at the rounding of Wade's shoulders, and the strange way the whites of his mask shrink threateningly. It's not until he digests Wade's words a second after that he realizes what he's asking about — and, swallowing achingly, a hand moves to his throat.

"The devil has you, boy!"

He's wondered if such a thing were true; he felt so right in his choice, but what if he were bedeviled? What if there was something evil in him? The things Geraldus preached... the things he avoided, or the lives he devalued over the relic... It felt wrong. It must have been...

He looks away from the waiting expression.]

... No one here.

The matter's settled; it doesn't matter anymore.

cw abuse talkin

[4thwaller]

Can I take a look? [ It makes him think back to Russell, about what those sick fucks were doing to those kids. Wade knows a great deal of first aid, he's versed enough to know it's nothing life threatening, and he doesn't know this kid, but he still wants to take a look. ] Hiccuping must suck with that. [ Those soulless white eyes are somehow finding his face again, looking into his eyes and around them. He doesn't see any burst vessels which means it could have been a lot worse. ]

One time I had a guy choke me and could barely talk for a few days after. Of course I still did but. Y'know.

[ Back before his healing factor, he still couldn't be shut up. ] Never did I appreciate soup so much. Mmmm. Now I want soup. Do you want soup? I bet I can find us soup. [ He knows a couple places that might serve soup... What is with his incessant want to feed kids with that face? ]

[thenovice]

[His hand moves to his throat after giving Wade little time to investigate. He'll have seen enough, of course, so it's a fruitless gesture. But something about it feels like he's putting some sort of indescribable sin on display; he's still not sure if Geraldus was his own undoing, or if he was — murdered. Killed. And if he were killed, well... are these not murderous hands? Is he still worthy of his robe?

Cupping his neck with a palm, he shrinks miserably. It's only when Wade chats on about his own misfortune that the monk finally glances up.]

It doesn't hurt that badly... and it only lasted a few moments. I was far more fortunate than others. But I— [He looks at the man with suddenly shimmering eyes, wet enough in the dark, expression so sympathetic that it's practically cartoonish. He places a clumsy hand on Wade's arm, and squeezes; Lord, he hasn't a clue what's come over himself, but he has difficulty keeping his emotions in check — and his composure. This, and thinking about home, and how blessed he had been to survive when so many lost their lives... so many who deserved to live as much as he—] I am sorry that you had to suffer such an attack yourself. It must have been so frightening, but thank the Lord you've survived such dangers.

[... Oh yeah, he drank the heavy cider. The evidence is all over the floor.

(Soup, what soup, he's too busy staring like a glossy-eyed ASPCA animal.)

... hiccup]

[4thwaller]

[ Wade can tell it's not as bad as it could have been simply from the way the kid was holding himself and talking. So that's a good sign. Wade doesn't waste much time making him uncomfortable by trying to keep it the topic of conversation. Instead, he's internally panicking about how shiny the kid's eyes suddenly are. No, no, none of that. Wade doesn't know how to deal with that stuff. ] It's fine, it's done and over with now anyway. [ It's waved off easily enough. Nowadays he can have his throat ripped out and be fine in an hour at most. ] Though I doubt the Lord had anything to do with me surviving. [ If anything it was probably the guy down below. ]

C'mon, bubelah, let's find you some nice soup and bread. Maybe a bread bowl. Or just bread. [ Come on you sad neglected poodle. The guy in the big red body condom is definitely gesturing to follow him. Wade would have to be blind and dumb not to realise he's had the hard cider. Luckily, Wade's sober tonight, one of the few nights he is with this shit going around. It's so rare to find something that actually makes him feel anything more than a little less than sober. Sure if he drinks enough alcohol fast enough he can get kinda wobbly if it's the super strong stuff. But it only lasts for like five minutes. And for someone who is running away from dark thoughts constantly, that doesn't cut it. ] And definitely some water.

[thenovice]

[Glossy eyes stay as such, but at least they aren't wholly 'dog smacked with newspaper' anymore. Diarmuid wonders just what the man might have gone through, if he thought perhaps the Lord had turned away from him — after all, it was said the Celts who had attacked them turned away after God didn't answer their cries. The thought makes his chest ache (perhaps Diarmuid would receive the same treatment, for the things he's done — or did not do).

He sands up on sea legs, but feels stable enough to wander after the man; he's lost his healthy paranoia for strangers with this cider ale, he would think... if he wasn't too busy being loosey-goosey after drinking. Instead he just follows without question.]

... Warm soup...? [His hand presses his stomach, over the overabundance of cloth, and the space trembles with a gurgling growl.] It's the best thing I've heard in days.

... I imagine a bread bowl must be what it sounds like.

[4thwaller]

Yep! Warm soup. It fixes just about everything. Sick? Soup. Hungover? Soup. Broken arm? Soup. Ripped in half? Soup.

[ Wade keeps his pace slow, allowing the kid to walk next to him. He seems just fine to babble about whatever the fuck comes to mind, and whether that's a good thing or not... well, it's debatable. ] And don't get me started on bread bowls. They're almost as great as burritos and tacos.

[ Man, he's just making HIMSELF hungry. ] Having soup in an EDIBLE bowl? It's like a wizard came up with it or something. [ At least he seems to know where he's going. It'd be a lie to say Wade hasn't scoped out like every eatery in Deerington. He's working his way through them one by one, usually with a friend.. ]

[thenovice]

Ripped in half...?

[He says it with a meek, quiet mumble, feeling anxious at the thought. It hardly helps that he has no clue what burritos or tacos are — they sound so incredibly different from anything he's ever heard eaten, either. Why can't this strange world make life easier for him? He supposes that's impossible — and griping is useless to both yourself and the Lord. He swallows hard and tries to move on passed 'ripped in half', ominous as it sounds.]

I like bread and soup.

But I think a Wise'ard would have more pressing things to create, than edible bowls...

[A pause.]

Sorry, but — what shall I call you?

[4thwaller]

[ Being ripped in half sucked about as much as it sounded. But Juggernaut was cool... And sounded suspiciously familiar. It was like the Studio didn't want to pay anyone else. ]

Deadpool -- your knight in shining armour. [ Wade's pretty sure he'd have a bad time if he kept drinking that stuff, or if he was left to his own devices half drunk in murder town. ] Here to deliver you safely to Denny's and slay anything that gets in our way between here and there.

[ Can Wade be serious? It's a mystery, but he's certainly not being right now. He doesn't even have his weapons. ]

[thenovice]

[If he knew what a record-skipping sound was, it'd certainly be here.

Diarmuid hesitates, falling behind a little, looking unsure of this new information. He still follows, of course! It is just... Well, the memory of the last collection of 'knights' he'd fallen into meeting with had been...]

You're a - knight? Where do you hail from?

[At least he is not a french knight. And so far, he's been kind. Still, the thought of him knowing what happened worries the boy; after all, do knights not all have a sort of... unity? Would the man be so welcoming, if he knew what happened on the path toward Waterford?

........]

... From Dennys?

[4thwaller]

[ Wade lets out a thoughtful little hum. ] Saskatchewan. But I hail from the Denny's in Saskatchewan. I was probably popped out in their bathroom stall.

[ Seriously though, little dude, why are you slowing down? Wade slows his own gait to walk next to Diarmuid. Are those little leggies tired or something? ]

Sir Deadpool of Denny's in Saskathcewan. It's totally a mouthful, huh? Sir Jaime Lannister can get dunked on! [ So much for knights getting along........ ]

You said you're Irish right? Ireland's great..... I - uh - love rain.

[thenovice]

... I suppose it does rain often enough.

[Sorry, he couldn’t keep up with most of what you’d said there. And while he seems a little skittish at the way Wade slows down — a little on guard, as if he worries that the man may use his brick for pummeling — he seems to relax a bit when he senses no menace in the man’s tone. De Merville had at least been pretty transparent in his sinisterness.]

And what is Denny’s, Saskatchewan like, m’lord?

[Oh no, he’s so genuine and interested in knowing. You’re cruel, Sir Deadpool.]

[4thwaller]

[ Is he really gonna try to say rain isn't a defining trait of Ireland? Is he really? ]

Cold. Canadian. Pancake-y. Really everything else melts away when you realise Justin Baedeau is in charge. Hubba hubba.

[ What was he talking about, oh, right, they're gonna be turning here, buddy. ]

What's it like where you're from? Green? A weird lack of snakes?

[thenovice]

[He looks so very confused. Poor kid. Though he can at least comprehend this Justin person must be some sort of Saskathcewan... But as he asks about home, he just laughs a little, shaking his head and almost staggering drunkenly sideways.]

In honest answer, I must say you're right...! We've no snakes and it's very green. There are many rolling hills... And it rains often...! And foxes and deer and rabbits run the lands...

[He blinks blearily.]

What is a Hubba-Hubba?