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November 2018 Test Drive Meme

NOVEMBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to November's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: WONDERLAND.

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.

PLEASE NOTE: Due to the nature of November's plot, character arrival prompts are unavailable in this month's Test Drive. Throughout each prompt, all characters will very clearly feel as though they are still stuck in a dream, and are working on a way to get out.

CW: Body horror (growth/shrinking), implied drugging, violence via swords and bludgeoning

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

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Prompt Three
Prompt Four
Master Navigation

BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING

The hallway you've ended up in is long and narrow, almost seeming to twirl in on itself as it spirals a long way out of sight. There's no means to go back the way you came - it's walled off now, somehow, though you're not sure when or how it happened - and so you realize if you want to leave, the best thing to do is just move forward. You walk along the checkered marble floor, the click and the clack of your shoes echoing off the twisted walls, the only sound in the whole place as you move.

You're almost convinced you're never going to find the end of this hallway, until you start to see a pinprick of light in the distance. Maybe you even pick up your pace when you start to see it. Regardless of whether you keep at an even walk or you sprint towards the light, you eventually get to the end of the hall. The ceiling has stretched up way out of sight at some point, but there's still a light shining down from somewhere, casting a large spotlight on the only two objects in the room: a fairly large dollhouse on the floor and a table with a cup filled with what looks like punch and a plate with a piece of cake on it. There's a sign, neatly handwritten in black ink: EAT ME! DRINK ME! At least it's to the point.

You can choose to ignore that sign, but as you observe the dollhouse, or the hall you're trapped in, there are two things that might persuade you into realizing it's your only option: 1) There's no door at the end of this hall in order to let you out of it, which means you're still as trapped as you were at the start. And 2) There is a door on the front of the dollhouse and if you squint, you can see a tiiiiiiny key stuck in the lock.

This all might be looking familiar to a fortunate few.

Eventually, you'll have to cave, or end up sitting there forever. Whether you choose the cake or the cup, the moment you swallow, you'll start to feel an uncomfortable ache through your whole body. Soon you can start to feel your bones caving in on themselves, your muscles tightening and shrinking, and your whole body might even start to feel like it's about to implode. It's agonizing - worthy of a scream or two as the magic works through your body, and you see the world starting to become bigger and bigger...

And all at once, it stops. The dollhouse now looks as big as a real house and that key? Is just the right size for your hand. You turn the key, push open the door, and enter into a grand foyer, brightly lit and covered in flowers and ribbons. On top of that? You're no longer alone - someone is in the room with you and they seem to have been stuck waiting for someone to help them explore the house.

TAKE SOME MORE TEA

Sometimes dreams just don't make sense. And this room seems to be the one that sticks out the most. You can see the ceiling, decorated with whimsical paintings and colorful chandeliers, and you can see the four walls, but the ground is definitely grass and dirt, and somehow there seems to be a fresh breeze blowing through, bringing in the crisp air of fall and the scent of burning leaves. Strange, since the grass is so green, strikingly so when compared to the white linen of the table cloth covering the expansive table in the center of the room, and there's not a fallen leaf to be seen anywhere.

There is, however, several place settings, several tea cups, and several tea pots. Your favorite treats are stacked high on the plates in front of you, smelling so fresh your mouth is watering already. It seems like a feast just for the two of you and your stomachs are starting to growl. Maybe sitting for a little while to rest and eat wouldn't be so bad, right? You notice name cards in front of each place setting and eventually, you find your own names, neatly printed in bold lettering. It's best to take a seat if you're going to dig in.

As you start to pile food onto your plate, you notice there's a card between the two of you, with a fun riddle printed out for you to solve:

I'm as small as an ant,
as big as a whale.
I'll approach like a breeze,
but can come like a gale.
By some I get hit,
but all have shown fear.
I'll dance to the music,
though I can't hear.
Of names I have many,
Of names I have one.
I'm as slow as a snail,
but from me you can't run.
What am I?

It might seem like fun and games, but you'll find that as you eat, your mind is getting a little foggier, and the words are blurry and harder to understand. You think it's time to go and you get up from your seat to do just that, but the door you came through - the only door in the room - is locked.

Chances are that riddle is your only means to get that door open. When you finally do solve it, a bright light will appear, and you'll need to stand in front of it, lining your shadow up with the handle, and miming turning it in order to get the door to open itself.

OFF WITH THEIR HEADS

The strategists might enjoy this next room when they open it; in front of you is a giant chessboard, one half of the board all set up and ready to go, and the other half of the board just missing a few pieces in order to get started. The Knight seems to have gone off to do his own thing and, much to the dismay of those around them, the Queen seems to have made herself scarce as well. But luckily for you both, there's two of you! And you seem to be just in time to take the place of these missing players.

Once you each settle into your chosen square, the game begins. It seems pretty tame at first - pawns moving to various pawns, and maybe one of you is taking charge and shouting for where each piece should go next. Best left to the Knight, likely, considering the strategy needed for that particular piece. And all is well and good and fun - until the first piece gets taken. Or, rather, not so much taken, as suddenly smashed to pieces by their opposition.

It doesn't take long to realize the same will happen to you if either of you are captured by your enemies. You have to rethink now, figure out the best strategy to not only win the game, but to make sure that neither of you ends up dead on the way there. You see the other Knight has a giant sword, one that seems to slice through the marble pieces around you like they're made of butter.

If you fail, you can try and dodge the blast, and you could also choose to run from the start; but there's a high chance the pieces will begin to revolt and come after you. You can either play the game or try and fight your way to the door. An interesting dilemma, considering that you're unarmed.

I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE

This dollhouse is filled with tons of rooms, all of which seem to have their own unique flair, and sometimes they seem to be very much filled with the uniqueness of you. As you and your companion explore each door, you eventually start to open ones that seem to contain pieces of them or pieces of you put onto display. How is that possible? Well, you're not quite sure, but it certainly seems like they've managed.

Some of these rooms may hold memories playing out like strangely made stop-animation films; clay versions of yourself and anyone who was in the memory with you, mocked up to put your deepest secrets or your happiest moments into a visual reality. Other rooms may hold objects that relate to your very being - either physical items from home that were exceptionally important to you or metaphorical symbols of who you are as a person. A heart for loving, a stuffed lion (or a real lion, though you'd better hope it's friendly) for courage... All those stereotypical links people have created to show who they are over time.

There's no choice but to keep searching these rooms, though, learning more about yourself and your companion than either of you probably ever wanted to know - because eventually, one of those rooms? Is your ticket out. You'll know when you see it. A giant mirror will be leaning against the wall, the image fuzzy and rippled and not at all the reflection of the room around it. If you put your hand to it, it will sink right through. So long as you don't shy away in fear, you've finally found the end to this dream - or nightmare, as the case may be for some.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Following where her thumb pointed, Logan listened to her as he shoved his hands into his pockets, posture slouching slightly. He figured he might as well get comfortable, even in minor ways.

The sword didn't look normal, that much was certain, and the thought of "decades" made him think about the claws he'd taken back into his hands. Decades, centuries-- didn't really make a difference when either of their weapons were drenched in blood, did it? Logan's claws just weren't quite so obvious. ]

Drinking's not gonna get us out of here. [ He didn't plan on dragging her out just yet, though. While Logan'd never been able to get drunk, he understood the need to drink something-- the need to pretend that maybe things could go away with something simple like alcohol.

It never worked for him, sure. But he'd give Vira-Lorr a few minutes. ]

...might make you feel better, but. You can't stay in a memory forever.

Edited 2018-11-02 16:14 (UTC)

[She took another sip, finishing the tiny cup off and setting it down on the bar. It wasn't like he was wrong. And, in fact, she could feel the temptation to linger her despite feeling like her own subconscious was getting on her case with this place. But Logan was right.]

You are, of course, right. Drinks are for the after-battle celebration, are they not? When you are free and safe.

[She stepped forward, looking around with two of her eyes looking one direction and her third looking the other, her lips thinning in a line. At least there wasn't another blasted riddle. That had been annoying, and nothing was making her feel fuzzy or light-headed.]

Besides, drinks aren't the same without Sharona around to share them with sadly. We shouldn't linger. This place might try to keep us here after all. I am sure I can find a bar when I wake up.

[ Another brief pang of empathy, but Logan nods his head. ] I know this great place called Hair of the Dog. [ And he'll buy her a beer himself so long as they get out of here. With a brief cock of his head he walks back the way they'd came, but not before stealing the sake bottle she'd been drinking out of.

He hands this to her once they're safely out of the door. Little comforts, you know.

It doesn't look like there's any end to the hallway in sight. Logan opens the next door, sees a big, round room, with a bridge leading to a platform with a machine in the middle, and then shuts it once more.

The door after that shows a clay boy about to kill a clay deer in a beautiful forest.

The third gives him darkness and Beethoven's Fur Elise, but with the angered voice of a woman in the background, even if her words are garbled and impossible to understand.

He growls under his breath as he shuts that one, too. ]

It's all memories.

Why is it that taverns always have the most charming of names, I wonder? The best establishment are always named that colorfully.

[She had a bemused look when he snatched the bottle for her and took it with a nod of thanks. Keeping the small cup in her hand, she had another sip of it while it was still good and warm as the two walked down the hallway. The bottle mostly empty, she slid it into her belt and capped it before putting the cup away to look into the first room.

A chamber of metal, a wired helmet that looked to be a device of power of some sort. It was surreal, as she hadn't seen a room with that much metal in her life. Stonework, even magically enhanced stonework, was the choice of her world. So, seeing what was the stuff of weapons everywhere was a little eye-popping.

While they walked, she opened one of her own, and the sight visibly jarred her. It looked to be an old altar set out on top of a great, decayed stone platform. Broken pillars adorned its surroundings, and darkness that looked even from there to be the stains of bloody sacrifices from countless deaths over the years were obvious. All around were the signs of a jungle cavern so densely forested there was no exit. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed before she shut the door a bit too firmly.]

unpleasant memories in many cases, it would seem. I do not see why the dream would show us these things. There is nothing to be learned from old, fetid places like that.

[She didn't actually ask Logan about what he saw, though Cerebro's chamber did make her curious. Plunging headlong into another person's memories was rude at best, and while she could be invasive at times, she wasn't in the business of offending her only ally in this place by assuming she had the right.

[ Logan sees the altar behind Vira-Lorr's door, but it's the scent of old blood in the scent of a cave that catches his attention. Though definitely not the same in context, it reminds him a little bit of when he used to live in a cave with his brother-- their floors had been stained with blood too, albeit more because they were children who didn't know how to cut their kills right.

In any case, he doesn't argue when she shuts it again. ] Deerington doesn't like letting you forget where you came from.

[ The next door doesn't show a direct memory, but heads-- children's heads, propped up nicely on top of cardboard box towers. Blood runs from where their heads have been severed at the neck, nice and clean like they'd been run through a butcher's machine.

Logan growls. All their eyes are open, milky in their decay, and their dead pupils stare at him. ]

...doesn't like it when you forget all the shit you did, either.

[ The door shuts with a click. ]

Guess you're new here then, huh.

[There weren't many things that had gotten more than a mild reaction from Vira-Lorr so far. When she'd seen a rook smash the knight beside her, she'd simply reached down mildly to pick up its sword and turn it on the piece herself without so much as batting an eyelash. Sure, it had taken a few swings, but she seemed at least a little battle-hardened. Her emotions seemed to be tinged most of the time by mild humor and an almost casual air.

...Right up until she saw severed kid heads, that is.

She visibly recoiled from the sight of them, one hand going to cover her mouth with the sleeve of the kimono while her eyes first widened in shock and then narrowed to almost slits. Her other hand went to where the knight's sword and gripped at the hilt, only the memory of this being a dream and not reality holding her back from actually pulling it.]

What... What is the meaning of that?!? They're children!

[She had stopped moving. His question wasn't quite answered, though it was probably a little obvious that she was new here. This wasn't the first time she'd seen dead kids, but she never did learn to react quietly to the sight.]

Did you...

[She stilled the force of her words, stopping there for the moment. Memories of Vashtor came to her. Rex had forgiven him, and Logan certainly didn't look proud about that grisly scene.]

[ Logan looks back at her, then down at his fist. She'd seen his claws back in the chess game-- she knows there're long blades that push out between his knuckles, knows that they can cut through anything.

His fingers clench. But, remembering the sword Vira-Lorr had spoken of, all he says is, ] My blood-soaked swords are in my arms.

[ The next door is less gruesome, opening to the sight of little village made of toothpicks sitting on top of a display table. A bottle on a smaller table to its left is labelled POUR ME. There's a lighter, meanwhile, on a smaller table to the main table's right side, also labelled USE ME.

The door, Logan finds, cannot be closed. In that same way, when he turns his head to look down the rest of the hallway, he finds himself clicking his tongue when he sees the hallway's suddenly cut itself short, even though he knows they had quite a way to go still. ]

Damn it.

A story for another time.

[She said it in a wooden way that hinted that she planned to ask him about the story later, but that it wasn't something she was going to stress right now. They were in the middle of a dream and none of this was truly real, not in a way that mattered right now. She could put this aside for the moment and follow him.

She took one look behind them, third eye narrowed before she sighed and stepped past him into the room, her tone now finally starting to show some of the tiredness. She was ready for this to be over, probably as ready as he was.]

It seems that it's decided that this memory is to be played with. They do like putting labels on bottles do they not?

Then I guess we gotta do this fast. [ Logan pours the contents of the bottle-- gasoline, apparently-- over the toothpick masterpiece, fully expecting Vira-Lorr to light it all after. If not, he'll do it himself.

But the flames flick, the toothpicks engulfed in raging, roaring fire. As they start to crumble, that's when the sounds start-- the screaming echoing off the walls, the sound of debris falling, of bones breaking, of people screaming for help.

Logan hates it. Shivers a little, even, as it happens-- because the sounds come in perfect quality, like he's hearing them in real life.

Only when the town's burnt through completely does the door open for them. The rest of the hallway is waiting. ]

[When the screams started, Vira-Lorr wished earnestly that she hadn't already polished off her drink. This reminded her too much of times when she had heard the screams of the dying in the midst of a fight. Villages burned as goblins and the forces of darkness took their fill, while her own allies fought to save the townspeople. She felt no shame in burning a dream town down, but the memories weren't pleasant.

As soon as the door opened, she waltzed forward without a word and put her foot down against it, propping it so it couldn't change its mind and motioned with her hand for him to follow. Her lips had a more grim set to them now. Puzzles were one thing. Being unceremoniously judged by her dreams with a strange? Entirely another.]

The sooner we are through this and awake, the sooner we can have a real drink and talk like civilized people, I think you'll agree.

[ Logan walked out without any hesitation, though the frown on his face was even deeper (if that was possible). He didn't care much for rekindled memories, either, and a low growl sounded in his throat as he stood in the hallway with her. ]

Yeah, [ he grunted ] I agree. [ There were still so many doors waiting for them, though, and while Logan couldn't imagine they'd have to look at all of these rooms, it also seemed par for the Deerington course to require just that.

Another displeased noise. There was nothing he could do about it now besides play along. ]

But it's your turn to pick a door, V.

My turn, is it? Very well. Let us see what awful thing it will bring from my memories, shall we?

[She stepped down the hallway and opened a door, showing... an onsen? There was a broken bamboo wall nearby and distantly the sounds of punching could be heard, along with a squawking cry, seconds before she closed the door with a slamming motion, cheeks a little heated and a laugh on her lips.]

Perhaps a different sort of awful. Let us not go in there unless we absolutely must.

[And she quickly left behind the door with Winfield's fate getting pummeled off camera by Borgnine, walking to the next door and opening it. Once again, the hall was starting to pull in around them, leaving them little choice but to enter.

...It looked like a great stone spire, almost like a spear had been jabbed down into the continental shelf itself, towering high into the sky above them. The earlier embarassment was fading, and she just looked... sad.]

I ... suspect that the spire itself will have the answer we seek here. I suppose not all sadness must be full of screams and pain, must it?

[Just the memories of those who were now long gone.]

[ Forced entrance into a room can only mean it's a room that'd leave them wanting to run away. Vira-Lorr enters it, however, so Logan follows suit behind her with what he hopes is the right amount of displeased trepidation.

The fact that it seems like they're outdoors instead of in a house messes with his senses-- that's not right. It can't be right. But if she thinks they have to go into the spire, then... ]

God, I hope we don't have to get to the top. [ The comment comes out sarcastic more as a defence mechanism than anything, but Logan makes his way forward, anyway. ]

We never could. No, we probably just have to touch it, but... just be ready for anything.

[After all, she knew what happened when these were activated the last time that she had been at a spire. Reaching out, her hand pressed to the spire and she closed her eyes, wincing. It was like a light started glowing at the base of the thing, waiting to shoot up it.

There was a low rumbling in the ground below. She winced.]

Not a memory I need to relive. I just saw it only the other day...

[ Holy shit. The light makes him take a cautious step back. Just because he's convinced this is a dream doesn't make the whole thing any less intimidating; Deerington itself is a dream, and Logan's nearly died in it to know that it's real-feeling enough he doesn't want to risk it. ]

Why's the ground shaking? [ He can feel it under his boots and he doesn't like it one bit. Logan looks back to the door, hoping that it's still open and not closed to force them to stay in...

He tilts his head up, staring at the light at the top of the spire. ]

What is that, energy?

[No door behind, but in front there was an outline like a door that seemed to be forming along one side with her hand. The energy pulsed below, seemingly waiting for his hand as she kept hers pressed to it. She turned and looked at him before motioning with her head.]

Because if it is when I think it is, everything of this world but the spire we stand on will fall away, crashing to the world far below. Countless lives will be lost. The world I knew will end. And yes, it is energy.

...there should be no harm. It is just a memory. [A very fresh one.]

Just 'cause it's a memory doesn't mean there's no hurt.

[ But Logan spares his hand a glance, and-- in that resigned way that's apparently inherent to these hallway tasks-- presses his palm where it ought to be. ]

Yes, well... you'll see soon anyway.

[The light below thrummed and then shot up through the spire. Its glitter was almost like the spire itself was made of a dull quartz, one that looked like it was stone until light managed to pass through its smokey interior. It snaked up and out of sight, blossoming in a corona over their heads.

The ground shook and, behind them, the world literally cracked, crumbled and fell away. Chunks of the continent, as far as the eye could see, broke away and collapsed into a distance far below. The screams of the dying where there until the last of them collapsed and left the two on a platform of stone on a spire far above the ocean, where the collapsing land settled and came to a rest.

The door resolved and clicked, opening inward and showing the hallway once more. She just sighed.]

There is plenty of pain. Just not physical pain. We were 'fortunate' when it happened.

[ Logan flinches back at the bright light, even if his palm stays flat against the spire. He follows its trajectory until the ground shakes, and rather than the fear of the earthquake, he feels his blood run cold at all the screaming that follows, instead.

Jesus. He shuts his eyes and he can hear them all individually; can hear the difference in cadence for every scream, the ages of each voice, the sexes.

When it ends, they echo in his head still. Logan's ears are ringing, and it's only his imagination, but he worries they might be bleeding out. ]

...ain't nothing fortunate about this, V. [ And when they make their way to the hall once more, he wonders where that bar door had been, because now he's regretting not picking something up to drink, himself.

Despite the silent agreement they seemed to have reached in not asking, Logan finds himself muttering all the same: ] That was your world?

[Her ears didn't ring quite as much. The memories were still fresh, that event having only happened yesterday for her, that the world had collapsed all around them, leading to the restarting of all life, the rebuilding of civilization in a new world of sorts.

A curt nod and she looked back at the door sadly.] It was. That is what happens when you are forced to kill the gods who once, long ago, gave you life. Their false vision collapses like a house of cards.

False vision? [ Logan doesn't move to open the next doors just yet, looking at Vira-Lorr with furrowed brows. ] What-- were they not real gods?

You don't seem the type to have all that destroyed without a reason.

Real gods, but they made a false world, the world that we knew, to try and make what had been imperfect perfect in their eyes. It led to a war eons before I was born, and the fallen gods were sealed away. We had to finish them off.

[Which was an almost insanely oversimplified description of what had happened, but good for short hand.]

And I would say "Kill or be killed" is a reasonable reason. Chaos meant to undo it all and start over. We decided to claim our lives on our terms, so that at least some survived.

(OOC: Hah, so the short answer is yes, in the last generation. Long answer is that every female character that isn't marriage material through the first four generations is a possible marriage partner for Rex in the fifth generation if you do things right.

In her canon - Rex married Dyshana, not her.)

[ It didn't make the idea of all those people dying any easier to swallow, but Logan's expression went from furrowed confusion to a slightly more tame resignation. ] ...I see. [ Better some than none, isn't that how it goes? Logan shakes his head. ]

Of course you had to clean up a fucking god's mistakes. Piece of shit deities. [ He makes his way to the next room, opening the door quickly, and all there is is a grizzly bear lying on its side. It reeks of five day rot, and with it a very obvious sick-- its old, maggot-infested wound is soaked in the green of poison that won't abate.

And still, dead as it is, the grizzly bear moans, wailing in pain. It gets louder when Logan sets his eyes in it, its aches rattling in his bones, bouncing off the walls of his skull. ] You see enough misery, you start to wonder if it's not just some god fucking it all up.

[ Without hesitation, Logan steps in, claws pushing out of his fists and stabbing the bear clear through the head. Old, rotten blood gushes out onto the floor and the bear goes quiet; when he pulls his claws out from its head, they're flecked with the material of its brain, dripping dark liquid that fizzles when it hits the floor.

He shakes his fist once, splattering excess blood against the wall before he pulls his claws back up into his arm. Then he leaves the room with a low snarl. ]

I wish I knew the god responsible for this crap so I could kill it, too.

[Better some than none, but that would not be a thing that would earn them easy forgiveness among the survivors, if they realized what happened.]

If you had asked me once, I would have said man makes most of its own misery, but the gods have certainly shown their hand far too much for my liking.

[She watched him do it ambivalently, the act getting no reaction. It was an act of mercy to the poor beast, the bear going silent while the two of them moved on. In the next doorway, she paused as she opened it and her face set like flint.

It looked like a set of prison doors in an old world dungeon. She walked towards one of them and growled, gripping the door.]

If there is a god behind all of this, they bleed and die, the same as any other. Perhaps even their creator did once.

[Yanking on the door, there were old shackles, a little bit of blood, but as well there was a mirror there in the room right where the shackles stood. Vira-Lorr raised an eyebrow, looking back at him.]

this... isn't what I expected to see here. I half expected to find an old friend here.

(OOC: Heh, it's amusing. Reminds me of other games where your spouse determines the future stats of the next generation's hero. Just never could get behind the Rex/VL ship. He's got much better chemistry with Dyshana and Ellis.

Ellis' prison cell seemed a good stopping point on the memory lane trip. They've seen a bit of each other's past after all.)

[ The sight of a mirror in place of a prisoner was... underwhelming, to say the least. Logan found himself staring at the essentially empty room with a slightly confused expression.

But there was something about the mirror that made him step forward-- something that felt like instinct in his gut. Logan stepped into the room and stood before it, watching a smooth face that refused to reflect him. ] What the hell...?

[ He reached his hand out, then jerked back when the surface he touched felt more liquid than solid, allowing his hand to sink in a few inches. It covered the tip of his finger and dripped down with the consistency of ketchup. ]

This part of your memory? Or--