Entry tags:

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.

Threaded | Flat

i. Begin at the Beginning

[KOS-MOS stops towards the middle of the room, red eyes unblinking as she takes in the room.]

Analyzing.

[Every detail is marked in memory, from the composition of the cake to the type of wood of the table and the handwriting on the sign.]

Unable to determine location. The confection on the table does not possess any unnatural ingredients. There are no poisonous substances and seems to be fresh.

[She says to her company, but really because she's analyzing the mysterious place she's ended up in due to mission.]

You may proceed how you wish. I shall proceed back the way we came and create an exit.

[KOS-MOS really is about to punch a hole in the wall.]

ii. Tea Party

[The riddle is easy enough to solve. Her algorithms make it a simple task, though she does not say anything as they take their seats at the table where their names sit. Incapable of consuming organic food, she sits confused, staring at the food that is not in her database, but looks appealing.

Her hand comes to rest over her stomach plates, head slowly turning towards her companion.]

Error. There appears to be a malfunction behind my abdominal plates.

[Though she was able to get here so... she's still confused about that.]

iii. That's Wizard's Chess

[Chess is a simple task for her programming to figure out. Probabilities and strategies for the most efficient path to victory are what she's programmed with.

But she does not move to take one of the spots. The android considers the situation at hand and the quickest path is to simply walk through. It's the most logical, as, after all, she cannot understand the point of giant chess pieces. There is no logical reason for her to play, and no interest.

KOS-MOS completes her analysis of the situation and moves forward without a word, moving to cross the chessboard without paying any mind to the pieces.]

iv. There's something about Mary [CW: lots of christian religious facts screwed around with because Xenosaga]

[KOS-MOS does not have hopes and dreams. Her relations with those who accompany her are strictly professional. She has two missions, three if she happens to find Shion. Her past is limited, but there's something inside her that triggers a shift, watching as a dark-haired woman with dark skin, cradling a body close to her as she weeps.

For some reason, that woman bears an identical appearance to the android standing there. There's sadness, heavy and thick as the woman brushes the body's hair from her face. A deep pain that strikes KOS-MOS hard and forces her a step back, the bright red lenses zooming in and out, parts of her body twitching as if malfunctioning.

Remain long enough, and there's a shift. It all stops and KOS-MOS closes her eyes, only to open them, eyes blue and bright, and something in her expression shifts, to one of despair, lifting a hand for the lifeless woman.]

I'll protect you this time.

[Speaking to her will cause the consciousness of Mary Magdalene to retreat, and KOS-MOS will not understand the image.]

BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING

[Diarmuid has... accepted Deerington. Mostly. He hasn't explored as much as his curious mind would usually compel him, for as much as he's inquisitive by nature, he's also seen the price of getting involved in tragic events one, perhaps, should have entirely avoided. And yet... despite trying to adhere to common sense and evade what may aim to harm, he finds himself thrust into the danger without want.

He doesn't remember how he gets in this place, but he reminds himself worriedly that he's asleep, asleep and dreaming elsewhere. In a boat, alone, with no direction — but safe, apparently, while he journeys through this realm (God be with him, Lord protect him). The boy in the monk's garb eventually bends to the hopelessness of the situation:

He listens to the signs... and shrinks. It is a terrible feeling, one that leaves him breathless and curled in on himself on the porch of the dollhouse for a while. But with that decision comes the relief of progression: he walks into the dollhouse, hiding under a shadowy cloak as he surveys the world about him. It's still so overwhelmingly different from the monastery. Couches, electrical lamps, carpet... It all goes over his head, some sort of mystical world he might have dreamed up heaven to be like. He can hear himself now, six-years-old and thinking about floors made of the softest animal skins, so fluffed and comfortable you can doze for days without feeling ill.

Heaven to a small boy — such a funny thing. Now he just prays its easier than living.

Is there someone else here...? He thought he heard footsteps... God, let them be kind ones.]

TAKE SOME MORE TEA

I don't think it's wise, to touch anything.

[He speaks to whatever new company is at his side now, as it seems many are lost in this place; perhaps that's the way of it, of this Deerington (this purgatory). He considers trying to cast the spirits from this food, be there any. His mouth waters at such simple things — freshly made bread rolls, cooked under a cauldron turned upside down on fiery stone. Fish and clam, carefully prepared by the brothers for a bountiful feast.

He shakes his head, sucking in a breath.

... A little card has his name on it. The Irish monk says worriedly:]

The last time we ate and drank here, it was — terribly painful.

This is a temptation. We shouldn't stray.

I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE | CW: Potential Violence, Torture, Gore in Memories

[He should have foreseen that terrible recollections of the past would haunt him in a dream world. After all, what is a dream without a sharp and vicious nightmare to follow? As he traverses the rooms, he finds not all is a welt to be bracing for: there are good things, little things that remind him of his life. He passes little monk dolls, sitting on a child's desk — they look so much like his brothers in Kilmannan. He picks up one that looks not like a monk, but is no less precious; the mute. His friend.

He feels his eyes burn. He whispers:]

My friend, I am so sorry.

[Blood drips from the doll's torso, and Diarmuid startles, dropping it.

It thumps softly on the floor, and leaves a pool of red underside. Some of the other monks, they form their own bloody marks, too reminiscent of their deaths. Rua, his fellow brother, his head is saturating with it, and Ciaran's doll has a rosy blossoming of death on his midsection... A red ink, Diarmuid hopes, but only loosely, knowing it too optimistic. His hands shake, and he looks around helplessly.]

What is this place? Why do this to us?

Why keep us imprisoned in our sleep and taunt us?

Edited 2018-10-30 23:29 (UTC)

[The Beginning]

[It was, admittedly, a little bit silly. Her well-worn leather boots had been the only percussive accompaniment to her own thoughts as she wandered further into this dream. Or to be most precise, this nightmare. Worse, somehow, than the Hunter's Nightmare, and yet some sort of relief from it all at once.

She's not stupid. Conveniently placed foods, with conveniently placed labels are a little too good to be true, and thus it must certainly be a trap. She turns the bottle over in her hands once, twice, then picks up the cake. It at least smells good, fresh, and overbearingly sweet. That makes her trust it a little more.

It takes a bit of wandering there, back toward where she came, and then back into the room to decipher this is about the only way she can fix her situation, so down the hatch the cake goes. And oh, she regrets it almost immediately. The pain is immediate, intense, and she does scream in pain a few times, but in all honestly, it's only about as bad as when she infuses her Rakuyo with her blood.

Maria is almost surprised when she looks up and the house is large enough to enter. The key seems to work just fine. She can only walk inside. Her stomach clenches a bit in dread at going through, but she's seen and faced worse. The Healing Church and the beastly scourge it unleashed... that must have been worse than anything she'll find inside.

Don't mind your somewhat stoic companion. She has to check whomever she runs into inside over for weapons, for potential threat, and then... she doesn't smile, but her stance relaxes, at least a little.] ... How unusual. Are you trapped here, too?

[Off With Their Heads]

[She's related to Cainhurst nobility, but setting herself up on the Knight's position is all well and good with her. It's a more technical piece, and one that tends to get sent out to the front lines quickly, so she'll be fine with it. She'll even help with the strategies whenever she needs to.

Then again, the first time a pawn ends up getting its block knocked off she's put slightly more... on edge.] ... This is no ordinary chess game. Prepare yourself, friend, we may be safer just escaping.

[She's already reaching for her swords.]

[I am not myself, you see]

[The house is odd, but what is more odd is coming upon a room with lumenflowers just... sprouting out of a vase, right in the center of it. She's caught by the sight, almost immediately, and walks in toward it, delicately raising a hand to feel at the flowers. She hadn't seen any flowers here, yet. Not that she'd recognized, and not that she'd grown fond of, either.

... No, it's no matter, she quietly shakes her head, then turns back around.] I am not sure why these are here. We should move on.

[Curiosity killed the Hunter, after all.]

> Eat Me Drink Me

[It took a while for her to actually figure out she was supposed to attempt to eat or drink something, especially given the fact she.. Can't do either thing. So how exactly did this work? Don't think about it.

She's not sure how she even managed to really feel pain there, but suddenly she's rather glad that she doesn't normally have to deal with that like humans do. Jesus.

She pushes the door open though, feeling strange in general as the theme of this dream thing. Alice in Wonderland? It made her worry about where her Alice was. Not here, apparently, and Kara can't decide how she feels about that. On one hand, relieved that the girl ins't involved in this mess, and on the other hand very anxious that she's notable to keep an eye on her right now.

She blinks as she enters the home, starting a little in surprise at the person she finds net.]

Oh. Hello. [Nailed it.]

> I Am Myself Warning for violence, child abuse.

[The rooms are...interesting, to say the least. In one room there's Kara, dressed in her old uniform, cleaning while a fat, older man yells at her, gives her more commands. A little girl huddles under the dining room table, or plays with a roomba until the man yells at her to knock it off, to stop being noisy, and she's hiding again.

Another room shows the man in a fit as the girl runs off up the stairs after he lashes out at her. He orders Kara not to move, and the clay-Kara lowers her arms, staring straight ahead and unmoving as ordered. And then after a moment of internal struggle, she moves to run up the stairs. It's storming. She grabs the girl, locks the door. They're struggling to get out the window as the man bursts down the door and a fight breaks out, the man attempting to strangle or otherwise harm Kara at several points until she's able to fight him off and shove him into a wall, his head slamming against a shelf before he collapses. Kara barely looks back as she escapes out the window with the girl.

Kara takes a deep breath and slowly closes the door, the look on her face suggesting no guilt or remorse or anything like that.]

...We should keep moving. [She forces a little smile, kind and gentle despite everything.] One of these rooms will have the way out. I know it.

>Wildcard!

[I can also do anything with the other two prompts so just let me know!]

[Eat Me]

That could have gone better.

[Liara rubs at her back, feeling a phantom sort of pain there still from her sudden shrinking. She takes a deep breath and examines the house, fingers itching for a gun. It's not as though she was helpless without one, but the weight of one in her hands would've made her feel a little better for sure.

Still, she pushes open the door and steps inside, expression alert and her other hand beginning to glow and crackle with a sort of energy]

Hello? Is someone there? [She hadn't been attacked yet, so hopefully it was someone friendly lurking around...]

[Tea Time]

[Normally, Liara wouldn't really give into the temptation here, but there are a lot of food that to her is nostalgic and to anyone else might seem incredibly bizarre. Like some kind of soup with what looks like tentacles in it. (Is... Is that cannibalism? Given her head tentacle...things...?)]

I haven't had this since I was a little girl. [She smiles faintly to herself and decides to indulge. She eyes the riddle curiously, but doesn't pay it too much mind.]

We shouldn't eat a whole lot, however. I don't appear to be suffering any side-effects so far, but it's all a little suspicious that it's here...

[She trails off with a frown, looking reluctant to really start eating even though she really wants to.]

[ME, Myself, and I]

I wonder if there's a lesson behind all of this. [Liara frowns a little, opening one door only to start in surprise at the glowing orb inside it.] Glyph?

[But 'Glyph' doesn't react and Liara's shoulders slump a little with a sigh.] No, of course not... How silly of me. [She closes the door and walks to another, opening it curiously to reveal it's empty save for a strange looking box in the middle. She inhales sharply, before slamming the door shut. It's such an innocuous thing, but it's clearly had some kind of effect on Liara, who looks a bit... Not quite upset, but sad.]

...Come on, let's keep moving, shall we?

i. take some more tea

[ Brianna thinks she must be having a near-death experience. Near-death because, like, first of all she's pretty sure after you actually die there's a whole lot of nothing, and secondly because she's starving, and she's pretty sure you can't be hungry and dead at the same time. Unless you're a zombie. But whatever. Thirdly, she's injured, and she figures if she was dead she'd be miraculously healed by angels or whatever, right?

Besides, the scenery is whimsical and all, but it's almost like... too whimsical to be real? A dream, definitely. (She hopes she's not in a coma back home. That would suck.)

She limps over to the table and grabs a muffin before she even bothers to find her seat, much less before she notices or reads the riddle. It takes her a few extra moments to realize it is a riddle. ]

What? [ Her voice sounds sleepy and slow, almost drugged, and she forces her eyes to blink. She nibbles on some cookies while she tries to make sense of it all. The words in front of her are blurry, now, and she turns to whoever might be in the room with her to say in a surprisingly calm voice-- ] Um, I think we might have just been poisoned.

ii. i am not myself

[ The whole dream thing is getting really old by this point. She feels like she's been walking around from room to room for hours, which is strange, because she doesn't remember ever being tired of a dream before. God, she hopes she's not in a coma and this thing isn't going to drag on for months.

One room: nothing but shredded and dirty shoes, falling apart, laces worn to little puffs of fabric, rubber appearing to have almost melted off. The next: the bones of animals that appear to be large dogs. They're bleached white from the sun, a deadfall of skeletons grinning up at her and whoever might be nearby. ]

Coyotes. [ She sounds disgusted, not by the bones, but by the fact of the animals' existence in the first place. With a sneer, she turns and moves to open the next door. ]

Prompt One. ; b e g i n

There's a part of Lana that wonders if she would have gotten this far when she was fifteen. Her married life to a psychopath has taught her to be perceptive, to trust no one and nothing but her own instincts. There's another part of her that knows a fifteen-year-old Lana Lang would have quietly waited for someone to help her and she does her best to ignore that.

She enters the dollhouse and her cheeks are damp with her own tears; the pain of re-sizing was so excruciating, she could have passed out, and almost did. To her surprise, there's another person in this room. Anyone else may feel a sense of relief at the sight of another someone in this same scenario, but Lana hasn't allowed herself to be quite so trusting for a while now. She's wary, but she does her best not to make it known.

"Hi."

Prompt Two. ; t e a

Lana Luthor, reads the name card. It's her married name and suddenly, she's not so hungry anymore. The thought of Lex Luthor could make anyone's stomach turn, but the sting in Lana's stomach feels more personal than that. Still, she politely fills her plate with the treats she originally had her eye on; she's become the master at pushing through her pain in the company of others.

There's a sense of unease flowing through this room, with either of them unsure on whether this odd situation can be trusted. Lana responds to it passively, "at least there's food."

She seats herself in front of that name card - that damn card - and pauses when she notices the riddle.

Prompt Three. ; m y s e l f

There's an oak dresser in this room, and Lana knows immediately where she recognizes it from. It's the same one in Clark Kent's bedroom, and much like all things Clark Kent, she gravitates toward it. On the surface of that dresser is a necklace curiously green in colour like it had originally been.

"The last time I saw this... it was clear and colourless." She breathes in and then out through her nose, tensing as the rooms get more and more personal. She turns around to face the person in her company, gesturing ahead, "um, shall we?"

( ooc: i don't mind action prose one bit! feel free to change things up to your liking :D )

Take some more tea;

[ Elizabeth perches in the seat in front of her name card, swinging her legs back and forth to feel the grass brushing against her feet. She reaches across to fill up the teacup of her companion before refilling her own, piling pastel coloured macarons onto her plate. ]

I hope you're hungry, it looks like there's plenty.

[ Her eyes light up for a moment as she spots the riddle, but she sets the paper aside almost as soon as she picks it up. ]

A shadow. I wonder if there's a more challenging one.

[ She begins to pick up the crockery and look beneath the table cloth in the hope of finding another riddle to entertain her. ]

I am not myself, you see;

[ At first Elizabeth peers into the rooms in wonder, her delight evident as she stumbles upon a room with a little clay version of herself dancing and swinging Booker around on the beach at Battleship Bay, the scent of candy floss in the air and upbeat, tinny music from a phonograph. If her companion isn't careful, she'll pull them into a dance.

Her joy evaporates, though, as she steps into a room crammed full of diagrams, research notes and biological samples. Her shoulders hunch and she seems to shrink into herself a little. ]

...I have to get out of here.

ONE🍰

[ his dreams are not usually so... whimsical. he looks at the cake and frowns, something about this all seeming eerily familiar. luke moves away from the table and over to the wall, tracing it down with his fingers until he finds the tiny door and squats down. he can't even get one finger around the key it's so minuscule, but that shouldn't matter. he straightens up enough to punch through the wall and sheetrock cracks and crumbles but there's no hole. the more he punches the more debris builds up but the wall remains, perfectly intact. ]

That's not exactly what I had in mind.

[ he's obviously frustrated, and he's kind of a one-trick pony, so by the time you walk in there might be a pile of drywall as tall as he is and he's not stopping, not getting tired. it's only when he's absolutely at the end of his rope does he realize he has no choice but to do what he's told. he really hates when that happens. ]

Always forward - never back.

[ he recites the words of a dead man as he takes a big ol' bite of cake. this will totally end well. ]

TWO☕️

[ the crunch and squelch of his own innards is still ringing in his ears, watching as the room grows by the minute. except that's not the room growing at all, but himself shrinking down to size. he doesn't have time to consider the implications, running until he can get his hands on the key and pull. ]

Sweet Christmas.

[ now he remembers where he's seen it before: the mad hatter's tea party and right at the head of the table is a card that would've been too little to read moments ago. now he can see it clear as day and he goes to rip it off and crush it under his boot. he's not Carl Lucas anymore, and it doesn't mean anything that these people know him. that is, assuming it isn't all just in his head. ]

I'm good on the tea, but if you've got any answers I'm all ears.

THREE♞

[ the chess board makes him think of bobby fish, naturally, but he's never been a player himself. at least, not in other people's games. instead, luke runs clean across the board and grabs his opponent. ]

Stay behind me.

[ it's a deep bark as he raises both his arms to block the knight's sword. there's a crash, like metal on metal but then he's letting out a noise of surprise as blood trickles from a shallow wound. anyone else, that would've chopped their arms clean off, but luke looks disturbed that a giant sword broke through his skin at all. ]

This is a dream. This isn't really happening.

[ but that won't stop him from pushing through til the end, protecting the other person in the room any way he can. he throws giant pieces at the knight and evades him over and over until the whole floor is covered in red and white carnage. ]

FOUR🗝

[ he knows it's bad news the second he's in, the halls seeming narrower and narrower with every dim corridor he takes. it isn't until he hears a voice that he stops dead in his tracks. ]

Reva?

[ but as he turns around, she isn't there. it's more like a diorama of their lives. a little man in a purple suit, a woman in a yellow dress. he swallows, hard. this can't be happening. "Take care of her, Jessica." he clenches his fists tight, wanting to back and run away. no one should have to see this. one big meat-mallet of a hand comes down, squishing clay kilgrave to putty. he lets out a breath and for the first time since this started thinks maybe he can get through this. ]

Okay, that was really satisfying.

BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING

Ziggy? [A young voice calls down the long hallway.] Anyone?

Where are you guys? Shion? Jr?! Somebody.

[MOMO starts to walk down the hall, turning to look at the walls but finding nothing out of the ordinary.] Mommy? [Her voice sounds smaller and further away as she continues forward, her steps echoing down the long narrow path. MOMO has been through a lot but she's never been completely alone.] Mommy... you'll come find me, won't you? You sent Ziggy to find me.

[She closes her eyes, holding her hand over her chest as she steps into the large room at the end of the hall. MOMO doesn't think that her mother is here or that she'll come for her but... she hopes with all her heart.

Her steps slow to a stop and she eyes the handwritten sign.]

Eat me. Drink me.

[MOMO takes a look around and after seeing that there is no way out, she tips the bottle back and drinks. The bottle slips from her fingers and her palm claps over her mouth to stifle a scream. Pain flairs through her body and MOMO falls to the floor as the magical potion begins to take effect.]

TAKE SOME MORE TEA

[MOMO steps into the strange room and stops. Her eyes inspect all of the paintings on the ceiling and the brightness of the grass. She absorbs every detail but as her eyes move to the table her attitude changes. MOMO was no longer the 100-Series Realian Unit but a 12 year old girl.] It's a party! [She claps her hands together and smiles as she runs up to inspect the cakes.

They're beautiful with bright rosy pink and pure white frosting. Strawberries decorate the top of the cakes and MOMO laughs.] It's so pretty!

[She takes one of the strawberries and inspects it before her attention is drawn to the card.]

What's this?

[MOMO reads the card a loud before looking around the room.]

W-what is this?

I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE

Hello?

[MOMO pushes open the door to a room and stops. In front of her and anyone who had insisted upon following the young girl through the house would see a collection of clay figures scattered around the floor. They were dead, their bodies twisted in grotesque directions as lifeless eyes stared into an endless void. There is an exact figure of MOMO crumpled on the floor crying and above that, a man sitting on a chair like a king.]

We should go.

[MOMO pushes her way out into the hall, tears rising at the corner of her eyes.]

I don't want to see that.

WILDCARD

[ooc: Hit me up with whatever! or come plot with me at

mizuyoko!]

[ annie has been asleep for years; she’s had many dreams as she’s had moments of pristine, black silence. those might’be been the best. momentary peace from the chaos. but none of them are quite as real as the dream she’s just woken from, or the dream she stands in now. ]

▶️ ｉ＇ｍａｆｒａｉｄｉｃａｎ＇ｔｅｘｐｌａｉｎｍｙｓｅｌｆ，ｓｉｒ (a: tea time)
[ not much needs to make sense when you dream, so green grass and breezes behind walls aren’t as many questions as there should be. regardless of who she’s with, annie’s plate is stacked with so many different donuts it’s almost a shame to play jenga with it. they almost look too colorful for her passive expression when she dips her head to get a look of her drink, labeled limeade.

annie’s eyes never lie though, and neither does her stomach: it growls. it hungers. and she’s interested.

with one pull to get a bright pink donut with yellow sprinkles, the tower topples onto your side, and the invasion of colorful fried food begins right there on your plate. ]

They slipped.

[ she says, nonchalantly and not really worried about your side of the table. it’s like she almost did it on purpose (but really she just doesn’t care) ]

▶️ ｂｅｃａｕｓｅｉａｍｎｏｔｍｙｓｅｌｆ，ｙｏｕｓｅｅ？ (b: chess)
[ annie glances across their massive game board for a moment before taking her position— you’d think she’d go for queen, but no. the stout blond makes a beeline straight for the knight position, standing in the middle of the correct square then staring over at you. if you don’t move yet, she’ll gesture: ]

We need one more player.

[ who it is, she doesn’t mind. just play the part, right? ]

▶️ ｔｈｅｂｅｓｔｐｅｏｐｌｅｕｓｕａｌｌｙ ａｒｅ ｍａｄ (c: memory theater)
[ for this prompt, choose from the word prompts below and i’ll give you a starter for it! feel free to hit me up at

liberos for questions or anything!

💥 father dearest (cw for child abuse, violence)
💥 annie-sensei
💥 marco (cw for violence, gore, cannibalism)
💥 titan forest (cw for violence, gore)
💥 city brawl (cw for violence, gore)
💥 the caged panther (no memory but there’s a giant caged cat in here) ]

Edited 2018-10-31 02:27 (UTC)

BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING | Peter Parker

That was way worse than I thought it was in the stories...

[Peter's first comment as he steps through the brightly lit foyer, of course, with his hand on his stomach and his mouth twisted into a grimace. The place looks... nice? Which of course must mean that there's something horribly wrong with it.]

... Not as bad as the food poisoning I got from that closed-down Italian place in the Village. What was it called again...? Yech, it was like eating shoe laces dunked in tomato sauce...

[Sorry, he's just rambling to himself; when you're used to night shifts alone (or day shifts... or morning shifts... any shifts...) as Spider-Man, you kinda get used to being your own company? At any rate, Peter Parker — currently not suited up as a crime fighting hero — walks his way through the foyer cautiously. Anybody in here?]

TAKE SOME MORE TEA | Peter Parker

[Less happily, Peter looks at the wheatcakes stacked on the table with folded arms and a displeased frown. As much as he does love them — and the smell is the same nostalgic smell that gets him every time — the memory instantly reminds him of loss, of feeling a little empty and tired and angry and helpless. He hates that that's what it is, but —

He turns them away a lot easier because of it, even though his stomach is twisting with hunger now. He swears, he's not sure how this dream world thing works, but it's kind of ridiculous. You shouldn't feel like this if you're asleep; he seriously would love to study the brain waves of himself, where he's flopped over at FEAST.

He focuses on the riddle instead.

... Oh. What's that smell, from the other end of the table...?]

Is that pizza?

[Peter no.]

OFF WITH THEIR HEADS | Spider-Man

[Peter doesn't remember changing into his Spider-Man uniform? But you know, dreamscapes are... something else. So here he is, his memory a little groggy from how he got from point a. to point b. One second he's huffy over pizza and riddles, the next he's on a big playing board for chess. And — hey! He's pretty good at chess. But this isn't what he had in mind... at all...]

Y'know, I'd much rather play against one of the old guys hanging out in Central Park, if it's all the same to you guys.

[Yeah, he's talking at the chess pieces. What of it. The question is — is he the queen, or the knight, and how long before they just screw this whole game up and make a bunch of marble pieces come after them?]

I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE | Spider-Man (feel free to find him at any point throughout this prompt)

[The floor is covered in action figures — specfically, action figures of Spider-Man's many foes. Mysterio, Rhino, Scorpion, Kingpin... all sorts of people he's faught again. All sorts of people he doesn't really wanna think about right now. He nudges a figure of The Vulture over with his foot and sighs deeply, eager to get out of this place.

There's the steady sound of a heartbeat playing on a vinyl record player nearby, healthy and vibrant. The table nearby is covered in parts from old busted pawn shop stuff, or dumpster tech, or bits and pieces from the local thrift shop... Things he'd used when he was too poor to afford the good stuff — but hey, it all ended up used, right?

He sees what's going on here, though. If he doesn't get out of here now, it's gonna get worse. And worse. And worse. That's just how dream worlds work, right? Things just always get worse. Even from in here, he can see one of the adjoining rooms is a series of clothes lines — but instead of clothes, it has newspaper clippings. Articles about Spider-Man, none positive. Photos taken by Peter Parker of Spider-Man. He sighs through his nose.

When he passes that room and into the next, there's nothing but—

But a small blue-tinted vial on a table.

That's it.

There's a loud splintering noise that reverberates through the area, when Spider-Man smashes that table with his fists; the legs under it give way, as the blue-filled medicine vial bounces and glides into the corner, thick glass exterior clinking as it goes.

He closes his eyes, behind the safety of his mask.

Don't think about it, Peter. Don't let it get to you. Focus on everyone else.

Other people might be dealing with their own lives; he should... find them, help them out? Right? If Spider-Man can't do that, then what good is he?]

1. begin at the beginning.

( Although Data does not eat, he sees no other alternative that could aid in his moving forward with this room and situation. The signs are simple, the risks have been carefully analyzed, and Data follows the EAT ME! DRINK ME! instructions.

He does not feel pain as he shrinks down, but his system shuts down during the process. Once the magic ceases, he automatically reboots and scans the area. He finds a key and proceeds to unlock the door. As he opens it, he knocks to inform its possible residents that he is present. )

2. i am not myself, you see.

( This is the first room, and it appears to be filled with sentimentality. One visual in particular catches Data's eye: his daughter, Lal, who experienced cascade failure not long after her construction. )

Most intriguing, ( he speaks with wonder in his voice. They should probably keep moving, but Data is stuck in his own curiosity. )

Edited 2018-10-31 09:32 (UTC)

i. BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING

[Hickey's no stranger to odd dreams, especially after spending two winters trapped in the Arctic where there was little to do but indulge his own fantasies. The idea of food being placed in such a deliberate way doesn't trouble him either - if anything, it seems fitting that this place should align itself just for him.

He slowly takes a small sip from the cup (it tastes sweet, sickly sweet, like under-cooked meat) and closes his eyes, grunting until the pain passes. This place has a bizarre logic to it, and yet it's very straightforward once you start thinking on the same wave length. Hickey smirks, stepping inside the dollhouse.]

Hello...? [He's cautious, but not unfriendly. At least not on the surface.]

ii. TAKE SOME MORE TEA

[He's never been in a room this fancy before. The blend of luxury and nature, it's the kind of room he'd design for himself if he'll ever have the riches for it. The sheer impossibility of the room doesn't seem to faze Hickey either. Money can buy you many things, so why not a room as surreal as this?

Hickey walks around the table, tracing each name card until he reaches his own. He's hungry, he's been hungry for years, possibly all his life, it's so hard to tell with the wavy dream-like quality of this place. He sits down, motioning for his companion to take the seat next to him.]

Awfully generous of them to provide us with with such hospitality.

[He says this while gesturing towards the food, at ease and looking for all the world like a lord hosting a particularly successful dinner party. He won't eat until his companion joins him, he does so love to mock the upper classes and their odd little traditions.]

iii. I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE

[Hickey's not one to get hung up on the past - no true survivalist ever is. He tours through the rooms with a vague sort of interest. One room contains little Inuit carvings of bears, another contains a few dozen scurrying rats and is quickly shut. A third contains a claymation doll of Hickey taking a shit on someone's bed and wiping himself with a white silk glove, over and over and over again.

Hickey snorts. Maybe not his finest moment, but regret wasn't really an emotion he ever bothered feeling.]

We did make amends after that, you know.

[He says it with an air of amusement - this whole situation really is ridiculous, isn't it? He doesn't like the idea of exploring these rooms with a companion and is certainly not keen on showing his vulnerabilities to anyone else. Best to keep his companion distracted with these silly little scenes and try to learn the most that he can about his new friend.]

[Tea Time]

[Her outfit and general doll-like appearance makes her seem right at home here in this tea party. She finds her name-- Cardia--and sits at the table, blinking at the piled high food.

None of it actually really appeals to her and she places her hand against her stomach with a light frown of concern.] I've never been hungry like this before...

[And she tended not to eat too much as it was, but she reaches out to grab some fruit in her gloved hands and nibble on it, peering around the table and the riddle card, which she picks up with her other hand to see.]

A riddle? Hmm... This is all so strange...

[I Am Not Myself] Warning for animal death, melting. Non-descriptive.

[The room Cardia walks through shows a simple enough looking scene. In the middle of a grand room full of toys is a chair illuminated by a single beam of moonlight, and in that chair sits Cardia, her knees pulled up to her chest and a blank look in her eyes. Soldiers bust down the door to enter, there's murmurs of a 'monster,' of confusion wondering if she is it.

Slowly Cardia's gaze lifts, blinks slowly. There are dogs, snarling and barking and they get free of their owners, leaping at Cardia. She barely reacts as it pins her to the chair. "Stop..."

The reaction is strange and instant when the dogs bite into her shoulder, shredding her sleeve. The reaction is instant. The dog leaps away yelping, howling in pain and the dog begins to melt until its head and neck crumbles away.

"It died... Because of me..."

The soldiers back away, guns pointed at the ready, declaring her a monster. Cardia doesn't look like she's going to resist if they try to kill her, even as the Captain steps forward to tell the men to stand down and speaks to her, the words lost as the memory winds down, but his tone is kind.

The real Cardia's shoulders slump a little and she turns away from the door.]

A monster... Yes, that's right... Little Miss Monster, he called me. [She trails off with a heavy sigh, clutching her gloved hands together and her expression distant.]

[ the beginning ]

[ When you enter the house, you'll find a young man examining the foyer, wandering slowly around as he inspects the decorations. He seems largely unfazed, more thoughtful than alarmed, which might be odd in a situation like this. But it might not be. Either way, he'll turn when he hears the door open, his expression shifting into just the right amount of concern. ]

It seems I'm not alone here after all. Are you alright? I thought I heard screaming.

[ Strange. Did this young man not go through the same thing? Did you just imagine hearing shrieks on your way here...? He doesn't look like someone who just went through something agonizing... ]

[ off with their heads ]

[ Without consulting you, Akechi will take the place of the missing knight. It seems he feels it's just a natural fit. But he will offer you a reassuring smile and a gesture for you to join him on the chess board. ]

I'm well versed in the rules of chess, so if you're willing to place your faith in me, I believe I can get us through this safely. Are you ready to begin?

[ i am not myself ]

[ Well, this might seem odd. Akechi is arrested in the doorway of a room that is empty except for a simple brown countertop bare of anything except a single, plain mug of coffee. He's got a gloved hand on the door frame, and has not stepped inside. The look on his face is deeply pensive. ]

... I wonder.

[ ... seems that's all he has to say. He'll turn to you, inclining his head, seeming faintly embarrassed. ]

I think it's best we move on.

a. begin

Oh come on.

[This is a familiar scene. Doug's seen more than one movie and he's certainly read the books. He'd think that his dreams would be more realistic than this. Then again, he does seem to be sharing them with other individuals.

He picks the cup up gently, looking it over. There's only one door, and it's small. The room is showing him nothing he might be better off being larger to access.]

The cake made her larger... [He picks up the plate now. Squints. A napkin or a bag would be handy right about now. Then he could store this easier. He might need it later.] The drink made her smaller.

[And oh how he hates that he might have to go through with this, but he doesn't see another alternative. Still holding the plate, he takes a small drink from the cup.

It's a lot more painful than it looked in the cartoon. He almost drops the plate as his body seems to fold in on itself. Somehow he manages to keep a tight grip on it, and it shrinks along with him - just as he'd hoped. It's awkward, but he still figures he should hold onto it in case he needs to get back to his regular size.

He also should have done this closer to the house, he realizes, as now that he's so small the door is a lot further away. Moving toward it at a brisk pace, or at least as brisk as he can go without losing the cake, at last reaches the door and its key. Unlocking it and pushing it open of course reveals...]

Oh. Hello.

[That he has company.]

b. tea

[Well, this is quaint. Riddles. He excels at riddles. After all, they're just another language. A code to solve.

Which is why when Doug reaches for the card and the answer doesn't immediately become clear to him, his brows knit together into a heavy frown. He'd been about to boast of his skills, even, but now he's glad he didn't get that far.]

I, ah...

[The mutant gently nudges his tea cup away from him. The food. It's always the food, and he should know better. It's probably been drugged, if there isn't just something in the air.

He hates not being able to think clearly. Not having any physical powers, his mind is his strength.]

I suppose we can both take a shot at this.

c. just like harry potter

This isn't even how it happened in the book!

[Doug's not sure why he should feel affronted by this, as nothing he's been through in this dream so far has been exactly like it was in the Alice in Wonderland books, but somehow the scenario he's in now seems like the worst offender.

They weren't even being started off as pawns, though arguing that detail would be counter-productive.

Well...]

...Dibs on the queen spot.

[Might as well play along. It isn't as though they'll have much choice.]

d. not myself

[He hates this.]

[To be fair, he's hated most of the rooms he's been through up until now, but this is the worst. Doug does his best to try and focus on finding a way out over anything else. He's thankful for the simple things, like piles of books to represent all he's learned, words in all languages scrawled on the walls. He's less thankful for what many of the words say.

Tendrils of techno-organic life curl around a sword on a pillow. He looks elsewhere. A seemingly innocuous laptop sits open on another shelf and he won't turn back that way at all.]

I suggest we keep moving.

Start at the Beginning

[This was not Vira-Lorr's first time being thrust into a strange place. Admittedly, she hadn't ever dreamed that she was in a place nearly as surreal as this, but she liked to think that she could roll with the punches pretty well. Tiled floors and strange, unnatural walls that jarred the eye only caused her a little bit of irritation while she walked along with an air of irritation and confidence.

It was when she caught sight of the doll house and the drink and cakes that she finally stopped. She heard someone coming up behind her. In the most non-plussed tone of voice that she could manage, the seer half turned toward them and looked at them with her third eye as she spoke.]

They cannot possibly think that I am so brazen as to just drink some random bottle they have left out for me. You would think a poisoner would have at least a little cleverness about them.

[Yeah, well, considering her history with drinking, maybe putting a bottle labeled "Drink Me" out was a little too spot on for her. Vira might have been more insulted at that implication than anything else.]

Wizard's Chess

[They had a similar game in Lucrellia, didn't they? It had been so many years since she had played, though, that she had forgotten the rules by now. Sighing, the onerthes looked over the board with a skeptical air, by now more than willing to assume that there was yet another trap involved. She crossed her arms and looked over at her traveling companion, smirking as she quipped.]

They really expect us to do this. Do you think the entire board will try to kill us the moment we step in those squares?

[Years of fighting had made her assume that, when it was possible that someone was going to start a fight, they probably were. She was tired of it, oh so very tired of it, but you got to the point where it was just commonplace. And besides, a few of those pieces almost reminded her of arc knights and the like, little more than fighting constructs. Either way, she wasn't about to let herself be unnerved by this.]

I am not Myself, You See

[By the time that she had entered what looked like an old tavern among the many rooms of this demented dream house, the onerthes was mentally exhausted from playing the blase and unimpressed mage who had seen it all. The dream was well outside even her experience, and she didn't know her companion that well. At this point, she was still managing to avoid looking too creeped out, but she wanted nothing more than to grab a pint, drink herself into oblivion and forget this entire day had happened.

That made walking into the bar feel more than a little bit like a pointed jab. She could almost hear Ellis or even that interminably stoic Vashtor trying to chide her about being more professional in a time of crisis. She felt personally attacked, though she decided to just snort and laugh it off, twisting around and leaning against the bar.]

It would seem my dream world is accusing me of something, wouldn't it?

at the beginning

[ Bodhi nervously edges into the room, eyes darting in every which direction. Uncertain, searching every dark corner as if expecting something to come creeping out of the shadows, before stepping forward to the center table.

'Eat me' 'Drink me', the reference is lost to him, being from Long Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he continues to look around - for the door. At the dollhouse.

Confused, Bodhi lingers around the table. He's not sure how long he's sitting there, before eyeing the cake and drink on the table again.

The sign confuses him, the obvious invitation - what will happen if he does? Or doesn't? Sighing, he picks up the cake. ]

I really hope I don't regret this...

[ He hasn't even finished the first bite before the pain is roaring through his body - Bodhi hasn't even noticed the shrinking, curled in the floor, shaking and sobbing through the waves of pain of his body. When it's over, he doesn't get up right away - laying there, waiting out the fear and lingering phantom pain. ]

more tea?

[ His name is printed neatly on a card, an invitation to sit and join the party. How -- he's not sure, but Bodhi isn't trusting of the beautiful paintings or the tea and food, and his stomach grumbles with hunger.

They're supposed to sit down and eat. Right? His mouth waters at the smell of the sweetcakes, much like the ones his mother had made him, when she'd been able to. A steady diet of bland but nutritional food and ration bars is mostly what he's lived on for years and here was this tiny bit of home, here...

The last time he'd eaten something here, it hadn't gone well. After a minute of debate, he turns to the person sitting next to him. ]

What do you think about this?

I am not myself

[ Anyone who follows Bodhi through the house will find, he doesn't have a lot of happy memories to begin with. The first room is simple, a boy and his mother, baking in the kitchen. Smiling happily as flour spills over the counter and gets into their hair as they mix the ingredients. He watches the scene, a bittersweet sense of peace before shaking his head and pulling himself away from the scene.

There are a few others like that.

There's also one of him, sitting in the hold of a ship, speaking quickly into a communicator as a battle rages outside. He's just hung up as a stormtrooper throws a live detonator in the ship beside him. Bodhi doesn't have a second move, or do anything other that stare at him for a moment that seems to stretch before the timer has counted down. The clay figure and ship is enveloped in red, like flames.

He was supposed to stay on the ship, get the others out of there. ]

I - let's go.

wildcard

[ you know the drill, hit me with anything! ]

[A] Begin at the Beginning;

[EAT ME! DRINK ME!

Emily stands in place for a moment, just looking at that benign looking cup and completely ordinary plate of cake sitting there on the table under a brilliant spotlight. She had been one of the ones who sprinted all the way down the hall, driven largely by sheer confusion and a desperate need for a goal.

She eventually can't help but turn her gaze to the only other thing in the room beneath a spotlight. Another moment of staring silence and then she can't help her faint laugh. It rings out somehow hollow and tired.]

I had a dollhouse when I was a kid but never one this big.

[B] I am not myself, you see; [CW: Possible violence, blood and death in later rooms.]

[Her living room, laid out as she expects it, greets her through the first door she opens in the dollhouse. Just her living room though, nothing else. Her living room with just a clay figure of herself on the couch, a cordless phone in her hand and the words, "Dad? Hey, it's me." ringing out against the low hum of something on the television.

Emily stands with a look of deep sadness creeping into her expression. Her hand lingers on the doorknob, grasps it a little tighter for a moment and then just as quickly she releases her as she brings a hand up to her forehead. She still feels queasy from the shrinking earlier and this deeply bittersweet sentimental feeling isn't helping at all.]

If this is a dream, it's the weirdest one I've ever had.

[Well, that's probably an exaggeration, all things considered.]

[C] Off with their heads;

[Strategists may like this room but frankly all Emily can do the moment she spots those giant chess pieces is grown.]

Not another puzzle.

[Sure, she may have become an officer to help protect the peace but it wasn't to solve puzzles! Now here she is dreaming of them!]

[D] Wildcard;

[Feel free to throw prompts at me!]

[BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING]

[Someone in the room is with you, but she is not inside the house. Instead, she has taken advantage of the ceiling's high height to stay out of sight. She hovers quietly, each flap of her wings unintentionally shedding colorful dust. It is not until someone has consumed the cake or the punch and approached the dollhouse that the creature reveals herself. With a sudden thump that doubtlessly sends waves through small bodies, Brightwing drops to the top of the dollhouse and peers hungrily at the tiny individual before her. Her claws clutch carefully at the dollhouse's roof so she may maintain balance. Her small jaws part to reveal a tongue fitting for a large frog.]

Ooh! Tasty tasty!

[One person's trap is another faerie dragon's feeding ground.]

Begin at the Beginning

[ This... This is a long hallway. Drill Boy squints, peering into the distance. He's not even sure he can see an end. Weeeiiird... He walks a little bit, but you know what? When you can fly then walking is for CHUMPS. So fly he does. As a plane. Which he can transform into. A bright orange jet with a drill for a nose cone, no bigger then one of those airplane rides one can find at an amusement park. Not that he's noticed being smaller then usual all alone as he is.

So there he is. Flying down the hall probably pretty recklessly. And then he screams past someone else. The first person he's seen! So he does a quick loop and a flip, a maneuver that proooobably shouldn't be done in a hallway but he does it anyway. He transforms from plane back to robot mode right in front of them and grin and waves. ]

Hey! You coming or going? I'm trying to figure out just how long this thing is.

[ Aaaand if the person he's talking to happens to be human he's probably looking at them pretty oddly. As he's usually about fifteen feet tall and is now... considerably more human sized himself. ]

Off with their heads

This has gotta be a trap. I mean, there's no way it's not.

[ Just looking at the board gave him the heebee jeebees. He can't just walk across the board either... like that'll just get him snared up in whatever. He doesn't intend to find out. Realistically he has two options... ]

Hey, hey, you! What you think is a better option? Going way over the board? [ he zooms a hand up high. ] Or way under? [ he swoops his hand down low. ]

[ As a robot that can turn into a jet or a drill tank he feels he's gotta go with one of those two options. ]

Edited 2018-11-03 04:31 (UTC)

[i. BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING]

[ The process of figuring out what do has taken a frustratingly long time for Matt. For the hallway, all he could do was walk, feeling along the sides of the wall for any hint of a door or a window, listening to nothing but his footsteps echo back to him. He saw no light, no hint of an end, so his steps were unrushed. Cautious, even, in a way. He knew better than to let his guard down.

At the end of the hall, in the room, he was acutely aware of two things in the centre. He still had taken the time to wander the perimeter, to see if there was a door - maybe the key was waiting for him - and at no success, he knelt to inspect the dollhouse. Strange. On the table, the food and the drink, and the cards just indented enough that Matt could feel the lettering. The handwriting was a bit harder to decode, but he's a smart man, he understood the gist of it.

Eat, or drink.

Opting for the drink (though both smelled too sweet to be appetizing), the enuing act of shrinking had been perhaps the most unbearable pain Matt had experienced. Which was saying a lot, he thought, or would if he could focus much following it. Whether or not his hypersensitivity had made it worse for him, who could say, but it takes him a long long moment before he can push himself to focus again.

How he knows what to do is beyond his comprehension in the moment, but he finds the door to the dollhouse, turns the lock, and steps inside. ]

I didn't expect anyone else to be here.

[ii. TAKE SOME MORE TEA]

[ This room unsettles Matt more than shrinking down to doll-size. Everything smells too fresh, too real - from the grass to the food - to be anything inherently natural. If his partner in all of this is gracious enough to point out that there's a place card with Matt's name on it, he'll sit down. He thinks he has no real choice in the matter. There's a game being played and he's not sure of the rules yet.

And, yes, okay, maybe he is a bit hungry now that he thinks about it. The thought that the last thing he drank put him here in the first place is far from his mind as he pours out a nice smelling cup of green tea and reaches for a cake.

What was that riddle you just read? Usually Matt's more clever than this, but he can't seem to recall the words. As the world starts to tip and turn in the darkness, he decidedly thinks that's enough. ]

Of names I have ... Many? No, one. [ What was that again? ]

[iii. I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE]

[ Matt was over this a long time ago. He doesn't need a trip down memory lane, not his own or anyone else's, and he's more than a little agitated. Matt has never been a man to lay out his life for others to see. He keeps his cards close to his chest and carefully chooses what people get and what they don't. The fact that, walking aimlessly room by room, this house seems to lay out everything is getting under his skin. ]

Are you sure you don't see anything?

[ He can't hear anything. No sounds in or out of the house save for the two of them. What seemed to spark his sudden onset of annoyance? It could be either the smooth mask with devil horns on it or the old boxing robe featuring the name Battlin' Jack Murdock in gold letters. Matt's clutching the robe tight in his fist before he lets it drop. ]

Let's keep going.

[iv. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure. Matt's pretty intuitive but a lot of these clues are visual based, so he'll need to - reluctantly - work with someone and trust them here. I'm open to doing the chessboard one if you're willing to have your character take the lead and direct Matt to the appropriate squares. ]

[ooc: this Minako is a Recolle CRAU! She's 22 years old and not 17 like she is in canon.]

I. BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING

[Okay, ow. Minako leans against the porch railing of the dollhouse, holding her stomach and panting over her knees. She wants a refund on those snacks. Alice made shrinking look so easy.

Soon enough she'll head into the dollhouse, though, and while she feels distinctly vulnerable without any weapons, she's not too perturbed. Ominous dreamscapes are familiar to her by now. And she has her Evoker on her anyways. She can muddle through with just them if she has to.]

So! [She claps her hands decisively, talking to the air.] Let's see, what am I looking for? Secret door? Important papers? Or are we going full Alice in Wonderland with this and I have to chase after a white rabbit?

[She looks down at her clothes, and says in a genuinely sad voice:]

You could've at least given me her dress to wear if that's the case.

II. TAKE SOME MORE TEA

[Minako finds it hard to resist food...especially her favorites. But don't worry, she'll be working on the riddle while she eats! She's pulled a pen from her jeans to jot down ideas onto a napkin, a strawberry daifuku in her other hand.]

So, something that can change shape or can come in different sizes, according to lines 1 and 2, and something inevitable, according to the second to last line.

[She taps her pen to her cheek.]

You know, just from that line alone, it makes me think the answer is "death" or some sort of abstract idea like that.

III. OFF WITH THEIR HEADS

[Yikes. Minako watches the first chess piece get smashed with a look of mild discomfort.]

Poor thing.

[It was probably controlled by magic so there's no need to feel sorry for it, but still, that was a violent way to go. Her fingers reach down to brush against a silver gun holstered on her hip.]

How good are you at chess? Because I've never won a game of it in my life.

IV. I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE
cw: mentions of suicidal imagery

Creepy.

[is the casual comment she'll give as she walks past the clay models of her. Though her gaze lingers on the images for a moment, she mostly isn't too interested in them or what they depict, despite how graphic some of them are:

a clay Minako holding a gun to the side of her head and pulling the trigger; her fighting an strange black blobs; her apparently sleeping in the lap of a blonde girl.

The clay models strangely seem to revert back to a younger Minako after that, and a young boy with blue hair shows up beside her, trailing after her. The two clay models grow several inches, marking the passage of time, and then the boy turns to leave, Minako turning too late to try and stop him.]

Of course they would know something like that. Who doesn't know my life story at this point...

[is what she mutters to herself.

Weird.]

Threaded | Flat

Page 1 of 2

NOVEMBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING

TAKE SOME MORE TEA

OFF WITH THEIR HEADS

I AM NOT MYSELF, YOU SEE

QUESTIONS

KOS-MOS | Xenosaga | OTA

Diarmuid | Pilgrimage (2017) | OTA

Lady Maria of the We're Not in the Astral Clocktower Anymore, Toto | Bloodborne | OTA

Kara | Detroit: Become Human

Liara T'Soni | Mass Effect 3