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May 2018 Test Drive Meme

MAY 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to May's Test Drive Meme! This is our first Test Drive ever so let's make it a good one. This month's Test Drive's theme is: DARK FAIRY TALE.

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

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

CW: Body horror, disease horror, eye horror, fungal horror, mythical creature gore, child-eating monster.

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

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Prompt Three
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE

You could be anywhere in Deerington when you first hear it. It's a soft, stuttering click. Like plastic being dragged across the ground. The moment you stop, it stops. When you begin to walk again, the noise picks back up, clicking its way softly after you. It doesn't exactly sound hostile, but it's enough to make your skin crawl. Something is following you. When you finally turn to look, you'll find a....thing. It looks like it might have once been a mannequin, but the eyes staring up at you are so hauntingly expressive that it makes you doubt that. Its missing a leg, and both its arms, and to move it is pushing itself across the ground, its head lolling up to look at you with unblinking eyes. The moment you make eye contact, there's a low, moaning noise that's faintly feminine.

"Please...." it says, its mouth unmoving, but you know without a doubt it's coming from the creature in front of you. "Please hold me."

The request takes you aback. The plea is desperate, fragile even, the voice trembling with tears not yet shed even though the eyes remain dry.

"I haven't touched something in so long," it cries, and with great effort, it pushes itself into an upright position. Its entire body is destroyed from crawling around, the "skin" scraped down raw. But from what you can see, there's a film of something that's infested most of its torso. Whatever it is looks like it could be contagious, and the stench of cat urine overpowers you for a moment.

"Please, I beg of you."

If you should choose to hug this poor creature, the thing will sigh in immense relief, its body shuddering against you before it simply breaks to dust in your arms. From the dust rises not one, but several large black ravens. They caw loudly, flying fast and hard. One lands on your shoulder, or maybe your head, or perhaps an arm, but either way it begins to croak gurgled words in random order: "Top!" "Fly!" "Drop!" "Comes!" "Crawl!" "Egg!" And it seems to be insistent that you hear it out. At least if you begin to pet it, the bird calms down enough to stop squawking. If you stick around long enough, you'll find that weeks from now, even months from now, this same raven will randomly seek you out with tiny little useless gifts like pieces of shiny metal and buttons it finds that it'll want to give you. Not really helpful, but you've clearly made a friend.

...But if you refuse the thing affection, it'll start to sob. That's when everything goes wrong. Your entire body will start to turn against itself. Your skin will begin to split apart, and any number of things may come out whether it be scales or fur, but your body begins to rip itself apart. To accommodate horns, to grow in fangs, to sprout tails and distort limbs. Any number of appearances can come out of this, but all you know is that every single fiber of your being is in agony, and by the end of it all, you're no longer the person you had once been. What stands in your place is now a horrible monster, and the thing that had begged for a shred of affection has vanished.

Thankfully, the monster skin will shed off whenever you finally go to sleep. But have fun waking up in a literal pile of gore of whatever fur and scales you had managed to grow from the encounter.

Regardless of whatever interaction you face, the Townspeople around you are trying to hurry away as fast as possible. It seems like none of them want to deal with the mannequin or you. Hopefully other people might be a little more empathetic...or not...to your situation.

DON'T LOOK BACK

One of the most striking things in Deerington would be its National Park. It goes for several acres of thick, lush pinewood and beyond it, a beautiful mountain. It's picturesque and the smooth, glassy lake makes it all the more ideal of a place to visit. The National Park even has a camp ground for people who might want to pitch a tent and spend a night under the stars. Surely a place so beautiful couldn't be as dangerous as all the warnings signs keep saying it is, right? One warning sign is particularly curious. It's a simple orange metal plate nailed to a couple trees on a few paths that show a few cartoonish mushrooms, and then in thick bold letters: DON'T LOOK BACK. KEEP LOOKING FORWARD UNTIL THE END.

They aren't particularly descriptive signs, but it isn't too hard to figure out what they might be indicating. But that sort of thing is the stuff from kids' books. Surely eating mushrooms is dangerous, but just walking past them? Taking to the trails made for hikers is nothing short of a dream. There's various difficulty levels for the trails, and no matter which trail you pick, you'll notice at some point that there is a cluster of bright red mushrooms growing along the trail. Not just one or two. Dozens of them. Enough to draw anyone's attention.

It's hard not to think back to those signs you had seen before. Don't look back. Keep looking forward until the end. Until the end of what? Looking ahead, it seems like the mushrooms go on endlessly. Surely that sign didn't mean until the mushrooms were no longer on the sides of the trail? Who knows how long that could take?

The paranoia sets in naturally. Grinding its way into weary travelers. Or worse: the curiosity. What happens if you look back? Maybe it was just some Townspeople playing a prank. You'd seen kids around. You could always just peek back.....

But if you do, you'll instantly be struck into a daze. Your eyes won't just glaze over- your iris will vanish entirely from existence, instead leaving in its wake a network of fine red veins. Your jaw will hang open and you'll remain completely motionless. That is until someone finds you anyway. If you're lucky, they won't just walk by. If you're lucky, they'll try and wake you up. It doesn't take much. True love's first kiss is all....That or a really firm smack across the face. People who come out of this coma will find themselves disoriented and dizzy. The world around them will see a little too colorful and everything will feel soft.

Getting this person to turn back around and keep walking is the tricky part. If you can only both make it to the end of the mushroom trail, you should be okay....

On a few of these trails, people might come across those who weren't so lucky to be saved. These figures have been around for God knows how many days, weeks, months, maybe even years, but they're shells of former humans. The worst part is that splitting open their skin and growing out of every inch of their skin are the same, bright red mushrooms sprouting along the trail. Their mouths are filled with them, and while you can't see much, you'll be able to see those blank, white eyes staring endlessly, and if you walk past this figure...It'll feel like they're staring endlessly at you.

DON'T EAT THE FOOD

It's a Betty that gestures to you suddenly. Perhaps you were just trying to explore the town, but suddenly there's a woman in a strange mask beckoning quickly to you. "You're new here, right?" she'll ask, "Do you want to find a way out?" She's looking around, as if to make sure no one is paying attention to either of you, and then she will lead you to a nearby alley. It doesn't seem sketchy, not when the woman seems in a rush to pull out a small velvet bag. "Here," she'll say, pushing it into your hands.

"You need to draw a square into the ground here. It'll make a door you can climb through. There will be a...." Her voice will tremble for a second, but then perk right back up. "Just don't eat any of the food and you'll be okay. You'll see a red door at the other end of the room. Go directly to it."

It seems a little absurd, but after everything you've been through, it's worth a shot to try. Besides, it's not like you can ask too many questions because as soon as the Betty has finished talking, she's rushing away. You're left with a simple decision: draw a square or to not draw square.

Those who draw a square will find that the woman was telling the truth. A door will be made in the ground that you can slip through and you'll find yourself in a very...curious room. It's dark and filled with paintings of a horrible creature eating babies lining the walls. A long table sits in the very middle of it filled with beautiful, rich looking food that smells heavenly. And there's goblets of your favorite beverages sitting everywhere. The food has everything you have ever craved sitting on it ready for the taking, and while you might have the best control, you'll find that it's extremely hard to look away. And why are you suddenly noticing how hungry you are? It feels like you haven't eaten in days. But there is one thing that is a little more attention grabbing than all that food. It's the occupant sitting at the head of the table.

The Pale Man is motionless. That's when you notice you're not alone in the room. There's another person there with you.

And then there's the door the woman had mentioned. Now all you have to do is just get to the door. Simple.

Right?

Unfortunately for you, the door is locked and there's no way through it.

If you stop to eat the food that is tempting you so, the Pale Man will awaken. He's aggressive towards all. He'll aim to kill adults, but he will actively try and eat children. Either way? He doesn't seem stoppable. Any wounds inflicted on his body merely slide back together. But his eyes...Those are vulnerable.

That or you have an entire bag of chalk. Drawing a way in means maybe drawing a way out? At least you're not alone either way. Maybe if the two of you could somehow manage to tag-team this thing.

Character Arrival

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week. The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

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

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don't leave.

[the thing is...well, while Grell could absolutely say she was moved by a tragic plight, something so pathetic and desperate, just begging for solace in this cruel, frigid world, she has standards to meet. clothes to preserve, since anything vaguely resembling fashion in this misty, woe-begotten place is hard to come by. and she's not touching it without at least another layer between her and the being.

honestly, she should kick it and tell it to shove off, for trying to touch her. but already in this town things remind her of stories meant to scare children at night, and others where something revolting turned out to be for the best. what to do, what to do...]

Just...wait for a second, would you? I will, I promise - just wait.

[and with the thing right behind her, she casts her eyes around for someone in a coat nearby. a jacket. something like that, before she points and speaks directly to you.]

You. Lend a lady your coat, would you?

---

don't look back.

[it's being outdoors, or it's being indoors, and there's only so long she can occupy herself indoors before Grell feels her mind practically screaming to be outdoors. she takes the book she's been working on with her, and heads out to the park - it's not like she intends to go too far, hiking, what a thoroughly unpleasant exercise to do alone - and begins hunting for a decent spot that won't have mud, or be utterly too breezy to concentrate.

but the sign is bright, eye catching, and at least warrants observation. a touch of looking couldn't do too much harm, right?

keep looking forward until the end. with the mushrooms, there's one thing to pop immediately to mind.]

Curiouser and curiouser, isn't it...

[of course, she could only shudder to think what misfortune might befall the stupid sap who tried to eat the things. painful, agonizing death, probably.]

---

wildcard.

[open to other ideas, if you like! feel free to pm.]

[The man who’s nearby is apparently of the opposite inclination — either he cares not for fashion, dressed the way he is, or his sense of it is quite different from this woman’s. Regardless, the way he shrugs his broad shoulders is a fitting preamble to the tone of his words, and the shape of them.]

You could say please. And it's rude to call someone ‘you’, not to mention to point at them in such a brazen way.

[But he does indeed wear a rather large black coat that would do well to aid her. He just tends to be difficult, as his personality dictates. Still, he casts a glance down at the thing that’s garnered both of their attentions now. Starved for touch, reaching out to this red-headed woman to fulfill its needs.]

Why do you need it? [He asks anyway, even if he has an idea regarding what the coat would be used for.]

[she only raises her eyebrow, tossing off his comments about rudeness carelessly. time was of the essence, and declaring something got attention. and this one had more than enough layers to spare for this purpose.]

To give this poor creature some warmth, if only for a passing moment. An embrace is nothing at all without warmth attached.

[she looks him straight in the eye without blinking. he probably has the right idea, but she'll cling to her story tightly.]

Oh?

[And here comes that arch of a brow, artfully done. Though he notes how his comments on rudeness have been so obviously swept away, there's still amusement in his tone. Warmth, was it?]

Indeed so. A cold embrace, after all, reeks of something unnatural. Though...

[One hand gestures at her, the other reaches up to idly scratch at the stubble on his chin.]

Will your own coat not suffice? Is it cold to the touch? Does it not harbor your warmth, or do you simply not give off any of your own?

My coat? It is utterly unsuited to this sort of thing.

[it's precious, beloved, beautiful - in short, she gives a damn about it. which she doesn't to his. but she has to see how far this stranger needs her to go.]

It doesn't keep warmth sufficient to this task.

[Ardyn will absolutely let this conversation wind down a path that is both long and unnecessary, if she allows it. He is so used to filling repartee with airy words that mean nothing, tugging it here and there to dance around the obvious point, as if it were fire that would burn him.]

Then why wear a coat that does not keep you warm?

[Asks the man who wears a coat, though for so long he could not feel the cold.]

For beauty.

[she says it so matter of fact that if Ardyn was the sort to take offense, she might have made him feel like a fool.]

Does one need a greater reason to wear anything?

There is this thing called practicality. But I suppose those who are so wracked with the burden of beauty have no room in their minds for such a thing, hm?

[Certainly not one to take offense, though not beyond making others feel like fools if the opportunity is laid bare before him.]

And what a shame would it be for you to dirty your own very beautiful coat.

Edited 2018-05-05 07:32 (UTC)

Beautiful clothes are only a burden to those who lack them. A fate I do not envy you for.

[oh, he wants to play those kind of games? she's been dealing in them for longer than he knows.]

Do I take your words as a refusal to help our friend? In addition to your faults, must I call you heartless as well?

Edited 2018-05-05 07:40 (UTC)

[And he's been doing this for a long, long time, too. But wow she's gonna already throw shade at his clothes, he sees how it is.....

He barks out a laugh like she's said something dreadfully ironic, and dryly responds with-]

You hardly know me and you're already speaking about my faults as if we're fast friends. Come now. You assume too much if you think I've already settled on a refusal. But first, answer me this: which is worse? A man who refuses to help a strange creature he has no reason to trust, or a woman who feigns concern, but in the end is too vain to care enough to use her own coat? And you call me heartless.

Oh, you know nothing, not a single thing about me, you wretched man, and with all your prattling on you might have solved our dilemma. Instead, you resort to incorrect insults-

[and at this point she's worked the coat off her arms, and practically throws it at him before hissing:]

Hold that.

[another demand, but fine. if she falls ill, or dies horrifically, because of this man's inability to follow a woman's wishes, then let him have something that proved she existed.

she sweeps the pathetic, rotted thing into an embrace, and it crumbles to dust in her arms, from which rise the ravens. and those seem to be quite frantic, flying about her head - it's all she can do to cover her face, to try to keep them from causing damage.]

[Oh, well. That incited a reaction. Ardyn's grin would be wide and amused if not for the fact that Grell has just literally thrown her coat in his face. He sees nothing but a lovely shade of red before he reaches up to grasp at it, so that he might pull it down and see just what action she seems to be flying into now.

He holds onto the article of clothing more out of instinct than politeness. Unfortunately, he's missed the part where the mannequin-like woman has crumbled into ashes (though one might suppose he could deduce as much, with the ash on the ground), but more curiously...

There are ravens. Flying about her head in an enthused frenzy. Ardyn steps forward, frustratingly unhelpful in the way he offers his help.]

Having difficulties? Want me to shoo them away for you?

[He has to raise his voice a little, to be heard over the cawing and rustling of feathers.]

[there's nothing but a wordless shriek from her until one lands on her arm, trying to insistently get her hands away from her face, cawing in something that sounds so near to language, to words. it's a comical sight, and Grell is helpless to defend herself.]

Make it calm down!

[Even Ardyn has to blink a little against the shriek, as if the sound itself were buffeting against him. Look at this woman, who had acted so impulsively, so quickly, and now is so surprised that something as inane as crows flying around her is even happening. True, maybe he instigated this just a little, but she's just reaping what she's sown.]

Maybe you should stop flailing about like a fish on dry land, and they'll calm themselves.

[Ardyn has nothing against ravens. He rather likes their look (maybe he just likes the black of their feathers), and even as the talons of one brushes near, he doesn't seem to mind it at all. A moment passes as he tosses her jacket across his shoulder, the red contrasting strangely against his darker colors, and holds out an arm for one to perch on, if it pleases.]

Come here, come here. [He's attempting to coax one to land.] Let me listen to what it is you have to say.

Edited 2018-05-05 16:00 (UTC)

[one lands on him. one settles on her. a matched set, really, and it would annoy her more if they were not settling down after landing, her hands reaching for it and it quieting once touched. good bird. pretty bird. bird that wants to say random words.

the one on Ardyn merely preens - it knows it's done its job.]

You can talk to birds?

[flat.]

["Egg! Fly!" caws the bird now settled on his arm. Curious, though not to the point of being worrisome. Other than making strange attempts at human speech, it's hardly done anything that is beyond the ken of a raven.

Ardyn gives her a plain look, though that smile of his never seems to recede.]

Yes. I can. It was a talent that I was known for, actually, where I come from. You'd be surprised at how much birds have to say.

[No. No, he can't talk to birds. This is a straight-up lie.]

[Well, if there was one thing he could never resist it was a good literary reference. In fact, looking at the mushrooms, he was thinking the same thing.]

How do you know I'm mad, said Alice. You must be, said the Cat, or you wouldn't have come here.

[Was it commentary on their specific situation, or was he just spouting off random quotes? Who knows.]

"And how do you know that you're not mad?"

[the words come easier than expected, word for word, quote for quote. she's close to being delighted by this, until she feels something on the edge of the man's presence. not something she knows, not fully, but enough to keep her wary. turning around, her expression is unreadable.

was he of this place?]

To begin with, a dog's not mad. You grant that?

[He blinked out from behind her and appeared a little closer, almost beside her. His grin was bright and mad and predatory - something appropriate to the actual Cheshire Cat. He was playing no part, however; that grin was all his own.]

Well, then, a dog growls when it's angry and wags it's tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore, I'm mad.

[He howled with laughter at that; a howl that echoed through the trees.]

Oh, I am such a fan of a good book, but reading's a rare hobby in my world.

[ He heard a bit of the commotion, of course, but he's been trying not to involve himself too directly with the strange...features of this world.

But of course, someone would ask for his assistance.

Archer looks down at the pitiful thing on the ground, then to Grell. After a moment, he shrugs and offers her a coat that materializes in his hand. ]

Will this do?

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