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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ the cloaked figure, with it's visage hidden, does not respond, at first. the pause between the two is pregnant with tension, as if the other redhead has exposed a sore wound for the girl. ]

......

[ eventually, she must break the silence. she knows this. ]

If this were a fairy tale, my dear, then I would be nothing more than a guide to you in this moment. If you know the twists of the story, then you know it is the intruder to the land who has the pure heart, yes?

For that reason, I can assure you that your... warmth is what this thing craves.

[ though her wording is blunt, the girl's voice is sweet. gentle. a soft spring breeze. ]

Edited 2018-05-05 06:16 (UTC)

[at that, Grell has to laugh a little, despite every part of their situation. the girl's voice is lovely, yet it cannot yet outweigh how diseased the thing looks.]

I possess a maiden's heart, strong and true, but who's to say mine is pure enough to be accepted? For I might simply be the one fated to fail, another attempt gone wrong, before the true heroine arrives.

[you can't make her touch cat piss, Morgana. not yet]

[ can morgana make anyone touch cat piss???

hm. grell reminds her of someone she likes, with that one reply. morgana tilts her head enough for the woman to let light fall upon her cheeks, barely displaying the ghost of a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. ]

Tell me this, then. In a fairy tale, what role would you have? Truly have. I do not ask of what you want, but what you are, my dear.

[I'm the heroine comes to her mind, but hadn't she just said that wasn't who she was? if she was going to deny it when it suited her, best be consistent with the idea.]

That depends on the tale. For a true actress goes where she is needed, to be fairy queen in all her glory, the humble servant to the princess, the voice that whispers through the forest leaves. But most of the time? I am the reader, who watches such beautiful scenes play out, to laugh and sigh and cry when needed. For what is a story if it is unread?

[she says all of this with a smile that doesn't quite match the look in her eyes, which is just a bit too direct to be sincere.]

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

...In other words,

[ morgana says this plainly, seems to be setting up for another ramble, equally verbose. ]

You are selecting your role to benefit you as you want it to. Very clever. However, I, personally, have no interest in your cleverness. No, what I'd like you to do is simply what the story asks of you in this moment. Tell me, do you enjoy this creature's pain?

[ "please...", it begs. it's words are strained, like the pain of being abandoned for years has bubbled up within it. ]

Is watching it beg for kindness a show for you?

[ "just once... i'd like..." but morgana continues, her young, gentle, saccharine voice so soft it might be carried away in the mist. ]

Do you derive pleasure from it's cries? From the way it is so desperately crawling towards you like you are the only person in the world who can heal it's broken, tormented soul?

[this insolent child. cleverly weaving her words around to suit her best, really, and instead of stripping defenses her words were needles working through hair thin cracks. forcing her into a corner of only one acceptable choice.

she can't tell whether she'd like to applaud this girl and her talent, or hope she chokes on all those pretty words that lodge in the skin like wasp stings.

if she said yes, that she enjoyed the suffering of something so pitiful, it would be a half lie. if she said no, it would also be half a lie. what she feels is something other, the vague amusement of the observer watching something spin itself out. wanting to know but content to see by proxy.

damn it. there was no choice. the look she gives Morgana lacks any smiles, but also lacks malice. it is thoughtful, but unreadable, and she sweeps the thing up into her arms, to carry it like a princess.]

There, there. It's alright now.

[the creature rests its head against her before it sighs, beginning to crumble in her hold.]

So it seems you were pure of heart all along, my dear.

[ grell may not smile at morgana. that's fine. she is used to this. these thoughtful stares, the quizzical way she is sized up. her worth is measured in this woman's eyes, yes? she is wondering about this child before her, dirtied with dust and wearing such plain clothing, torn to the point one might be worried about her. goodness, and she lacks shoes to boot.

she watches the creature crumble, and morgana thinks a little piece of her has crumbled a bit in the act, too.

her lips quirk into a smirk. ]

Or was that not the ending you hoped this chapter would have?

[the creature crumbles, and she's about to respond-

but ravens rise from the dust, flying about her, cawing, and Grell can only wave her arms, trying to shoo or calm them. one latches onto her shoulder, fairly shrieking out something that sounds like words-]

Augh!

[this day just kept getting better and better.]

[ yes, words, it seems fail the woman. morgana's smile does not grow, does not falter. what wonderful irony, she thinks, just a storybook recounted by a troubadour. of course - she has not seen such a thing, but in her mind, she can imagine it would be a tale like this. a woman dressed in red accosted by two ravens, black as night, perhaps one will pluck her eye out?

but morgana knows they will not. she waits patiently, watching with that ghost of a smile upon her lips. she does not speak for a time, taking in the sight. ]

Go on, it's waiting for more affection. Such a greedy thing, is it not?

[ pet it, in other words. show it love. ]

More affection?

[the words are half strangled in her throat as the wings beat around her head, and there's a hiss as one of them tries to bite at her hand, sheathed in a leather gloves. she tries to shush it, and one flies off, leaving the one on her shoulder, who she tries to touch, hush, anything to get it to settle down.

it quiets, with time. but it isn't easy, and Grell's hair is in disarray, a black feather or two stuck in all that red.]

Now what, since you're such a raven expert?

Raven expert? You haven't figured it out yet, my dear?

[ hm. well, morgana supposes that title suits her for the moment. ]

Do not treat it like a nuisance. This creature is lonely, frantically so. It is searching for love and care in every place it can get, scraping up whatever morsels of it the poor, pathetic thing can find. Go on... Give it a feast instead of a crumb.

Edited 2018-05-05 08:56 (UTC)

And you know all this for fact.

[dryly, but if it keeps the thing from attacking her hair one more time, she'll do it. petting it, gently bumping it under the chin, figuring out how to make one very insistent raven happy. oh, she knew she should have just ignored the horrible thing, but here she was now, trying to make a stupid big bird content.]

[ morgana watches in silence as the bird calms, coos, revels in the affection grell shows it. raven expert...? hardly. briefly, she considers that maybe she is so hideous that grell can't imagine such a horrid girl embracing a pitiful creature looking for solace. well... she'd be wrong, in that case. ]

As I said, the role I have in this particular... fairy tale is that of a guide, nothing more.

In that, I don't think you're being entirely truthful, my dear.

[stealing her words out from her mouth. Grell's expression changes, becomes thoughtful, almost amused. if Morgana was so insistent to drag the truth from her, fair was fair, and Grell could do the same.]