soddersays | AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

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AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to August's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: DYSTOPIAN HORROR.

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

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

CW: Physical violence, monster violence, creepy ogre-like monster in link, being hunted by a monster.
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

BLOOD IN MY VEINS

With supplies low and food getting even more scarce, things in Deerington, Maine seem to be getting that much more tense. For those who pay attention to the habits of the townspeople, there’s something that might add to that feeling of stress; all of them seem to be involved in some kind of physical training, whether it’s archery, hand-to-hand combat, or fighting with firearms, they all seem like they’re getting ready for something and it definitely feels like it might be something big.

But no one wants to train against a townsperson - it’s highly likely they’re not going to fight fair with the way they’re all glaring at the Sleepers, as though they’re to blame for everything that’s been going on. Unless you’re sparring with people in your own backyard though, it seems like there isn’t any space to get your own training in.

The Betties are starting to pop up around town pretty regularly, waiting until they find Sleepers on their own, and quietly waving for them to come closer. “You need to prepare,” they’ll whisper to you in hushed urgency, before grabbing your hand to try and get you to follow them. If you fight, they’ll insist only once more, before leaving you alone. But there’s something inside of you urging you to comply and follow.

They’ll lead you down an alley, pushing aside a large dumpster, and revealing a trap door in the middle of the concrete. You’ve never noticed it before, even if you’ve been down this alley a hundred times. The Betty leading you leans down, pulling it open, and the ladder that goes into the tunnel is long and dimly lit. You could leave now, but the Betty will insist this is for the best.

“Knock twice. No more or less. Show them what you’re made of.”

Once you get to the bottom of the ladder, there’s an equally long hallway that leads towards a closed metal door. You knock twice and the door shakes before sliding open. The light that comes through is almost blinding with how bright it is compared to the dim tunnel, but as your eyes adjust, you can finally step in to a fully stocked training room.

There are instructors in basics for beginners, areas for intermediate, and most abundantly there are one-on-one sparring areas. The moment you come close enough, you’ll be immediately paired with another Sleeper, and the two of you will be locked in the room together to be observed. You could choose to not fight, of course, but you’ll be stuck there for a good long while if you do. It might be best to just get it over and done with.

So feel free to help others who seem to be struggling or show off your strength for everyone to see. It looks like everyone is going to need to be ready for some kind of fight.

I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Maybe you got knocked out during a fight or maybe you fell asleep in your own bed - or maybe you don’t even remember closing your eyes at all, especially if you don’t usually have the ability to go unconscious for one reason or another. No matter the cause, everyone will wake up in the same place, surrounded by tall, thick hedges in the middle of a... maze?

It doesn’t take you long to realize you aren’t the only one waking up, too. Someone is next to you and it seems like you’re stuck finding your way out of here together. Literally. On each of your wrists is a metal cuff with a long chain connecting them. It can’t be broken, no matter how strong a person is or how powerful a weapon or spell they try to use against it. You’re in this together whether you want to be or not.

Once you can pick a direction to head in, it seems like this might almost be boring - that is until you start to hear the sounds of rustling leaves and breaking twigs. At first it seems like it might just be a trick to spook you, but the more you ignore it, the louder it gets, until finally you see it, charging down the row at you, scythe raised and ready to strike.

You can try to fight, of course, but it’s hard when you’re chained to one another. Learn to work together quickly and maybe you can make it work. It seems to go down with normal attacks, though it takes a long time to get the creature to fall unless you cut off the head. Ultimately your best interest might be set in running as fast as you can to get away. You can lose it in the maze if you’re quick about it. But then you might also be lost yourself.

If you do manage to lose the monster rather than killing it, stay quiet and you might not attract its attention again. It may take a while to find the end of the maze. The hedges feel like they stretch on forever and the sun is blaring down. You’d think there would be shade with all the height of the bushes, but there’s no relief from the heat. Hopefully you don’t burn easy.

When you get to the end of the maze, the two of you will come up on three doors. One door will lead out of the maze and back into the center of Deerington, cuff free. Another door will lead you right back to the beginning, forcing you to start again. And what’s behind door number three...?

The monster, of course.

Choose wisely.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

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

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

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[yep, there it is, the saddest look possible. because if will wasn't there, if mike hasn't mentioned their other friends yet, then he was...] By yourself? The...whole time?

[that gets a vague, confused frown, because nope, will is definitely from before that time.] You went...into the tunnels? That's. That's really dangerous, Mike. [yes, he's going to lecture you about something that's already happened. because that's who he is.]

Steve's been here for some of it.

[In his own huge house, throwing parties and hanging out with Billy, and offering help that Mike refuses over and over because it's Steve. Steve, the douchebag, the guy who used to climb into Nancy's window. The guy Mike used to always think he'd grow up to be better than.

And now, the closest thing to constant, unconditional support he's had in ages.]

And we had to go. We had to, to keep you and El safe.

[There's a rap on the door, a reminder - I don't see any fighting! - but Mike ignores it, his eyes still locked on Will's like he's imploring him to understand: It was worth it. I would do anything for you two.]

[mike doesn't elaborate on steve's presence, but will knows him well enough to guess -- mike's so bad at taking help from anyone, he's angry so much of the time, he resents any type of authority telling him what to do. which means he didn't let steve help.

which means he was really all alone.

they're getting to that weird age, that age when boys don't want to be touched, when their personal space gets about five times bigger and ten times as impossible to pass through. mike doesn't even like having his picture taken.

but will's always been different. so guess what, michael, you're getting hugged, right here, right now. with all the strength in those skinny, shaky, bruised arms.]

I know. I know.

[Mike lets out a soft breath, surprise and relief together, before he folds his lanky arms around Will in return. Something in his chest almost aches a little, quivering like he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, like the last five months are boiling up into something horribly real, only to be reminded that it's okay now. Will's here. He's here, and he's okay-ish, and it finally gives Mike someone to be again. Because who is he, really, if it's not in the context of his friends?]

Are you cold? [Because with the hug, he's suddenly remembering hospital gown and too skinny and his Will Alarms give a little chirp.] Do you need my sweatshirt?

[He pulls back just a little, looking down - and an escape plan finally comes to him. But first, sweatshirt. He's already letting go to reach for the zipper.]

[for his part, will is scrunching up his face hard to try not to say what he wants to -- i thought i'd never see you again, i thought i was going to die without getting to say goodbye, i remember what you said in the shed, you brought me back, i was THERE -- and/or burst into tears. fortunately he does neither, leaning back a little and rubbing hard at his eyes with the heels of his hands.]

...a little. [because he can't really argue when he's wearing hospital chic. he'll rub one bare foot against the other, trying to warm them up.] ...any ideas for getting out of here without, y'know...having to fight?

Yeah, hold on.

[Mike wriggles the sweatshirt off his arms; beneath is a bright, collared uniform shirt, emblazoned with "Peter's Pizza". He passes the hoodie to Will with a gentle, crooked half-smile, and then steps over to the door.]

Hey! [His fist lands with a dull rattle, twice and then four times.] We need some help!

[Then, over his shoulder, ] Act sick.

[Sicker.]

[will barely has enough time to marvel at the uniform -- mike?? has a job??? what??? -- before he's slipping into the hoodie and zipping it up. then mike's banging on the door and will barely has enough time to catch on to what's going on before there's grumbling on the other side.

panicking, he thinks frantically about what he can do to possibly appear sicker. desperate times call for desperate measures, so will shuts his eyes, let's the deliberate distance he's put between himself and the now-memories fade away, let's himself remember the past few days --

-- he's not seeing as himself, himself is far far away, he's seeing as a hundred thousand twisting vines, dozens of running, growling, snarling creatures, teeth and nails digging into flesh, tearing at throat and chest and stomach, the hot explosion of blood, the salty, bitter taste and someone screaming, screaming, screaming a name again and again, bob, bob, no --

-- and it works. by the time the door swings open and one of the instructors appears, will is on his hands and knees, retching tarry black bile onto the floor. maybe a little too method, but the instructor looks convinced. And disgusted.]

[The act doesn't just work on the instructors - the second Mike sees black, he's on the floor next to Will, hands grabbing frantically at his shoulders.]

Will? Will!

[It puts him right back in the hospital, right back in the field, and he can feel his stomach knot up in familiar terror. He was so stupid to think everything was just going to be okay now, that everything was over. Even as the instructors rush towards the boys, hoisting them up under the arms - Kid, are you okay? Should we call someone? - Mike can smell antiseptic and blood, can hear the Mind Flayer screaming through Will's voice. It feels like his mind has tipped sideways, and all he can do is struggle and shout against two strong hands and keep his eyes trained on Will.

The instructors lead them out of the room and back up the dark hall, but Mike barely notices a thing until a bright light streams up ahead. Part of him expects the lab's flickering fluorescents, but it's not - it's sunlight. It's sunlight, and there are ordinary people walking back and forth on the sidewalk, and they're out.

Immediately, Mike is turning back towards him, hands aflutter and eyes frantic.]

Are you okay? What do you need?

[aw, mike. will's out blinking in the light, making a horrible sort of coughing sound and turning away to spit more black into the bushes. he takes the time to push up the sleeve of the hoodie before wiping his mouth, though, not wanting to stain the fabric.

mike's panic gets a concerned, wide-eyed look.] You...you said to act sick, so I. Acted sick.

[then he notices that the smear on his arm is black-ish, and looks a little queasy.] I...guess I still have...some of it in me. The smoke, maybe? B-But I'm. I'm okay. See?

[weakest thumbs-up ever. the picture of health.]

[The relief is visible, as Mike deflates just a fraction. Any of that slime certainly isn't good, and Will is still clearly putting up a front, but it's not the crisis it looked like. Not this time, at least. As long as there's any of that gunk left in Will, Mike refuses to let his guard down.]

You had me fooled. It was great, man.

[He smiles a little, though it's quiet and sort of heavy, just like it has been most of the last year. Turning, he slips his arm over Will's shoulders and gestures down the street.]

My house is just a couple blocks, come on.

[will relaxes a little as well, nudging against mike's side almost automatically, the gesture as practiced as riding a bike. he's still shivery and the images he'd had to conjure are still there every time he closes his eyes, but that arm over his shoulder is like some magic protective spell. like it always has been.]

Didn't mean to freak you out. [he gives mike a careful, sideways look.] ...you look really tired. House is probably good.

[and, since they're outside now and he can safely ask:] Do you have a job?

[Mike goes pink again, and dips his chin, the same way he does whenever a conversation turns towards him. He could spend the whole afternoon talking about one of his friends, but his own life isn't as preferable a territory.]

Yeah, I deliver pizza. [A beat.] On my bike.

[A useless addition, like vocal fidgeting. He wants to tell Will everything, and he wants to tell Will nothing, because most of it's frankly been shit. When there haven't been killer clowns and killer nuns and killer sand worms, the peacetime has been made up of its own woes. He's not proud of how many of those woes have involved shouting and crying in front of Steve.]

Did you have one, before?

[It's the first tentative dip into a territory he's already been contemplating for months. Will's previous time here has always been something secret and nebulous, and he can never figure out if he wants to leave it unknown or memorize it like a book. It puts a twisty, unsettled feeling in his stomach to know there's a part of Will's life he hasn't been there for. There's a part he's missed. And somewhere in his brain, for reasons that fail him, is a voice that says he doesn't want to know those parts. That maybe Will was happier here, and he'll resent Mike for showing up and intruding.]

[will is will, so instead of making note of the fact that being a pizza bike boy is sort of a weird job, he just looks beyond impressed.] That's cool. You have a job. A real one, not just like...mowing lawns like Lucas does. Do you have to pay taxes?

[the question actually makes will stop for a moment, right in his tracks, surprised. his last time here in deerington was -- well, to him it was only moments before waking up again, but it's still fuzzy and hazy. just like his memories of the past few days in hawkins -- a mess of fog with a few things in utter clarity.

he can remember how awful here was, sometimes. how many horrible things happened, how he was just as scared as he'd been in the upside-down. and then, also, how being scared and on the run became a sort of comfortable, because he knew he could do it. middle school in hawkins was a horrible unknown, but hiding from monsters? easy-peasy.]

No, I...don't think I was here long enough. I came when people were still figuring this place out. I...don't really know how long I've been gone.

[a pause, then, softer:] I'm happy I can remember it, though. It's not so scary the second time.

Nope, no taxes.

[When Will looks like at him that, like he's the goddamn sun, there's nothing Mike wouldn't do to keep it that way. It's all the light he could ever need, right there. And boy, could Mike use a little of that light in a place like this.]

Maybe you can stick by me, then, and it'll be less scary for both of us.

[Crazy together, stuck in a nightmare town together. Same diff'.

Mike slides his arm back from Will's shoulder, in order to step forward and point just a bit down the block.]

That one's mine. Greenish, with the red.

[It's tiny, first of all, set back behind overgrown shrubs and a crumbling set of stairs. A bike is tipped over on wild grass, and a couple of newspapers lie forgotten and disintegrating around it. If it weren't for those haphazard lawn ornaments, the place would mostly abandoned. It isn't that Mike doesn't care; between surviving and panicking and missing home, it just hasn't been a priority.]

-- can I? [will can remember how it works, how you sometimes get your own home and...and it's fine, he doesn't really mind it, he likes being alone sometimes. it's just. mike is here. and will feeling safer around mike is as much a part of him as drawing or comic books or music is.

turning to look where mike's pointing, will (being will) doesn't see the newspapers, the dilapidated condition of the home, the overgrown lawn. he sees the bike first, the way he's seen bikes tipped over on his own front lawn for what feels like his entire life, and it's suddenly the most beautiful house he's ever seen.]

Woah. You have a house, Mike! [and he's grinning again, with horrible blackish puke staining his hospital gown and no shoes and the marks up and down his arms from when he'd been tied to a chair to keep him from killing everyone he cares about. it's a very bizarre juxtaposition, but he's still grinning.] It's awesome!

Yeah, of course. [Mike highly doubts that anything about his house is awesome, but Will's enthusiasm is enough to quell any protests. He climbs the front steps and pulls out his key, glancing back to make sure Will gets up them alright.] It's kind of messy, though, just-

[A preemptive "watch your feet", because as soon as Mike swings the door open it's apparent that his description was an understatement. Mike doesn't own many things, but what he does own has the order of a magpie, tucked away in little piles. Without the orderly hand of Karen Wheeler to intervene, the house is a disorderly array of wrinkled clothing and empty cups.]

Come on, you can borrow some of my clothes.

[His room is right at the front, a sort of sunporch that would be cheery if it weren't for the mismatched blankets pinned up in front of the windows. There's a mattress on the floor, and a few crumbling cardboard boxes for storage; Mike makes for those, starting to rifle for something that won't completely swamp Will.

The last thing Will might notice: tacked on the wall are a few familiar drawings, fantastical things in pencil and crayon. Will's own work, thankfully transported here in Mike D&D binder.]

[...yep, mike wheeler definitely lives here. it's like being back in mike's room, or the basement (before karen gets to them, making all the boys clean up before they can keep playing). it's...nice. it's messy and lived-in and familiar.

will can barely stifle a smile as he steps over and around the piles, nudging gently at a pile of sweaters with his bare toes. leave it to mike to find sweaters, even in deerington.

when he glances up at the walls, it takes him a moment to recognize his own artwork. considering that the last thing he'd drawn was dozens and dozens of tunnel pictures, he almost doesn't remember drawing the dragons and castles and characters on the pieces of paper.

once he does, though, he brightens even more.] You...brought your binder with you?

[In the process of freeing a sweatshirt from beneath a packed heap of summer clothes, Mike makes an inquisitive hum.]

It was here when I woke up.

[The thing finally comes loose, and it joins a pair of athletic shorts (a $2.00 thrift store find that have yet to see any exercise) in Mike's grip. When he turns back towards Will though, he pauses in his tracks, eyes a little wider.]

Oh. [He'd brushed aside a half-formed assumption that Will had seen the binder, dusty and untouched in a box shared with a pair of familiar walkie talkies. Instead, he sees Will's eyes on the far wall. His cheeks color, drowning out freckles. Will's drawings had been pinned all over in the basement back home, of course, but that was where they played. That was normal. Here, they're arranged with care and intention, the only thing in the house to receive such a treatment. They're sacred, almost like a monument.]

They help. [The briefest pause, just a breath in and out.] Homesickness.

[will's standing on his tiptoes to reach up and hold down the bottom edge of the nearest drawing, tracing the slightly faded pencil lines -- he'd drawn this one three years ago, during the campaign nancy had helped with, during a summer-long obsession with colored pencil over crayons or markers or anything else. he'd liked the blendy, spidery lines he could make, the way he could smudge the colors together into a cloudy fog. he'd gone back to crayons since then, preferring the more concentrated, vivid colors.

but he can remember how perfect the pencils were for drawing nancy's hair, back when she let it go frizzy, back before she was too cool for them. he'd taken a whole day drawing the little loops of chain mail on mike's paladin armor, too, proud of how his hard work had paid off.

it takes him a moment to remember mike's even there, fingers suddenly aching to hold a pencil again, even as they cramp with the memory of all those drawings of tunnels and tunnels and tunnels. but finally will turns, smiling again, sadder this time.]

...it sucks. I mean, that you've been...all alone. I'm sorry. I...wish I'd still been here when you got here.

[But Mike just shakes his head at that, brows slanted and eyes determined. Being on his own hasn't been a walk in the park, but it's sure beat any of his friends being in the kind of danger this place tends towards. He'd rather his own nose get broken by vandals any day.

... Which is precisely why his nose might be a bit more crooked than Will remembers. But it's no big deal!]

It's okay. I've been okay. [And if Steve or Chloe or anyone tries to say otherwise, they'll get a swift kick from a ratty sneaker.] Some of it's even been kind of cool. Like... [He has to think for a moment; hopefully it just looks like he can't possibly pick from all the many high spots.] I got superpowers for a few days, once. And I drove a police car.

[He passes the clothes to Will, and turns his back to give him some privacy, feet shuffling awkwardly on the creaking floors.]

[give will a good night's sleep and he'll start recovering his powers of observation and notice that crooked nose. and then of course he'll ask what happened and go into full joyce-byers-esque worry mode.

but for now he'll just frown a little, remembering very vividly how lonely mike's been for the last almost-year. he can't imagine how many times worse it must have been with just steve and that billy guy for company. still, he'll take the clothes, waiting until mike turns around before shrugging off the stained hospital gown.]

At the same time? [he'll humor mike, since his friend clearly doesn't want to talk about how bad it's been, even though will knows, and mike knows will knows. the shorts are too big and he has to roll the waistband a couple times so they don't fall right off again. the sweatshirt fits a bit better, since they're about the same build (mike's just taller), though the sleeves flop down over will's hands. he lets them, walking over and smacking lightly at mike's back to prompt him to turn back around. attack of the sweater paws.]

[Mike has no misconceptions that he's fooling Will; he's just trying to keep anything heavy off of him, as always. It's been like this their whole lives, as far as Mike's concerned. He lives to look after his friends, and anything that's going on with him is a concern for later, if at all. Right now, Will's safety and comfort are all that matter.]

No, they were separate. I would've crashed the car.

[The sweater paws surprise him, but he turns around with a little laugh - and then a wider smile. It's a relief to see Will out of that gown even if the clothes swallow him, making him look smaller than usual. It's a tiny step back towards normal.]

Are you hungry? I have... leftover pizza, I think. [A sheepish little tilt of his chin.] Chloe brings me food a lot, but it's low this month, all over town.

[it's strange. the way jonathan and his mom and even dustin and lucas tiptoe around him and treat him like he's going to break apart is the worst thing in the world for will, who just wants to be normal again. but when mike does it...it's different. it's the way they've always been. mike being the protector is normal.

so will just grins a little, pushing up the sleeves enough to reveal his hands.] Were they car-crashing powers?

[the mention of food makes will's stomach cramp up abruptly, reminding him that he hasn't eaten in what feels like days. but he shakes his head as soon as he hears food's been running out.] No, I'm okay. Why's it low? Where's it usually come from?

[Mike fidgets his hands - for a moment, he wants badly to reach over and help roll the sleeves - and shakes his head, tangled curls bouncing a little.]

Spider-Man powers. Minus the webs.

[And really, they were nothing to write home about, not with how much panic seemed to cloud every second of that week. There's no way Will is ever going to hear about the guy whose face Mike accidentally pulverized with a lamp. No way at all.]

And these creepy nuns have been destroying it. [A beat.] Like, monster nuns, not real nuns.

[Will's refusal reads half as over-politeness, and half as an honesty that Mike isn't willing to accept. He's spent every moment with Will for days, and knows that he hasn't eaten a bite. He just figures that maybe, after everything his body's been through, Will doesn't feel like eating.]

Come on, I was gonna have a slice anyway. [He lays his hand on Will's shoulder, and tips his head towards the door.] We can split it.

For real? [will looks suitably impressed. he's always been more of an x-men kinda guy, but spiderman has some cool powers. spidey-sense and superstrength and speed. it suits mike.

at the mentions of creepy monster nuns, will wrinkles his nose for a moment, trying to imagine it -- and then succeeding, with a shudder.] That sucks. Is it just...one of those weird Deerington things?

[any further protests sort of die in will's throat at the hand on his shoulder, the roundabout way mike indicates I know that you're lying to me right now and I'm not going to point it out because I know you're embarrassed, but in return you're gonna eat something. mike knows him way too well.

so finally, will shrugs, and nods.] Okay, maybe one slice.

AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

BLOOD IN MY VEINS

I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Character Arrival

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