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AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME
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!
BLOOD IN MY VEINS

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

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.
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When they arrive at the cabin he lets Logan help him off the bike, leaning on him on their way into the little house. The pain is growing less, but his knees still feel weak, his body thrumming with the aftermath of whatever was destroying his powers.
The inside of the cabin, however, manages to make him smile. It's so very Logan to retreat to somewhere like this. If he concentrates, perhaps he can pretend they're just on vacation in Canada, or upstate New York, and that no time has passed at all. No deaths, no rebirths, no Heaven or Hell, or strange dreams.
Kurt sinks down with a muted groan into a chair by the table, one palm flattened over his abdomen. He watches Logan latch the door and raises his eyebrows, compelled to ask about it. ]
For the "something weird"?
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Like any place the older man’s ever occupied there’s not much here that screams personality. A few tins preserves of food pinched from store. A jug of clean water. A few bottles of liquor. A small variety of jars filled with something syrupy and almost black like raspberry jam. Nothing indulgent. The pantry of a survivalist. But Logan himself seems to breathe easier here.
He polishes a couple of glasses haphazardly and unscrews the cap on a particularly cheap looking bottle of borrbon, pouring them each enough to savour.]
What’s it doin’ to you, Elf? [Those who don’t know him have trouble clocking genuine concern in the express of a man so gruff. That kind of intensity in his eyes could easily be mistaken for frustration. And in some ways it is. But not for Kurt. For whatever the world has foisted on them this time. He hauls a chair close enough that their knees almost touch.] Do you need a doctor? I’ve heard theres some around. Banner, even. I could find him. Maybe he can help.
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He meets Logan's eyes, not able to stop himself from offering a faint smile at the strength of his concern. ]
I don't know, mein Freund. I get the feeling this isn't something that medical science can help. [ He glances down at the dried blood at his sleeve, then dabs at his nose, a little embarrassed. ] Unless someone has figured out why this place is changing our powers?
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He pulls back way more than a dram of that drink and leaves a pitiful remanence sloshing around the edges of the glass. However you slice it, Kurt’s right. The gap between his desire to help and his ability to do so could rival the Grand Canyon. And it makes him bristle visibly.
Damn near every minute Deerington has been a trial. And here’s something knew getting under his skin. But none of that is Kurts fault. Even if he can’t decide between being grateful or furious towards whatever power brought his best friend to this place.]
It’s a good look, tough guy. [He teases as he reaches across the little kitchen for the towel by the sink. Dampening it with a slosh from that jug of clean water. The man sitting across from him is so often his moral compass that it’s tempting even no to remind himself what Kurt might tell him to quell his frustrations. Count your blessings, or something like that he thinks.]
How long have I been here— I mean, I been here a handful of weeks. But it feels like I’ve been away from home, from the school, you. For ages. How long’s it been? How’s you? The school? Kitty?
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How long? Too long. Always, too long. And how to summarise everything that he's missed, the fights, the quiet moments? ]
The school is.. how it always is. [ He offers a shrug, a quick flash of a smile that doesn't quite reach his lambent eyes. He was there yesterday, with Jean and the others, and now here -- it's too strange. ] Bigger. Chaotic. Kitty, Ororo, Laura.. they're fine. They -- we -- miss you. It's been.. years, Logan. Two years, nearly three.
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He knew something didn’t add up. Like time itself couldn’t be trusted here. But to hear Kurt say the word years— plural— still takes him aback. His chuckle is more incredulous than mirthful.]
Jesus… somma those kids must be so grown.
[It’s not even how long he’s been gone that really wounds him. It’s the thought of how much everyone else must have changed by now. He’s seen more people grow old than most people ever will and missing even a few years of the lives most dear to him is a loss he didn’t see coming. And maybe he was more right than he knew about everything he said to Jean-Paul. That maybe there’s no coming back from this place. Not for him. ]
Fuck, Kurt. Beaubier’s stuck in this place too, you know? Now you? At this rate who’s gonna be left?
[He stops dabbing at that wound a moment and gently swipes that blood away from Kurt’s upper lip.]
Where were you before you turned up here? Where’s Amanda…
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The resignation and tiredness in his voice makes Kurt's ache anew. Whatever it is that's happened here, it's worn down even Logan's indomitable will. Fear slides into Kurt's belly, cold as the damp fabric that traces across his lip.
He reaches up to catch Logan's wrist, before he takes his hand away, and holds it, just to feel him there. ]
I was at the Institute, in bed. I think. Jean has a plan, we're going to the UN tomorrow. [ He pauses. ] I hope that.. still happens. Amanda, I don't know. [ He looks at Logan, his eyes round, incredulous, as the fear grips him. ] Mein Gott, we're really stuck here, aren't we? I spoke to a young man who helped me, he's been here for nine months. Dreaming, for months! Logan, what will we do?
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I dunno, Elf.
Beaubier ended up here like you did. Just closed his eyes and lost himself. He’s been here an age too. Even ran into some version of me from some other Goddamned dimension. It’s been hard on him. This place… But lots of people like him, they’re makin’ do.
[It’s paper thin consolation, he knows, but the moments when something here isn’t breathing down your neck and the towns folks aren’t trying to screw them are few and far between and for now Kurt needs rest where he can get it.]
We’ll find our way through this one too.
I don’t wanna say I’m happy you’re here, Elf. I’m not. I’m just not. I wouldn’t wish this on you.
But I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t glad to see you.
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I'm glad to see you too, mein Freund, even if it is in some verdammt dream dimension.
[ He pauses, his tail flicking back and forth above the floor, thoughtful. He takes another small sip of his bourbon before he continues, looking up at Logan and holding his gaze. ]
I dreamed about you often, after you died. Just things we had done or left undone, little things. Drinking at Harry's, fighting together, fixing the Blackbird late at night. I admit, when I saw you in that room, I thought for a second, aha! This is what it is, and I was relieved, you know? But now, the longer we stay here, and whatever it is we're going to have to go through.. I'm not glad to be here, but if I am here, I'm glad it's with you.
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What would that satisfy anyway? Some selfish desire to know that he can still get under his friend’s skin? Kurt doesn’t deserve that. ]
Well. [He clears his throat. It’s the sound of a man trying to pull himself up by his own bootstraps. Mustering the power to say something hopeful but glib.] We’re even now, right? One funeral a burial each. I swear to God, Blue I won’t bury you again.
[The words sound rough, but through that grim perspective he’s smirking.]
You should, get some rest. Take the bed. [It’s tight quarters, but he hasn’t yet resigned himself to staying here long enough to need more than this.] I don’t want you hurtin’ if we go back out there poking’ around this place.
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He risks a glance at his friend as he pulls himself onto his feet. ]
Danke, I think that might be a good idea. I -- ah! [ Between the strong alcohol and the stress of the last few hours, his usually strong body betrays him, his knees buckling as he tries to stand. ]
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Take it easy, you lush. [Teasing as though it’s the liquor responsible for this and not the sheer exhaustion is a courtesy from a man who tends to bristle when his own frailties are laid bare.
The place Logan’s been sleeping offers no more luxury than the rest of this cabin, but there is more evidence of the occupant here. A solid bed frame with a mattress and a small collection of camping blankets makes it easy to miss the smaller things. The traditionally Japanese sword leaned against the headboard. The black and white woodblock print hanging just beyond the doorway. Why he showed up with this small collection of disparate things he left in his past life, he doesn’t know, but he can’t help looking to them for clues.
With Kurt leaning on his shoulder he makes some small, humble effort to straighten the bed before easing him into a seat.]
Make yourself at home.
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He reaches out to gently touch the hilt of the sword with a fingertip, tired but unable to let go of wanting to find out as much as possible about this place. And unsure if he wants to sleep, in case this really is just another dream. ]
It looks like you already have, mein Freund.
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That’s always there. If you need it. [He says it like he expects to see it put to good use too. Sweeping a few half burnt cigar stumps off the night stand, he’s puttering around like he’s tidying up for Kurt’s benefit as the tactician in him takes over. Doling out his knowledge from the front lines to his newest ally here.]
And stay away from the sisters. If you get out around town, there’s no convent nearby, but lately… This place is crawlin’ with somethin’ dressed like nuns. Faceless things. Suckin’ up supplies all over town. Food. Ammo. Tools. You name it. Like they’re lookin’ to starve people out. Don’t let’em get too close. And don’t get between what they’re stealin’.
They’ll go down with a good shot to the head but. Only if your weapon’s been bloodied.
[There’s a pregnant pause as he considers one last survival tip.]
There’s some jars in the kitchen for that.
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Gott im Himmel. So, there are evil nuns without faces, which you fight using jars of your own blood that you keep in the kitchen? [ He gives Logan a brief, slightly sickened smile. ] I'm starting to think I would prefer if this was one of Arcade's worlds.
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Well. Deerington’s got a nicer ring to it then Murderworld. But yeah. It amounts to the same sort of shit.
[[Theres more to this place than what little he can prepare Kurt for though. And by the sounds of things whatever you know about Deerington is apt to change at the whim of… whatever Sodder is.]
There’s something communicating with the sleepers… us. The transplants in this place. Something called Sodder. But’s that’s all I know of it. Some folks think it’s tryin’ to break us out of here. Some folks seem to think it’s the one brought us here in the first place. I don’t know.
Inter-dimensional dream monsters? Biblical boogeymen? That’s your area of expertise, bub. [That thought raises a genuine smile from him. Kurt’s probably way more qualified to handle this than him. With his room informally straightened his last act of making it comfortable to present company is a gentle straightening of the only three books on a small shelf by the window.]
Something to read, If it helps you sleep. [Thoreau, Hugo, and Sun Tzu. All somewhat aged, and visibly weathered, one of these showed up with him. The others he's just drawn to.]
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He watches Logan move around the room, finicky with his space as he's never been before. Kurt finds himself feeling flattered to see Logan being so attentive. He glances at the books, then shifts carefully on the bed to bring his legs up, leaning back against the headboard. ]
Ah, all I need to sleep soundly is to know you're outside the door, mein Freund. I'm still not convinced I won't wake back up in the Institute, but if I do, it has been good to spend some time with you again. [ He gives a thin, tired smile. ] As strange as it has been.
aw fools. <3
I hope you're right, Elf.
I hope you do.
[The warped old wooden door doesn’t exactly shut right, so he leaves it open just a crack on his way out.]
such goofs!! <3
After a little while, the pain and the exhaustion and the strength of Logan's bourbon rise up in him again. He slides down in the bed, tugging one of the thin camping blankets up over himself. It smells like Logan, that musky mixture of sweat and cigar smoke, familiar and comforting.
Kurt yawns, cushions his head in his arms, closes his eyes with a sigh --
and opens them somewhere else. ]
I Am The Great Unknown // cw: for gore probably.
[The feeling of grass prickling at the back of his neck is an unexpected sensation for a man who's fairly certain he closed his eyes on the wood-frame sofa in his cabin. The air feel damp and foggy when Logan’s eyes snap open and he’s definitely not where he left himself. But for better or worse, it looks like his friend is still here with him.]
Kurt? [The chain on his wrist has him lashed to his friend.] Wake up, bub. I got some bad news and some good news…
[His voice stays low and quiet as he shakes Kurt gently at the shoulder. Between the well manicured hedges stretching up around them and the low fog, hanging in the corridors of this garden path the visibility is so low that if Logan had hackles they'd already be rising. ]
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It's cold, and there's grass under his palms as he blinks his eyes open. He sees tall hedges and drifting fog. For a moment, he barely takes it in, so unexpected is the view. Then he turns his head, and sits up a little on one elbow. ]
Was.. where are we? [ His look takes in Logan's face, the chain. ] What happened?
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Beats me, Elf. Is this is even in Deerington, I’ve never seen it.
[When he goes still, he clutched those links in his hands to keep them silenced. Trying to make sense of that distance scraping sound. Something dragging maybe? He puts a finger to his lips.]
Shh. We’re not alone.
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He pulls himself up a little, shifting carefully into his habitual crouching position, trying his best to stop the chain from rattling. Glancing from Logan to the hedges, he blinks wide eyes. ]
Was ist das? Other people?
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It's tempting to think it's another sleeper. Someone just like them, just as lost as they are. And then he gets the scent of it. A sharp, acrid smell that stings his nose like sick.
If they run, they could run right into it around the next corner. If his claws come out, Kurt gets cut.
The dragging noise halts and he closes his palm over Kurt's mouth, dragging them both into the cover of the hedges around them.]
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He crouches beside Logan as it passes them, wide-eyed, the fur on the back of his neck prickling, his tail whisking the air.
Then, worse still than the noise of its passage -- it stops. Kurt is about to suggest they make an escape when Logan's hand closes over his mouth and he pulls them both back into the hedge. After a split second of confusion, Kurt lets him do it, relying on years of trusting the man's instincts.
The hedge is dense and uncomfortable, branches scratching as they pull back inside it. Kurt flattens himself back against Logan, heart pounding and breathing a little hard around his hand as they hide like rabbits waiting for a wolf to pass them by. ]
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cw: blood/gore
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