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soddersays2019-07-27 01:49 pm
sodder) wrote in soddersays2019-07-27 01:49 pm
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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
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.
no subject
What?
[ Of course, he's alive. Unless he actually was killed by a fucking deer of all things... ]
no subject
Don't tell me you don't understand me. Are you out of practice? I'll ask again: Why dod you never tell me where you were?
no subject
He spares a glance for the door again, listening, before he finally sets the gun down on the nearest steady surface.
He holds his hands up in a placating gesture before he starts over again: ]
I understand you. But I don't know what you're talking about. We were in a blizzard, looking for Malvo. Next thing I know, I'm waking up here. That's all I can tell you.
no subject
Wrench can't think of a person on earth who knows him better than Grady. Others have come and gone and none have gotten nearly as close. Never mind the language barrier; those boundaries have been self-imposed. Losing the other man nearly killed him, so yeah. Maybe he wants to make it hurt. White-hot rage isn't nearly as frightening as terror, and Wrench doesn't think he can get through putting himself back there a second time.]
Five years ago! [His closed fists beat each other so loud it sounds like it must hurt, the number thrown backwards as if discarding all of that time. An open-handed toss of what happened in the interim.] 2006. He told me he slit your throat.
I didn't want to believe it, but I waited as long as I could and you never came.
no subject
He feels his chest tighten at what he's told. That Malvo killed him. The pain he experienced across his throat before waking up here... He resists the urge to reach up and touch his neck. He knows he's alive. He knows his throat wasn't slit. But he also sees how firmly Wes had believed him... Anger burns in his stomach before twisting into hurt and he snaps verbally, loudly, where the other man can see even if he can't hear it. ]
Hey!
[ He holds his own hands up, both of them taking on short, angry movements in turn. ]
Do you really think I would just leave you for five years?! After everything--you think I would ever do that you? That I would choose to?
[ He has no fucking idea what is going on but he does know that is something he would never, ever do to Wes. ]
no subject
He'll never forget being handcuffed to that hospital bed, or the earnest expression of the officer who first explained his partner's death. He'll never forget his tears, or the animalistic rage he felt when Malvo admitted he'd done it. Wrench hasn't known pain like that since. How could any of it be untrue?]
No, [he mouths, feeling for a moment small and unsure. Of course he doesn't believe it was a choice. But it happened. Whatever this place is, whatever it's trying to do to him, he can't let it give him hope for something that isn't real.]
I came here from the woods. I was on an ambushed prison bus, and someone was hunting the woman I was shackled to. I was shot with a crossbow. [Wrench holds up his bandaged arm demonstratively.]
/barfs feelings here i'm sorry
The next chance he got, he found a book on sign language in the library and practiced for hours, neglecting his homework, just so he could say "hello" to Wes. As well as "forget those jerks, we can talk".
He had always been pretty mouthy to adults and a smartass to kids his own age. Something about Wes made him want to slow down and pay attention in a different way. It didn't matter if it was just the two of them. Grady found that he didn't mind that.
Years later and he still felt the same way. Sure, they had their arguments and even fights. But it never broke their bond, never lasted long. Only death itself would be enough to make him leave Wes's side for longer than an hour of "silent treatment". It's what makes all of this that much more painful for Numbers to see in the other man.
He looks closer at the bandaged arm, making sure nothing was bleeding through before asking: ]
Did you kill them?
[ Adding: ]
What were you doing on a prison bus?
how dare you make me cry my own tears
He's always been good with ranged weapons. Firearms, naturally, but you don't grow up in the rural Midwest without some initiation to a bow and arrow. Wrench feels comfortable in that space. He has a sharp eye and a steady hand. But this fight was desperate, bare-knucked fisticuffs. He didn't have the upper hand, and surviving had come at cost.
If he had, in fact, survived. The thought nags at the back of his mind persistently. Grady died. He accepted that long ago, and there's been no evidence to the contrary. He died in that snowstorm, so if he's here now... does it mean Wrench died in the woods?
He shakes off his partner's question and gestures around them instead.]
We need to figure out what this place is.
weh these two bring it out
He moves to pick up the gun again and points to the door, ]
You go out behind me.
no subject
The music swells outside of the room. Wrench doesn't notice, of course, but he finds himself pulled in that direction as if by some unseen force. The home looks normal, almost cookie-cutter in its particular blandness. It's exactly what he thinks of when he imagines the noun: house. A place to make one's life around. Except that it's been a long time since he's thought of any particular space by that definition. Wrench could almost imagine a family living here, but the picture belongs more to a storybook. It's an artificially-constructed sort of reality that he's learned to scoff at.
The kitchen is bright with the sunlight that streams in, and he frowns at its impeccable presentation. It looks almost untouched, save for a bundle that seems placed for them line an offering. He tugs Numbers' sleeve and regards it suspiciously.]