soddersays | SEPTEMBER 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

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SEPTEMBER 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to September's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: CHAOS.

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: Torture (emotional and possibly physical), claustrophobia, potential weapon violence (guns, knives, spears, flamethrowers, etc.), possible body horror, emotional manipulation, emojis
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Prompt Three
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

DICE BLOCK

In case everyone hasn't had enough fun and games to last a life time in the good old town of Deerington, apparently this month brings you one more. Maybe you were just walking through the door to get into your own house, or maybe you were leaving from work — the moment you walk through any door, you'll find that it doesn't open up to the place you were looking for. Instead, you find yourself standing on a giant game board and you seem to be right on the start space. The doors already disappeared behind you, don't bother trying to run back. The only exit is at the end and you'll have to hope you make it there.

But you aren't alone! With you are other unfortunate souls who hopefully weren't just looking for a quick bathroom break. Some of them might look a little worse for wear. What happened? Well, looks like you may have to ask later, because you'll only really have time to exchange names if you don't already know one another before a large screen you didn't notice was hanging from the ceiling will light up. There's a giant image of a typical six-sided game die that's completely stationary. For the moment. Shortly after, a voice will come on over the speakers, echoing in the otherwise fairly empty room. It's overly cheerful, grating, and giggles at the end of every sentence.

Welcome, players! Is this your first time? Yes? Great!
Would you like to hear the rules?
Okay!
Each player will take a turn rolling their die.
You can then move the number of spaces shown — but only those spaces!
You can move forward, backward, right, and left, but not diagonally!
Each space will have a symbol.
The spaces with a clover are lucky spaces! Congratulations! You'll gain some fortune, whether it's an extra turn, moving ahead more spaces, or gaining an important item you can take with you on your journey!
The spaces with the skull are unlucky spaces! Boooooo, that's too bad! You'll befall some grave misfortune here. Hopefully it won't set you back too badly! Make sure to avoid these at all costs!
The spaces with a chest are item spaces! Here you'll be able to win prizes, like medical supplies or weapons! Maybe even a small something from home! Wouldn't that be nice?
Your goal is to make it to the end alive! Good luck! And remember to have lots of fun!

The first player's name will pop up on the screen, before the die will begin to randomly blink between numbers. Eventually it will land on a number. Once the player moves forward and lands on their space, it will repeat for the second player. This will go on until one (or both players) reach the end!

When they said to make sure to not land on an unlucky space, they certainly weren't kidding. Each one seems to come with some sort of random punishment or horror; it can be as light as having to move back a few spaces or go back to the start, or as heavy as breaking a random bone or feeling a blade slice open your skin. Maybe you'll start to slowly turn into a monster or become filled with the desire to kill your opponent. Anything can happen, but it's always going to be bad.

Players who reach the end will be able to go through the door and end up back wherever it was they were intending to go in the first place. Players who lose? Well... It's back to the beginning for you. Time to wait for the next player. Better luck next time.

DANCE DANCE

But what's behind door number two! People are going to start to get tired of walking around in their own houses at this rate. Even if you managed to escape the board game horrors, this new room you've found yourself in doesn't seem much better. In the center is a large TV screen and on the floor in front of it are two pads with arrows pointing in four directions; up, down, left, and right. Anyone who is familiar with Dance Dance Revolution might feel right at home! But fear not, there are instructions on the screen for you to follow if you need them.

Two players only, and you'll have to work together! It's a team dance and you'll want to encourage each other to stay perfectly in sync. The doors won't open until you finish, and should you mess up? Well, look up, friend!

The ceiling is covered in sharp, painful looking spikes and every time someone misses a beat or steps on the wrong arrow, the ceiling will drop down a foot. It's pretty high up there, but miss more than three arrows and you're gonna start to really feel the pressure. The spikes are looking a lot bigger and more ominous than they did when they were all the way at the top. Hopefully you've got some good rhythm.

But this is a good lesson in teamwork! Even the worst dancers might be able to get out of here okay if they've got someone who they can work together with. Maybe their perfect scores will make up for your two left feet. You can only hope you're both so lucky.

THAT'S NOT A "MEH" FACE!

Everyone loves to get a text, don't they? Of course they do! Which is why someone has been kind enough to send out a little special something to everyone's Fluid's this month! There's no name you recognize — in fact, it doesn't even look like a name is attached at all. The sender's identification only looks like this: 🥳

The message you've gotten is pretty simple though! Each person has received a text message with one emoji inside. No rhyme or reason applied! That's... random, isn't it? You can try to text back, but no one will answer, and so you might as well just close your device and forget about it.

Every person who received a text will find that their personality starts to shift. They begin to take on some aspect that's tied to the emoji they received. Did you get a simple smiley face? You're happy and relaxed for the time being! Or maybe a silly face will lead you to become more of a prankster. An eggplant could have someone feeling like sexting a Special Someone. An angry face might get you really riled up, even towards people you love. Did you get a knife? Time to start stabbing. A gun? Those people around you look like really good target practice...

The options are endless. Each emojis effects will last for twenty-four hours or until another emoji is sent from the same user.

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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"If 'turbed' means 'disturbed' or perturbed,' you might be alone," John says, his face turned a little sour by the whole ordeal. Honestly, it sounds cliché, but he's done with these games and he feels like putting on a smile is disingenuous when he's certain how little fun this is meant to be.

The dice lands and it's John going first. At least they'll get a chance to see what's in store... He rolls a six, celebrates sarcastically, "Faster through the board," and looks ahead to the spot in question. Looks unlucky.

"It's the opposite of 'disturbed'," Dick explains casually even as he's counting the number of squares Blake's going to walk across, tempted to see if he's still got his wings so he can get a better vantage point of the board. "Like like and dislike, yeah? Opposite of disaster should be aster, and disturbed would be turbed."

English is broken, and Dick Grayson is here to make sure he breaks it further to make it make sense again.

Mindless babbling also helps him concentrate, believe it or not, and he's getting his grappling hook ready to yank Blake out of harm's way should square six be trouble.

"Sorry, kid, not convinced," John says, although it does make him smile just a bit. This precocious young man seems awfully familiar in a lot of ways. But there's a game to be played and he suspects that any lingering on his part is only going to mean something awful for the rest of them later. "Good try, though," he offers, not wanting to sound too discouraging.

Six spots out, John spies his destination and starts forward. Nothing happens as he moves slowly forward, three spaces, four spaces, five spaces... On the sixth space, though, he finds himself suddenly wracked with pain, like ten thousand volts running through him. It lasts just a second and he cries out, but before someone can come to his aid, he holds up his hand to show he's okay. Or, well, okay enough... until his next turn.

Dick straightens on hearing that cry, but holds very, very still on seeing that hand going up.

"... You're not feeling the aster much, are you?" comes the quip, Dick adjusting his shades to make sure his eyes are still covered as he looks up to see his own name flash on the screen... and yeah, maybe he grimaces on seeing 'Richard' but oh well. He deals with it.

The numbers flash... and then it's 5.

... Which is pretty boring, since that's just a treasure square, but at least it means one turn without pain or death, right?

A treasure chest appears, flying open on it's own with a silly little fanfare, and in it...

"Mm, Christmas," Dick mutters, smirking a bit as he pulls out a pair of little red devices - his own little birdarangs, he's missed you guys.

At least they're side-by-side now, although it's clear that John doesn't appreciate what's going down. He wonders briefly what would happen if he stepped off the board, but then worries about the consequences of forfeiting. It's already stressful enough to be pitted against a stranger.

"Not like any Christmas I've experienced," John gripes lowly, holding his limbs close to his body. He feels as if he was nearly ripped apart by the pain that had hit him and now he's seeing that it's probably weapons they're going to be given instead of anything useful to him. He doesn't see any need for violence in a board game, but Deerington always has its own agenda, doesn't it?

His number comes up three and he tentatively pushes ahead. This time it's a lucky space and EXTRA TURN pops up. He decides to bank it and wills away the headache he'd gained since the last round. "RIchard, is it? My name's Blake," he says, although the designation of the Fluid hadn't listed him that way. "Good luck," he says, hoping that whatever's next won't require whatever this guy gained on his last round.

Dick grimaces at his name, even as the numbers start to flash. "Please, just call me Dick. No one uses Richard unless they're a teacher. Al sometimes still does, but only when he's being extra formal or lecturing me."

Three steps forward... And as soon as both Dick's feet are on the skull, he's collapsing to his knees with a wet, choking noise. Water wells up from his mouth and nostrils, his lungs suddenly full of it, and no matter how he heaves or hunches over, it won't come out. It's agony, his vision is darkening, but he forces himself to stay still on all fours, counting down the seconds until he'll pass out-

-And right as he's about to go, the water comes gushing out of his mouth, soaking the square he's in before vanishing just as suddenly as it came.

Dick stays hunched over for a moment longer, focusing on breathing slowly instead of gasping like his body insists he do. Once he's sure it's over and his system is calm again, he slowly gets to his feet, adjusting his glasses and hoodie with a loud exhale.

"Almost as bad as the last time I drowned," he jokes, grinning a bit sharper than before, hands tucked casually away in his pockets.

Oh, god. The brazen way with which Dick seems to take all of this make John's head spin a little. He can't imagine anyone nearly drowning on some sick chess board only to turn around and crack a joke. Then again, he happens to know more than two handfuls of people who do exactly that. In Deerington, in fact. (And if he's being honest, he probably qualifies himself on some level.)

"Jesus, you've got a positive outlook," he says, figuring it's a pretty good defense mechanism no matter how someone takes what this kid says. Waiting for his own number to come up, he watches. Dick's still behind him, but not by much, and as he rolls again, he finds himself with a five and less urge to move than last time.

Stepping ahead, he comes to a stop on a treasure spot. A little theatricality moment passes and in a moment John finds himself with a rebreather-like device. "Well, this coulda helped you earlier," he notes, showing it off to the other guy. Would he recognize it? It's a gadget, just like the last item.

Spotting the rebreather, Dick snorts, answering drily, "I've got one of those, but I left it with my other belt. Besides, it'd only help if the water hadn't already been in my system."

But enough of that, the dice is flashing again, the number 2 coming up. He can see that far, and is quietly relieved to see it's another item square. On opening the chest though, his lips immediately twist into a distasteful grimace.

The gun is heavy in his hand and he holds it with far more confidence and ease than a kid should. He even takes a moment to take out the clip, examining it and scowling further on seeing it's loaded with real bullets. He doesn't want to... but he knows guns can be useful, so he makes sure the safety's on and tucks it in at the back of his waistband under his hoodie.

"Thanks," he says out into the open space, voice drier than the Sahara.

John watches, eyes carefully following the pistol until it disappears behind Dick's back. There's a strange shudder that crawls up on his spine, like something far too familiar, but he's forced to ignore it as his turn comes up.

"On your belt?" he asks, eyebrow raised. "That's odd." How many people have that kind of gear on them? John's got a good guess, although he doesn't bother sharing as another number flashes on the screen. He's gotten himself a two, also, which puts him in a less fortunate situation. As soon as both feet are planted, the ground disappears below him and John drops into a deep pool of water the size of the square. A barrier slides over and for the time between this round and the next, he seems to be stuck underwater. And, wouldn't you know if, but in the commotion, that rebreather sits just off to the side of John's square, of no use to him, either. Brilliant.

John's down there, initially thrashing before his distant training kicks in and he starts looking for weaknesses in this trap, breath controlled and held and carefully released as necessary. Gotta get out, can't panic...

"-!"

While the die begins to cycle through numbers for Dick, a million thoughts race through his mind. He can't move off his square - he's pretty sure that if he does, the game is forfeit or he'll be dealt a punishment. He's not sure how long Blake's going to be trapped in the water. There's no telling if the birdarang he's been given has the explosive function or not.

So that leaves the gun.

Aiming carefully, he shoots repeatedly at the glass-like lid on the tank, making sure to aim away from Blake's figure under the glass. In his peripheral he sees the number 5 flash and takes five steps forward, ending right behind Blake's square. He banks the extra turn he's been given, crouching instead and slamming the handle of the gun hard against the crack he'd managed from the first shot, lips tight as he focuses on trying to break through. He can't make a big enough hole to grab Blake out through, but he snatches the rebreather and drops it in for the man to at least be able to breathe until he can either get the hole bigger, or the game lets him out.

Trying hard not to freak out, there's plenty of thoughts running through his mind, the least of which involves a pistol coming to his rescue. He knows that Dick is out there helping out and it's absolutely luck that has his hands under the hole at just the right time to receive the rebreather.

He's got that transition between his own oxygen stores and the rebreather, but that's cake compared to being trapped without oxygen altogether as the game decides to take its slowest roll yet. Pressing the device into play, he trusts that it's good and blows out what he's got left to clear the water from the system. At the same time, the dice rolls and comes up three, which happens to be a rather poor solution to John's dilemma. Go back three spaces, the game says. Netting him nothing, the trap door doesn't open, but somewhere on his Fluid is a prompt asking if he'd like to take another turn. It's a ten-second countdown, not that he'd know as much. When that finishes, it'll be Dick's turn again.

At least the rebreather seems to be working for now...

The die starts flashing again and Dick focuses on slamming at the glass some more. The first two strikes don't have much impact, but the third finally helps break through enough of the glass to make a large hole he could feasibly pull Blake out through. Right before the numbers are done flashing, he reaches in to grab for Blake's shirt or hand- something, to help pull the man out. For such a thin, small kid, he's surprisingly strong, and manages to pull Blake halfway out before he has to move.

"I'm gonna go before the game zaps us or whatever for not keeping up," he tells Blake, making sure the man's upper body is secure to the ground of the board before starting to move the six spaces the die has indicated. "Catch you on the flipside."

As he gets closer to the square, he sees the now too-familiar print of the skull and braces himself, glancing around warily as he steps on. Then there's a surge of energy that Dick hasn't felt in a... long time, since visiting Melasurei in Synodiporia. Six giant, pearly grey wings with a bright blue underside sprout from his back, though he doesn't remember the sensation being so painful, and his halo appears in a glowing disk behind his head. Looking back at the wings as they spread and stretch, he sees the myriad of glowing blue eyes studded in the feathers. His own eyes have started to glow, the sclera turned black, but that at least is hidden behind his glasses.

"What-" he begins, but there's an echoing depth to his voice despite the low volume he's speaking with. The ground shakes ominously and Dick abruptly stops talking. Right, Cherubim's voice, he'd forgotten about that. Worried his halo might blind Blake, he pulls up his hood, wings furling to his back as he stays silent. Talk and he might destroy the building they're trapped in. All in all, not the worst 'danger' to be stuck with, but for a chatty kid... it's annoying, to say in the least.

That an he hates this particular form, a reminder of the horrors he'd experienced in Purgatory, ugh. Hopefully it'll recede by the time his turn comes around again.

Blake's just beginning to crawl out of the hole, finally freed as Dick's turn ends and his begins again, he's left to observe the change in the other man, shocked into silence in an entirely different way. He figures he's seen some pretty impressive tech before — holographic projections and the like — but this feels different.

"Uuuh," he says, momentarily distracted as he rolls a six. Remembering the rolling of the ground, he looks at the target. It puts him out there, passing Dick, and he wonders if getting close puts him more at risk.

"You okay?" he asks in passing, offering a thumbs up. Please don't spit fire at me or something, he silently prays as he takes his place on a lucky spot. A shield appears and that worries him for what might be next.

"Lemme use this extra man," Blake says, and before the game can move on, he's graced with a second roll that nets him just shy of the finish line. It's not a great space, either, because a man-sized scorpion pops up to defend it, aggressive tail fended off by Blake with the shield. Until he can take the spot, dripping wet and with only a shield and a rebreather to fend it off, they won't be able to move on to the next roll. "A little help?" He asks. Didn't Dick get some kind of weapon earlier?

The birdarang is in Dick's hand in a flash of red and he's gesturing with the other for Blake to drop back. After all, he's not sure what the range will be of the explosives in this one, and he'd rather not be responsible for someone's death so soon in a new world.

The red device shoots out of Dick's hand and gets embedded in the base of the scorpion's tail, the little lights flashing with the tell-tale beeping of a bomb. Then Dick's shooting at the scorpion with the handgun, counting bullets in his head as he tries to keep the beast distracted from attacking Blake more until the bomb goes off.

There's only an initial need to fend off the tail with the shield, it's punishing attack quick to push Blake back upon impact. But it doesn't break through the shield, and as more and more of Dick's intervention takes place, the creature it pushed back and away. The countdown ends and with a great noise, the scorpion blows apart into three-dimensional pixels that spread across the ground, blink a few times, and then disappear.

Rubbing at his ear on the side of the explosion and gunfire, Blake moves his jaw around like it's going to ward away the ringing (which, coincidentally, resides behind the water annoyingly hanging out in his ear).

"Ah, nice shot," he says, moving forward to the spot to finish his next round. "Be careful," Blake adds, "and maybe we can bring this home with both of us alive..." No thanks to Blake, really.

Dick manages a little smirk for Blake's benefit and waits for the dice to roll. As soon as he steps off the square, the wings retract, the halo vanishing under his hood and his eyes returning to normal. On feeling that decrease in weight at his back, Dick pauses and looks over his shoulder, relieved to see he's human again.

"That's something, at least?"

He makes his way over to his destination, stopping just a couple of squares behind Blake, hiding any reservations he might feel about stepping onto another skull...

And then he startles, looking this way and that with a frown furrowing his brow over his glasses.

"... Did the lights go out?"

Blake can feel his heart jump and he stares at Dick, a deep-set frown on his features. He's hesitant to answer, waiting himself for something to happen, like maybe the lights will go out. But time rolls on and after too many seconds holding off, he says, "No," slowly. "Think they might've done that to you."

He figures that they can maybe end this, waiting for his roll to settle. "Got a three, I'm gonna be just short. If you get a six, we can end this," he tells Dick, moving ahead. He ends up on a lucky spot and feels his vision sharpen. What good is excellent eyesight at this point? "Got a weird feelin' I gotta be your eyes," Blake says, ominously.

"Great."

He sounds so enthusiastic, doesn't he? After all, it's a 1 in 6 chance to win. The odds aren't great, but whatever...

The dice flashes the number 3, but of course, Dick can't see it, so... He turns his head in Blake's direction, asking, "Gonna be my seeing-eye guy?" with a little smirk.

Blake frowns. "You got it, kid," he says, spying the next spot for Dick. It doesn't look good, and Blake says as much. "Prepare yourself. 'Bout five feet ahead, not a good square." And he feels tense looking at it, realizing that they're so close and yet it feels so far. Arms wrapped around himself as he tries to ward off a chill from being soaked and afraid, he convinces himself not to worry prematurely, but considering what they'd just gone through, it's hard not to.

Edited (WRONG ROBIN) 2019-09-18 15:42 (UTC)

Bracing himself, Dick walks the five feet in careful, measured steps, and as soon as he stands on the skull, the square changes. It looks almost like a DDR mat, except all nine squares are white without any arrows.

Then the middle square right in front of Dick flashes red three times before a red-hot laser beam shoots up, just barely missing the teen's nose. He feels the heat, though, and steps back automatically, brows rising with surprise over his glasses.

"What am I dealing with?" he barks, none of the jokes from earlier in his voice as he feels the heat vanish, the square turning white again as another starts to blink red.

Edited (brain farts) 2019-09-18 20:34 (UTC)

Blake can feel the breath caught in his throat as Dick very nearly finds himself incinerated (or close), and it comes out in a relieved puff when the laser disappears. Processing quickly, he leans tensely in Dick's direction, voice tense as he says, "A laser grid. It's a three-by-three. Imagine your left top left is one, and bottom right is nine, like a dialpad. Avoid seven until I tell you otherwise. Can you feel the grooves? Find the edges, quick, but don't step outside the grid..."

He can only hope working together like this will mean that Dick keeps his nose, because otherwise he hates the idea of the alternative. Wanting desperately to end this, he'll call out the numbers as needed until the turn ends of one of them makes a mistake.

Dick successfully dodges the next few blasts of heat, a bit narrowly for the last, but still, he's not even singed, thankfully.

"As soon as your number's up, run!" he suggests, easing back to the middle of the square as he feels the heat recede from the last laser beam.

There's literally no chance that Blake will take his time after everything they've been forced to go through together. He affirms Dick's command and waits anxiously for his turn to come up. It hardly matters what he rolls, and once the number displays — a six — he takes off. It's just a few steps across the finish line, and as he crosses, a pop of confetti explodes into colorful paper around him.

"I'm comin' for you," Blake says. Before he can even think to celebrate, he's looking back to Dick, reaching back over the threshold to pull him to safety. Game over, right? They 'won,' although whether they could count it that way remains to be seen.

"Wait-" Dick snaps, holding his hand up. "Is the game over?"

It does seem to be.

The die 'dies' and Dick hesitates a moment before twitching and blinking rapidly behind his glasses, his vision gradually returning.

"O... kay, I guess it is," he murmurs, looking around warily before glancing at Blake with a little smirk. "That was whelming."

And then the door out opens, much to the kid's relief.

"There's not gonna be some new game on the other side of that, is there...?"

"Let's hope not," Blake says, with little actual hope, but at least some confidence. Usually Deerington is rough and persistent, but not really the kind of place that heaps and heaps. Not until October, at least.

As they approach the door, Blake tugs on his wet clothes and then pats Dick on the shoulder as they're passing through the threshold. "We should keep in touch."

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turbedon - 2019-10-05 12:15 (UTC) - Expand

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SEPTEMBER 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

SEPTEMBER 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

DICE BLOCK

DANCE DANCE

THAT'S NOT A "MEH" FACE!

Character Arrival

ii. dice block

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