DECEMBER 2019 TEST DRIVE

[sodder]

DECEMBER 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to December's Test Drive Meme!

This month's Test Drive's theme is: PROPHETIC 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: Possible death via exposure (freezing), Krampus imagery, possible vore, visual and auditory hallucinations, monster violence, stalking, decapitation

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One Prompt Two Character Arrival Master Navigation

VANISH LIKE THE WARM STOVE

Winter has set in in Deerington and it’s as harsh as one would expect for the frigid mountains of inland Maine. There’s snow on the ground, icicles hanging off of most buildings, and black ice all over the roads. Better be careful where you step or you might just slip and hurt yourself while you’re walking around town!

But there’s something unusual about the cold. It feels bone-deep and no amount of layers or staying inside seems to make it shake. Your teeth are always chattering, you feel the need to hunch in on yourself to keep any heat from escaping, and if you look at your hands, you might see them go from bright red, to white, to even the slightest tint of blue throughout the day. You’re getting colder by the minute and it feels like there’s no way to stop it. Maybe you’re just doomed to freeze.

The box is waiting on a bench. You didn’t see who placed it, but there’s a small tag with your name on it, so clearly it was meant for you. If you ignore the box, it will start to show up on random surfaces around town wherever you might be; the kitchen counter, a desk or display case at your work, the floor of your bedroom… No matter where you are, the box is there too. Eventually, you might as well just give in and open it.

Inside every box are three matches. They’re relatively long, like the sort you’d use to light a fire in a fireplace, and they appear to be completely normal. People who can sense magic won’t get a reading off of the match and no amount of testing the wood or the tip will show anything other than the exact chemical make up one would expect. So maybe they’re safe! There’s a small note tucked inside the box with only two words written in childishly messy scroll; Keep Warm.

If you light the match, you’ll find that you’re instantly starting to feel a little less cold. It’s the first bit of heat you’ve managed to snag in so long that you’ll probably find yourself a little desperate to hold onto it. The matches burn at a relatively steady rate, not too fast or too slow, and the wind can easily blow them out, so be careful! You’ll have to protect the flame from the elements if you want to keep yourself toasty. The only strange thing that you might notice is that whenever you’re near another person who has a lit match, both the matches seem to burn a little stronger and stay lit a little longer. So maybe you’ll have to pair up and learn to share. If you’re smart, you’ll light just one of each of your matches at a time, giving you a total of six chances to keep yourself from freezing to death.

There’s always a catch though, isn’t there? Each match will come with a unique vision as the flame dies out. A vision that can be seen by both of you. The vision will belong to whoever’s match as burning and it will be as vibrant and detailed as if you were really in the middle of it.

The end of the first match will show you something you want. It can be anything; a warm meal, a new bed, an object from home you’ve longed for. You’ll be able to pick it up, taste it, smell it, do whatever you would normally do; but at the end of the day, it isn’t real, and ultimately you might find that you’re just chewing on your own (or your companion’s) hand.

The end of the second match will show a vision of someone that you miss. Whether it’s from home, a previous world, or someone who’s come and gone from Deerington, you’ll see them clear as day, calling for you and beckoning you to come with them. It’s probably best to not. After all, you’d have to leave your matches behind, and it’s cold out there.

The end of the third match will show you a vision of somewhere you miss. It’ll be like you’re standing in the middle of the very place you’ve been longing for ever since you arrived in Deerington — maybe even longer. It’ll look, sound, smell, and feel like the place you’ve missed most. It’s almost easy to want to stay and forget to come back to reality and light your next match.

If you both can make the six matches stretch until the sun sets, you’ll find that the cold has finally broken, and you’re able to keep yourself warm again. If you don’t? Well, it’s time to find someone else with a bundle of matches, and hope they’re okay with some basic invasion of privacy to stop you both from getting hypothermia.

BETTER WATCH OUT

Have you been a good person this year? Probably not! This is Deerington after all and everyone’s got a sin or two they’ve committed that they’ve been carrying around some deep shame about. Whether it’s something you’ve done here or something you did back home, the things your character feels guilt over will start to plague them more and more frequently as of late. Maybe you’ll start to see small little snippets of the memory flash before your eyes, or hear the voices of the people you’ve hurt calling out to you for mercy. No matter how it manifests, it’ll be gnawing at your insides, growing more and more impossible to ignore.

It might just be the paranoia from having to flashback to your worst memories at all hours of the day, but eventually you start to feel like someone (or something) is following you. You hear the scrape of nails against cement, the thud of heavy footsteps, or the sound of a heavy sigh by your ear accompanied with the smell of rancid breath. But every time you go to look, it seems like there isn’t anything there. No matter how logical a person you might be, you still end up feeling a little on edge, and you know you’re right about being… well, stalked. You may not be the sort who usually goes for comfort from others, but something inside of you tells you that maybe you’ll be a little safer if you aren’t alone. You seek out a friend, a colleague, or even a complete stranger— just someone who might make this creeping suspicion of being watched go away for a little while.

Except the moment that the two of you are together, Krampus finally arrives. He seems to fall from the sky, landing in front of you with a ground shaking thud, his long tongue hanging out of a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. He’s ever bit the demon you’d expect him to be and he looks hungry. You can try to run or you can try to fight, but he’s quick and strong, certainly hard for any normal human to take down. And if you look into his eyes, then things are about to get a whole lot worse.

Whoever locks eyes with him will have the very thing you have been feeling guilt over put on display for both you and your companion to see. It’ll be like you’ve been transported directly into the memory, Krampus’ clawed hand gripping your shoulders and forcing you to watch whatever your shame is play out in front of you all over again. The detail is striking and there’s nothing left out, no matter how hard you or your companion try to stop it.

When the memory stops playing, Krampus will start to move his tongue around you, wrapping you in the long, blood red muscle like it’s a snake. You can try to break free and it’s possible to cut the demon’s tongue with a sharp blade if you or your companion happens to have one; whatever you do, it’s best to do it quickly before you end up a snack.

Krampus can be taken down in one of two ways; either the person who is experiencing the guilt must confess their sin out loud and profusely apologize, begging for forgiveness for their misdeeds or he can be taken down in a somewhat simple ceremony. The chains dangling from the Krampus wrists must be grabbed and somehow secured into the ground; this will weaken Krampus greatly and leave him more vulnerable to attack. Once he is secured, you must take off his head. It doesn’t matter if it’s cut off, ripped off or blown off, the moment the neck is severed from the rest of the body, the Krampus will turn a deep black, like coal, before crumbling into dust, leaving only the head behind.

A little messy, but definitely efficient.

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.

Comments

barry berkman / barry / ota, will match format.

[hitactor]

CONTENT WARNINGS: BARRY (HBO) touches on concepts of PTSD, mental illness, depression, murder, war, and that there-in. If any of this subject matter is sensitive to you please let me know and I will do my best to circumnavigate them for you.

ONE █ VANISH LIKE THE WARM STOVE

OPTION A:
[The cold masks the harsh landscape of Deerington like the deadly force of a blizzard without the furious storm to lead it in. Barry's no stranger to snow, having been a native of Cleveland, but the temperature is more than a rattle of bones, it's a deep cold that sets into every pore of his being. It locks his joints and sets his jaw, he's had to layer on what clothes he arrived with. It's all more suited to Los Angeles, and the Henley only does so much for body heat with a Lulu Lemon tracksuit piled over it.

The gloom of the constantly flowing crisp snow would evoke happiness for kids who might associate it to something cheerful like Christmas or building snowmen but Barry knows how quick harsh terrain can turn from difficult to cruel so he's been busying himself with the basics. Kitty litter, two huge forty lbs bags of litter are on his shoulders as he exits the store and he makes these trips, one at a time, loading up his shitty station wagon with shit like that, large boxes of salt, bulk size cans of potted meat, and the fundamentals. There are some ratty blankets and a shovel. He's dressed down, his face chapped pink from the cold, but it's clear he's trying to stay busy and moving despite it all. He shines a flashlight into abandoned store-windows, before moving in for extra provisions and they're always on the strange side for anyone not well acquainted with snow or hardship.]

OPTION B:
[When Barry first finds the box it's during a routine casing of the stores on Mainstreet. He's in the middle of putting chains on the tires of his car when it appears, at random, under the wheel well.

Common sense tells him not to open it, but he still does - and he's surprised to find the matches there and the tiny scrawled lettering. At first, he's not sure what good they'll do or what they could be used for just shy of lighting the fireplace at his house. The cold being as crippling as it was has him pulling just one from the box, and he strikes it fairly easy- staring into the flame long after it starts to burn down like those same flames were purifying his soul.

A family, simple. His wife, a son - doing the things normal families would do. It's a day at the park, a push on a swing. Barry can hear the laughter around him, the creak of the chain against the pole, and cut through the air as kids next to him and his son, pump and fan their legs.

It's over as soon as it starts, replaced with the same crushing stabbing into his skin like a thousand tiny knives. Even though he barely resists the siren call, he has enough sense of self to know that it's not real.

The second match follows suit and this time he's enraptured by it, what he sees instead of someone he misses, is Chris sitting front of an open bonfire outside of the car he'd left his body in, the bullet-hole still wet and dripping at the side of his head. Barry's eyes were already outlined in red from the cold, now get a little glassier and yeah, he loses time. This particular vision keeping him locked in for so long that he cups his hand over the flame completely. When it fades out, Barry's fist pushes what remains of the stricken mash into the snow beside his car. Once, twice, three times- until his knuckles come up slightly bloody from the flakes of ice cutting into his skin.]

TWO █ NETWORK / UN: BBLOCK ; TEXT

I've been to the library and there's zero topographical information about this town around, I mean - nothing consistent. Which I guess you'd expect for a place with living organs in the walls and flooring, but I'm just wondering if there's anything like substantial or at least rooted in SOME sort of reality.

I don't know, historical documents??
Something, anything. So far all I've got is a lot of Nuke Town nonsense.

THREE █ WILDCARD

[This is a place for any of the above prompts or anything you feel like doing. You can throw your character's arrival, a random location in Deerington. Whatever tickles your fancy!! Feel free to get me at doggos for any questions and concerns. TY. MERLY CHRSLYR]

un: pattyo

[spottersguide]

If this place is anything like my usual research, you're not going to find what you need in historical documents anyway. or at least not normal ones? those things are always Highly Subjective you have to learn how to read between the lines if that makes sense.

have you only looked into the topography so far? what Dewey Decimal section were you working with?

[hitactor]

That does make sense but I'm not in this to psychologically profile some poor kid.

I was just hoping there'd be something based in fact. I'm trying to start small, I figured the town itself had to have something on it.

[spottersguide]

fact is also pretty Subjective sometimes honestly. Unless you carry a mirror on you everywhere.

which isn't a bad idea here, come to think of it.

If you're interested in topography, the town hall might be a better bet for you. They'll have things like blueprints and zoning permits and stuff, usually. City planning office can be your friend.

ooc: sorry for all them edits

[hitactor]

Why would I carry a mirror everywhere? What good would that do?

[Yeah, no, he definitely doesn't catch that reference or whatever he's trying to convey with it. If it's an anecdote it's not something he understands enough to laugh about. SRRY.]

I figured I might find the origins of the town or record of groundbreaking in the library.

I didn't think about the town hall, I'll visit there next. I'm not so sure this place is ever going to make sense but hopefully, an actual government building will have something more significant to go off of.

1b!!

[ultimatums]

[ Raylan's been here long enough that this shit is supposed to roll off his shoulders like water off a duck's back, but it doesn't – which really isn't surprising, but it is, every time. He's passing by in an attempt to get out of the cold, hands buried in the pockets of his seasonally inappropriate denim jacket, although occasionally he has to free up a hand to clamp his hat back on his head to stop it from being picked up and dragged away by the bitter wind. He found his box of matches, but out of pure unbridled suspicion he hasn't lit one yet, and he's vindicated a few steps later as he walks close by a guy trying to fit chains on his car, and suddenly finds himself in front of a roasting bonfire. He has a second to register it, the bonfire and the man with the hole in his head, before it's gone, and Raylan skips up out of that haze feeling incredibly guilty as he watches and tries not to watch that match get pummelled to shit in the snow.

Shit. He can't say nothing. ] Think you got it, buddy, [ he says eventually, trying to keep his tone light, feeling like an asshole. ]

[hitactor]

[Water off of a duck's back only makes sense when it's something normal and routine, that had little to no weight in it. That saying never made much sense to Barry, because it's commonplace, and their feathers are already sort of water-retardant.

It's a lot easier to be a spectator on the other side of things, but no matter how long he's been around the fact remained that the mind game's still fractured something in him like a pane of glass, wearing apart and splintering in different directions as time went on.

Chris was a sensitive subject because he'd done everything in his fucking power to prevent it and still, ultimately, wound up being the guy that sent him to the grave. Barry knows he's not alone, the snow doesn't really provide any kind of blind spots or stealthiness. Not when tracks were rampant, the sound of ice crunching. He sighs, gets off his knees, and stretches out the fingers he'd bludgeoned in while in the moment. The look he offers Raylan is a tired one, something incredibly detached in the way he meets his gaze.]

Don't use the matches. [Duh.]

[ultimatums]

[ Duh. Raylan nods, all the same, mostly because he's keenly aware that he's infringed on something here, something intensely personal and private, and he doesn't want to make himself any more of a jackass by bringing sarcasm into the mix. There's something about that look Barry levels at him that Raylan recognises. He'll figure that one out later. ] Round these parts it's best to look a gift horse in the mouth, seein' as how more often'n not, they ain't gift horses. [ He props a hand on his hip easily, finger tucked over the holster of his gun. He's not going to ask about what he saw, but figures that if he's sticking around, he should maybe acknowledge that he saw it. That'd be the polite thing to do. At some point.

He gestures with his free hand. ] You need a hand with those chains?

un: Ambassador.Vihalen

[earthlike]

So far the library has given me nothing substantial, despite my best research efforts.

[ And she is usually a very good researcher. ]

I've found the best source of information about what to expect here to be our fellow "Sleepers," however none of us have been here longer than a year or so.

[hitactor]

You're an ambassador? What are you an ambassador of?

[There's more than just the political, there's brand ambassadors and all sorts of things he's come to find since being in LA.]

I've already talked to people in the same situation and there's not really much to go off of there either.

[earthlike]

I serve as Cultural Ambassador between my home planet and Earth. Or, at least, I did before I awoke here.

[ There isn't much point to maintaining the title here, where no one knows who she is, but she keeps it out of habit. ]

Really? Because I've spoken to one woman who had comprehensive notes on the events of the past several months.

1b

[scottishplay]

[Sally is covered in more warm clothes than she's worn in years, her breath quick and her arms hugged tight around her, but she's not shivering as badly as she could be. That might have something to do with the single match she's got lit in her hand, apparently about halfway burnt through, her hands cradled around it to keep its warmth directed at herself.

She hears Barry before she sees him, visibility foggy with how much snow is whirling around. Her hometown was one of the places in Missouri that got the most snow, but it's been so long since the cold weather's even been an issue for her.

When she does see Barry, though... She's seen him get upset before. The whole class has, really, and that's the thing, isn't it? Because he doesn't break down when they're alone, not usually.

And never... to the point he's lashing out like this. Maybe? Not in front of her, at least.]

...Barry?

[Her voice is mostly shaky because of the cold, but... that means it definitely comes out less sure than she meant it to.]

[hitactor]

[The snow hasn't even bothered him yet, he can feel the sharp pain where it dug into his knuckles made more pronounced by the icy wind hitting the open cut. It's nothing really, he puts his hand into his pocket - it's still working fine, just sore, and he could soak it in some hot water later.

What he's not expecting through the sleet and grey is Sally, and for a second he thinks it's his mind playing tricks on him again. He sits up against his car, and squints through the onslaught of snow falling around them.]

Sally?

[His tone is skeptical, not half as hopeful as it could be - would be if he was certain of her. Barry's gotten used to this place dangling bullshit in front of him. Having just come out of one serious hallucination he's not totally convinced she's real either.]

this is like that movie when harry met sally but instead its nothing like that

[scottishplay]

[Barry's own lack of trust... bothers her. Sally hasn't been here long, but long enough that she's almost desperate for anything at all familiar. Barry would be her first choice for that, because it's not like her career along with her whole agency and everything could've followed her to this weird dream-but-not-a-dream town in the middle of nowhere.

She breathes out a quiet sigh, glancing down at his shoes, still carefully holding her match's flame near. Part of her is still coming to terms with the fact that the last time they saw each other, they were having dinner with Sam. And after that whole argument on stage...

Sally apologized about that, though. She frowns and takes a few steps closer, still standing a little awkwardly in front of him.]

Hey, um... How long have you been here? 'Cause I was kinda freaking out at first, too. It's a lot to take in, I mean... it's actually almost impossible to take in, but we're here, so.

[She shrugs almost like she's trying to tell a joke, but it completely falls flat.]

This weather's not helping, I bet. It's fucking freezing out here.

un: indy

[nonscriptum]

i think the only reliable topographical information we're going to get is the stuff we make ourselves. i'm also kind of annoyed the library doesn't have anything that's published after the late 1950s?

but you're right, it feels like the survival town they built to nuke the crap out of. just bigger.

long time no see c:

[hitactor]

There's too much that shifts around here to make any kind of reliable map from scratch. If you decide to chart the course that's on you, but someone told me last month this place became a peninsula and it's clearly not that now.

The late 1950s is the whole town, not just the library. I picked up clothes from one of the market stores a couple of days ago and it's all dated there too.

Yeah, well it's practically a Nuke Town except there's living citizens here instead of mock-up mannequins.

it's been 84 years...

[nonscriptum]

should have clarified that was sort of rhetorical, i've been in a place like this before. shifting locations, changing layout. needless to say it's a huge pain in the ass.

i'd be grateful for the abundance of clothes if it didn't make everybody look so leave it to beaver.

[ Nate doesn't have familiarity with a lot of cultural touchstones, but he knows enough. ]

when'd you get here?

un: ak-12

[ak12]

That's worrying. I was hoping my gps was on the fritz.

Are there any digital interfaces there?

[hitactor]

Nope not unless you're counting the fluid. This thing we're talking on right now.

Everything in this town is based off the 1950s so I'm thinking you're out of luck unless you find someone with their own stuff.

[ak12]

Definitely not what I'm used to employ as a communication device, to be sure.

But it makes sense to deprive us of as many methods to get our bearings as possible.

I certainly did not ask to go on a little trip over a hundred years to the past. How did you humans even lived back then?

un: avesatanas

[instructionmanual]

What is Nuke Town a reference to?

[hitactor]

seriously?
well, they're towns created for the sole purpose of testing nuclear weapons. to see what the result would be on the surrounding area.

1A

[justlikemob]

[Mob hasn't had any experience with life-threatening cold, nor does he know how to handle it, so he's a little perplexed to see a tall adult man loading seemingly random supplies into a station wagon. The kitty litter could be because he has cats, and the salt...was he a spiritual consultant like Reigen? Mob figures that anyone who would think of his pets in this weather and reminds him of his mentor can't be that bad a person, so he starts to approach the man's car hesitantly. After all, first impressions weren't always correct, and he knows he should work on his general social awareness. Besides, what if he ends up bothering this guy--]

Ah--Achoo!

[A loud sneeze makes Mob's decision. There's no way that couldn't be heard. If Barry turns in the direction of the sneeze, he'll find a young teenage boy staring at him with saucer-wide eyes from under his hair, shivering both from how chilly the weather is and from intimidation.]

Um...sorry, h-hello...is there anywhere warmer around here?

[hitactor]

[Social prowess isn't Barry's strongest skill, but he does know snow and cold weather having spent some of his life in the Northeastern part of the United States. He's not friendly in disposition, gruff would work if he didn't seem so uncomfortable and on edge. It's the general look of everyone around here. Barry still half-expects some large unbelievable monster to be looming in the dark uncharted areas of the winter wilderness around them. After the worms, there's really no telling.

The sneeze is a giveaway, but it's not the first he's heard. His own eyes, nose, and ears are outlined in red, flush from the chill around them. It's not like he's expecting anything normal, but he's definitely not expecting another run-in with a teenager.]

Not unless you get indoors and start putting together a fire. Are you new?

[It's not until after the question rolls off his tongue that he realizes it sounds less than tolerant. He's just as exhausted by the new environment and really isn't sure how to handle each days surprises, fresh-faced himself. It's not really any indication of how he feels about the kid, he doesn't even know him.]

You obviously are. What I meant was - How long have you been here?

[justlikemob]

[Mob looks up at the older man, realizing how tall this guy is now that he's looking directly at him, a similarly uneasy look on his face. Being barely over 5'2", Mob looks even more childlike next to a man nearly a foot taller. It certainly doesn't help his nerves. Still, Mob doesn't see anyone else around, nor does he know the odds of anyone else being around in the cold.]

R-right...fire...the radiator broke wh-where I'm staying...couldn't fix it...

[Not that he hadn't tried, but attempts to shift the parts of the old metal heater with psychic powers only gave Mob a bloody nose and more time shivering. He's bundled up as much as he can to go and find either new parts for the heater or the materials to light the fireplace, but it never feels like enough.]

A-a few days, maybe? It was snowing before, b-but it wasn't this cold...

[It could be supernatural, like instinct is telling him. Then again, his perception of the supernatural has been going haywire since he got here.]