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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Great. A weirdo.

The deadliest weapon Villanelle has is people’s love to conform. The fact that people will scramble to obey social expectations, to be polite, to do everything right. They ignore their gut instinct, they trust because someone with confidence told them how it is going to be. Like herding sheep.

But weirdos. Weirdos don’t care about any of that shit. There’s no script to follow. All improve. A challenge.

She dips her head down lower so she can catch his eyes. Her smile is endearing, a mischievous glint in her eye. ]

Something wrong? I'm not your type of pretty face, is it? Or is it my accent? You know we Russians aren’t that bad. Promise.

[ She leans in closer, a little flirty, a lot of that confident assertion too. ]

Dangerous? Yes, maybe it would be good to avoid that. But sticking together will help, right? Safety in numbers, it’s worked for ages.

[ Will's adamant about the lack of eye contact, unfortunately, and seeking it out makes him skittish. A weirdo indeed - he's already hunched against the cold, but it exaggerates into something defensive and prickly when she tries to override his initial body language. ]

Don't really care about the accent. Or the-- face. [ His voice skips like a bad record, but it's not from shyness or embarrassment. He's distracted by something he can't place, can't tell if it's her or if it's whatever she insinuated being worried about. ] I'd ask why you picked me, but it looks like we're the only ones stupid enough to be outside right now.

[ The wind chooses that moment to spit some more big, flaky snow at Will's cheek, so he supposes the weather agrees with that indictment. ] Look, if you're looking for a date, just-- [ He holds up one gloved hand, like he would physically distance himself from the idea if he could, ] --don't. If you're looking for someone to show you somewhere safe, I can walk you home.

Or to the bunker. [ If she's new, Will's counting on her not having heard of F.E.A.R. before, but he's always been quick to bring it up. A secret organization, it's very much not. ]

[ At first she thinks he’s stepping back because there’s something in the distance he’s spot before her. She doesn’t move an inch and tries to hear over the sound of the whistling wind and the low hum of paranoia ringing in her own skull.

But no, no danger yet. Just failed charm.

Her face freezes in a clenched jaw, just for the briefest moment, and then the sugary sweet smile is smoothed back into place. She feels nothing. Almost all the time. Except anger. And the feeling of her pride being smashed to bits by a socially awkward hammer. God she hates weirdos. ]

I get it. Traditional man, huh? Not until marriage. Cute. [ that’s not what it is at all. Nobody acts that way over just the suggestion of a date. But he’s offering shelter that’s good enough for her. Especially since for some reason, some strange reason it feels like a set of teeth are never far from the very back of her neck lately. ]

Bunker? Great. I’m guessing they don’t have aged whiskey and bathrobes down there, huh? What a welcome.

[ she starts walking already, in a direction she’s not even sure is the correct one to get to whatever bunker he’s referring to. She brushes as close as possible to Will, no other reason than to see his reaction. A small smirk on her lips. ]

And that’s not true. I would have asked you anyway. I think it’s your beanie.

[ playful or mean. Who knows. ]

You got a name?

[ This is all the parts of socializing that Will hates the most - the social impetus to smooth out conversational corners, to comfort little missteps. His disinterest isn't something he feels like sanding down, though, and it sharpens when she starts forward and comes-- too close. Will freezes in place not from nerves but from stopping the impulse to check her shoulder with his, aggression rushing in to comfort the embarrassment. ]

Not one for sharing with people who think they need to flirt for attention. [ Said without an attempt at apology. Will's social niceties extend about as far as preventing other Sleepers from freezing to death and stops well before indulging their strange hangups and fantasies about how information should be bought.

Will starts off in the other direction - the correct one. ] And the bunker's this way--

[ Which is when he stops short, because as soon as he turns to look at where she was coming from, he sees...

It's gone almost as soon as he spotted it, but Will's body language is abruptly tense and observant, and it's clear he saw something that spooked him. ]

[ A small sarcastic sound of ever suffering escapes past her lips as she rolls her eyes. ]

Don’t be like that, Beanie. You know you should really relax more. There’s nothing more—

[ But whatever ‘more’ is they’ll never know because of Will’s sudden change in body posture. Villanelle stops dead in her tracks, ears and eyes trained on the tree line, scanning for whatever was just seen. ]

What is it? Is there something there.

[ The fact that her sarcasm and jokes has drained away seems to suggest that her concerns about being followed are a little more serious than a stalker matchbox ]