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DECEMBER 2019 TEST DRIVE

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

[There's no mistaking Eddie, no matter what timeline inconsistencies there were. Daintily small, graceful, prettier than most of the girls that called Derry home. His eyes acknowledge him tiredly before it occurs to him at once that he's not asleep. This isn't some brink into the furthest subconscious of his mind.]

I'm pushing forty. Or I was.

[Time to take a drink of the coffee in front of him, he visibly softens as it slips down his throat warming him all the way down.]

Eddie?

[Just to be sure, to know he's speaking to a person and not some kind of fever dream.]

(Now that he's sitting across from Stan, he can really see the boy he had grown up with in his face. The nose, mostly, and the curl of his hair and his gentleness. Something aching begins to press against Eddie's chest, and he realizes simply what it is: he'd missed Stan.)

Right. (That.

Eddie knew about that, and guiltily his eyes wander to Stan's wrists. There was no shame, he supposed. After all he was covered in scars too.)

Ahyuh. It's me all right. (He bobs his head and raises his right hand, badly scarred by so many things now, and rests his head into it.)

I haven't seen you in years. Though I guess you haven't seen me in a whole lot longer than that. Don't mind the uh- (Eddie grimaces a little and gestures to himself. His vampiric state was always a little awkward to explain.)

This town fucks with you sometimes.

[Stan answers the raised right a hand with a smile of his own, he hadn't even bothered to check to see if his palm still had the same mark but when he turns it over next to himself it still does.

They have that in common.]

You're - [Well, a kid, which was obvious. He gives Eddie a wry wince after the comment about his apparent differences. Unfortunately, he's accepting a lot with a grain of salt right now, too tired and worn out from the cold to do much else.]

I'm starting to get that.

(Eddie's eyes shift away when he finally does see the mark and he gives this small nod, more to himself than to Stan. Okay. Okay so that had happened. It makes him sick to think about, to think that Stan had ever wound up doing that sort of thing. But could Eddie even blame him? What It was capable of...

He looks back up again once Stanley's started to speak and winds up giving him a meek shrug.)

It's...all really complicated. (It was easier to just take everything with a grain of salt at this point. Eddie doubted Stan would stick around. Most Losers didn't, and he thinks maybe he could just enjoy his company while he was here. He sips uselessly at his hot chocolate.)

Some of the others are here too. Richie, Bev. Bill. That's all though. They're all this age too. (He gestures to himself as way of explaining.)

They have only been here a few months. I've been here for over a year.

Complicated is what you guys are good at, right?

[They took down a paranormal evil under their town when they were just kids. Stan doesn't know the significance of still having the scar, he's just hoping the rest of them made it out okay. Big Bill, Bev, Richie- all of them.]

A year. Well. [That's surprising, he doesn't know much about this place but it gives him the same feeling as home and that's never a good thing.] I'm sorry.

[Stan twists his lips into something thoughtful, he takes another drink to sort out his thoughts gives himself the time it takes to swallow it down.]

Good. It's good you have each other. Guess that makes me the odd man out.

Yeah, I guess.

(It's not the lot in life Eddie would of ever wanted to pick out. He liked safe and predictable. Then again all of the best things in his life had been the exact opposite of those things, so maybe he shouldn't complain.

He shrugs at the apology, used to apologies whenever people heard that, and he never knows what to say.)

It's only a little better than Derry, so whatever.

(The people were better, and back in Derry, the people were always what had made everything so much harder to deal with.

His brows raise up and he stares at Stan, confused.)

What? Why? Because you're a crusty ass old man? (He smirks a tiny bit, scoffing.) You were always an old man, Stan, now your outsides just match your insides. Once a Loser, always a Loser. We don't have odd men out here.

[The comment pulls an earnest smile out of Stan, but only for a second because crusty was a really rude word to use. He wasn't crusty, he's forty not sixty and that's just a little rude.

Clearly, Richie's been rubbing off on him but the exasperated look lasts only a few seconds before a tired sort of laugh rocks through his chest. Of course, the age disparity here is ridiculous but it feels like he might as well be back at thirteen. They settle into routine remarkably easy.]

Losers never have anything to lose, right?

Edited 2019-11-24 00:37 (UTC)

(The look is enough to warrant a low giggle from Eddie, and it's amazing really how easy it is to talk to Stan even now. That was a Loser connection for you though. No, he wasn't crusty at all, but Eddie had always been a little rude.

Especially to his friends.

His giggle turns into a laugh, and something loosens up inside of him.)

Noooope. (His fangs clang against the edge of his drink and he wrinkles his nose at that, but then tries again and gets a sip. His eyes become softer though, and his smile fades.)

Except each other maybe.

[It's endearing in a way he can't quite explain to watch Eddie's nose scrunch up into the dust of freckles he still had even with the pale complexion. The way his eyes squinted whenever he really laughed, instead of the wide-eyed frantic look he had on when he was trying to figure something out was exactly the same as it had always been. It's flooring and comforting all at once, leaving Stan a little dizzy by contrast.]

I don't think we'll ever lose each other.

[His smile might fade, but the look on his face isn't as dark as one would expect. Somber, sure, what he'd left behind hadn't been easy to part with but it had been done for a purpose. Instead he's reflective.] Not in the ways that matter.

(And isn't that all the same too? Stan's somber expression. He was always so much more serious than the rest of them. Stan had always understood the way the world worked well before any of them had. Even Bill. His arms ache to hug him, but he keeps himself sitting across from Stan and instead just locks his fingers together around his mug.

He doesn't say anything right away. It was something he struggled with all of the time. Because that wasn't totally true was it? The Losers lost Stan and they lost Eddie. Then they lost their memories again which meant Stan and Eddie might as well cease to exist. He looks down at his hot chocolate and looks tired. Painfully tired.)

I guess so. (He rubs a hand through his hair, careful not to mess it up too much.) I guess we never stop loving each other.

(That much he'll agree with. But was that the same thing as never losing each other? He's not so sure. He feels like he's lost the Losers several times over by now.)

That's right. You're lucky to have them here.

[Who he did have. The worst part about coming to his decision was the knowledge that he'd never see any of them, not now- not ever. It had been the hardest part, but loyalty and love won out in the end. It always would.]

I know it's not all of us, but that's something at least.

You're here too now.

(Though Eddie's voice doesn't perpetuate much hope. He slides his finger in small figure eights on the counter top and gives Stan a shrug. He hasn't said as much to the other Losers, but he felt oddly like he could maybe confess to Stan how he felt. Stan had always been easy to talk to about harder things, and it seemed like him being a grown up wasn't much different.)

I've been alone for like, three years. Not always here. Other places. And you guys all come and go all the time. I doubt they'll stick around long. They'll go, they'll forget they were here and the stuff we've seen and gone through, and then I'll be alone again. And I'll forget again.

(That's...How his life had been for three years now. It was hard to get over it. Even if Bill, Richie, and Bev had been here for a lot longer than they usually were by now.)

But...while you're all here it's nice. It just makes seeing you all go a lot harder is all.

Then maybe you shouldn't live like you're going to have to let us go.

[There's something less than confident in the way he says it, but that's only because it's hard to believe that Eddie had gotten so disenchanted. Three years could really change a person though, he knew it intimately. What he'd kept, he retained because of the other losers because of what he did remember and associate. He was ahead of the curve too, but that didn't pay off for him specifically in the end.]

That's no way to live, Ed. I know I'm probably not the first to tell you that.

(Eddie absently picks up his mug and takes a long sip, mostly because he wasn't sure what to say about all that. It was easier said than done, he thinks, and he sets his mug back down eventually.)

I mean. I live every day with them like it might be the last day I get with them. Sometimes... (Sometimes he had started to let himself believe that they really weren't going anywhere, but truthfully he was scared by what would happen when they finally did.)

Sometimes I hold back too though. (It's not something he'd admit to the others. Out of fear of hurting them, maybe. But to Stan...Stan with his scars and Stan who would probably understand. Maybe even a little. Eddie slumps forward and puts his head into both of his hands, sighing.)

You know I'm not brave like you are. (He picks his head back up a second later, and his eyes go back down to those scars.) Not so sure any of us were.

(Are. He doesn't know. He scoots a hand out across the table, fingers hesitantly touching the side of Stan's hand.)

Why'd you leave us, Stan? (It's unfair to ask, maybe, but they had made a promise. And while Eddie had seen the vision of Stan's death before, he had never learned why.)

We all hold back. You're just - you're better than that. You were the one that was always kinder, sweeter than you had to be. I remember that.

[Stan might have been reserved and he more than earned a mouthful from Eddie once or twice, but he also remembered how soft he was. How gentle he could be, nurturing despite his mother being overbearing and crude in the worst of ways.]

I'm not brave. Not now. Not then.

[That much he knew for certain. The small brush of finger has his eyes lifting to meet Eddie's, and he flinches, not from the touch but from what he knew he was about to tell him.]

Because I knew it was the only way you guys would be able to beat It. I knew I'd never be able to- [Do what had to be done.]

(Eddie's eyes flicker up to Stan's face, uncertain, and a little raw, because he had never seen his overwhelming emotions as anything but a bad thing. His eyes were a little wet and he has to look away.)

I remember you always believing in all of us.

(Always. Even when Stan was rolling his eyes or sighing at some dumb thing Richie was doing, he had always been this reliable presence.

He tips his head to look at Stan, his frown deep.)

You think that's not brave? Dying so we had a chance? You're not stupid, Stan.

(Of course that was brave. That was braver than brave. His eyes are kind now, kind in that way Stan had just mentioned.)

You would of. You would have been able to. Maybe you'd be scared but we were always stronger together. Always. You know I was scared too. I thought that too- that I'd never be able to do anything worthwhile. (He lightly bites his lower lip, not hard enough to tear.)

I've seen how it all ends. In visions. I don't make it out either. They lose both of us. And I don't think any of them are better off for it. You and I...We weren't supposed to leave them.

I didn't think I was worth much of anything until I met you guys.

[Richie and Eddie he'd been the closest to by far, but he'd gone along with all of it because he couldn't bear to go without them and he knows there's truth to what Eddie is saying even though it stings at the back of his eyes something awful.

It's hard to find the words to reply when he's got this picture-perfect insight into his past harkening the songs of virtue he didn't know that he had anymore.

A sigh breaks through his teeth, still visible in the air between them. It's that cold.]

I didn't know that. [That he didn't make it. It's not like he'd wanted any of them apart from each other. He could rationalize his own absence, but not Eddie's because he knew more than most how badly Richie had needed him growing up.] God, poor Richie.

[Of course, he hates that Eddie died but the way he speaks makes it more than clear to him how familiar he was with it. He greeted death like a friend, the same way Stan had just done. It takes a certain amount of composure and experience to do that. A totality not many people just had.]

You were all supposed to be fine. I thought if I- I- took myself out of the picture, you all might have a chance.

Edited 2019-11-24 01:53 (UTC)

I don't think any of us thought we were worth anything til we met each other.

(Wasn't that the point after all? Being Losers. Eddie's hand slides back across the table, and there's a wrecked sort of look on his face because that was all so fresh. Seeing Richie break apart during his death and Eddie gives a small, quick nod.

No, there's absolutely nothing personal he takes in that. He doesn't think he really even has to tell Stan.)

I died for him. (And that's why it doesn't bother Eddie that he didn't make it out. It's that easy. He rotates the mug around slowly.)

IT got him in the deadlights and I wouldn't....(He stops moving the mug and takes a deep breath.)

You know I'd never let anything in this world take Richie from me. So I didn't. (That's all there was to it. Eddie would never let Richie die. Not if he could do something about it.)

We weren't fine. Maybe the others, sure, but...Richie...(He's broken after all of that. Eddie doesn't have to tell Stan for Stan to know that.)

Not so sure he'll ever be fine again. No chances there. I don't know why you'd ever think removing yourself would of helped. We all needed you. But probably Richie most of all after...(After Eddie's death.)

Shit, he needed you before too. He always has. You're his best friend.

[They may have all found each other through less than ordinary circumstances but after leaving Derry, Stanley found himself fine with a life of obscurity. A place where he could wake up and fill the bird feeders, sit in front of the television at night with a glass of red wine or maybe even sit down to a good book.

That's what he'd set aside for himself, what he'd achieved, and something he'd let go of to help the rest of them. At the time, Stan had done what he was convinced was best but Eddie saying it so plainly twists something up in his gut, like a knife. His frown deepens as he continues, and there's really not a damn thing he can do now. No way he can save Eddie, go back and change it, and so he's not sure what's worse - doing something he'd been so sure could help and failing even that, or being incapable of ever taking it back.]

He loved you, you know. You guys were so obvious. [It's said with a slight roll of his eyes because even now he can remember how exhausting it all was.] I'm sorry you ever forgot each other. Lost each other. I was just trying to do what was right, Eddie, I don't know.

(They all had their regrets. Eddie had left Richie a broken man, and sometimes he wonders if he should have tried to save him in a different way. Because at the end of the day he knew he hadn't saved Richie in any of the ways that actually mattered.

Some part of him is convinced that Stan's some sort of hallucination, some sort of temporary space to occupy that cold hurt in his chest that's been prominent since he saw Richie screaming for him under Neibolt. He rubs a fist at his eye, the tears finally starting to work.)

Yeah, well, I love him too. (His eyes roll almost exactly at the same time as Stan's, and he has to rub both hands over his face to try and stop the tears. He's not thinking too hard about Stan telling him Richie loved him. Maybe part of him already knew, or maybe a part of him didn't really want to hear it. What would it change?

More than likely it was a little bit of both.)

None of us knew what was right. Not you, not me. You don't have to apologize, Stan. We all fucked up after we left Derry. Some of us a little more than others...But I think that's what IT wanted all along. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault but that fucking monster's.

I know you do.

[Would that love could be the cure-all but that's just not realistic. Stan learned early on that as powerful as love was, it couldn't fix things completely. Not always, so he knows where Eddie's line of thinking is going. Familiar with how his brain worked at this age, he'd spent enough time with both of them together and individually. Around everyone when things had been good and then just one or both of them when things weren't so good.

It's why he picks up on the desperate rubbing at his eyes, the way the heels of his hands pushed and lingered maybe too long. It's not like he can do much. Even now, a much older man, he still feels pretty useless.

What he settles for is pulling Eddie into a hug, something to tell him he understood even though nothing could be done.]

(It especially couldn't fix anything when he was too afraid to really talk about it. When he was too afraid to do anything about it. Even now with Richie in town and his bite fresh on his neck, Eddie would rather lay down in a bed of ignorance and try to ignore how much the potential of Richie horrified him, and maybe scarier yet, excited him.

Eddie had never been very good at going for the things that were better for him, that would make him reach some full potential. His mother had trained him very well to keep himself shackled down.

Eddie makes a small noise when he's hugged, and he's clinging almost at once. Arms around Stan's neck and he squeezes against him. Stan was much bigger like this, and felt different, but at the same time it was just the same as if it had been yesterday.)

Sometimes I wonder why we're so cursed. Why we don't get to have our happy endings.

(He means Richie, himself, and honestly, even Stan to some extent. Hadn't he had a wife that he had loved? Derry took that from him too.)

Maybe there aren't happy endings. There's happy moments instead.

[Stan swallows against the lightweight of Eddie in his arms. He never felt this small, this breakable when they were kids. Hell, Eddie had gotten in some choice hits on him when they were younger, after all. Even though Stan rarely indulged in scrap fighting. Typically it was a jab on the fly, something at the quarry.]

That leaves a lot to be desired. Pretty sure I tapped out on my happy moments after that summer.

(He laughs against Stan, but there's tears in his voice and he presses his face against Stan's shoulder. It wasn't totally true though. He had spent the last two or three years trying to find happiness where he could. He eases back from Stan finally, and rubs the rest of the tears off of his face.)

Richie can't know about any of this. If you see him...Don't...Don't tell him. Please. (It's hard to tell whether Eddie means the love thing or the death thing. Then he realizes that there really wasn't a difference at all. He'd died because he'd loved Richie. They went hand in hand.)

Make some more.

[It's a simple response, very absolute and matter-of-fact, in that dry sort of way he'd always been when they were young. Not all that much had changed, but the next words out of Eddie's mouth makes his shoulders sag underneath him. That was uncomfortable.]

Uh- you know how perceptive that asshole is. I'll do my best, but I'm not a very good liar.

[Not even with time and experience on his side.]