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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.

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[ CONTENT WARNINGS: for Vergil, they are not many; primarily death (fratricide), corruption of oneself, and just general assholishness. he's had a hand in the destruction of at least one city, but it was full of humans and also [spoilers for dmc5] so he thinks it's fine. I doubt it will come up, but please let me know if you'd like to avoid spoilers and I'll do my best! He's from after the new game, but I've tried to make these prompts as spoiler-free as possible ♥ ]

m1: keep yourself warm (vanish like the warm stove)

diverging path: a

[ He does not like it here. Far from the temperate climate of Red Grave City, even further from the tepid humidity of Hell, this cold is... unpleasant, in a word. Even despite the demon in his blood chasing off the chill, he can feel it settling back in seconds later, stinging at his ears and fingertips and leaving him just this side of uncomfortable.

Vergil hates it, and after withstanding it as long as he can manage, finds himself at a store picking out a rich dark blue scarf. ~~He's got an aesthetic to maintain, after all.~~ It helps, though not as much as he'd like, and he pulls it up close around his face as he steps back into the outdoors.

He is a son of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda. Such a thing as a little cold is not allowed to bother him. This will be fine.

When he dips his hand into his pocket and finds the little box, it's with narrowed eyes that he investigates its contents. What foolishness is this? A few measly matches? Where did they come from? There's a sharp glare at the nearest person as he holds them up. ]

Did you put these here?

diverging path: b

[ Even more than he hates being here, he hates that he's giving in to this incessant cold. Try as he might to locate somewhere away from others, he finds himself pulling the matchbox out of his pocket and striking one of the matches.

Immediately, he feels a bit better, and there's a bit of a sigh as warmth courses through him. Vergil does what he can to shelter the flame from the surroundings, but when he looks up, his eyes go wide.

There, in front of him, is a man in a red leather jacket whose face is eerily similar to Vergil's own. The man in red grins, holds out a hand and makes that ever so familiar gesture that universally means "bring it," and Vergil grins as he reaches for his own sword. ]

Well, well. It's about time you showed your face.

[ And then he lunges to attack, match entirely forgotten. But is he really attacking who he thinks he is? ]

m2: i'm working on my backwards walk (around town)

[ Vergil is very much not happy to be here. He'd been doing things, has a score to settle and a count to keep. The fact that he's in some quaint little town instead infuriates him to no degree.

At least this town appears to be nothing like Fortuna, that he can tell: no giant statues to his father, no vaguely demonic presences to eliminate. More concerning is the fact that he sees no sign of the Qliphoth, a sure sign that he is much farther from Red Grave than he'd like, with little to no idea of how he got here.

That also means he has no idea where his twin brother is, a fact that rankles to no end.

Feel free to bump into him as he tries to get his bearings by imperiously walking into buildings he doesn't own and very slowly starting to remember how human societies work. What do you mean money must be exchanged for goods? If you're particularly lucky, you may also see him sneaking off to a quiet, empty space and pulling the sword from his waist. There will be two grandiose slashes through the air in the shape of a plus sign — and when nothing happens, he will be very unhappy. Feel free to ask why he's being weird! ]

m3: wildcard

[ if you'd like to interact with him in a different way, please feel free! I'm always down for anything, but if you want to run it by me first you're welcome to PM me or ping me on plurk at tieflings. promise I don't bite, though he may. ]

Edited 2019-11-29 00:31 (UTC)

[Ever get the feeling you were being watched? In this case it's not simply a sensation of paranoia. Someone like Virgil doesn't really pass notice, not with such a demeanor nor dressed as he is. Although Raphael has to admit, the guy sure dresses pretty snazzily.

The turtle has been skulking along the rooftops, which only sounds impressive because in actuality there aren't many tall buildings in the town. He hasn't exactly been crazy about the weather change so he's got something of a hooded poncho thrown over his shell, giving him an even more unusual silhouette as he peers over a ledge, interest piqued as the man draws his blade.

It seems like a bit of unnecessary effort on the guy's part to find a place to practice. ...if that's what he's doing.]

[ Oh, he absolutely notices he's being watched. Years spent on the verge of death and a childhood spent trying not to be killed by demons has left Vergil finely attuned to his surroundings. Waking up in an unfamiliar town after having been trapped in Hell? Bad enough on its own.

Waking up in an unfamiliar town with the distinct sensation of being watched? He is not thrilled, and his grip on the Yamato tightens as he moves.

Vergil doesn't pause once in his quest for solitude, senses turned outward to try to source the creeping feeling up his spine. When he slashes across the air and nothing happens, he narrows his eyes — and when he does it again to the same result, his patience snaps. Finally, he glances around the place. He still senses no demons, which irritates him, but— There. A cloaked figure, looming on a rooftop. No distinctly evil presence, but he's well aware that humans can hide deceptively dark hearts. That must be the source of this... nothing. ]

Hm.

[ Vergil turns— and vanishes from sight. When he reappears a second later, it's behind the hooded figure, sword in hand and ever so gently set over their shoulder. ]

Is there something I can help you with?

[Whoa, where'd he-?!

That the guy had to have some sort of skills hasn't been overlooked by Raphael, but the last thing he'd expected was a vanishing- no, a teleportation act of some sort. The turtle can ninja-vanish but even that's just a trick of smoke, stealth and agility. This is something entirely different.

Where one second ago there'd been nothing, there's now a definite presence behind him and it's proven by the blade gleaming over his shoulder.

Raphael gasps, his head turning sharply, the movement dislodging his hood as he stares up at the man wielding the blade, a hand reflexively slipping behind him in search of the grip of one of his sai. Gulp.]

-that's a pretty cool trick.

[ There's just a hint of smug satisfaction at taking his stalker by surprise, visible in the slight smirk on his face — but when the hood falls away and he sees green skin, smugness gives way to confusion as a creature he's never seen stares back at him.

Vergil doesn't acknowledge the comment, his head tilting just a fraction as he tries to figure out what exactly he's looking at. ]

What manner of creature are you?

[ He doesn't let go of the Yamato, doesn't plan on moving it until he figures out what threat is being posed. ]

Edited 2019-12-02 06:09 (UTC)

[It's an unintentional way of leveling things back in his favor, if only minutely. After all, Raphael still knows his situation is pretty precarious. His eyes flick back towards the blade, uncomfortably close as it is. He's seen how quick the man can swing the thing and doesn't feel like he wants to test how fast he can tuck his head into his shell by comparison.

His nose wrinkles a bit at the question, even though neither that nor the man's reaction is anything new.]

I'm a mutant turtle. You supposed to be something specific or you just like Halloween?

[The guy doesn't strike him as cut from the same cloth as the Hunters that had been roaming around the town before the snowfall, but he remains wary all the same. Beneath his poncho and behind his shell his fingers find their way around a sai hilt.]

[The person being lunged at with a sword is most certainly not a man in red leather. Generally, Sally tries to avoid wearing leather—she'll tell you it's because she believes in the rights of animals. It's not. It's because faux is cheaper and she is a struggling actress in Hollywood.

Regardless, the woman with a more purple-ish parka has taken years of stage combat classes. It really shows when she reacts to a sword being swung in her direction by trying to dodge back, only to collapse onto the floor with a yelp.

She can only stare, mouth agape, at the sword that was just swung at her, barely able to understand that... whatever that was just happened. After a moment her brain catches up with her and she reaches into her pocket.]

—Okay, I do have mace and I have used it before!

[ It's the yelp that snaps him out of the delusion. That is a very distinctly not-Dante sound, and Vergil pulls his sword back at the last second. He doesn't know... who that is on the other end of the attack, nor what he'd been thinking in attacking her.

This is very clearly not Dante, and the fact that he's made such an error appalls him — not because he's attacking a random person, but because he'd been deceived.

Vergil sheathes the sword quickly, though when he sees her reach into his pocket, his grip tightens on it. What is she... Wait. What? Mace? ]

You are... not who I believed you to be.

[ It's not an apology, and he isn't offering to help her up. He'd prefer not to be maced, so he doesn't approach — and Vergil just sighs, before glancing down at her.

He knows full well the control he has over himself, his movements, but it can't hurt to check. ]

You're unharmed?

[ Credence runs into Vergil at the store, seemingly incensed about having to use money for something. He wonders if there are just people who come from worlds without money or...whatever that's about. He's gotten used to the way money works here, and the prices on things that seem terribly high to him (thanks to inflation). But he also has more than enough money, since he doesn't have much he needs to spend it on.

He hesitates for a second, but he remembers how disorienting it is to be dumped into this weird place and have to get your bearings. Vergil seems intimidating, but Credence is used to that, being a timid person most of the time. Still, he takes a chance. ]

Do you need to buy something? I have some money if you need it.

[ He's already picked out a blue scarf that compliments his coat and has been considering a pair of soft gloves, when the issue of money comes up. He hasn't had any use for it for... decades, at this point, and Vergil does not appreciate this (second) reminder that money must typically be exchanged for goods and services. It's so much easier when he can simply take things, and for a moment, he considers it — before remembering the dream he'd had with the deer, and without reason, a shudder runs down his spine at the thought.

It's then that he realizes there's a human speaking to him, and the glance he shoots the boy is perhaps sharper than it needs to be. The idea of accepting such help, such charity is repugnant, and yet...

The cold outside is obnoxiously bad, and these things would likely help. He regards Credence in silence for just a moment, chooses his words carefully before responding. ]

What, exactly, would such a favor cost me in return?

[ Credence watches Vergil's reaction. He seems more standoffish than some people he's met, but Credence can't blame him for that. It's a hard thing to wake up here, and this cold is much worse than the mild, if somewhat allergy-inducing, spring had been.

He shrugs his shoulders a little bit at Vergil's question. ]

Nothing. I have enough to help, so I don't mind.

[ As it turns out, yes, yes it is. But not exactly in the way intended. Because while Dante is always ready for a fight, he isn't exactly looking for it at the moment. Not the first time he's been knocked out and transported to the butt end of some dimension--although this one has been decidedly less inundated with low-level enemies to keep him occupied--this one is a little more mundane. Seemingly.

But not for long.

The cold is more bone-chilling than even Cerberus or the frost demons--mildly concerning? A little. Not nearly as concerning as the sudden flash of movement off to his right.

He should have sensed it before it got too close, but Dante manages to pull Rebellion his back and block the attack before something unkind meets his face. ]

Whoa, there!

[ Not looking for a fight, but he won't say "no" to one. ]

[ There's a low hum when his strike is blocked — he would expect nothing less from Dante, after all. Vergil presses the attack for just a moment before shifting back and out of his brother's range. He adjusts his grip, spins the Yamato with a flourish, before holding it out and pointing the tip at the center of Dante's chest. ]

Come now, Dante. Surely you must be recovered after that little interlude. It hasn't been that long since our last battle.

[ Never mind that something feels... off. He can't put his finger on what, exactly, and Vergil narrows his eyes as he studies Dante's face. ]

Show me what you've got.

[ Being caught totally off guard isn't a common occurrence and usually ends up with Dante at the butt end of a bad joke and a weapon at the same time. This, however, is hitting the extreme end of both. He presses back on instinct, but even for all his flippant commentary Dante can't hide the surprise on his face when he sees who is trying to press their advantage.

Well. This wouldn't be the first time. And it definitely won't be the last. ]

Our last interlude...

[ Recovered after, what, how many years? He sure as hell hopes so. (Pun definitely intended.) But, fine, in the grand scheme of things, just another blip on the radar. Not surprising that falling into a very literal Hell wouldn't put a damper on things.

(But how'd he get hold of Yamato?) ]

Heh.

[ Dante swings Rebellion up onto his shoulder, giving it a little bounce as he paces lazily to one side. ]

Maybe not down in the basement, but topside things move a little differently.

[ Timey whimy craziness? Or maybe Vergil just enjoyed himself too much. Time passes quickly when you're having fun and all that.

He pivots once then charges forward, grabbing hilt with both hands to swing the large blade at his brother with a force that would cleave most people in two. ]

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