soddersays | JANUARY 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

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JANUARY 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to January's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: OCEAN 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.

PLEASE NOTE FOR CHARACTER ARRIVALS: This month, all players can choose to have their characters wake up in the town of Deerington or on the Titanic.

CW: Ghost of a child, rotting corpses, drowning, hallucinations, paranoia
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

WHERE FEET MAY FAIL

For those who were left behind in Deerington while everyone else was whisked away in the flood during the New Years Eve party, they will find that the town is a little more wet than usual. The streets are still flooded, houses are damp, and the chill of winter isn't making it easy to deal with. Your hands can feel like ice any day of the week and it's hard to focus with how badly you may find yourself trembling from the cold.

But it's almost preferable to the visions. They start off while you're sleeping; large sea monsters roaming the ocean, waiting to pull you down into the darkened depths; or maybe it's a strange, ghost looking girl with glowing eyes and tattered clothing, her skin blue and rotting the way a body does when it's been submerged in water for too long. She's calling out to you, beckoning you down, and all around her are the strung up, floating corpses of the people who were foolish enough to listen.

It's just a dream though, right? Slowly you start to see the girl around town. She's still calling to you, watching you, waiting for you. If you get too close, she'll even be able to grab onto you, pulling you down into the waterlogged streets, and into what you thought was only a puddle of water. It's as deep as an ocean, and just as dark and cold too. Someone near by can grab onto you before she can drag you under and the vision will disappear. If no one does, maybe if you're a strong swimmer, you'll be able to struggle free, but when you resurface, there will be a bruise forming on your arm in the shape of a hand – something to remind you that maybe these visions are a little more real than you gave them credit for.

The only way to stay safe is to travel in pairs. The girl seems to keep her distance when there's more than one person around, but it doesn't mean she won't try to find the means to separate you. Whether it's increasing the flooding in certain areas of the street or trying to distract one of you long enough to put some distance between you and your comrade, she'll do whatever it takes to try and grab onto whoever she can.

GHOST SHIP

Those who are on the boat might find that life is a little easier, depending on what class you've found yourself in. The struggles between first, second, and third are certainly rough on everyone, but many seem to find themselves thinking this is just the way of things. Maybe your mind has been altered to just accept the class differences or your memories completely rewritten and you think you've led a completely different life so far; either way, only a handful of passengers seem to fully understand that this isn't the way things are supposed to be.

There's nothing anyone can do to change things, though, and so many find themselves getting lost in day to day activities. Whether it's working on the ship, enjoying the finer foods in the first class dining halls, or enjoying the rowdy parties in third class storage after hours, everyone seems to be finding something to keep themselves occupied. As the days pass, even those who know full well what's coming seem to forget the looming doom, and you might even find yourself feeling lost in the monotony of day to day life.

But those who stare into the water too long, who look at the strange, large shapes swimming just under the surface might find a sense of dread filling them. The paranoia will shake you to your very core, leaving you with a sense that all is not right with this journey. You can try to tell people, but most will look at you as though you're insane. Eventually, your fear will become so heavy that you start to see destruction all around you. Whole sections of the ship will look flooded, rotting wood and rusted steel taking over every inch of the once proud ship, and every section is covered in algae. You might start to realize it looks uncannily like an old shipwreck.

The ship is still floating, though, and the coarse steady. So it's all in your head, right? Staying away from the water will make the visions and paranoia eventually ebb, but any glance at the floating shapes will cause it to come back tenfold. Maybe just stay inside and away from the ship's edge. It seems a lot safer that way.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

NOTE: Character's this month can wake up in Deerington or on the Titanic.

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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[ The other man is more solid than Hank, or at least takes up more space, so he stumbles a step to avoid the collision but recovers quickly, a curse on his tongue until he catches the words. The curse dissolves then, eyes widening in concern, head bobbing in answer to the question as he looks over the railing in reflexive worry. ]

Should watch your malchik better so close to the water, but da, am okay. Do you need help? Many eyes find quickly.

John, on the other hand, doesn't take notice of the movement. However, when spoken too, does remark without looking away from the book, "Interesting but controversial." After all, only a first-class would read a book of this statue.

Jan smiles. He may be crew, but he is educated. "What do you yourself think of the theory of evolution? Are you convinced by the author's arguments?"

John flips through some of the pages showing lovely drawings of creatures and natural selection and stops for a moment on the Cane Islands and the vary of the same bird; though-out the different islands due to the environment.

"It's just a theory - yet to be completely proven or disproven." In other words, someone wants to see for himself.

"What about you good, sir?" Which at that moment John eyes up from the book and is surprised and appalled that someone is definitely not first class. After all, anyone lower tends to be rather uneducated.

[Given the context he's almost sure he knows what malchik means but there's no point in asking, the fractured way he's talking makes it all too clear his first language wasn't English.

It doesn't bother him, what does is the offer to find his son. He's a naturally paranoid kind of guy, especially after losing his wife, so hesitance has become part of his core personality.]

I guess... Well, he's about this tall. [Tall for a boy, not too many inches shorter than the guy in front of him with his hand as the indicator.] Dark shaggy hair, big glasses.

A...paranormal photographer. I see.

[Oh, lord. What did he stumble into? It's like talking to that cryptozoologist at the hostel--what was her name? Lena? He can feel the regret sinking into his chest with every passing moment, but he doesn't dare betray any of it in his expression. No--he's far too composed for that.

He thinks to maybe correct her on the fact that this is an interrogation, but he considers otherwise. No need to start an unnecessary argument while she's still willing to talk to him, after all. He instinctively takes a small notebook and pencil out of his pocket, writing down a few notes as Lotta speaks.

There's a pause, and then--]

Is your name not Charlotte Hart? Or are you just uncomfortable with being called your full name? [Is Lotta not just a contraction of Charlotte?]

You'd be surprised. Plenty of people try to make themselves feel superior by bringing the authorities down on people they think are doing wrong.

[He's being sarcastic, of course. He's seen it all too often among the citizens of Rechavol--those in the gutter dragging those who try to leave the gutter right back down with them because they don't deserve to have what others have worked so hard to achieve. A vicious cycle of people wrestling at the bottom of the pyramid, too blind to see that their real enemies are those keeping them down.

Maybe a different avenue of questioning might work to glean some answers...small talk. Yeah. That works!]

What exactly do you do at these parties, anyways? So far, I've only seen people drink and eat and... [He trails off.] ...Well. Drink even more.

"Much more evidence is needed," agrees Jan. "But it seems very probable to me that this theory represents reality, that living forms change over time, just as Darwin maintains. I have never believed that the world was created six thousand years ago and that all the species that exist today were created then, and that they have maintained the exact same forms as at their creation."

Jan isn't first class, neither socially nor economically. But intellectually, he is. He smiles a little at the appalled look on John's face.

[ He pays rapt attention to the description, even if it's not much to go on. It's plenty he can go off of, at least for the moment, so he nods again. ]

Easy. Will look. I am Hank.

[ He thrusts a hand towards him, cheerful grin on his face, waiting expectantly. ]

[Luckily, Hank happens to go under close enough to where a kid who deals with supernatural threats can see him. Mob runs over to the scene quickly, grabbing onto Hank's shirt collar with one hand and lifting another at the ghostly little girl.]

I thought I told you to stop.

[The psychic force he sends out isn't enough to fully exorcize the girl, but it does cause her to retreat for now. Mob is glad that Hank seems to be able to swim well enough to pull himself out, because he's definitely not strong enough to do that on his own.]

...hopefully that's enough. [Wiping a bit of blood pooling under his nose, he looks to the damp bald man and the fallen sweets nearby.] I...don't think candy's what she's after. Worth a shot, though.

There's an upper class - posed face and doesn't expect an intellectual conversation and opens the book to not listen. However, he is a bit impressed - to a point before God is being challenged. Which nearly, immediately John snaps the spine of the book shut and gives a rather hawk looking face and in a superior tone;

"What do you know? More to the point what are you doing up here?"

To think that Smith, nearly thought that maybe he was wrong.

ghost ship

a.
[ It had all seemed foolproof, back at port—she'd stolen the money and, wanting both luxury and distance, spending a good portion of it on a stateroom had seemed like the best plan. Now, trapped on the ship and corralled amongst some of the richest and nosiest society has to offer, Sarah is beginning to doubt herself. All she needs to do is get through this and she'll be free on the other side of the Atlantic. The problem is in the details.

The accent, for one. She's comfortable with it, to a point, but hadn't exactly considered that being confined to the ship would also mean being confined to the posh, polished way of speaking she'd adopted for herself. It's easy, when she's not concentrating, to want to fall back into her normal accent—the drawling Brixton one she'd grown up with. ]

Yes, thank you, [ she says now as a waiter brings her another glass of champagne. As soon as he's out of earshot, she takes a too-big gulp of the drink and mutters, in a voice decidedly less polished, ] Bloody hell.

b.
[ Sarah's leaning against the ship rails, staring idly off at the horizon, when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye. Something huge slithering, deliberate, just under the crashing waves. She utters a gasp and looks down at the water, but—there's nothing. Her eyes narrow, waiting for the creature to reappear, dread making her feel cold and very, very small. ]

Hey! [ This is yelled, rather sharply, in the direction of anyone who happens to be passing by. ] Hey, are you seeing this?

ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ғᴀɪʟ; ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀ

( bootfalls and the irate zapping of a plasma sword echo sharply through the center of town, where a figure of black and rigid shapes stalks down Main Street. with his face in stark and vivid concentration, he strains to narrow down the source of the voice by direction, and good old-fashioned pursuit.

'-en.'

the saber crackles, red glow like a neon pin-point in the dim street and bloody as it reflects against the wet sheen of the concrete around him, but even its volume can't wash out the voice of the — child, one he can hear, but whose presence feels utterly absurd. there, and yet, not; looming, yet painfully dense and small. at first, it had touched the blind side of Ren's awareness like a hand on the back of his neck, eclipsing just behind him, a predator. to find the shape and size of a youth, something small and pitiable, was a dizzying surprise.

and she was only a glimpse, enough to leave him to suspect he might have mistaken their form.

—'Ben.'

Ren hisses softly when he pivots around sharply on his heel, his sword humming with the momentum of the idle swing. its sanguine stain touches Ren's jaw and lights his face, but only as ominously as it can on a man who only vies for his menacing demeanor...something tragically absent from his true nature. he levels a round and keen stare on the small figure, a water-drenched girl stood eerily still at yards of distance from him. he knows better than to underestimate the being — the gravity that encompasses her is enough to warn him, but uttering his name alone is a siren in his ears. it's enough to deafen him to anyone nearby, be it footsteps approaching, or their very lingering presence. )

I see you...but I can't see what you are.

Who are you?

ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ғᴀɪʟ; ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ʙ

( when the plasma saber collides with the small figure with a fizzling hum, the entity demanifests briefly — water releases and splashes away where the connection had been between herself and her prey. as swiftly as she had come to animate with a vivid violence, small and icy hands clamping around the unknown bystander, pulling them down into a portal of water, she retreats back into her impossible puddle of water down in a deepening pothole in the street. the vestiges of her presence are nothing more than the steam of Ren's lightsaber having come to contact the girl's form, water evaporating quickly out into the air.

Ren himself stands drenched, garments saturated and hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks where it doesn't coil and drip with cold water. he trembles with an uneven tension, difficult to tell if it's from the cold climate around them, or an irate adrenaline making the muscles in his arms and legs flex with anticipatory twinges. it nearly seems as though he has no awareness of the stranger he's just intervened for, given the mile-wide stare down at the settling puddle of water, until he turns toward them with a pointed motion, attention settling like a stone. )

It will return soon enough. Get up — stay away from the water.

If you wanna get technical, yeah it is- but Lotta's been what I've gone by my whole life, y'know? ...and getting my name said out in full just feels so- stuffy, 'specially when they're so intent on tacking "doctor" on, too... Kept telling 'em "y'all better save your breath and drop the 'doc' when you're talking to me" and that just gets me looks like I'm some space alien done waltzed out from Mars.

[...and that does achieve the effect of getting them to save their breath entirely by politely deciding to ignore her presence, which shouldn't bother her as much as it does because they're a bunch of stiffs and strangers so she shouldn't care what they think- but if she's stuck on a ship with them, well, getting a reaction like that just makes things even more awkward.]

Speaking of- I had to find out what it is I'm even a doctor of by overhearing them gossip about me when I bet they thought I couldn't hear it... turns out I'm an astronomer now. Don't know how in the world that happened. [She sighs defeatedly, hanging her head low and running a finger through her hair.] Guess it's a sign I should be pursuing a more stable career path 'stead of cryptid chasing, but doggone it, what's the point of looking up to the stars and wondering what's out there if it means finding out every UFO you see's gotta turn out to be a weird-shaped weather balloon?

Tch... Time of my life.

[Maybe he should be annoyed at her response, but somehow he finds it more amusing than not.

After all, the little ghost girl on his ankles is far more a nuisance than the woman reaching out to help him. Those tattoos catch his eye before the bruises, but right now he's just focused on getting the hell out of this freezing puddle. His grip is strong, perhaps a little stronger than needs be, but using her as an anchor, he pulls himself free of that ghost's grip and out of that icy water.

...But now half of him is soaked, and it's not any warmer for it!]

Avoidin' the weird ghost girl might be easy, but you ain't lookin' like you avoided much else.

[He comments coolly, eyeing the marks on her arms now that he has the chance to. The tired glance doesn't last long before he's making his way over to Golisopod to likewise help him, waving for her to follow him to the distressing bug monster.]

Get his other arm.

[River's breathing hard. She's not used to not being able to win a fight. Especially against a child.

But had she really, truly wanted to fight the young girl? Perhaps not. Perhaps she saw someone lonely and lost and it made her feel more sorrow than the urge to defend herself.

So when the blazing red beam cuts through the water and the girl disappears, River lets out a startled scream, backing away a few steps]

Hard to stay away from something always there.

Edited 2019-12-27 04:12 (UTC)

[Despite the false memories in place, there is one thing that hasn't changed from River Tam to River Smith: ] I love to dance.

[It's said with a smile, soft and a little bit longing. Her parents made her take all sorts of ballroom dancing lessons, but she likes something a little more wild. More free. Like the dance the lower classes are having here, in the common area, where she's snuck down to see what all the fuss was about.

But in her dress, it's clear she doesn't belong here. She tugs on her evening gloves self consciously, pulling them back up to her elbows.]

But I don't know that it would be appropriate. Two girls, I mean. I'll just watch. [Though the look of disappointment is clear on her face]

[It's not the attention to detail every father would describe their kid in but he doesn't think giving more information would be appropriate. Most kids on the boat wore pretty uniform clothing, there wasn't a whole lot of diversity where that was concerned and the last he needs is for Richie to catch more negative attention than he already managed to do on his own.]

Thanks, his name's Richard. Goes by Richie. I appreciate your help, I'm Barry. He's a damn espionage expert, so, we probably won't get a hold of him.

[ The tug at his collar only worries for a fraction of a moment, the tug towards the surface solidifying it as a good thing, and from there he can manage the rest. He climbs back onto the bank, huffing and cursing under his breath in Russian and Chechnyan both before turning to regard the boy curiously. He's a little out of breath still but he offers him a tired smile all the same, responding in heavily Eastern European-accented English.]

She is only a child. A ghost, but still little girl. Why wouldn't she want candy?

Titanic Prompt I: A Cinematic Voyage

[Oddly enough, Gene doesn't really question his presence on the ship. Why should he, when he's got pinot noir and all the trappings of the first class life on the Titanic? Fun fact: He was very nearly cast as the captain in James Cameron's Titanic, but given that it was during the decade Paramount Pictures had him blacklisted...it didn't work out.

For real though, he's running off the assumption that this is just another section of the dream he just had with the deer, so it's something he best go along with until he wakes up. Lucid dreaming and all that. So Gene can be found in the dining hall, ordering more fine dining and wine than is probably in his dream-budget. He's friendly enough, come chat!]

Titanic Prompt II: Pirates of the Caribbean was Ok

[Ok, now things were starting to get fucked up. Once Gene ventured onto the open deck, the luxurious ship he's on started to distort into a rotting mess. The last time he saw this many things that no one else did, it was under recreational drug influence during the bad years. He didn't take drugs in this particular dream, though, so this is just unfair.]

Oh, beautiful. Can't even get some damn fresh air around here...

[He complains very loudly as he goes back into the cabins, in typical Gene Cousineau fashion.]

[ Everything is happening both faster than the speed of light and in painstaking slow motion, all at once. Every detail is both sharp as a knife and dreamlike; vividly surreal. The hand that lunges down at him from seemingly out of nowhere and grabs hold of him — Jesse doesn't really register it, even though his survival instincts have him blindly snatching at it with clawing fingernails. Being dragged out of the water seems to happen outside of himself; it's as though he's left his own body and is observing himself from above as he's dumped on hard ground. The hand shoving off his dressing sodden gown doesn't enter his periphery — he's too limp and lifeless, too wracked by his gagging breath scraping down his throat into his burning lungs, to fight back. Someone's voice floats down to him; the words are garbled, faraway. Jesse can't respond, even if he wanted to. He gulps down a wheezing swallow, his eyes squeezed shut, and retches — and suddenly vomits with a choking splutter. ]

[Magnus snaps his fingers, once - twice in front of this new refuge's line of vision it's the lift of his chest that clues him in to the inevitable bout of illness and he side-steps it, pushing the green material with the point of his shoe away from the mess just in case he had intentions of keeping it.]

I'm glad your lungs and... your stomach work. You're lucky you knew how to swim, cupcake. Is it all out, or should I find you something to keep handy?

[ Jesse frowns just a little, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he thinks. ] Me neither, now that you mention it… must’ve been tired out from all that excitement when we set sail.

[ Doesn’t seem worth thinking more about just now though, and he slips easily back into the moment, the troubled look vanishing completely. ]

Yeeup, sure am. Born and raised. Whereabouts do you hail from, stranger?

[It was a little worrying, to think he didn't remember coming here to sleep, but in all truth, the other was right, the excitement of the day had been a lot and getting away? Even better. He pushed it from his mind with a nod of agreement.]

Ah, I am from Japan originally. Spend some time abroad and now I am here.

[He wasn't lying either, just not going to admit his father was a big shot anywhere.]

[ Jesse knows a purposefully vague answer when he hears one, but he's more intrigued than irritated. Getting to know this new bunkmate could make the trip more interesting; or if not that, at least more pleasant for having made a friend along the way. So long as this friend never finds out Jesse has a bounty on his head that he could cash in for a small fortune. ]

Sounds like you probably have some fun travel stories. I'll trade you some of yours for some of mine one of these days, if you're willin'.

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JANUARY 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

JANUARY 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

WHERE FEET MAY FAIL

GHOST SHIP

Character Arrival

OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE >.<

Re: Choice 1

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whoops??

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:D

With Your Feet On Dry Land

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sarah manning | orphan black

kylo ren. star wars. compliant through episode 8.

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where feet may fall

memory loss

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Gene Cousineau | Barry (HBO) | OTA | Small CW for drug mention, alcohol

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