soddersays | APRIL 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

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APRIL 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to April's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: ENCHANTMENT 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: Enchanted food, possible body horror, mild finger injuries, magic based mind control, rapid aging, possible death
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

Pork is on sale!! Time to buy it up for all your family meals. It also means anything with pork in it in all of the restaurants is on special and super affordable for just about anyone. New arrivals can even get a free meal of bacon, sausage and eggs at the diner! Seeing all the low prices, you find yourself craving pork more than ever. But who doesn't love bacon, right? Maybe you had ham and pineapple pizza at Peter's or those delicious and mouthwatering pork dumplings at the Hot Pot. You could have cooked a nice pork loin with your friends and family for a large get together. Candied bacon is a real treat to munch on in the park!

You're cooking it yourself or getting it from the local restaurants, so nothing bad could happen with a little self-indulgence, right? Just about everyone has learned not to trust the food at a giant feast in Deerington, but short of the lunch and dinner menus at the diner, the restaurants and the grocery store have never done a Sleeper harm! At least, that's the way it's always been before. Two years is long enough to start taking things for granted.

Anyone who has any of the specials from the restaurants or who cooks any kind of pork related product at home will find that once they have finished their meal, they will slowly turn into... pigs. It seems to vary on how fast a single person turns, some moving slowly over the course of days while they eat more and more food, and others will turn into a full blown pig in a manner of minutes. At first you can still talk to others and display your usual personality in pig form, but the longer you stay a pig, the more boarish you'll become.

So how do you break the curse? Locals say there's a magic stream up on the mountain that will stop these kinds of enchantments, but you can't go alone. Someone will have to carry you up and sing to you while you drink. It might be a friend or a lover or a complete stranger, but whoever you can nudge into it will have to physically carry you in their arms up the side of the mountain looking for this stream. It can take a while— the walk is fairly long, a few hours at best, but you'll know it when you find it. The stream sparkles unnaturally in the sunlight and it seems like none of the animals are willing to drink from it's unnaturally cold waters. The moment you take a long sip while your companion sings whatever song pops into their head, you'll turn back into a human. Hopefully your clothes turn back with you.

If your character does not eat meat/pork, then they'll be safe from this event!

GOOD ENDURES

Mirror mirror on the wall...

The pork doesn't seem to be the only enchanted object around Deerington this month. There are several of them cropping up all over the place and each one has a different outcome for those unfortunate enough to run into them.

Spinning wheels seem to be in the most random of places. Some of them will even just appear in your house. Sometimes multiple spinning wheels show up. Anyone who gets to close will have the strong urge to prick their finger on the spindle, the needle very easily cutting the tip and making you bleed more than you might have expected. Hopefully you have a first aid kit around.

Anyone who pricks their finger will find that they are forced to follow the next person they see around everywhere. They'll follow them to work, to school, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, even to bed. It doesn't matter if it's someone you've never spoken to in your life, you will follow them like a lost duckling every hour of every day. It's enough to drive anyone bonkers.

Mirrors will also suddenly be being displayed in every home and every shop, even if you never had them before. It doesn't matter whether or not you have a reflection, any person who looks into the mirror will find that they are forced to imitate the next person they make eye contact with. This can be their personality, their posture, the way they speak, their basic movements— you'll start to become a total mirror image. If it goes on too long, you might even start to find the two of you start to look more and more alike...

Apples start to pop up in all the stores as well as in your fridges. They're bright red and look so delicious, you can't resist taking a bite. Even if you don't like apples or are normally allergic to them, you'll want to eat these, and you'll find they taste delicious and don't bring harm to anyone. At least... not at first.

A few hours after eating the apple, you'll start to notice differences in your appearance. Your hair has start to thin and become gray and limp, your skin is wrinkled and covered in spots, your hands become frail and shaky. You're aging, and rapidly at that. Before you know it, you've turned into a hideous hag, one that would frighten children in any fairy tale book. But how do you reverse it?

The cure for all three enchantments is to tell three facts about yourself. Even just introducing yourself will show improvement if it's to someone who never knew your name before. Those who ate the apples will have to seek someone out, but anyone who pricked their finger or looked in a mirror will specifically have to confess these three facts to the person they're enchanted to follow/imitate. Once three facts have been shared, you'll be able to leave, return to normal, and age back to your regular self.

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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[ Jon doesn't even parse the red splatters, really. His entire awareness has veered into hunger.

This man has a Statement for him. Statements, he's certain. And— and it's been so long, since his last live Statement, since—

Since his team's intervention. He promised not to take another live one. Not to flay the minds of innocents more than he strictly needs to.

He's not sure how long he can hold out now that he's face-to-face with one. ]

I... I'm, ah. [ Slowly, he fights back control of his voice. He's really not doing well at keeping the fixation and desire off his face, though. The Archivist's stare is... intense, even for those who can't see the unfathomable eldritch depths in it. ] Yes. I had... questions.

[ It occurs to him that the man looks alarmed. Jon gamely attempts to school his expression into something less off-putting. (It does nothing for the piercing, uncountable eyes Sunny might be seeing.) ]

[ he doesn't want to look. if he looks, he'll see things, and he might even know them, and his brain wasn't designed for that, and it's going to give him a migraine, and he doesn't want to be.. what michael wants him to be. and that's the only way that he can manage, he knows. it's the only way he'll make sense of the-- the eyes. there are eyes, and it's something.. scary, and he doesn't think it's this person's fault, and he's not going to look.

his glance slides away to the floor instead, because that seems safer than literally any space above this stranger's ankles, and he offers a slightly shaky smile.

he kind of wants to ask the stranger to leave, but that would be.. rude. he can manage this. he's managed okay so far, hasn't he? he does at home. ] Did you, um.. I can make coffee? [ his glance flicks back up almost involuntarily, caught, drifting from one staring eye to another, then up to the stranger's own piercing gaze, almost lost beneath the thing that covers and fills him. ]

[ The man is afraid of him. Aware of his monstrousness, somehow. This should make him feel guilty, and it does, distantly.

The problem, of course, is that it also makes him feel hungry. ]

I... coffee. No. [ He can't stop Looking. There's so much there— there's something in this man he doesn't have words for, except that he thinks it might be Vast, but even that seems... insufficient. Something bright and strange and unknowable, something too expansive to fit in his mind, and every inch of him wants to pull it to pieces and catalog the parts.

Jon's voice shakes, a bit. ] No, I think I need to— I- I should go.

[ They're on the same page about that. Largely. He just... needs to make his feet move, now. ]

[ .. the stranger knows about what's in him, doesn't he? and he knows a little about what's in sunny, and that's.. breathtakingly terrifying, because regular people aren't supposed to be able to see Him. and the thing is, if this was just a spirit or a demon or something like that attached to this person, he wouldn't be able to see that sunny's different, the thing inside him would be seeing it. but this isn't a demon, doesn't feel like a demon, doesn't look like a demon. he's never met one, but he knows it, knows this is something.. very different. ]

What is it? [ he shouldn't have asked that. it's safer for him not to know, and he'd told himself he wouldn't ask, wouldn't wonder. but this man is standing on his stoop looking half-starved, as if sunny's a banquet, and if they're both going to be here in this little town together, sunny.. isn't sure he can live with the not knowing. michael isn't here to protect him from the monsters, and while he doesn't think this man is a monster necessarily, the thing inside him certainly isn't benign.

he realizes he's half hidden himself behind his door, and takes another shaky breath, forcing it open wider so he can't do that again. ] .. The thing in you. A-Attached to you. [ he uncurls a hand and lifts it, reaching, hesitating before the inhuman eyes still watching like a hawk. he withdraws his hand again with a hitching breath. ] Does it always.. stare?

Yes. [ His voice breaks on the word, just a little. That shakes Jon out of it, some: he blinks, refocuses on the man's face, trying to look at the person and not the rest of it. Tries not to see the power and the trauma and all the pieces he wants to pick apart and Know. ]

It does. Always. The— the Ceaseless Watcher, they call it. Among other things.

[ He wants to ask how this man can see it. He wants the story of how he learned to see it, the stories of all the other things he's seen, and what they did to him—

He does not trust himself with questions, right now. But it is so very, very difficult to pry himself away. ]

What do you see?

[ There's only the faintest hum of compulsion behind it, a little slip of pressure. He's trying so hard. ]

[ his head hurts. he feels.. off, wrong, skin stretched too tight over his bones, and should he even have skin or flesh or bones? they're all so. wrong. but he's going to vibrate out of his skin if he just keeps standing there letting those eyes stare at him, stare into him, without doing.. something. they both know this is a bad idea, they both know this man should leave, that sunny should close the door, but. that's not going to happen. neither of them is going to do what they should, and he knows that as surely as he knows his own name.

he takes a breath and steps back to let him in. ] I-- I don't want to have this conversation in my doorway, please. [ though he doesn't really want to allow this ceaseless watcher inside his home, either. still, he's not going to mistreat this man because something awful's attached itself to him. it's clear enough he doesn't want it.

then, whether jon steps in or not, because he can't quite help himself: ] Eyes. Eyes in a.. void. You're covered in them. They're-- [ a shaky hand lifts, sweeps out over the space around jon, carefully not touching any of them. ] All around here, stretching out into.. elsewhere.

I really— shouldn't. [ Jon takes a step inside, hesitates. He tries to think of Martin. He tries very, very hard to think of the way Martin looks at him, and not the taste of fear and confusion in this man's eyes.

He watches in fascination at that gesture, at the tremble in that hand. ]

Have you always— [ But he bites off the question halfway. A heavier weight of power was building behind those words, and he's promised, hasn't he. He needs to uphold it, for Martin to be alright. Even if it hurts, trying to rip himself away from the information here.

Jon is certain that if this man volunteers any more, he... might not be able to stop himself. Might not want to. He breathes, carefully, and starts again. ]

It feeds on... fear. Bad experiences. Terrible truths. [ Strained, so strained: ] I am trying my best not to feed it. Much.

[ he's fully prepared to be on edge the entire time this man is here, with that.. being staring at him from beneath the stranger's skin. but then he says something that sort of reminds him of something martin had said. feeding on stories, hadn't he put it..? ]

Oh, [ he says, surprised, something in his posture easing and the nervous fear ebbing to the background. ] Are you Jon? Jon.. um, Sims? I've met your-- your-- [ come to think of it, he hadn't really asked martin to put a label on his relationship with his jon. ] --your Martin. Come in, I'll get some paper and write something down for you. [ he ushers the other man further in and shuts the door behind him.

the house is pretty much spotless except the living room, which has been converted into a kind of studio. there's plastic on the floor and a canvas atop it, sketches taped to the walls and stacked everywhere, and supplies wherever he has room for them. instead of leading jon into the living room, then, sunny takes him to the kitchen. ]

He told me about your.. would you call them dietary requirements..? I-- Sorry, your watcher is.. new to me. Can I get you coffee, tea, something else..?

[ This actually, genuinely startles him out of it. Jon blinks at the man, expression blank and bemused, and then at the name Martin everything in his face and posture just melts into a stunned little smile. Jon gives an honest-to-god laugh and runs a hand through his hair, still shaky. ]

My Martin. [ The way he says it is... embarrassingly warm. Jon doesn't really have the presence of mind to care, at the moment. ] Of course. Yes, I... thank you.

[ So he follows. Jon hovers politely a few paces behind, watching him. ]

No need. But if you must— tea, then. Thank you. [ It will be awful, American tea, he's sure, but he will drink it in Martin's honor. And, again, with more feeling: ] Really— thank you.

[ jon goes soft and gooey the same way martin does, and for a few seconds there, it's easy to forget about the eyes staring through him, because it's just. sweet. ] Y'all couldn't be more head over heels for one another if you tried, [ he says with a breath of laughter. his head still aches and he still feels as if his body's all wrong, but it's not as bad as it was gearing up to be. he doesn't look at his hands as he pulls down the little electric kettle for hot water and think: are those mine? and that's something.

he takes a mug down for the other man, opens his cabinet where he keeps his tea and coffee, and makes a musing noise. ] All I've been able to pick up so far is a store-brand black tea. It's okay, but probably not the best you've ever had in your life.

[ it'll do if all jon wants is something to wrap his hands around and focus on, though.

he leans his hips against the countertop as he waits for the kettle to boil, arms folded loosely over his abdomen. ] You don't have to thank me. I mean.. the eyes are spooky, but it's not your fault. It's not even the first time I've seen something with a lotta' eyes. [ a beat, holding up a finger as if asking him to pause. ] Um, don't.. ask about it, he said to remind you. I'll write that bit down, too. He told me a little bit about you. [ in spite of himself, he grins. ] He's so smitten there's no hiding it.

[ Jon gives another little huff of a laugh, at that, but doesn't deny it. He nods readily enough at the promise of mediocre bag tea. He hadn't expected quality. A warm distraction will do.

At the promise of something with a lotta eyes he straightens unconsciously, alert like a dog scenting game. The hunger is back in his eyes before he knows it's showing. Once his host thinks to cut him off, he settles a little, reluctantly, chewing his lip. Tone wry and tired: ]

It's— difficult not to ask. Not as bad once I know you intend to write it down, though. [ Then it's not denial of knowledge, just patience. Jon is not good at patience, necessarily, but he's never had such a strong reason to learn.

The talk of Martin loosens him up a little more, eases his posture back down to something closer to normal. Jon resumes a noble effort to act like a person instead of a monster. ] I'm sorry— I never asked your name. You know mine.

[ gosh, it really is a hunger, isn't it? you can see jon's posture change, his eyes--all of them--refocusing, laser-sharp and intense. if this had happened ten minutes ago, sunny would have been very, very on edge. ]

I can imagine. [ it must be like starving and having your favorite dish dangled in front of your nose without being allowed to touch it or taste it. ] I promise, I'll write down everything I can think of. Like I told Martin, though, I can't say they'll all be.. good? Some of it's pretty mundane, for uh.. supernatural.. stuff. [ angels are just a part of his life now, whether they're human-shaped and perched on a stool for him to sketch or impossible creatures of eyes and wings and holy fire checking in on his migraines.

but then he smiles, warm and kind and a little crooked. ] Sunny. Sunny Holiday. [ a beat. ] My ma had a sense of humor, I guess. [ he's heard all the jokes. he knows his name is silly. ] It's nice to meet you, Jon. Really.

[ the kettle clicks and he jumps a little, laughing at his own jitteriness as he pours water over a teabag for the other man. he sets out cream and sugar for him, then pours coffee for himself, setting everything out on the little kitchen table.

before he sits, he finds his sketchbook and a pen, holds both up for jon's inspection. ] I don't usually keep lined paper around. Will this be okay?

[ Jon tries to think of a delicate way to phrase this, fails utterly, and resigns himself to sounding like some horror. He is, so it's only fair. ]

The more... intense experiences feed it most effectively. It's... a being innately tied to fear.

[ He wants the shock and terror of being faced with something impossible; he wants to taste this man's distress. He hates it, but there it is.

And— Sunny Holiday? Really? That's remarkably unfortunate. Still: he could never have imagined so warm a welcome. ]

You as well.

[ Jon settles in with his tea, holding it while it steeps. The warmth is, somehow, comforting, and the nod he gives Sunny is grateful. ] Yes, absolutely. It's the content that matters, not the, ah... delivery.

[ Except that spoken is much different than written, of course. He wonders how much Martin has explained. ]

[ he eases down into his own chair, setting the sketchpad down and tapping the pen against his lips. ] So times I was scared of the stuff I see. Angels count? [ he starts a hesitant bulleted list so he has an idea of some of the things to write for the other man. ] Witches, probably.. [ some of the weirder things he doesn't have a name for, too.

he glances back up when jon mentions the delivery, setting his pen down to finally put cream and sugar in his coffee. ] Martin said that telling you would give me nightmares. [ not like he doesn't already have those, but.. ] What's the difference? I mean, if you don't mind answering. Does it.. have something to do with the.. distance? [ to actually tell it is kind of to be in the moment, isn't it? while putting it on paper gives you the chance to sit back and think about it, rewrite it, leave things out or add things in.. it's certainly not as immediate as telling a story. ]

I've never seen a... true account of angels. If you have one, I very much imagine it will count. [ He doesn't have the first idea what "angels" really means, here, but if it's supernatural and upsetting— and if it's like the thing he can See in Sunny— well. ] Witches, too, I'm sure.

And... in a way. It has to do with— me, I think. If I take the Statement firsthand, then It has a clearer connection to you. Your experience becomes... more entirely a part of Its Archive.

[ He's a conduit; he's an eye to see through. Better that he records the Statements spoken in his own voice, one step removed. ]

But I think it's best that I don't watch you write. Or ask you for anything in particular.

[ in spite of himself, this is all.. kind of fascinating, actually? awful and horrifying, but interesting in a way, too. ] So the, uh, the statement-giver would have nightmares about.. the thing they experienced? Their.. memories. What if you already have that nightmare? [ is it made worse somehow, or does it just.. keep on the same way?

what if your body houses the creator of the fucking universe? does the watcher have the same power over it? it's all so.. weird to think of.

he nods after a moment, though, glancing back down at his growing list. ] Before you leave, I'll make sure to write the first one. [ a glance back up, almost shy for a moment. ] You'll be okay, right? I mean, you don't have to.. see it yourself if I write it. Right? [ not that he could fix it if it did affect jon--the other man has to eat, right?--but depending on his answer, it'll certainly affect the types of things he'll write out for him. he's not about to try to force one of god's memories on the poor guy if he literally has to live them. ]

These nightmares are... worse, I suspect. They are incredibly... vivid.

[ And I'll be there watching you suffer, he doesn't say, and on some level I will like it. It will feel right.

So he blinks, uncomprehending, at that gentle question. ]

I... will. See it. I'm sorry that that's, um, invasive— it's not particularly avoidable. I will be all right. [ I don't have much choice, he seems to say. ]

[ the answer makes him wince a little, and he glances back down at his paper again, putting a little question mark beside several. ]

That-- Well, it's.. not that it's invasive, exactly, I just.. [ he scratches his temple with the back end of the pen. ] There's some stuff that human brains aren't, uh, meant to handle. So if you see them, if you experience them.. I-- I'm not sure what it would do to you?

[ and he definitely doesn't want to-- to drive jon insane or anything awful like that. ]

[ There is a long, silent beat where that hangs in the air. ]

I... [ He chuckles, wry and humorless, and a little more raw than he would prefer. ] I'm not entirely human, anymore. Maybe not very human at all.

[ He doesn't die. He barely bleeds. He suspects that sleeping and eating are fairly optional, at this point. ]

[ sunny has days where he doesn't really want to be touched or to touch other people, and honestly, even if today was a great day, it's still hard to look past the eyes set in their black hole void to see the man beneath. even so, there's so much pain there that he can't help but reach out, fingertips hovering briefly over jon's hand. he doesn't know if the other man likes to be touched either, so he doesn't quite make contact, but his glance lifts again, smile as reassuring as he can make it. ]

Sorry, I didn't want to squeeze your hand if you don't like to be touched, but.. you're human enough where it matters, I think. I-- I mean, just from first impressions.

[ he's clearly hopelessly in love with martin, he's trying very hard not to hurt sunny even though he must be starving-- that's very, painfully human. ]

.. Um. Anyway, I'll-- Maybe we'll try one that isn't, uh.. quite so intense first and see if you can handle it and.. go from there?

[ Jon startles at the movement, and looks at him, uncomprehending. Slowly, gently, it breaks across his face: something softer than he's felt in... in a very long time, from anyone but Martin. Sunny's gesture is so stunningly, unexpectedly kind. There is no reason this man needs to be be... to be so...

Well. Voicing what he feels in moments like this has never been Jon's strong suit, anyway.

He averts his eyes, breathes a soft little breath out. The tension all drops from his shoulders, some; he doesn't notice. He is trying to find a way to say thank you that won't sound too wobbly or too stilted. He is failing. ]

I... yes. Right. That's... a good idea. Whatever you're comfortable with.

[ And: ] What you're doing... I appreciate it.

[ for a second or two, he's not sure if he's being.. presumptuous. but then jon seems to go soft and a little startled, and sunny has to stop and wonder when it was someone was last just.. a little kind to him. other than martin, that is.

he smiles at the thanks, sweet and warm. ] Nothing to thank me for, hon. How about you enjoy the tea best you can, maybe text Martin a little, and I'll go write this up real quick.

[ he pushes his pen into his hair, tucks the sketchbook under his arm, and grabs his coffee, and heads into his studio/living room. it's easy to see him from the kitchen if you turn that way, but he's just enough out of sight that maybe it'll help jon focus on other things.

he's not gone for too long, at least, returning with two pages rolled up. he drops his sketchbook back on the table, this time with a charcoal pencil, and offers out the rolled pages. ] I think it might need some explanation afterward, but um. If you have questions, you can text me about it if you want later. [ then, probably a little unexpectedly: ] Do you mind if I sketch you?

[ Text Martin. That's... a thing Jon forgot he could do, honestly. Before they were here, everything was a mess of safehouses and train rides and barely letting each other go long enough to make it to the next step. Before that, well. No more need to think about what came before that.

Sunny is out of the room before Jon has properly processed the endearment. ] 'Hon.' [ A little scoff, half-surprised and half-fond. ] Well.

[ Thus far, this place is, bafflingly, not so bad at all.

He spends a few minutes figuring out the text interface and getting a simple check-in message to Martin, because... it doesn't seem like a bad idea, all told. When his host returns, Jon tries not to take those rolled-up pages too eagerly. He nods in understanding, then... blinks. ] I— I suppose? Is there a reason you want to?

[ he settles into his seat again, plucking up the charcoal and flipping to a clean page in his book. the question makes him pause, though, glancing back up to jon as if surprised by it. ] Oh. [ he glances back down at his fingers once more, rolling the pencil between them. ] Well.. because you have a nice face?

[ and because jon seems so sad and so wounded and so intense and determined, and it speaks to him on a very visceral level. as jittery and aching as he still feels, there's a part of him that wants to wrap the man up in a hug that makes his bones creak, that wants to bundle him in a quilt and give he and martin somewhere quiet and private to be, away from the world and the things that hurt them.

he can't do that, won't do that, and if he can't, won't, then he needs to deal with those impulses in other ways. those, and the lingering fear of the thing that watches through jon, which he's a little nervous may take over his art for a while.

and jon does have a good face, sharp-boned and scarred and hunted. ]

Also.. [ he trails off for a moment, and the pencil begins to move, sketching out the rough strokes of jon's face on the page. ] .. it helps me with things. Working through feelings, um.. fears, sometimes, thoughts I'm trying to make sense of.. that sort of thing.

[ Jon, predictably, goes a bit deer-in-the-headlights at you have a nice face. The startle shifts down into something a little like incredulity, and then a lot like it. He raises a hand, transparently self-conscious, to brush fingertips over the pockmark scars along his neck and up the side of his face.

The second explanation relaxes him some, lets him drop that hand and hold politely still under Sunny's eyes. He still looks a bit embarrassed, but not quite so mystified. ]

That's, ah... fair enough, I suppose. [ It's the least he can do, certainly. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

APRIL 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

APRIL 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

GOOD ENDURES

Character Arrival

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