AUGUST 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

[sodder]

AUGUST 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to August's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: CRYPTID 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: Violent animals, ghosts, hallucinations
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?

Everyone loves s'mores, right? Of course you do. If you've never had them, you're gonna love them, and if for some reason you hate them, well, as it usually goes in Deerington, something inside of you will nag at you about how maybe you ought to give them another chance. There's a variety of different kinds of s'more flavors to try and plenty of perfect campfires to roast your marshmallows over. There's promise of wholesome and innocent fun to be had! Surely that won't be a lie this time.

Everyone who gathers around the fire for some tasty treats will find themselves in the mood to share creepy stories from their home worlds. Maybe they make one up on the spot or maybe it's an ancient legend that was passed down through the ages. Regardless, there's gonna be a whole variety of spooky stories, and the flavor s'more you're eating seems to dictate the theme that you'll end up leaning towards.

🔥 Traditional S'Mores will have people wanting to tell classic ghost stories. Maybe it's a haunted house you ended up in or a spirit who possessed the friend of the brother of this guy from your town once. The main theme here will be ghosts of all varieties.

🔥 Peanut Butter & Chocolate S'Mores will have people wanting to tell slasher stories. A famous serial killer from home, maybe, or the story about a group of kids who went up into a cabin in the mountains where there was once said to be a creepy caretaker and they were never heard from again...

🔥 Chocolate Chip Cookie S'Mores will have people wanting to tell monster stories. Local legends, maybe, or the classic stories about werewolves, vampires, and Bigfoot. Any kind of monsters will do.

🔥 Salted Caramel S'Mores will inspire people to tell revenge stories. These could be legendary warnings that exemplify why vengeance always leads to digging two graves. Or maybe it's your own story of revenge from home— or the fantasy revenge you'd like to get someday.

🔥 Nutella S'Mores will have people wanting to tell personal horror stories. These stories are ones that hit extremely close to home. The scariest, most bone-chilling memory you have, no matter how silly or serious it may be in comparison to those around you. Hopefully most people aren't fans of chocolate hazelnut?

Regardless of which story you hear, anyone gathered around the campfire will listen intently to all words spoken, and they will find themselves believing every word. On your walk home, you'll be filled with a sense of paranoia and dread, seeing things move out of the corner of your eye that may or may not be there. Is that a man with a hook for a hand or is your imagination just playing tricks on you? It's certainly hard to tell.

These can stay as harmless hallucinations, but for those who end up stuck in the paranoia for too long without being talked down, they will slowly start to become real. Eventually, they can become solid enough for other people to start seeing them, and the creatures from your mind may even start to attack. They can be defeated with normal weaponry or by the power of positive thinking! Wish your attacker away with enough conviction, and poof! They'll be gone.

Let's hope you can do it before you end up the victim for the next slasher story someone tells.

AHHH! REAL MONSTERS

It seems that the monsters from these stories aren't the only ones popping up in Deerington, though. There's talk from locals of multiple sightings of classic Maine legends all over town. They're easy to ignore as the townsfolk just being easily spooked for a while. But when enough stories start to line up, you might start to think maybe there's some truth to them. Or maybe you'll even end up seeing one of the monsters for yourself.

Down in Lake Tomoei, the legendary Cassie can sometimes be spotted peaking up from the water, or trying to attack anyone who even tries to go near the lakes shores. She's a nasty beast with one hell of a temper and she's quite possessive of the lake she's found herself in. 100 feet long with a skinny neck and a fish like tale, she definitely seems like a force to be reckoned with. Cassie is easily injured by ordinary weapons, but her skin is thick, so it will take a while to draw blood. Most likely, she'll disappear into the depths of the lake before she can be killed.

Up in the mountains, there's talk of the ancient evil Pamola. Penobscot legend describes him as half-man, half-eagle, with the head of a moose and a temper to match one. Pamola can't stand people visiting his mountain, even for a casual hike, and will often try to deter people away with random and unpredictable storms; thunder, snow, and powerful winds will beat down on whoever goes looking for Pamola. If you manage to find him, he will show no mercy when he attacks. Most who have tried to find him have been killed and eaten by the evil spirit. Because he's an ancient spirit, he will be particularly hard to defeat if you manage to find him; he can not be killed, but you can offer a sacrifice to quell his anger. If you have magical powers that can hurt deities, these will still be effective in weakening him until he retreats.

The final creature that seems to be wandering about is the Specter Moose (pictured above). This moose is thirteen feet tall, with thirteen foot wide antlers, and is a blinding white color. The moose can be found wandering in the park, usually, but sometimes it comes out to look around town. He may seem harmless, even cute, but don't get to close; moose are dangerous and locals fear them for a reason. They can charge at the drop of a hat and not even large vehicles tend to survive an encounter with a creature that big. The Specter Moose also seems to be incapable of being injured by normal weapons; solid objects mostly go right through it, unless it's purposefully aiming for them. You'll either have to get a shot in while he's slamming into something (or someone) or just run. Anyone who has magic or weapons that can hurt spiritual beings will be able to fight the Specter Moose as they normally would.

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.

Comments

Zak Gist | Eternal Law

[cathedrangel]

Arrival
[So, he'd done it. He'd done it and then gone home and the world hadn't ended, not just then. Mr Mountjoy had not revealed himself, wars had not suddenly broken out. He'd not been recalled.

...The clock had started ticking. But the world had not ended and Zak had gone to sleep. Only to dream. Only to wake up to...this...

A portentous dream and and unfamiliar place. A room not his own, a letter, a town decidedly not York. The letter is not from Mr M but that does not ease any of Zak's suspicions.

Leaving the house (one of the townhouses on Blackwood Run), he sets out to explore. Get a feel of the place. At some point - just outside 'his' door or further along in his investigation - he tilts his head back to look up at the sky, narrows his eyes and addresses (or seems to address) no one in particular.]

Is this your idea of punishment? It's all a bit convoluted, if you ask me.

[His tone is not...scathing, running more towards 'unimpressed'. But to those particularly observant, there is a faint undercurrent of anxiety.]


Are You Afraid of the Dark
[Campfires and all that aren't quite Zak's style and yet he finds himself drawn to this one. At the very least, it is an opportunity to meet - he believes - these fellow 'Sleepers' of his. En masse. The overly sweet-looking confections that everyone seems to be eating aren't really his style either but the longer he stands (just slightly back from whatever circle of people he finds) and listens to the stories being told - which are, to be fair, somewhat interesting - the less opposed he is to trying one.]
traditional
[Classic seems best, if he's trying. Zak nibbles on the gooey treat for a bit, listening to the current story in progress. After the person telling it lapses into silence and no-one immediately follows up, Zak himself steps forward a bit and without much preamble, begins to tell his tale.]

The story I have is one of a young woman so enraptured with the house her father built that she wished to be a part of it eternally.

[His voice is steady and sure and while he does not grandstand, it's clear that he's quite used to telling a story. Leading an audience.]

Anne Griffith was a young woman when her father, Sir Henry Griffith, began to construct their new home. It was to be a grand estate and - she thought - the most beautiful home ever to be built. She dreamed of when it would be finished and in the meantime wandered the countryside around it. One day, near to the end of the hall's construction, Ann set out to visit a nearby village, accompanied only by her dog. She made the journey there, safe and sound, but unfortunately on her way back - at dusk - she was set upon by criminals. The young woman was robbed and quite badly beaten.

She was brought home to the hall, but the damage done to her was severe. She drifted in and out of lucidity. In this time, she told her sisters that she could not possibly rest unless she could remain part of their beautiful home, as long as it shall last. She made them promise that upon her death, they would sever her head and keep it in the Hall.

[Zak pauses for effect, here, looking about the circle before he continues.]

Accounts differ as to just how she made this request. Some people claim that she asked her sisters to secret it away in the walls of their home. Some say that she wished it to be displayed. Either way, her sisters agreed - horrified, no doubt, but wishing to mollify their dying sister - but sensibly (at least, they thought) did not honor her request when she passed. She was buried in the church graveyard, head still attached.

Then the screaming began. Every night, the peace of the Hall was broken by spine-curdling screams of panic and horror. There was no spectre, no source, just screaming. In the end - at their wit's end - the family decided to honor Anne's request. And it worked. Once the skull was brought into the home, there were no more haunted evenings and the house was peaceful.

Ever since then, any attempts to remove the skull have been met with the same result. Once, a chambermaid unaware of the skull's origin found it in a cupboard and threw it into the garden. Later occupants tried to bury it. Every time, the screaming would begin again. Finally, the skull was placed in the walls of the house and Anne has been silent and a peace ever since.

nutella
[The once hadn't been bad. Zak is...slightly aware that his inclination towards telling ghost stories had come from somewhere but really, if that's the worst-

But it isn't. He sees someone spreading Nutella on their s'mores and thinks it's a delightful idea. He copies it, eats it...

And then the story-telling urge strikes again. Only this time it isn't...impersonal. Not some long-ago ghost story. Not even supernatural or inexplicable. It is a perfectly...human sort of horror. Mundane and terrible.]

I served in the army for a bit. [His voice is quieter than before.] As a captain. Fought, some, until I made a choice that my...superior disagreed with. Saved lives I was told I shouldn't have.

['Superior'. He could mean superior officer, but he does not.]

After that, I was assigned to the Front. I'd been a lawyer - am a lawyer, that is - and so it was thought...appropriate that I should defend soldiers accused of cowardice. Poor, broken souls who deserved mercy and understanding and instead were given a trial.

Four years. For four years I woke at dawn to hear them cry for their mothers, for God, for that mercy denied them before they died.

Four years, and not a single ruling of mercy.

[There's horror in his voice, but also bitterness. And surprise, that he'd tell complete strangers something so personal. During it all, he'd had an almost dream-like expression but now he stands up abruptly and turns to go.]


ah, real monsters
Watch out.

[Anyone coming into too close contact with a certain spectral moose might find themselves quite suddenly - almost miraculously? - spirited out of harm's way (only a few feet, of course, but enough) by a blond haired gentleman in a suit jacket.

Who may well not have been anywhere nearby a moment before but really, who is to say?]

That was incredibly unwise. [His tone is lightly chiding and a little condescending, the look on his face unimpressed.] Let's not do that again, hm?

Wildcard
(ooc: Feel free to throw any other kind of situation at me! Also: Zak is an angel, and therefore would definitely ping anyone with any sort of divine and/or supernatural senses. If you want to chat, you can definitely PP me @ ltmutiny)

arrival

[aeva]

( it's the first day that she's actually left the house since dying, the first day that she's actually felt well enough to want to, the flu that had taken her since finally subsiding. and she'd made sure to at least look like herself, giving the impression that everything truly was fine even though--

the shopping was a little bit of a distraction to stop her thinking about that, necessary in the groceries that she'd bought but something to do just to keep her occupied. which may also be why she's instinctively avoiding people, being polite but not purposely engaging. it's why she's content to just walk by the man in the street, not paying him any attention until-- )

Zak?

( oh, she'd recognise that voice anywhere, stopping in her walk to turn and look at him, walking back towards him because oh god, it really is him.

her little basket gets lowered to the ground when she's close enough and after at first a slightly hesitant reach as she checks she pulls him into a hug. sorry, zak, but it's been a time )

[cathedrangel]

[He's distracted by everything. That's his excuse for not knowing her by feel. Even still...Zak finds himself subconciously turning towards her even before she says his name.

The sight of her is...sobering. Of course seeing familiar face is a balm - especially her face - but Zak doesn't like the idea that she's been pulled into all of this, whatever it is. Not Mrs S.

Still. She reaches out to hug him and of course he hugs her back. Of course he does.]

Mrs Sheringham.

[There's as much relief in his voice as there is guilt. As there is surprise. Without any idea what is really going on, he has an awful creeping suspision that he has doomed her along with him. And Tom too, perhaps. If he hasn't doomed the whole bloody world.

He'll ask his questions in a minute but for now he simply holds her. She seems to need it, and so does he.]

[aeva]

( the hug is perhaps a fraction longer than usual, though she really did need it, and when she pulls back there's a slight sadness to her expression. for as great as it is to see him she hates that he'll have to experience any of it )

Is Tom...? ( but no, this isn't mr mountjoy's doing. tom probably wasn't here just as the boys hadn't been here when she'd first slept.

there's a quick look around her as she picks her basket back up )

I'll explain everything as we head back.

( get her ingredients away, them somewhere more comfortable. and as well as she now felt her little walk had been more tiring than she'd expected )

[cathedrangel]

I haven't seen him.

[She didn't finish her question, but Zak answers it for her anyway. In a way, it is at least slightly comforting that she is asking him. It makes it less likely that Tom is in fact here, if neither of them have seen him.

Given a moment to gain his bearings and manage his surprise at seeing her, he realizes that she looks...settled. A bit tired, too, which is worrisome, but her basket speaks to a familiarity and a routine. And, of course, her offer to explain everything. She has obviously not just arrived.

Zak nods in confirmation of that offer. At the same time, he makes a motion with his hand as an unspoken offering to carry her basket for her. He won't presume to take it from her without asking, but he will give her the option to lighten her burden somewhat. If she so chooses.]

And I would appreciate that. Thank you.

[aeva]

( she rests a hand lightly on his arm before letting him take the basket from her and if he looks in it he'll find some bread and fruit, just little top-ups to the food she already has at home )

How long again did you wake up?

( which in turn was a funny question considering that this was a dream but they'd all started off by waking up in the dream. one of the layers of it, anyway.

she starts leading him down a path that might seem vaguely familiar considering it'll lead him back to the house that he'd woken up in, her attention focused more on her surroundings than him. she's never had to explain this place before and she has no idea where to begin )

[cathedrangel]

[He places the basket in the crook of his elbow and rests the other hand on her arm as they go. He does take a peek at what's inside the basket and finds it slightly instructive.

He also does notice the path they're beginning to take but doesn't comment on it just yet. His focus is on Mrs Sheringham as much as her focus is not on him.]

Not long at all. [He answers her question.] Half an hour, perhaps.

[Long enough to try and get his bearings and then become curious.]

Ah, Real Monsters

[eyesofaserpent]

[ Look, he hadn't meant to get close to the creature. He just turned a corner and there it was. But then a certain play of magics that left an unpleasant taste in the back of his mouth as he was miracled(?!!? Seriously?!?) out of the path of the beast.

And then the bastard went and started with a condescending tone.

Crowley stared at him incredulously, not quite able to place his face or his presence. He didn't feel right, as in not from his universe. But that smug tone and careful look on his face made him very certain that this guy was likely of heavenly origin.

This entire meeting rubbed Crowley the wrong way. He bristled, a bit of a glow coming from behind his sunglasses. He wasn't about to take this lying down and he was going to let this smug fuck know it. ]

You miracled me?! [ He gestured vaguely at the whole of the most assuredly divine being before him. ] Yeah, let's bloody well not do that again.

[cathedrangel]

[The moment he touches Crowley, Zak knows he's made a mistake. He'd seen the wings and assumed. No fallen angel he's ever seen has had white wings. So. A silly angel coming too close to an angry, ethereal moose had seemed to warrant a stepping in.

But this isn't an angel. It takes a touch to know it, even if that touch feels...off. Perhaps that's why he's extra snappish, taking a step back as soon as he and Crowley are out of danger. His own wings come out a bit defensively, flaring. His last close-up encounter with a demon had been...very contentious. That glow is unsettling too.]

Don't worry. [Instead of being pompous, his voice is cold, now.] I won't make the same mistake twice.

[Saving Crowley, he means really. Not the miracleing part.]

[eyesofaserpent]

[ His wings are only out because he can't put them away. So when this angel stranger pulls his out (even if it's only a reflex), he instinctively takes a step back. He didn't live as long as he had by picking fights with random members of the host. And here he didn't even have a tire iron.

But... This meant there is another angel in Deerington. One that he isn't familiar with as of yet. But one still bold enough to show his wings in public. Well, if they can both calm down and behave like civilized beings, perhaps they could, at least, become allies. Or at least Aziraphale's mutual ally. Because really, no matter how bad things got, Crowley was an optimist.

The glow dims to nothing as reason wins out over his momentary tantrum (but really how dare). He relaxes his wings and even shoves his hands into his trouser pockets to show he's done posturing. Not that he is going to apologize for snapping or thank him for rescuing him. He still has some pride as a demon. ]

You're a long way from home, angel.

[ Normally when he uses that word to address Aziraphale, there's a plentiful amount of affection behind it. But here, it's a simple description of the man-shaped being before him. ]

[cathedrangel]

[Perhaps there is some small measure of surprise in Zak's expression as Crowley quickly descalates. He would never have expected any other of the fallen to do so. Richard certainly never did.

His own wings lower, tuck inwards. He's about to put them away entirely when he notices a woman some distance away who is staring. At him, he feels certain. Not just the demon beside him. He has the distinct sense of her gaze on his back.

...That suspicion is made much deeper when he does put them away into non-corporeality and she seems to react. That's....that shouldn't happen. Mrs Sheringham hadn't warned....

He turns his attention back to Crowley, expression still grave but now also faintly concerned.]

That much is abundantly clear.

[eyesofaserpent]

Haven't been in Deerington long, I take it?

[ He's watching the angel carefully from behind his dark-tinted shades, trying to get a feel of the fellow man-shaped being... Well, at the very least he seems like a reasonable being and not one of those angels who seem to get off on Smiting extra hard.

He shrugs slightly, stretching his great white wings a bit before settling back down again. ]

I don't know about you, but I could do for a drink. If we go to Lux, I'll make you something nice. [ A peace offering and a thank you, in his own way. ]

[cathedrangel]

[At that offer, Zak continues to eye Crowley with...not entirely suspicion, but at least a healthy dose of wariness. And yet, it's mixed with sense that he's also trying to get Crowley's measure.

Ordinarily he would not agree to go drinking with one of the fallen. Not, generally, a very good time to be had there.

...But Crowley does seem different and fuck it, he could use a drink. So, he nods, sticking his own hands in his pockets.]

I wouldn't say no to a drink.

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

[sleight_of_fate]

[There's nothing like a ghost story to catch a ghost hunter's attention, and Rhys has been immersed in the world of the supernatural for as long as he can remember.

Especially when the tale rings enough bells to be true, and when the storyteller is good. Zak is. Rhys listens with rapt attention, taking in every detail with an intent look in his deep blue eyes, and smiles faintly when the other man is done.]

I haven't heard that one before, but I know of at least one other screaming skull in the world. In Dorset, England.

[cathedrangel]

[Zak smiles back, still looking a bit pleased with himself in the wake of the tale. He knows he's good at spinning a story. Pride may be a sin, but he's allowed to feel good about a job well done, isn't he?

Besides, Rhys' response is pleasing if only because it means he's something on the scale of familiar.]

Ah, well, this one was in Yorkshire. Burton Agnes Hall. [His lips twitch into something dryly amused] Not quite neighbors, but relatively close.

[sleight_of_fate]

[If it's a sin, it will be their little secret. Rhys isn't the type to tattle, especially since he enjoyed the story.]

The one I know was Bettiscombe Manor. It's interesting that it's a trend over there. Weirdly specific, you know?

But the world likes to keep us guessing, I suppose. Do you have a lot of experience with this sort of stuff, or just collect the stories?

[cathedrangel]

Yes, it's rather curious.

[But not a mystery that Zak has ever particularly found himself interested in investigating. Humans did tend to spin stories about the strangest things.

That does lead him to answer Rhys' second question.]

Oh, neither, really. I'd recently moved to Yorkshire and I enjoy a good ghost story. I wouldn't say I collected them though. [Still, the first part of the inquiry...] And yourself?

[sleight_of_fate]

I'm born and raised American, but folklore is kind of my passion. I grew up surrounded by weirdness, ghosts and spirits and stuff, so I always wanted to know as much about it as I could.

[He smiles a little.]

So I've seen a little bit of everything, good, bad, and weird.

[cathedrangel]

[That's...interesting. From Zak's point of view, there are no such thing as ghosts. There are angels and the fallen, yes. Lingering spirits? No. Despite being what he is, he's faintly skeptical.

But willing to listen. This is a strange new world, after all.]

You have personal experience, then? How interesting.

nutella

[eudaimonikos]

[Michael listens to the story quietly, chin resting on one hand. It's not an unfamiliar one. The particulars are very different, as of course they would be, but he's more than familiar with the denial of mercy.]

I've never seen a bureaucracy that cared about things like mercy and understanding. Very easy to condemn people when you've got a whole system worked around it. Maybe it made them feel superior, I don't know...

[.....]

But it was good of you to try. There's always value in trying.

[For the record, his own senses have been pretty dulled by the influence of Deerington, but to anyone who's still got the ability, he's still plainly a demonic entity of some sort.]

[cathedrangel]

[Zak has the sense of something that isn't human (though not divine either) but it can be hard to tell when they're just standing there. In any event, he stops and looks back when Michael speaks up. The look on his face is still faintly bruised and he still looks poised to leave. But the response is...sympathetic, at least. With that sense added in, he is willing to entertain the idea of chatting with this stranger.]

...Yes, [He sighs, finally.] There's value in trying.

[One can't give up hope. One shouldn't give up hope.]

Bureaucracy was an awful creation, though, agreed.

[Good idea, often absolutely horrendous execution. Too many very rigid rules.

...Which perhaps an angel should not be thinking or saying.]

[eudaimonikos]

Positively hellish!

[Full agreement! He is being completely literal!

But yeah, that was a rough topic. This is a normal social interaction at the big group bonfire thing as far as Michael's concerned, but even he's aware that strangers don't usually want to like, totally bare their souls. He reaches for the nearest marshmallow bag instead and proffers it.]

Marshmallow? They're perfectly good by themselves, just light 'em on fire first.

[cathedrangel]

[That...is certainly a response. Zak eyes Michael slightly more cautiously in the wake of it. He still would prefer to leave, to have distance from that moment in which he spilled a very personal story. But at the same time, he's now even more curious. Exactly what is this man? Or man-shaped being, as it were.

It's the reason he comes over and takes a marshmallow. As a matter of politeness, really.]

I am generally aware of the conventions around roasting marshmallows, thank you.

[So. He'll sit by Michael and do just that.]

Is this sort of thing...normal, then?

[eudaimonikos]

[Yeeeeeesh, grumpy! Michael raises his eyebrows and grimaces a little in silent reaction, but doesn't rise to it otherwise.]

Which part? The camping? Usually there's a lot more things trying to kill everyone.

[cathedrangel]

[Grumpy is a very good descriptor for Zak. Especially when he's been thrown off his axis a bit.]

I suppose I meant the urge to spill personal details. Or less personal ghost stories.

[He's not the type to do that normally either. It just hadn't seemed as important.]