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December 2020 Test Drive Meme

DECEMBER 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to DECEMBER's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: SURREAL WINTER 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: psychological horror that deals with memory displacement, unnatural paranoia and madness, ghosts and hauntings, gore that includes limbs and organs, unknowingly eating rotted food and cannibalism

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

YOU WIN OR YOU DIE

Perhaps you just stepped outside or you were on your way to the store, wherever you are out and about in Deerington, a blizzard so strong and thick with snow picks up around you and within seconds you can't see more than a foot in front of you. Choose a direction to search for shelter and you'll eventually come upon the mouth of a cave that you've never seen before and that's alarming in and of itself. But it's either going in the mysterious cave or getting lost in a blizzard and freezing to death.

Entering the cave takes you down a short narrow tunnel before it opens up into a large frozen over cavern with a narrow stone path that leads to an icy looking castle at the center. The air in the cavern is below freezing and while the castle has a foreboding look, the warm light that shines from all the windows promises warmth and safety. And when you step through the massive doors it's like stepping into another world. There's fires burning in every hearth and seasonal decorations of all sorts cover the walls and hang from the ceiling. No matter what you celebrate at this time of year in your world you are likely to spot several familiar cultural or religious ornaments.

And mingling around are countless ghostly but harmless and even friendly looking servants and lords and ladies, as well as other sleepers who have found themselves here just as you have. Make your way to the throne room and you'll find a medieval style court filled with more specters of finely dressed men and women standing to observe their liege dispense judgement and law. But no person sits upon that throne, just a lone crown that looks like it's made of ice that seems to call you forth. Nobody stops you when you reach out to touch the crown, in fact their faces seem to twist in an unnatural sinister delight the moment you do.

Once it has been touched by you, the full curse of the crown and throne settles in and you are compelled to place it on your head. Suddenly, the castle feels colder, you can swear there are greedy eyes on your crown and as you return to mingling and partaking in food and drink, the ghosts of court one by one start sidling up to you and whispering in your ear:

"I caught your most trusted friend in an affair with one who seeks to dethrone you, my liege." "Your advisor was plotting with the servant boy to poison your wine!" "I swear I witnessed your betrothed passing coin to an infamous assassin."

Your mind starts to place people in your life in the roles the ghosts claim plan to betray you, perhaps you now believe your best friend is your royal advisor plotting to poison you or that your significant other is your fiancé planning an assassination after you are wed. Or maybe it's someone you just met today that's suddenly your spouse. Your life as a sleeper in Deerington and everything before feels fuzzy, and all that matters is domination of power and being the only one seated on that throne. Paranoia slowly seeps into your bones as you continue to mingle with the court's holiday celebrations and all you can see are enemies until you're the one plotting or trying to end them before they can end you.

The more your irrational paranoia and suspicion grows, the colder the castle becomes, or perhaps that's just you. Ice follows you where you go, your skin is turning blue and everything you touch seems to frost. Maybe you have someone thrown in the dungeon to rot or you try poison or a knife in the dark, but no matter the more subtle paths you try to take out all your enemies, you eventually become so mad with power and paranoia it becomes a physical confrontation and somehow there's weapons all over the walls of this castle to grab and fight with or chase people through the maze-like halls with.

Only when the crowns are removed from the heads of those affected and not touched again does the curse lift, the affected sleepers slowly go back to normal and you look around to find that the ghosts have faded away and all the decorations are there, but they are made from pieces of people's limbs and organs. The food you have been eating may also have been rotted and covered in maggots or comprised of human body parts. And in horror you run for the nearest door to escape and then find yourself right back in Deerington. When the massive ornate doors close behind you and you look back, there's nothing there.

WALK A MILE IN MY SHOES

You know what they say. You can never truly know someone until you walk a mile in their shoes.

You wake up one morning, like any other. Nothing seems unusual about the day, nothing at all really. In fact, if you ignored the heavy snowfall lately, it would be an otherwise perfectly average day in a town in Maine. A glance out the window will show that there's been some paths carved in the snow, so maybe you can get out of the damned house a little. It won't last, so you might as well enjoy the freedom, right?

When you go to get dressed, however, there is something odd. There's another set of shoes there. Maybe you recognize them as a friend's, or maybe you've never seen them before in your life, but they're definitely not yours. On a whim, you feel an almost inexorable compulsion to try them on, and they fit perfectly! It does not matter how biologically impossible this might be because of different species, foot sizes, the fact that you've never worn high heels in your life, they fit, and fit perhaps better than any other shoes you've ever worn.

That's when the rubber meets the road, however. The moment you put them on, your memories feel fuzzy for a moment and then everything is just wrong. Your memories of life become those of the person whose shoes you are now wearing. Inconsistencies are papered over for a moment. Flagrant inaccuracies just don't seem important at first, and you go about your business, being them. There's always a strangeness to your day, a sort of surreal oddity to it. It feels 'off,' and every time you look in the mirror you swear that you see the words somewhere in the reflection "Cogito Ergo Sum. At qui ego sum?"

Eventually, the nagging feeling gets worse and worse until you're compelled to find the person wearing your shoes. Only then can the curse be lifted by talking about the pieces of each other's false lives, sharing bits about oneself and realizing in the haze, confusion and fear that they are sharing your memories, not theirs. When enough have been shared, the urge to trade shoes comes, and once the right ones are on your feet it's all back to normal. The false memories bleed away like the morning fog. At most, only vague recollections linger unless the two of you choose to continue talking about them. But the next time you look in the mirror, backwards, written in blood are the words:

"?I ma ohw tub ,ma I erofereht kniht I"

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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YOU WIN OR YOU DIE.

The cold is not something Evelyn is very fond of. Certainly, she has experienced it in her youth – London is not what one would call a warm place in the winter – but that does not mean she likes it. There are many reasons she currently lives and works (lived and worked, apparently, as she is here now and cannot seem to get home) in Egypt, and the heat is no small factor.

Regardless.

The moment Evy steps outside, she's thrown into the most violent snowstorm she's ever seen. It's thick, brutally cold, and unforgiving. She cannot see her hand in front of her face, and turning back to the door from whence she came proved to be fruitless – either it wasn't there, or she simply couldn't find it again.

Best to press on, then, isn't it? Keep calm, carry on, and all that. Evy takes a deep breath (it hurts; the cold is so biting her lungs ache as she breathes in), wraps her coat tighter around her, and pushes on.

The cave is unexpected, but she stumbles in anyway – any shelter is better than none at this point. Deeper and deeper she goes, until the icy, terrifyingly beautiful castle comes into view. Evy can see the light from the windows and she picks up her pace, hurrying closer, desperate for heat, for someone to answer her questions about what the bloody hell was going on. She's been here only a short time, and now...this.

Whatever it was.

The doors open to a strange but beautiful (and not unwelcome) scene; fires, decorations, other people. There's food, but she isn't hungry – just frustrated, curious, and a bit scared (this, she clamps down on, she's seen worse, hasn't she, nothing to fear here now is there?). She is so hoping to find someone in charge, but once she finds the throne room, there is...no one there.

No one but her.

She doesn't remember how the crown ended up in her hands let alone sat on her head, but the next few...minutes? Hours? Evy isn't sure – are truly what frightens her. People she trusts betraying her, plotting her death. Her brother trying to poison her, her father with a knife, Rick, with a gun. It's colder, and colder and colder until finally, mercifully, she rips the crown from her head and flings it, backing up in horror as the sight clears in front of her and she is left staring at a scene unfit for the eyes of the living. With a hand clamped over her mouth and a strangled scream in the back of her throat, Evy turns and flees, booted feet thudding against the cold floor, flinging herself at the nearest door and right back into the city – and quite possibly into someone.

“My God,” she gasps, the door slamming behind her, breath coming in short, dry heaves, eyes and hair wild.

NETWORK

un: librarian

To Whom it May Concern;

I'm terribly sorry to be a bother, but is there perhaps a map of the city I could acquire? 

Also if someone would point me in the direction of the library, I would very much appreciate it. 

Regards,
Evelyn Carnahan

WILDCARD

(( ooc; have something else in mind? message me on plurk @ pincurls or discord @ gipsydanger#5340 ))

I don't work for the library, but if you dig among the files in the device, you should find a map there, along with a detailed history of the recent events that occurred here. But you may be unfamiliar with how one of these newfangled kickshaws works. Allow me to send you a link to both?

Cordially,

A. Wesker

To: A. Wesker,

That would be lovely and very, very helpful. Yes, please.

Regards,
Evelyn Carnahan

[ this newfangled thing will be the death of her, she's sure of it. she's never seen anything like it, and that is saying something. ]

To: Evelyn Carnahan

I would be more than pleased to be of assistance. This place can be confusing, particularly to the newly arrived, and even to those who have dwelt here for some time. I hope that these are of assistance to you at the start of your journey.

Regards,
A. Wesker

[Attached: Deerington.pdf
DogKeeperStorySoFar.pdf]

Edited 2020-11-25 03:37 (UTC)

To: A. Wesker,

I have seen a lot of unusual things in my short time on Earth, but this is all...something quite different. I appreciate your assistance very, very much. It seems like I have some reading to do.

Regards,
Evelyn Carnahan

[ a...lot of reading. Good gracious. But she is thorough, and she will devour every word, as difficult as it all is to swallow.

To: Evelyn Carnahan

This town seems to have more strange things turn up in a month than I've seen in a year in my world. And I have survived swarms of the undead in my world. I' was going to supplement these offerings with some personal accounts from several long time "Sleepers", as we strangers and sojourners in this town are called. You sound as though you have enough to keep occupied for a week or more, but I shall have them on hand, should you have curiosity and more importantly the time to engage them. I might even be throwing my own metaphoric hat into the fray, though my rough notes are nowhere ready for public knowledge.

Regards,

A. Wesker

Judith just so happens to be right by where the clearly panicked lady suddenly appears. She's minding her own business, building snowballs and loading them into a basket. She's actually enjoying herself and wants to just mind her own business and keep having fun. But her mama would have her hide if she just turned and left this lady alone looking like that. She pushes aside her basket and goes over to try and assess the situation.

"Excuse me, m'am." She gives a tip of her hat like any good kid in a sheriff's hat should. "Did something bad happen to you?" She leans off to the side to see if there's anyone else around.

No one's there. She's seen this kind of behavior before. It's either panic because something bad happened, or panic because they did something bad. She's having a hard time figuring out which.

"There was--it was--"

She gulps in air, wrapping her coat tighter around her, shivering in the snow. A cursory look around tells her she's back in the city, away from all the horror of that icy castle, though she isn't comforted by that in the slightest.

"You didn't see a castle in a cave, did you?" Gods above, that sounds ridiculous coming out of her mouth.

You know what? Snow is terrible. Snow is so much worse than sand. Like someone took the worst parts of sand, then proceeded to make them cold. Who did that? Who let that happen? On the other hand? People probably didn't bury mummies in snow temples. There probably weren't any snow pyramids or anything involving ancient curses or even general curses -

Even, you know, in a weird town in what has to be America, judging from the accents. Can't be cursed here. Right? Maybe shot at. But what else is new?

Someone screaming is new. A pretty familiar scream, at that. Coming from a random house on the street.

"Evelyn!" As, like before, Local Man goes charging toward the sound.

Maybe he should have thought twice about the "no curses" thing.

She bursts out of the front door of said house, shriek still echoing behind her as she slams the door behind her, leaning up against it, breath coming in heaving gasps.

"Rick--?!" She's shocked to see him here - even more so since she'd just had quite horrific visions of him threatening to kill her. It wasn't real, of course, but convincing her brain of that is another feat entirely.

Evelyn nearly hits the ground slipping on a patch of black ice, but she's more intent on keeping a bit of distance after all...that.

"What are you doing here?!"

dang, dude, no need to be so formal
there should be a map in your basket. or on the device. but i'm also pretty sure it was drawn by a literal child, so if you still need help finding your way around, i offer tours for a very cheap price

To: price is right,

Apologies. This sort of device is nothing like anything I have ever seen. 

As far as the map...It...does look a bit amateur, I admit.

it's probably the most advanced tech they've got in this place, but it's easy to get the hang of. when you're writing to people on it, you can just write the way you'd talk in a normal conversation and stuff. it's a pretty chill thing.

it does the job well enough but it's a real bitch to figure out how far anything actually is from each other, or if you've really gone the right number of doors/blocks to get to where you're going. better to just keep your eye out for landmarks.

like if you go up route 7, soon as you reach the high school, turn right and the library's just up the road.

Ah, alright. That makes sense.

[ It had seemed so similar to letter writing, in a way. Evelyn is not used to this sort of technology, and even turning the damn thing on had been a bit confusing - even with all the instructions that came with it. She feels a little silly, but she's out of her depth with this sort of thing. ]

Yes, I see what you mean in regards to the map. It all looks a bit deceptive, but I suppose all maps are a bit like that.

[ The etiquette of modern texting is a confusing mystery for anyone, let alone someone from that early in the 20th century. At least Chloe hates emojis so she’ll never have to explain that one. ]

yeah, tho don’t they usually involve some kind of actual attempt at like math and shit? not that i ever got into map making, i could be holding out hope that people are smarter than they are in the creation of things that are supposed to get people places

There's a database of sleepers here on the device you're using.

Your profile included.

I can escort you to the library, I work there. My name is Magnus. I would say it's nice to meet you but I'm sure you might feel differently given the circumstances.

I admit I am a bit...flummoxed.

[ that's a good word for it. ]

That would really be lovely, actually. Only if you're available, of course. I wouldn't want to impose.

[The formality of the text intrigues him so he answers it in a similar style, curiosity getting the better of his wariness regarding finding himself in a new place. It's also why he uses his rarely usedfull name.]

Good day, Ms. Carnahan.

Welcome to Deerington.

The device you're using includes a map, but I've been working on one that's based observation instead of the usual lines of streets and geography. I could send you a copy, if you'd like.

The library is one of the prominent landmarks on it so you should be able to find it easily using the map.

Sincerely,

Richard Gansey III

[ Understandable, she's extremely wary and uneasy, herself. She very much believes in what you can see and touch and feel and all this is quite a hard pill to swallow. Flimflam, that's what this is. ]

Mr. Gansey,

I would most appreciate a copy, that would be wonderful. I've found the map that was included, but truthfully, it's all a bit overwhelming. Anything you have would be so very grateful.

Sincerely, Evelyn

Eveylyn,

If we're going to be less formal, please call me Gansey.

The map they gave us isn't user-friendly. I've found it helpful for my research, but not for navigating the area.

I've attached the version I use when I'm exploring. I've removed most of my notes, but a few were written in for my reference for finding certain spots again. Those I couldn't remove without risking the integrity of the map.

Sincerely, Gansey.

[He sends a digital copy of a hand drawn map. It's based on the one they were given, but Gansey's drawn in landmarks or noted them in careful handwriting as reminders of how to find specific sites, including the library. In the margins are a few notes in Latin and a sketch of a raven.]

Of course. Gansey. Noted. She's realizing the device doesn't have to be quite so formal...it's not like letter writing, like she'd initially assumed.

And oh, this map is much better. This is more her speed.

Thank you so much, I appreciate this. Is this Latin, here in the margins?

[Noticing the change in tone, he shifts his own phrasing accordingly.]

You're welcome. I'm glad that I can help.

It is Latin. I apologize for not being able to remove those notes. They shouldn't interfere with usage, and most of them are stray thoughts related subjects I pursued back home.

[Now might not be the time to discuss Glendower, a topic that still confuses and wounds him, or magic.]

[ Chloe is proving to be exceptionally helpful in the whole... 'texting' department. ]

Ah, I see. Forgive me, my Latin isn't quite where I'd like it to be. My Ancient Greek is much better.

[He can't help smiling over the text about Latin. His Latin is haphazard at best. Reading and writing, he's competent. As Adam has told him numerous times, his conversational skills are terrible.]

My Latin is about the same. I'm a mediocre student of the that particular language.

I haven't had much experience with Ancient Greek.

Welsh and similar languages are more my specialty.

I don't speak any Welsh, I'm afraid. My specialties tend to align more with dead languages.

[ And people, yikes. ]

I've studied Modern and Ancient Greek, along with Coptic, Ancient Egyptian, and Hieratic extensively. Also, French, and German.

Are you a scholar, Gansey?

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affection_for_research - 2020-12-07 18:38 (UTC) - Expand

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egyptologist - 2020-12-07 22:37 (UTC) - Expand

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