dankmemes | Test Drive Meme #3

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!test drive

Test Drive Meme #3

Welcome to Hadriel's test drive, and thank you again for your interest in the game! As always, our reserves page is here, and our applications page is here! Reserves open November 24th, and apps are open December 1st.

Two quick points here as well:
1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon!

Test drives will be broken up into specific god mini-events, during which your characters can see how well they fare under the watchful eye of one of the gods. Choose wisely or just simply pick 'em all, and have fun!

F E A R

SCENARIO ONE: GIMME A HUG
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Watch out as you explore the streets of Hadriel, because you're not alone, and there's always something on the rooftops watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to separate you from your group and tear you into pieces. This time, the Door has brought in a large slithering beast for you meet.

This Titanoboa is not the friendliest of snakes. Over fifty feet long, it requires quite a lot of meals in order to keep going, and it seems to be most interested in making you one of them. A giant anaconda, this is a constrictor rather than a venomous snake - but don't worry. It's got teeth, too, in case it needs to do a touch of nibbling. We're sure you'll get along just fine.]

SCENARIO TWO: THE DOCTOR IS IN
[You awaken on an operating table. How did you get here? What's going on? You don't remember checking into a hospital or seeing a doctor, and when you try to get up you quickly discover that your hands and legs are secured tightly to the table, the straps digging into your skin.

Next to the table is a tray of gleaming steel surgical instruments, their sharp blades glittering as the overhead light flickers. They seem to be the only clean thing in the room, as you begin to realize that the walls of this operating room are moldy and stained, and there's something dripping from the ceiling. This may not be a legitimate hospital at all.

There are footsteps outside the door. It could be a friend - or not. Will you call for help? Try to free yourself? Lay back and wait for the doctor to arrive?]

H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: HOPESGIVING
[You find yourself in a kitschy, brightly lit, utterly pleasant gift shop. Lining the shelves are all manner of stuffed animals, inspirational figurines, greeting cards, and delightful ornaments. Some even look familiar, like something you might have seen before.

The door isn't locked. You can just leave, if you want. But on a pedestal where the registers should be is a globe of glittering light, and within it, a picture of the person you care for most in the world. Carved on the pedestal are the words Bring someone hope, and you will bring them happiness.

Of course, you aren't alone in there. Will you find something on the shelves to show to your companion, something that might bring them hope? Or maybe you brought something from home. Or maybe you don't care at all, and just want to smash everything in there. It's all up to you.

This is a simplified version of this month's Hope event.]

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[His eyes have wandered over their surroundings in the meantime, as though surprised about the lack of an angry merchant. No one's come to investigate the source of destroyed goods. It's... unsettling, to say the least. Does no one care about their ruined inventory?

When his hands are taken, Fenris stiffens, attempting to jerk out of the grip. His gaze is wide and alarmed like a deer caught in the trajectory of an arrow. He doesn't like being touched. This is a familiarity far beyond what he's used to, or comfortable bearing. The lyrium stings along the backs of fingers.]

You are easily inspired.

[It definitely sounds like a harsh criticism.]

Is that all it takes to give you hope?

Yes.

[ It is what he did back home. Why did he have to be so foolish as to think that such a thing could not be done here?

He does let Fenris's hands go when he pulls away. It would be wrong to continue to hold them if he does not want him to. But he does. Ah, maybe he should find a blade to cut them at the wrist to keep. Then he would always have something of another elf close.

Such violent thoughts. He wonders if he is really calming down or becoming agitated. Sometimes ... sometimes it is hard to tell. ]

It means that there is something that we can do to better our situation. One can always better their situation even if they are not sitting upon a throne. Do you not agree?

[ She hadn't noticed the presence of another in the store, not until he speaks. ... Well, she'd noticed, but hadn't paid him much attention, not with so many strangers in Hadriel. If they aren't outright monsters, it's easier to go about your business, keeping to yourself, and not completely fearing for your life.

But he does speak and she isn't beyond polite conversation. ]

You've just arrived, then? [ Cecily Trevelyan explains, eyeing the elf on the other side of the shop. ] There aren't any merchants; you can take whatever you like.

[ As long as you can find it. They still have to find weapons, but two months of searching haven't turned up so much as a dagger thus far. ]

[ if cullen is surprised to find one of the champion's companions here, he doesn't show it. instead, he just looks mildly annoyed by all the bright and fluffy things on the shelves. ]

There's no currency here that I'm aware of. [ to answer fenris' second question. as for the first... ] This is all Hope's doing most likely. Trying to figure out what makes us tick.

[ he plucks a mabari plush off the shelf and gives it a bemused look. ]

Though I don't know why he thought dolls of all things would do that.

Edited (too many hopes in one sentence...) 2015-11-22 17:38 (UTC)

Works better in a grocery store?

[ He repeats the phrase carefully and wonders on the meaning of it. A quick rip to have the stuffed animal's fluff join the rest of the broken pieces on the floor. It's depressing but it looks like there is not going to be anyone who is going to show their face. Humorous that he says such a statement that is presently his predicament with the one that is before him now.

What an odd helmet. ]

Nothing seems to be done or changing. I have to say that's ... very depressing. You would think they cared about what is supposed to bring people hope. But that is the myth of hope, isn't it?

scenario two

[ Caboose blinks a few times beneath his helmet as he looks around to see where it is that he is. It is an unfamiliar room! He does not like unfamiliar rooms! But that is all right, because an unfamiliar room can become a room that is full of friends -- what is that on the table!?

He does not quite like that he's tied up, but he realizes where it is that he is! They've taken him ... to the dentist! No! It's not fair! He remembers to brush his teeth just like Agent Washington tells him to do! He didn't need a check-up! Struggling against the bindings, the metal strains and lets out a harsh sound as he jerks his legs free.

Throwing himself forward, the table comes with him as he rushes towards the door. ]

No! I don't want it! The bubblegum flavor doesn't taste anything like bubblegum! [ It may be a good idea of whoever is on the other side of the door to get out of the way as Caboose comes crashing through it by using the table (and his own body) as a makeshift battering ram. ]

While we can. That's a bit ominous, but the girl has a point. Statistically, most hospitals are occupied by more than two people. The blood had to come from somewhere, Chris supposes. He doesn't want to think about it too hard. If he can compartmentalize the horrors into numbers, then he can deal with them. Throw himself into research rather than survival, because the idea of survival is so fragile, so fleeting, and he can't help but think about those who didn't get the same chance.

The zombie apocalypse taught him that much.

He nods, and leads her out the door. "I've been searching for an exit for a while now," he says. "This place isn't laid out like your average hospital, but if there's an entrance, which there must be, since we're here, there is an exit." It's just a matter of finding it.

"There's always a way out,." she agrees with a nod. Though, if pressed she would admit that she's thinking that the way out might be in a body bag.

Following after him, her eyes watch the halls, clearly wary of something. Her head is twitchy with the idea of the things that are lurking, the monsters outside. She knows they're coming, knows they're hoping to find them, she just doesn't know what to do about it.

"Gotta keep quiet." she says softly. "Or they might find us."

[Dorian is not entirely sure what this building is. Some kind of old laboratory? Either way, the lights inside drew his attention, and everything else about it drew his interest. Still, he'd mostly abandoned the idea of finding anything besides old equipment and waterstained walls, until he hears a voice.

And from one of the lit rooms, too. Dorian doesn't waste time, though he is cautious when he enters, wary of a possible trap. But there seems to be none, only - an elf?

Well. That's odd.]

Am I interrupting something?

[To say that Wade was familiar with this sort of medical atmosphere is like saying that the ocean was a little heavy on the salt, or that Lindsey Lohan was just a tiny bit of a party girl. It's a place that is as familiar to him as his own home-- he'd be a little dismayed to know that that comparison was rapidly becoming less and less apt the longer he stayed away from it-- and while this place was definitely not OSHA-compliant by any means, he's been in and out of hospitals long enough to recognize the signs-- the long hallways, the institutionalized building structure; the echoing, almost tomb-like silence that made every movement echo regardless of how crowded the place was.

It didn't make things easier. No sane person ever truly felt comfortable in a hospital, and the smell of antiseptic still had the power to cause his heart to speed up without warning. Wade isn't even sure how he made it in here, or if this is just a long-delayed PTSD dream, like having one of those "naked in high school" dreams after you've already graduated college. If this was a dream, though, there really was no harm in exploring, was there? It's not as though anything could hurt him permanently, dream or no.

It's only when he almost passes by a particular door that the voice-- gruff, with the hint of a foreign accent-- stops him in his tracks. Maybe it's the thought that this could still be a dream that gives him pause, or maybe it's because this predicament is uncomfortably close to what he's experienced before. Whatever the reason, Wade cautiously enters the room, slipping one of his guns out of its holster in case of an ambush.

There's only one person in the room that he can see-- strapped to the operating table lies a man with sharp features, pointed ears and strange glowing markings on his body. Wade deals with this sight with as much grace and tact as he can muster.]

...Huh. Cool tats. How many glowsticks didja have to use to pull that off?

one: slither

[The city itself is weird enough, so strange and unreal that Josh can't be entirely sure it's not a product of his imagination. The buildings are strangely curved, and the sky above isn't a sky at all, only rock and some kind of glowing light. So, yeah, that's all pretty fucking weird. But this? Turning a corner and practically stepping on a giant snake?

That's something else entirely.

Josh backpedals, holding up his hands as if to calm the snake, or fight, or - something. It doesn't look real either, it looks like a movie monster, some crazy special effect, but then it moves, it slides toward him and he scrambles back and suddenly everything seems very, very real. Thanks, adrenaline and terror.]

Oh, shit.

two: bedlam

[It isn't as if Josh hasn't woken up in hospitals before, but - not like this. Not usually. But how can he know for sure? Maybe those walls are actually clean and sparkling, maybe he's supposed to be here and he's forgotten. It's more than a little disturbing, to think that, but he knows it's possible. Still. If he doesn't remember, he can't give consent, right? Is that how it works? Whatever procedure he's here for, he knows he doesn't want it anymore.

He can feel panic in the back of his mind, caused less by the situation itself and more by not knowing if he's forgotten why he's here or if he was never supposed to be here in the first place. Hearing a footstep outside, he struggles, pulling at the straps.

Maybe he shouldn't call out. But what else is there to do?]

Hey! Someone there?

[Guess who was opening the door just as Caboose flung himself toward it? A man (?) in full SWAT gear, pointing a rifle at the Marine's helmet.]

Do not move.

[His voice, slow, calm and with a noticeable accent that might be Russian. He doesn't lower the gun, extended optics trained on Caboose just the same. Doesn't know where he is or who this is but he's the one with the deadly weapon, so he's got the control.]

[You throw cans, dent them and bring them to the register. That's how deadbeats save dollars. Even when you make enough to buy half the store with your illegal dealings, old habits die hard.

The biker doesn't stop to explain, though, because David Lee Roth is going on about-- what the fuck is he talking about? He's staring, eyes hidden under the dark visor.]

What the fuck are you talking about?

[Vocalizing his thoughts.]

[ He skids to a halt when the door opens. Tilting the chair and himself backwards, he looks to see someone pointing a rifle at him. ]

But I promise that I brushed my teeth!

[ Cue heavy breathing. ] Smell! Smell, you can still smell the mint! Oh, oh god. There's ... there's a lot of smells in here now. I'm... I breathed too hard. [ Caboose wobbles a little from side to side. ]

Hope, of course. And the lie of what it is.

[ He makes a gesture towards all that he has ruined. ] I take it that you do not share my feelings on that particular subject? [ Still, it's oddly calming to be around someone who is so separate from his own tantrum. Yaha smiles as he feels himself see that nothing he does -- even destroying this entire shop -- matters. ]

But I suppose ... I could tear everything to pieces and have it amount to very little. [ A beat. ] Why is it that you wear such an odd piece of armor?

It's a positive outlook. Not one many would share.

[Those sitting upon a throne would certainly find it far easier than those not. With his hands to himself, he folds arms across his chest.]

And what of those who are not aware their situation can get any better?

If they are not elves, what do we care?

[ Let them be used for his magic. Let them be used for entertainment. That is what will be best. Allow the two of them to stand over all and never be beneath another again. ]

Would they care enough for us? Isn't it best to just worry about our own situation and what would be best for us, Fenris?

Is it that obvious?

[Not that he's striving to keep it a secret. He has no reason to hide from those that forced him here. He won't show his fear, no matter what horrors he has to face. Fenris looks at the woman critically.]

It seems strange to take as we please. And even stranger to have no merchants.

[What sort of economy does this place have? Surely it can't exist without goods and services.]

How many others are here?

Knight-Captain?

[Fenris gives him a brief, thoughtful look. It wasn't very long ago he saw him in the streets of a burning city. It leaves a bitter taste in his own mouth, and he won't mention it unless Cullen does first.

No currency? Then the small coin purse in his pocket will be useless, it seems. He doesn't carry much on him, only enough for necessities, so it's no real loss.]

Are you going to keep that one, then?

[There's some humor in the question as he arches a brow at the mabari plush.]

[His eyes widen at the entrance of an unfamiliar man. The tone carries an accent that prickles with familiarity, and his lyrium gives a sympathetic ache at the proximity of mana. A mage, then? Of course. It would be the only thing that makes sense, the only reason he could have ended up so completely defenseless.]

Is this your doing?

[Growling, Fenris yanks at the straps again. He still feels weak and tired, unable to concentrate enough to free himself.]

Release me.

[An elven supremacist? It's not all that surprising. The Dalish were similar in their mindset, idolizing an ancient history in an effort to feel - what? Significant? Powerful?]

You say us as though you expect me to agree with you unconditionally. [Surprise. He is bitter, resentful, and argumentative.] I've already said I care little for other elves. They are not all the same.

But I thought that we were having a connection.

[ He frowns just a little at the response. Yaha wants to create a marvelous throne for Fenris -- one of made out of the bones of their enemies. It'd be very hard work, but he thinks that in the end, it would suit him well. And Yaha can't do that if Fenris is going to be upset with him.

Well, no, he could still do it, but it just wouldn't be as fun. ] I want to gift you with wonderful things. I did not think hope was possible. I thought it would be pointless to see another elf here and now after ... everything, but it does mean something.

Just as I told you before... you're very inspiring.

Chris doesn't mind the other man's quiet. He's a quiet person himself, and if he doesn't have to make small talk with the other people in the shop, that's just fine.

He's been examining the pedestal for quite some time. He doesn't know what the other man sees, but Chris sees a picture of his daughter. His daughter, who he hasn't seen in years, who is most likely dead.

Chris takes the man's comment as sarcastic and replies cooly, "Gift-wrapped and delivered, I'd wager. Though I don't think this place has a mail service."

He'd try to assure her, tell her to relax, but he's just as tense as she is -- just a little more controlled about it. This place makes him uncomfortable. Too many unknowns, too many variables. This hospital doesn't follow the common trend, it's different, wrong.

They come to a large door at the end of the hallway. It's bolted shut, a thick, rusted chain wrapped around it. They'll have to break the chain to get through. If they want to get through. But they don't have much choice. He gives the chain a tug.

"Here, help me give this a tug. It doesn't look too strong, I think we can get through if we just yank hard enough."

The picture Beyond sees inside the globe on the pedestal unsettles him - a young blond man, barely more than a boy, really, but the air of having been forced to age faster than his natural years is evident in the scar that covers half his face, the anger and pain written in his expression, the defiance flashing in the blue of his eyes. The photograph unnerves Beyond because it shouldn't exist. The House rules were quite clear about that - paper trails of identity were never left behind, especially not photographs.

"I wonder if there's an extra charge for gift wrap." Again he speaks in a flat tone, glancing sideways toward the other man. "Have you made a thorough inquiry as to the existence of delivery services?"

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Test Drive Meme #3

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hope

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michael j. caboose | red verses blue

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fear, because this is a good idea

Wade "Deadpool" Wilson | Marvel 616

josh washington | until dawn

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perfect

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three.

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ty! c: