Test Drive Meme #22

[hadrielmods]

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 July 25th, and apps are open August 1st. Please remember that there is an app cap of 20 apps.

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, either through handwaving or through a shared mental experience while coming through the Door!

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: THE WRONG KIND OF SCARY
[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.

There's an odd shuffling to your right and to your left. Do you know what that is? Maybe not, but at least nobody else does either. You might peek at an eye stalk or a stinger, you might catch a glimpse of something that can maybe pass for fingers... or maybe it just has a mouth on its butt because its creator was feeling particularly sadistic that day. That's right, you're looking at the creatures from Spore, EA's infamous alien creation game with the most awkward alien creator imaginable.

These particular Spore creatures are the carnivorous kind, the kind who seek out and eat other creatures so that they can instantly procreate to pass on their victim's genetic code and make their species even more wild. You might not want to stick around and watch the mating process. I promise it's just as weird as you think.]

T R A N Q U I L I T Y / C O N F U S I O N

SCENARIO TWO: STEPFORD SUNDAY
[You wake up one lovely weekend morning to the sounds of birds chirping outside and sun streaming through your window. What a wonderful day to be perfectly normal and happy in the suburbs! Your family is all around you, like a Norman Rockwell painting, happy to go about their average day in their average life in their average city.

So what if your sister is an archdemon? Or your father is somehow a dragon? It's just the way that things have always been... isn't it?

The perceptive of you may begin to see cracks in the veneer, may begin to wonder why everything seems to be so perfect... and as the truth begins to unfold, it paints a much darker picture than the one you're seeing. Are you sure you don't want to stay, just a little while longer?

This is a mini version of our Stepford Summer event this month!]

R A G E / D E L I G H T

SCENARIO THREE: CAKE WARS
[There are plenty of ways in this world to rouse your competitive spirit. Many of them involve athletics- few involve such beautiful edible artistry as this.

That's right, you're in a cake baking competition, and no matter how competitive you normally are, thanks to Rage's influence, you want to win. Competitors can be in teams of two or alone, and they have until morning to bake their cakes to the fullest and bring it to Delight's temple for judging.

So what kind of cake baker are you? Do you revel in your artistry? Do you measure everything and carefully prepare each icing tip? Or do you know that you suck at cooking and decide to use the opportunity to sabotage your opponent's cake instead? Nothing is off limits, and all's fair in cake and war, after all!]

Comments

[hardwearing]

Washington.

[ He corrects the stranger, stepping closer with curiosity to examine his arrows because that's. Not how arrows are meant to behave. At least they're working -- and this fellow can handle himself with them. Wash switches to his pistol because these creatures go down easy enough, he should spare his rifle ammo. ]

Do you know where we are?

[callingshots]

[It takes him a moment, not because he doesn't know the answer, but because he doesn't want to admit to it. He glances around, then glances around again, but--
no, this is definitely not anywhere in Star City.]

...No.

[Which is probably also why his communicator doesn't work. He grits his teeth.]

Are we on Earth-1?

[hardwearing]

[ Wash hesitates, too, telling himself that this is real, it's real, he's not completely losing it. This is a thing that's happening, this guy is here too. ]

I guess we could be.

[ Because honestly, he has no idea where they are. But Earth-1? ]

What's with the number?

[callingshots]

I--

[The question, oddly, throws him -- mostly because he kind of hates this stuff, all the multiple Earths and the aliens and everything. Give him a good old-fashioned criminal to shoot at any day.]

That's what they call the Earth I'm from.

[Each Earth probably calls themselves that, he realizes, but he doesn't care.]

We don't have...

[He nods towards the creatures.]

...these. Not natively.

[hardwearing]

There's only one Earth where I'm from.

[ And he's never seen it, but this really doesn't seem like anyplace he's ever seen. ]

These aren't aliens I'm familiar with, either.

[callingshots]

Assuming they're aliens.

[Not that he knows what else they could be; he's just covering his bases.]

You don't know where we are?

[hardwearing]

What else would they be?

[ He's seriously asking -- if it's not human, not from Earth, then to Wash it's an alien. They don't seem entirely sentient, either, just mindlessly rushing at the people in the colosseum. Around them others are struggling. ]

I don't. But these people need help.

[callingshots]

[Pause. Very reluctant admission:]

I have no idea.

[So, no need to linger on that. He looks around, taking in the rest of the creatures and the people in terror around them. He may not know where they are, or why, or who this guy is, or literally anything else, but he knows what to do in this situation. He nods, reaching for an arrow.]

You coming?

[hardwearing]

Coming. You take the left flank.

[ He switches to his knives, since these things seem to go down easy and he doesn't want to waste ammo when he doesn't know where more is coming from.

It's worth noting, as they take care of the monsters in the arena, that Wash fights like a beast. Fast and ruthless, every strike aimed to kill. ]

[callingshots]

[The Green Arrow definitely notices. There was a time when his own style was very much the same. Now, there's something more restrained about the way he fights: he kills when he has to, but far more often, he shoots to wound or disable. Sometimes he shoots regular arrows, but he's almost as likely to use one of the bolas, or something that looks like a cross between an arrow and a tranq dart. Or even, once, on a very small creature, a blunt-tipped arrow that nearly resembles a boxing glove and knocks it out cold when it hits what looks like its temple.

It's... mostly natural, now, for him to do it this way. Mostly. Kind of. By the time the area is clear, he's gotten hit a couple more times than he really should have been, and he looks sort of tired. But the job is done, the people safe, and that's the most important thing.]

[hardwearing]

[ Although he noticed his companion was aiming to knock out or disable instead of kill, everything Wash struck at is now dead. His armor is splattered with blood and he shakes some of the excess off his knives before tucking them away again. He'll clean up later.

He offers a bloodstained hand to a woman that's crumpled on the ground, and she cowers in fear of him... that's a response he's never gotten from someone he saved from aliens. With a sigh he backs away, back to Oliver, and notices a few tears in his suit from where he took hits. Nothing bad enough he needs to share his healing unit, but the guy will need patching. ]

Sitrep.