Test Drive Meme #24

[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 September 24th, and apps are open October 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: TITAN TERRORS
[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.

In this case, the monster behind you may as well be the monster above you. No, not anything flying overhead, but the freakishly giant nude monsters hellbent on shoving your crunchy body into their mouths and chowing down.

Titans are large humanlike creatures who have superior strength, though more limited intelligence. Much like zombies, they desire only to devour all of the humans in their vicinity and will use any tools at their disposal to do so. Get your steel guitars ready and get pumped, because sie sind das essen und wir sind die jager!!!]

R A G E

SCENARIO TWO: PAINTBALL ROYALE
[You've got a gun.

Okay, it's not a real gun- it's actually a paintball gun, which seems to knock people unconscious when you hit them. That's a pretty sweet deal! Except, you really want to be the last one standing, and you'll knock out countless people to do it. Every fight feels like life or death, whether you're waiting in the shadows to get the drop on someone or spraying paint all across the open streets in the fain hopes that you might get a tag or two.

Either way, if you lose, you'll find yourself waking up in a party! That's not so bad, right? It's a giant gathering of all the paint-covered losers in the city, with free food and drinks and a distribution of excellent prizes. What did you win? Fight your friends, but not in the dark and trauma-y way, and be the next winner of our Hadriel death (not really) match!

This is a mini version of our Party Royale event this month.]

C O N F U S I O N

SCENARIO THREE: WALK WALK FASHION BABY
[Your trusty leather jacket is gone. So are your worn and torn jeans, all your summer dresses, your boots and high tops and heels. Suddenly, nothing is where you expect it to be, not even that load of clothes that you've left in the laundry for the past few weeks (oops). In the stead of all of your beloved duds, you find some stuff that... might be a little questionable.

Whether you were the lucky recipient of the hand shawl, the face skirt, the suspender sweats or some other wild atrocity, you'll be sure to have some fun trying to maneuver around the city in your weird, cumbersome outfits. At least you don't look as silly as that guy over there in the sea urchin costume!]

Comments

...I'm so sorry...

[salace]

[How startling to have his hastily commandeered hiding space... hastily commandeered right back. France half stumbles, but holds his ground only a step or so back. He can't exactly begrudge someone taking shelter from those things -- he just rather wishes there were slightly more substantial shelter to take.]

Pas du tout! Why would I have a weapon? I'm supposed to be at the market!

[In point of fact, Francis has a fabric shopping bag full of various items of produce, a bottle of wine. There's a baguette jutting out, but that's fresh so it's not currently a weapon. A few days and it'd be as good as a baseball bat but-- No. Unarmed.

And just now realizing that it's a familiar voice, familiar accent, familiar figure, and France is oddly torn between relief and further concern.] ...why don't you have a weapon?!

[Isn't Germany the more prepared one between them for this sort of thing??]

omg!!!!

[marsch]

France?!

[Berlitz wuffs quietly in recognition and wags his tail once, Germany only remembering at the last second to keep his voice down. It's hard for him to do things like that, okay? He forgets how to use an inside voice sometimes.]

I don't need to be armed to walk my dogs in Berlin, [he adds, somewhat unnecessarily with a scowl. He almost wishes that were the case now? Instead, all he has is-]

I do not think a multitool would be sufficient to take down something of that size. Or a leash.

[Yeah that's. That's all he's got, both of which he fishes out of his jacket pocket. Berlitz is well-trained enough not to need the leash, but he keeps it around just in case.]

[salace]

Bonjour! Et bonjour le chien.

[Whispered, but whispered cheerfully and with a little wave of his fingers. Except no, this is serious. Game face. France frowns and is all at once moving to peek around Germany, edging a glance ever so slightly around the corner before leaning back, hissing.] Yes. Well. This isn't Berlin!

[It's also not Paris. Or Lyon. Or Avignon. Or anywhere he can think of -- sure some parts in his south have their Roman ruins but nothing quite coliseum-y as this. Or filled with giant horrifying monsters.]

Parfait. You can see if it wants to whittle or try out some S&M.

[For his part, France looks down into his grocery sac morosely.] ...and all I can do is invite it for hors d'oeuvres and drinks.

[Therefore...] Maybe... we run for now. Find somewhere to hide.

[marsch]

[A gentle boof from Berlitz. Maybe it's bonjour in dog?]

I can see that!

[While he might have great respect for the Roman Empire, this... certainly isn't Rome. And those things certainly aren't Romans!!

France just gets a deadpan stare at his suggestions, because Germany just doesn't play along.]

And then what? Hope these monsters disappear on their own? We have to do something.

[salace]

For all we know, this could be their home! Like in... ah... [Merde. What is non-French literature anyway give him a second he can do this,] Gulliver's Travail!

[Close. Close enough even.]

Maybe this is the land of the giant people!

[Ughhh but probably not right? Whatever this place is, ruined as it is, it looks like people probably made it. And not giant weird naked monster people.

So Germany may be right. Which honestly? Not a thought he particularly enjoys having, even if he's warmed up to the other nation a bit in the recent past.] And hiding and drinking wine isn't an appropriate something, eh?

[France is not cut out for monsters.] What do you suggest we do? ...perhaps we could trap it?

[He's getting ideas. He should be stopped.]

[marsch]

[Close enough, indeed. Germany scowls, though maybe it's impossible to tell that his expression has changed at all.]

That might be something you can do. I cannot.

[He peeks around the rubble again. Yikes those are. Really big. His dinky little multitool knife isn't going to do shit.]

Perhaps some of the rubble... if we could lure it into a smaller space, we could block it in?

[Something that big has to be at least as strong as he is though, right? Hm.]

[salace]

[This would be easier with armies. ...or England who could either be used as bait or else commune with his make-believe faerie friends to get rid of the make believe magic monster.

Something like that. But okay, no what ifs. They have what they have. Which is their skill and their wits and...]

Maybe with the right motivation... [With the right bait.] we could have it use its size against itself, for us, wedge itself in somewhere it can't wrench free of... some gap in the rubble that we could fit through that it could not. [Like Winnie the Pooh in Rabbit's door. France mentally pats himself on the back for being so literary today but self congratulation can wait until later. If they live for later.]

...though we'll need to assure whatever it is has another exit for us. I am still too young to die!

[marsch]

Perhaps we should search for the exit first, and worry about luring it somewhere after we have secured safe passage for ourselves.

[He nods with renewed determination. Alright, that's close enough to a plan for now. They need more information before they can truly attack. He has to focus. No matter how absurd their situation is, he has to remain calm and professional.]

Stay with Berlitz. I'll scout the area.

[salace]

Eh?! Stay with the dog? I'm not a pet who can be told to sit and stay, you know. [A pause to add a soft and sincere,] No offense, Berlitz. Tu es un beau chien courageux.

[Good puppy. But France frowns at the other nation.] But honestly. If you get yourself killed, then what?

[Not that he's concerned. Maybe a little.] If we stick together as long as we can, there's less risk, non? We can guard each other's backs.

[marsch]

[Wow maybe he meant for France to guard Berlitz-- no that totally wasn't it. Berlitz seems to be fine with the compliments, though, wuffing quietly again and wagging his tail. That's right, he is a very courageous dog.

Germany sighs.]

...Ja, I suppose you're right. We split up, then. I will patrol the perimeter to the right, you follow the left. Signal me if you find anything.

[salace]

Bon.

[Good. Definitely good. They can work together and perhaps get out of this alive. Perhaps do some good while they're at it, so other people can also get out alive. It all sounds lovely on paper.

France stands straight, doing his best to look like he's absolutely ready for this.

But it's a stretch. A nod.] D'accord. Be careful.