TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[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 January 25th, and apps are open February 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, 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: HERE KITTY KITTY
[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 coeurls, from the video game Final Fantasy X for you meet.

These cat-like monsters can use elemental magic to attack, as well as their teeth and claws. When injured, they can cast a spell that will drain energy from their attacker and give it to them - and they are even able to temporarily petrify you. So if you decide to fight, let's hope you can finish them off quick!]


SCENARIO TWO: BURIED ALIVE
[What a wonderful day to find yourself - or a friend, or a stranger - buried six feet under. Covered in thick earth, the sturdy oak walls of the coffin trapping you in darkness, all alone. Not a soul to hear any cries of help.

Either you're in a coffin yourself, trapped, hoping for rescue, or you've got a GPS, a set of coordinates, and a shovel. Will you try to claw your way out of your possible grave, using only your bare hands and pure terror? Or will you be the one digging, hoping that down below is someone you love, waiting for you to unearth them?

Just don't take too long. Their air - your air - could run out at any moment.

This is a mini version of our Buried Alive event this month!]


R A G E

SCENARIO THREE: PET PEEVED
[Everything seems to be going just wrong enough to drive you right up the wall. Maybe your shoes keep coming untied, or you slammed your finger in the door while you were leaving the house. Maybe your friend keeps using the wrong form of 'your/you're' when they text you. Maybe that guy in the shop with you won't get off his damn phone.

Whatever it is, your day has been full of tiny annoyances, enough to leave you on edge and just about ready to explode. They're such little things, nothing that should inspire so much anger, but one after another - well, shouldn't anyone understand why you're mad?

And then someone else comes along, perfectly primed to push your buttons. Maybe they keep pronouncing your name wrong, or they won't stop staring at your scar, or they have hair just the right color to remind you of your last ex. You're already primed for a fight, and they seem just as pissed as you. What will you do?]

Comments

[mismanagement]

Right, of course it's not safe. Maketh grits her teeth and forces herself to stand upright. Her eyes are watering, jaw clenched tight against the curse she wants to hiss. Breathe. Grit your teeth and take it on the chin like a good soldier, there you go. She'd almost been an officer, one time. She knows what happens to dead weight.

"I can walk," she says, applying that tone of hard-edged certainty that she memorized from Governor Pryce. No questions, no backtalk. Whether or not she can run is another question, but one she doesn't feel like addressing right now. "Do you know a safe place?"

[theresolve]

It doesn't need to.

[Rainier's armor and sword and shield isn't just for show and he readies the both, now that he doesn't risk hitting her as well.]

Any weak spots I should know about?

[Since she seems familiar with it. Otherwise he's just going to go for it.]

[amos_moses]

Amos has been around enough military and ex-military to recognize the tone, even if her uniform is unfamiliar to him. He nods a little, watching the way she moves carefully, to see if there's anything he can help with, which side she's favoring most. "I do. C'mon, follow me."

He's almost got these tunnels mapped out in his head by now. He can certainly lead them out and back to the ruined city. Now whether or not he can do that and not run into any more cat-monsters...well, they'll have to see about that.

[unknowable]

[He doesn't know if he can explain to Gansey what the difference is. He thinks he could try, and Gansey would nod and at least pretend to understand, but would he actually?

Money isn't a concern here. Money doesn't even come into it. The house they're living in doesn't belong to Gansey, doesn't belong to Ronan. Adam isn't a poor friend being extended charity, he isn't unequal. They're all on the same level, for the moment, equally lost and out of their depths, and while Adam would never in a million years say it aloud, it's been a strange relief to have the burden of money lifted from him. To not have to worry about whether he has enough change in his pocket to cover his groceries, or how many more shifts he needs to pick up to meet rent. To not have to worry about the easy help Gansey could offer, exactly what Adam doesn't want.

Here it doesn't so much matter that Gansey's net worth is more than Adam could ever dream of making if he worked every hour of every day. It's not that it doesn't matter at all - it still does, it's made them who they are - it's that Adam doesn't need to think about it all the time. Adam doesn't need to see staying under the same roof as Gansey and Ronan as a form of pity.

But he gives the easier answer, instead.]

Well, there's monsters here sometimes. It would be pretty stupid to live alone.

[He finishes Gansey's other hand, lets him go, and finally raises his head to look at Gansey.]

Besides, can you imagine Ronan living alone, or with just Noah? Their place would be burned to the ground within a week. So yeah, we've been helping each other.

[mismanagement]

If this is a rebel plot, Maketh thinks, then it's a needlessly complicated one. Dropping her in the middle of some foreign planet and then forcing her to rely on a stranger for a guide might - might - make sense for a long game on an unwilling source, but her information has been freely given, and the rebels don't have the resources to pull something like this off in the first place. Or at least they haven't tried anything of this nature previously and this speaks of a recklessness that borders on careless - which is not their signature at all, whatever else can be said. There are too many moving pieces, too many variables. She could have died from her injuries before giving them any information, and all the grandstanding would have been for nothing.

There are easier ways to get information.

So if it's not the rebellion, then it might be the Empire. Possible, Maketh supposes, but again - not their style. Too many ways this might get out of hand. The Empire would probably just shoot her. Well, maybe torture her first, if they suspected she knew more than she ought to. But that too would be done a different way. Much cleaner than this.

Whatever this was supposed to be.

Maketh lifts her head up. Whatever the truth and however she's ended up here, she's still breathing. She intends to stay that way. "My name is Maketh Tua. Thank you for...helping. I would rather not have been eaten."

Her guide is interesting. Carrying outdated weapons, but quick on his feet. Used to the area, too. And willing to help a stranger.

Interesting. She'll be polite to him. He's been useful so far and Maketh supposes she owes him at least that much for saving her.

[thechoiceisyours]

Ash got kind of the quick version of everything.

[It had been difficult to retell the story, let alone all the details of it, and it had been most important that Ashley knew about Josh being behind everything and about the wendigos. She didn't need to know anything unnecessary that would only make things worse for her.

And at Emily's next questions he again pauses, though he doesn't look at her this time. There's no good answer to this.]

I don't know, Em. He wasn't with us, so...

[So he doesn't know. It's possible Matt is still alive; surely the police would be going back to look for him, and for Jessica and Josh even though he's pretty sure both of them are dead. Maybe Matt made it though, he just... Doesn't know.

Finally, he turns back around to face her, abandoning his search for food for the moment.]

You and me, Mike, Sam, and Ash made it out. That's... That's all I know for sure.

[He's quiet again for another few seconds.]

I'm really sorry.

[It's a different apology than before, because this isn't something actually his fault, but he really does wish he could tell her something different. Even just knowing for certain that Matt--or Jess, or Josh--were dead would be better than just being left to wonder.]

[ichaer]

[ she remains seated at the edge of the hole for the time being, idly glancing over her gloved hands and thankful for them after all this time spent with a shovel in hand. it's then she catches his movement, glancing over and reaching out without much pause.

she's never been terribly social herself, taking far too much after her adopted father and his ways. still, she was a princess. still is, technically. some of the things taught to her by her grandmother still hold true. ]

Perhaps not though I am unfamiliar with such a city. [ still... lycan, huh. ] You're... a solider then?

[ for a short moment, she considers giving a fake name as she had during her times with the rats. back then, she had been falka but... ]

Ciri, a witcher. [ ah, right. ] It's a term back home for a professional monster hunter.

[casperdisaster]

[Super generous. If he can generously give Noah a few moments to get over the shaking and trying not to cry panic of that as he scrambles out of the coffin as quickly as possible, that would be super duper radical.]

... I ... I know I guy who can make alcohol appear out of thin air.

[casperdisaster]

[They had talked briefly about it. A confession of fears. Life after Glendower, life after death, the fear implicit in both as well as the possibility that there wouldn't be anything at all to be afraid of. Noah sighs, tucking his legs up against his chest and resting his chin on them. He's still quiet as anything, watching Gansey as he works through the mental aerobics of what it means that their dead friend is now somewhat alive.

Gansey is back. Gansey is here. That means everything will be okay somehow. Noah is not sure how, since all it really means is Gansey is in danger again, but he'll bring balance to their shifting orbits that have been thrown askew since he was gone. Gansey will make it better by virtue of being Gansey, like he always has.]

Heavy. Messy.

[It's what Noah told Ronan when he first asked, the 'heavy' part. Messy applies too, though. The basic daily needs as well as the more troubling parts. Now when Noah's upset he actually has to deal with it. That more than anything was what had him longing for the insubstantial being of death again. Always a coward, it was so much easier to just stop being for a while when he got too mad or sad. Actually coping with these things instead, it's awful.]

But I can get drunk again, so that's nice.

[Being blackout drunk is the next best thing to not existing.]

[unfollowing]

[And almost getting Emily shot hadn't been part of the quick version. Nice one, jackass. She'll fill Ashley in on that bit, don't worry.

The news -- or the lack of news -- about Matt drains away the brief influx of hope from just a moment ago. He has to be alive. He has to be. If he isn't--]

I should've-- [Tried harder. Been nicer. Treated him better. Told him how important he is, how much he means to her.

She will. She'll get her chance. He has to be alive.

Shit, Jess wasn't with them, either? Sure, Emily could fight with her forever for what she did, but they were friends. She isn't supposed to die until she's old and wrinkly. And Josh-- Josh isn't allowed to die or disappear until each and every one of them tells him his bullshit pranks had gone too far on the mountain. Maybe until everyone had been given the chance to slap him, too.]

Shit.

2 DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING

[starspangled]

[It's not so obvious on the other side of the dirt. It could be a distress signal that brings Steve here. It could also be a trap. True to his form, he follows the coordinates anyway, until he arrives here. If there's anything more ominous than being led right to a shovel and a mound of fresh dirt, he's not sure what it could be.

He takes a look around, but when he does hear someone, it comes from the last place he was expecting. Steve stares at the grave in the briefest moment of disbelief before grabbing the shovel. Whoever it is, he's ready to dig, and ready to put his back into it.

But the person is already breaking through the ground, and that's when Steve realizes that it's neither a rescue nor a trap. Watching his best friend crawl from his grave is a terrible, terrible joke.]

Bucky?

[Steve stands there, still gripping the shovel. And yeah, this looks bad.]

[amos_moses]

The problem with names like that is it gets tricky to tell which is first or last. Amos nods to her, without taking his gaze away from the passageway before him. "You're welcome. My name's Amos." She'd given him her name first, so he was perfectly fine with giving her his. Besides, she looked and acted very human.

Nothing ahead, as far as he could tell, but he was starting to get the feeling something was behind. He glanced that way, but saw nothing. Being stalked, probably. Lovely.

[mismanagement]

Maketh brushed off her uniform, giving the jacket a tug to straighten the lines out. It...didn't really help.

"Is that your only weapon?" she asked after a moment.

Because really, a bow and arrow?

Axton | Borderlands

[attagirl]

[ scenario 1: ]

[ seriously, fuck cats. axton has literally never liked cats, and these weird-ass giant magic ones aren't really doing much to win felines any favor in his eyes. if nothing else, he's grateful for the fact that they at least put up a decent fight: it makes mowing them down super gratifying.

so really, can he be blamed for getting a little swept up in the action? it's easy to forget that he's in the middle of a city instead of the rolling, barren fields of pandora -- so when the last coeurl turns tail and flees, axton pulls the pin and gleefully hurls a grenade in its wake.

whoops. maybe no one will notice a little structural damage to those buildings over there... they seemed pretty busted already anyway. regardless, he'll call an apology out afterwards, just in case they happened to be inhabited. ]

Uh. My bad!

[ scenario 2: ]

[ he never has this much trouble with his turret.

sure, he's not a brilliant gadgeteer like gaige, and no, he's not a mechanical genius like moxxi or either of her kids, but he knows his turret like the back of his hand. maybe that's why his threshold for frustration is so low right now: this is a thousand times more annoying than it should be, than it's ever been before. he just doesn't have the goddamn tools he needs to do this himself, and who has the patience to look for them?

not him. not today, at least.

he's set up with his turret right on the road, outside of one of the makeshift storefronts. his shoulders are set with irritation and he's ducked half-beneath it, struggling to get a compartment to shut entirely. tone clipped, he mutters: ]

Piece of junk-

[ before wincing and seeming to regret it immediately. ]

Sorry, darlin', you know I don't mean it. It's just this stupid city. Gets to a guy, you know.

[ if someone is close enough to hear him talking to his giant metal murder weapon, he... really doesn't care, okay. that thing is his baby. stop by - maybe he'll introduce the two of you. ]

[foundafamily]

[What? He beams. Okay, it sounds kind of fake, but it'd still be cool.]

Really?

[How Sena and the others would've loved that during Prohibition! Though Firo doesn't think that through long enough to realize that such a thing could actually hurt their business if the guy wasn't on their side.

His fantasy is cut into, anyway, when he gets a better look at this guy's face. He stands back to give him more room to climb out, holding out a steadying arm if it's needed.]

...What's the matter with you?

[Despite the tactless wording, Firo's tone is more curious than insulting. He's never seen a man look so close to tears--was it really that bad?]

YELLS REALLY LOUDLY

[wipedclean]

[He glares up at the man standing there, and he pulls off his mask to breathe. It was helpful on the climb out to keep dirt from getting in his nose and mouth, but now it's an impediment.

The man...

...it's his target. The one whose shield he caught on the rooftop, after he used him to triangulate his shot against the other target in the apartment. Then he wasn't a target, but now he is, and he's holding the shovel, which...

...well. It actually appears that he hasn't been doing any shoveling at all. The shovel itself has clearly been used, but the man's hands are clean, free of sweat and all other signs of effort.

But he's still the target. Ignoring and pushing through the tiredness from his previous exertion, the soldier surges to his feet and at the target, pulling a knife from his belt to attack.]

[buttsbuttsbutts]

I know, and I'm glad. Really. It's just...the weird stuff. Why is it the weird stuff that sticks? I mean, pretty butts.

The inquisition has a lot of them.

[ She knows; she looked. ]

But nice bums aren't following us around, are they? Instead we get....here! Whatever here is.

[ She's still scowling but her anger is fizzling out bit by bit. It's a good feeling since she doesn't even know what brought it on in the first place. ]

I'd take a butt over something weird any day. Even an ugly one.

[ She has a sinking feeling the weird is going to outdo the butts in her life from here on out though. It's a bit disheartening.

Still, at least it's not all bad-- ]

No rifts is nice though. Good on that.

[starspangled]

[It's surreal, a word that pretty much sums up his entire experience here so far. Someone put Bucky in that grave, but someone led Steve to him too, and he's not sure what any of it means.

He's slightly more familiar with the hard look in Bucky's eyes. Steve didn't like the anguish and confusion that he saw in them in the helicarrier either, but he thought they were past this. Only one person could've been responsible for dragging his unconscious body up onto the bank of the Potomac.]

Bucky, wait! [Lacking his shield, Steve lifts up the shovel to block the knife with.] Look at me! I'm not here to fight you!

[wipedclean]

[The voice stops him. His arm crashes against the shovel and he halts, staring at his target in confusion.

He's heard that voice before. And the name... why is the name familiar?

He takes a few steps back, his body still tense and ready. This is his target, his mission, there's no doubt about that, but... well. Hydra isn't here. He has no handlers here, no one to tell him if the mission is still active or not. He's not sure if he should continue despite the fact that the parameters have almost completely changed.

And he does have questions. And perhaps the target has answers. Inadvisable to speak to the target, but... until he knows if the mission has changed with his surroundings, he should put the mission on hold.

That doesn't mean he's going to let down his guard at all.]

Why are you calling me that?

[hybridification]

[All Rhys knows is that there's gunfire and a monster and some big dude fighting it. That's pretty much all he needs to know in order to come to the conclusion that he should run for cover and hide until all traces of anything that can kill him is gone.

He thinks he's doing a pretty bang-up job of hiding, actually. Rhys is curled up with his back pressed to the inside wall of one of the more broken-down buildings, awkwardly half-shoved under a desk of sorts. But it's fine, because the last cat seems to be leaving and this whole thing is almost over and he can put it all behind him and then go about his day with a funny story to tell all of his friends next time they hang out.

Except then, of course, a grenade goes off nearby. And honestly, thank god for the desk, because that catches a few larger piles of rubble that would have at the very least knocked Rhys senseless or given him some horrible head wound. As it is, he escapes from the blast mostly intact, save for some debris that manages to hit his uncovered-foot.]

Oh- for- geeze!

[He coughs in the smoke, scrambling out from under the desk once he's pretty sure that everything is done exploding and finds himself staring at a big old bit of emptiness where there used to be an adjacent wall. Axton is, of course, on the street, and Rhys limp-marches out, too far away to recognize him.]

What was that for? Did you run out of bullets?

[attagirl]

Hey, I said sorry!

[ no you didn't, axton.

he winces a little when he sees the limp-marching from the debris, cursing under his breath and starting to jog toward the emerging figure. urgh. that was meant to be a victory grenade, but now he just sort of feels guilty -- at least until he gets a better look at his outfit through the thinning smoke.

halting, he lifts his gun back up, aiming it lazily at rhys's chest. ]

Still got at least one. What the hell is Hyperion doing here?

[starspangled]

[Steve lowers the shovel slowly as the other man retreats. His breath and his heart are quicker than before, the way he used to feel when he tried to climb a flight of stairs. It has nothing to do with physical exertion now.

Bucky's still coiled. He sees it in his posture, the tense line of his shoulders. His body knows what to do, but there's uncertainty in his face. Steve dares to hope that it goes deeper than that. Does his guts feel all twisted up the way Steve's do? Whatever he is thinking or feeling, it probably more than he can assuage in one go, but Steve never did know when to quit.]

That's your name. James Buchanan Barnes. I always called you Bucky.

[Steve swallows against the emotions that threaten to rise up. If he did what he wanted to - but that's as far as that thought goes.]

Do you remember me?

[wipedclean]

[There is uncertainty, and it grows the longer the target speaks, with the name he uses and the nickname. The plaintive question. The soldier is unsettled.]

I do. You're my target.

[Marked for death. But Hydra isn't here. The soldier doesn't know what to do. He shouldn't have let the target speak.

His head hurts.]

[buttsbuttsbutts]

[ YES SHE IS GOING TO BE A CHILD ABOUT IT and she doesn't know why. She's just so mad!! ]

Yeah? And what's stopping you from using it? I was here first.

[ Which is the only excuse anyone ever needs, really. ]

[mismanagement]

[Maketh gives her a look usually reserved for incompetent stormtroopers, or people who get her drink order wrong at the bar. It's not a very nice look, to be honest.] Are you five? Is this what we're doing now?

[Apparently. Urg.]

Because you can go around me. It's not hard.

[That, and moving hurts. A lot. Maketh's trying not to do a lot of it. So she'll just stick to her path, thanks. It happens to be the one with slightly fewer rocks on it.]