dankmemes | TEST DRIVE MEME #5

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!test drive

TEST DRIVE MEME #5

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?]

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I'm your friend.

[It bears repeating. It's the one thing Steve will never waver on, the one thing he'll never deny. He's read the file - Natasha warned him, and he did it anyway. AS a result Steve knows much of what Hydra did to twist him into the weapon standing in front of him. Hell, maybe Steve's the one who started him down that path. Bucky killed for him long before they broke him out of cryofreeze the first time. But no matter what, Steve would rather cut his own left arm off than deny what he means to him.

Right now Bucky's fighting an enemy that Steve can't punch. He can't rush right in and instantly save him the way Bucky did for him all those years. It makes him ache, and when Bucky finally snaps, trying so desperately to shatter memories like glass beneath his boots, Steve just looks sad and tired instead of afraid afraid.]

I'm your friend, and pulling that trigger won't change that.

[He'll die loving his friend more than he loves his own life, and Steve thinks that's pretty good as far as deaths go.]

[The hand holding the gun--his right hand--shakes. It's almost imperceptible, but there's enough of a tremble that the soldier no longer trusts himself to take a steady shot.

He lowers his gun, stares at the man.]

I don't... have friends.

[He doesn't have anything.

What the hell is he supposed to do now? He can't kill this man. He knows it now, as surely as he knows how to use any weapon handed to him.]

[He frowns at her, practically glaring. He's silent for a long moment, just glaring. Finally...]

That's ridiculous.

[One of the most ridiculous things he's heard. Or can remember hearing. Not that he can remember too much, but that's not the point.]

[He barely spares a glance for the gun, but it's still enough to see that he's struggling with it. He keeps looking into Bucky's eyes as he lowers the weapon, trying to spot his best friend in them while also knowing where the real danger lies. Bucky wouldn't need a gun to kill him if he got serious about it.]

You used to call me a punk. You could go back to that, if you want.

[Bucky's obviously not ready to accept Steve. He doubts he's even ready to accept himself.]

[Punk.

Jerk.

He doesn't know what to do.

His head hurts.

He doesn't know what to do.

Let's hear it for Captain America!]

You were... my commanding officer.

[His mind is grasping for anything that makes sense in the slew of memory fragments, and right now, that's what makes the most sense to him.]

Nick is no stranger to eyerolls and sarcasm, being perfectly fluent in both herself. She doesn't much appreciate the insinuation under the other woman's words, that her suffering is, in fact, not worth noting. "You must be new here." That's the only reasonable explanation, right? She must not know what these assholes have done or are capable of doing.

"They were a present," she says, coolly, bringing the cigarette up to her lips again to inhale.

[Firo notices the cold with discomfort, both physical and of the conscience. Okay, so maybe the guy was chilly in there... but still, a little draftiness wasn't something to cry about, he reassures himself. They're both men here; they can act like it.

He shrugs.]

But you weren't left down there. No point in worryin' about it anyway.

[Showing sympathy over something like this would just mean he's getting soft--and maybe he has become a little nicer since meeting the Martillos and Ennis, but there have to be limits to these things. He shakes his head and tries to offer kindness in the only way he can think to do so.]

Who put you down there? You see their face or anything?

[ Messy. That's not really something Gansey associates with daily life, but he supposes it makes sense. Noah has spent seven years not having to eat, wash, or do any of those things that people do all the time. He supposes that would be messy.

Heavy makes sense from the outset, of course. That goes hand in hand with that solidity that pleases Gansey so much.

He's smiling like a fool. Noah's alive. No longer dead in Gansey's place. No longer fading. No longer spending every day, feeling less and less like himself.

It's less like he's going missing. Less like he'll somehow just be lost. That's a thing Gansey can't bear. He laughs sharply. ]

That must please Ronan. I'm not sure I was the best of company in that regard.

[ He sits back beside Noah, and gently lets their shoulders touch. He's seen horrible things today. Graves and monsters, a world with no sky. It's made anxiety bubble in his chest like a living thing.

But now there's this. There's Noah. That makes everything somehow better. ]

Can I help you? I'd like to. I'd like to make it less...messy, I suppose.

[ Adam seems so careful. He's even careful with his eyes, not looking up until he's finished with Gansey's hands. He's good at that, too. Like he's used to patching people up.

Maybe he is. ]

Thank you.

[ Gansey flexes his fingers. This still feels surreal. He can't believe he got these wounds by crawling out of an actual grave. He needs to get his head on straight again, needs to reason this out. He puts his hands down, stands up again.

He can do this. ]

I'm glad you're with them. I'm...assuming I was living there, too, before. [ His eyes search Adam's face, making that into a question even though his tone doesn't sound like it. ] Will you show me? I need to see them.

And then, on the way, if you'd tell me about the monsters? Christ, what sort of hell have we landed in, Parrish.

[ This place sounds like a literal nightmare. He's envisioning Cabeswater's beasts, and Ronan's night horrors all rolled into one. ]

[Gansey's happiness is infectious, it gets an awkward smile from Noah. He's still the Noah they knew, vague and anxious and frightened of everything, not Czerny the boy he was before his life was traded to Gansey. There's probably no getting Czerny back. Noah thinks that's probably for the best.

Noah leans a bit against Gansey. Not a whole lot, and he's still a slight thing even living with the metabolism of a teenager.]

Yeah, sure, you can hold my hair back when I get sick from being hungover. Ronan won't do that. He just laughs at me.

[Noah siiighs dramatically, blowing at one of his bangs.]

Yeah.

[Steve looks a little troubled by that though. It was Bucky who knew war first, who experienced some of the real hell of it. Steve climbed into a big metal container and came out with a promotion that started out as more of a joke.

But what bothers him most of all is how impersonal it sounds that way. He never thought of Bucky as his subordinate. Pulling rank would never have crossed his mind. Bucky followed him for completely different reasons.

Maybe he should've ordered him to go home.]

But we knew each other a long time before that.

[He's struggling. He's trying to pull his memories into something that makes sense to his current worldviews, and that's what makes the most sense. He's tense, he's trembling a little, he's shaking his head.]

H-handler?

[He shakes his head again, harder, because that makes sense, but it's not right. Not really. It's not fitting the pieces together well enough.]

I don't... I don't understand.

[Noah sighs and just shakes his head, running a hand through his hair and trying to straighten out his clothes. It doesn't really work, they're perpetually rumpled.]

I didn't see anything. But I think I know who it was.

"It's the only long-distance weapon I can find enough ammunition for to be useful," Amos answers, hearing the disdain in her tones. "Supplies being a bit scarce here." There's enough food, mostly, but weaponry and other supplies are a recent addition and they haven't worked their way out of the dark ages yet. Which Amos thinks is probably a good thing. The last thing they need here is crazy fools with guns.

Crazy fools with swords are bad enough, thank you.

He glances over his shoulder again, wary.

Oh, wonderful. That's just great. Not only is she stuck here - wherever this place is - but there's a shortage of supplies. Things must be desperate if they're relying on weapons like this. Primitive technology indeed. Maketh thinks back to her academy days when she learned how to use a vibroblade. She'd been good at it. The weapons were banned in most systems, but exceptions were made for peacekeepers working for the Empire.

Not that they'd ever created much peace.

Maketh decides not to think about that right now and eyes Amos up and down, sizing him up critically. Smart, aware of his surroundings, and quick on his feet. Not a soldier, she thinks, or at least not in the way that she was used to. But he reminds Maketh of the rebels she's encountered before. He's probably dangerous in the same way.

"I'm unarmed," she says simply, in case he expects her to add something to their defense. She can't really, not right now. All she has is her uniform and a datapad of useless, treasonous information. Burnt to a crisp, of course.

"I would appreciate it," she continues, "if you would show me to safety."

Maketh knows better than to beg, or rely on anyone's good will. She'll pay her debts when they come due. In the meantime, there's no point in sneering down at Amos' choice in weaponry.

Amos flicks a little smile at her over his shoulder. "That's the plan, but we'll see how it goes, sugar."

The sweet-name is automatic, going with the rapid snap of his New Orleans accent (Brooklyn meets Southern, his Yat accent both clipped and drawled in equal measures). "Can't promise anything yet. Though I'd be surprised if you could still fight, what with your ribs." He hasn't expected much help, especially after discovering she's injured.

Sugar. Hmm. Well, it's not like she can insist on her title. That's gone up in smoke along with her dignity. Maketh gives him a cool look, one eyebrow raised. "I'm not useless."

Dead weight gets dropped, and she's not ready to lie down and take that just yet.

Maketh lifts her chin. "Let's go."

It said in a particular kind of tone, the voice of someone used to giving orders and having them followed.

[All at once the flood of guilt returns when he realizes just what had happened and what he hadn't been there to fix. Gansey, like Adam, was buried. Except- perhaps unlike Adam, he didn't have the ability to reach out to his friends, to tell anyone that he was there, and so Ronan didn't know, and so Ronan didn't try to dig him up. It had all been Adam.

Gansey eases past the subject, and Ronan wants to focus on it but he knows better than to force an uncomfortable topic, especially so soon after finding him again. His chest feels tight in the wake of it, but he brings himself to focus on the change of subject, managing a short nod when he's asked about Gansey's journals.]

You were mapping the place out, [he murmurs, twisting anxiously at the leather bands around his wrists. His voice is nonchalant, even if his posture is tighter than it should be. The action causes the bandages on his hands to pull uncomfortably, so he does it harder, his mouth pursed in a thoughtful frown.]

I don't think you kept a diary or anything, but some stuff. I don't know if it's still there. [Ronan shrugs.] I haven't gone through your room.

[Not that the place was off limits or that he hadn't thought about looking through it. As far as Ronan knows- and he's mistaken about this, of course- nobody has opened Gansey's door since the fruitless search for him right after his disappearance. It's best to keep it that way, he thinks. Frozen in just the way that Gansey left it, too sacred to go tearing through.

On the other hand-]

...wait, a fucking griffin? You're joking.

[Someone hadn't paid much attention to what Gansey had actually been saying until now.]

No, I'm not Hydra. We used to fight them together. And then...

[Steve trails off. There's so much he wants to say, but Bucky already looks like he's coming apart at the scenes. He's not in the place for it. He takes a tentative step forward.]

You've been through a lot

[He takes a step back, as the man steps forward, but he's not running away, not yet. A part of him wants to, though he doesn't know this place and doesn't know where he could hide. He doesn't know if this man knows it better than he does, either.]

What do you want?

[It comes out sharply, an edge of fear tinging his voice. How is it that this man can so effectively cause him to... malfunction like this?]

Excuse me? It's not my thing.

[Of course, Rhys looks like he's never held a gun before in his entire life, let alone actually using it to murder someone. Also, he's trying to edge away from that gun barrel because he knows that bullets come out of there and he'd like to not be hit by one.

But. His pride is another matter.]

And I wouldn't break immediately. It'd take at least five minutes.

[The inside of a Vault- that's a good suggestion actually, and Rhys rubs at his chin thoughtfully, but-

'Don't strain yourself, cupcake. I know what you're thinking, and this isn't a Vault. Also, kill Lilith.']

...I don't think it's a Vault. Not- you know, purple enough. Aren't most Vaults purple?

[He assumes they're purple, anyway. That seems to be the thematic color of Vaults in most of the advertising of them, and since Eridium is also purple then it probably has some merit to it. Ergo, this isn't a Vault. Probably.]

If you want to shoot the gods though, go ahead. They kind of deserve it after some of the stuff they pull.

[Also, Siren vs. Emotion God is something that Rhys could practically arrange, print and sell tickets to. I mean, let's not get ahead of ourselves, but still- it could be one elegant and hands free way to solve his All-Powerful-Enemy-Suddenly-Here debacle.]

You were.

[He stands too, not entirely sure why it feels somehow like he's reassuring Gansey by saying that. Or maybe he is sure, and he just doesn't want to think about it. But of course they'd all be living together. Of course he wouldn't flinch from sharing a house with Gansey, after everything, after all this.

Briefly, Adam looks guilty.]

I, ah, went through your room while you were gone. I've got everything still, though, so I'll give it to you when we get there.

[Adam had been frustrated and lonely and at loose ends, unable to disappear like Noah or vent his emotions with fighting and liquor like Ronan. So he'd tried to do useful things instead, and organizing Gansey's room had ended up being one of them. He regrets that now, a little, because it feels so invasive now that Gansey is in front of him. He wouldn't want someone going through his things, after all. Not that he's ever had much to go through.]

I'll tell you everything I know about this place. I'm sorry in advance, none of it is going to be very positive.

[For a moment, he pauses, not sure of what to do. Adam is not good at expressing his emotions in any kind of proper way. He never has been - it's a fundamental skill he never really got a chance to learn. What's the right thing to do? Hug Gansey? But Adam is awful at hugs, that would surely be awkward for the both of them. Pretend he's not simultaneously sad that Gansey is stuck here again and overjoyed that he's back with them? But that might actually be beyond Adam's abilities right now.

So he just - looks at Gansey, summons something like a smile, a little uncertain and a lot worried but genuine.]

I'm not happy you're here, but I'm glad you're with us again.

Well, you aren't wrong.

[ She chuckles mirthlessly. ]

But it is still true, unfortunately.

[Emily is definitely special that way, and even though Chris doubts her yelling at Josh will do anyone any good he's not interested in even trying to deter her further.

He's happy to shift the subject, and at the question he nods.]

Yeah. Not a lot of it, but we've got some. There's a clinic here too that's run by like, an actual doctor so...

[That might be a better idea in the long run, but since there are horrible giant cats running around making do for now is probably the right way to go.]

I'll get what we have though; I'll be right back.

[He figures she'd like to stay sitting for now.]

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TEST DRIVE MEME #5

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