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

[cashlin]

[And run it does. The second coeurl, knowing it's been outmatched, takes off with its tail between its legs; its brother stumbles close behind, trailing blood here and there on the dirt.

Lilith, halfway to pulling a slightly worse for wear revolver out of her pack, blinks. She has no idea what Kit is, but watching one weird thing get the thrashing of its life from a bigger, weirder thing is enough to leave her dumbfounded. She picks her jaw up off the floor in time to blurt out--]

Thanks. [unless, of course, this new creature's going to try to eat her instead. Good thing she found the other gun, at least?]

[catankerous]

You're welcome.

[His voice has the timber of bird's, that parrot-squawk texture, but it's much deeper than any parrot. He tilts his head sideways.]

What. Is that?

[He's seen guns, but only single-shot pistols and the occasional revolver. If it's magic, it's no kind he understands.]

[cashlin]

[Whatever they are, they're friendly enough to answer. (Not like she's seen weirder, in retrospect: Pandora sure is A Place, after all.) Lilith affords another another couple seconds of gawking before she nods in acknowledgement.]

This? [If Kit's saved her ass, she at least owes him an explanation. She fishes the original weapon out again and holds it up.] Dunno how specific you'd like me ot get, but it's a submachine gun, Hyperion-made. It's an incendiary, too, so every once in a while that effect'll turn on and set things on fire. I mean, sometimes that part's just me. But credit where at least partial credit's due.

Nice work there, by the way. I'm Lilith.

[catankerous]

[It's rather....gizmo-like, he decides, head twisting until it's tilted the other way instead, frowning a little, mostly in the eyes. Griffin frowns are actually quite expressive for creatures with beaks.]

Kit.

[This is almost an afterthought, a beat too late to be polite, voice a bit distant. WIth a great deal more focus and a deep, quiet reluctance, he adds:]

...you haven't heard of a man named Roland Chesny, have you? Pilgrim Parties?

[If he's ended up in that world, somehow - well, he doesn't know exactly how bad that would be, but he suspects the answer is some order of 'extremely.']

[cashlin]

‘Sup, Kit.

[”Gizmo” is descriptive enough for a variety of implausible first person shooter future tech that no one especially questions anymore. For her part, Lilith notes Kit’s cant of the head as a positive, albeit puzzled one, then hums thoughtfully—largely to herself.]

A Roland? Yeah. [And damn, does she miss that man more than she thought would be possible. The ghost of a grin creeps onto her lips before spiriting itself away.] Roland Chesny, on the other hand, no. You’ve got me stumped on the pilgrim bit, too.

I doubt I know where we are any better than you do, but if you’re looking for your Roland, I could keep an eye out. I owe you one, Kit. Really.

[catankerous]

No. He's supposed to be trapped in a paperweight for the next forty years.

[Kit says this with just a bit of vicious satisfaction.]

But he came from a different world. I thought yours might have been the same one.

[But if she hasn't heard of the Pilgrim Parties - hideous and hideously expensive 'Fantasyland Tours' that turned Kit's whole planet into a deranged, permanently-ravaged immersion amusement park for decades - then probably not.]

And you almost had them, I just speeded things up.

[He adds, magnanimous in victory.]