Test Drive Meme #29

[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 February 21st, and apps are open March 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: FRACTURED FUTURE?
[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.

This time, the Door has decided to bring in some monsters who already have a taste of what it's like to win their war. Welcome to the Risen, from the Fire Emblem franchise!

Risen are reanimated corpses, dedicated to obeying their master's will. While they have some form of sentience, they cannot be dissuaded from their goal and attack all who oppose them with a singleminded desire to execute their purpose, which unfortunately for you is "killing indiscriminately". Still, they're not all bad and some of them may even be relieved to finally be put to death. Have fun!]

T R A N Q U I L I T Y

SCENARIO TWO: ONLY THE GOOD STUFF
[Tranquility has decided to take over Hope's food supply regimen and- well, if anyone thought he was a self righteous hipster before, this is probably what's going to seal the deal. All the food provided in the shops is now extremely vegan-only, from basic lettuce to the most bland fruit you can stand to look at.

None of it even tastes like anything, either- it's all like you're eating water. Maybe to Tranquility, this is a feast, but for you, it's difficult to register that you're even full. Better start prepping those salt mines- it's gonna be a long month.]

R A G E

SCENARIO THREE: YANDERE LIFE
[Unfortunately for you, you came at a time when Rage was very unhappy with everyone- and now you get to suffer for it. Is there anyone who catches your eye? Anyone who you might want to get to know a little better? Well, you're about to get to know them a lot better, because now you're obsessed with them.

It's not the innocent kind of obsession, either- this is a full speed ahead, breakdown, pull out the knives and rope kind of obsession, where your desire to be near someone is synonymous with stalking, being a creep, and overall just not really anything remotely approaching healthy.

Better look out and hope that nobody gets a crush on you either.

This is a mini version of our Kiss me Kill me event this month.]

Comments

[crippled]

Ivar is not there yet. Not far away, but not quite there. Who knows if it would change anything for him either way: he already knows (is convinced he knows) the answers to the questions he asked.

So despite himself, the smallest curl of a smile moves his mouth. Only now that Hvitserk hasn't rejected him will he allow anything close to the vulnerability of seeming to care whether someone wants to see him or not. Terrifically hypocritical, considering how often he had, when secure in his position, spurned Hvitserk's attempts to reach out to him.

But, well, the miracle of a suddenly uncertain station holds Ivar's tongue from saying anything typically (needlessly) cutting and vicious over Hvitserk's confession. And one single lurching step in the right direction is better than none, surely?

"There were dead men, with glowing eyes." Ivar had scrabbled around in the dirt and he frowns at the memory, the remembered terror. He should not have been frightened—he is Ivar the Boneless, it's not his fate to die here—but he had been, anyway. But the way Hvitserk is looking at him makes him puff out his chest a little. Absurdly needing, in the absence of anyone else, to seem impressive to the son of Aslaug who had always enjoyed the fighting the most. "I killed many of them again." If that's the correct word for it. "Did you?"

[middleborn]

Ivar took the first step and Hvitserk, despite everything, still can't resist closing the distance between them to wrap an arm around Ivar's shoulders for a quick, firm hug. And because he knew it would pester Ivar, he gave his brother's hair the quickest little ruffle while stepping away (out of the reach of Ivar's swing).

"It is good to see you, brother," He reiterated quietly, tone genuine if still a little cautious.

Hvitserk nodded, fascinated by the various monsters that seemed to show up here despite the obvious danger that came with them.

"Apparently they are usually different. When I arrived it was... women? But with no eyes. They attacked anything they could hear and did not seem to feel any pain. Some of them even attacked each other. They had small blades. I killed a few and then met some archers. We killed the rest easily from afar," His eyes lit up with excitement, "And before those, I fought and killed a dragon. Like grandfather. It even breathed fire."

[crippled]

Ivar, predictably, makes a noise of profound, brotherly annoyance at the ruffling. When Hvitserk steps too far out of reach for immediate retaliation, he resigns himself to running a hand over his hair to make sure it is still in place: it's probably Hvitserk that'll get nagged into re-doing it for him if its not anyway, because who else? (And if his brother isn't careful later he's totally getting tripped with a crutch.)

"Is it?" Good to see him. Despite the tentative playfulness of their interaction so far (something that absolutely refuses to admit that he'd missed), Ivar's tone lilts dangerously close to being accusatory, but then he abruptly smiles like he believes it instead. A strategic mood swing: right now isn't the time to go down that road, even though Ivar never can stay off of it for very long.

"You killed a dragon?" Ivar feels a sharp pang of jealousy to accompany the shock and awe. How is he ever supposed to surpass a brother who killed a dragon? "Huh? When was this?"

[middleborn]

The grumbling definitely gets a victorious smirk from Hvitserk as he makes sure to get far enough away that Ivar can't swipe him with a crutch, though he fully expects he'll get him back... and knowing Ivar, he'll probably escalate it unnecessarily.

A brief flicker of genuine confusion passes over Hvitserk's face, brow furrowing for the briefest moment, "Of course it is... except that you are now stuck here as well."

But then they were talking about dragons and Hvitserk was beaming proudly.

"When? Ah... well, it would have been exactly a month ago. Apparently, people arrive here every month at the same time, along with monsters and beasts, through a magical door that only the gods can operate and that no one here has ever seen."

[crippled]

Had he missed glory by a month, then? Ivar feels cheated, alongside his jealousy. (It's a simple thing to be confident when there is no dragon breathing fire in his face, after all.)

But... somehow, however briefly, he finds it in himself to not be entirely spiteful. "How did you kill it?" It is still cool, is the thing. Their mother's stories of her gloried parents had often been colored by the hurt she'd felt for never having known them (hadn't Ragnar's sons learned just as well that having a legend is not the same as having a father?), but Ivar knows his brother very well. "Will you call yourself Hvitserk Dragonsbane now?"

[middleborn]

"Well, for one, I cannot take all the glory, I did not do it alone. I mostly just kept it from trying to bite or eat another warrior who joined me in battle. He had... it is a weapon called a gun. It is like a crossbow, but this one shot a strange kind of fire," He retold the story animatedly. It actually hadn't been all that exciting. The nurses had definitely been a much more intense battle, though he wasn't about to admit that to Ivar.

He tried to stifle his smile a little at the nickname Ivar came up with.

"Hmm. Maybe. But only around you. I think I might require you to call me that as well," He joked, "It sounds pretty good to me."

[crippled]

Ivar is greatly mollified by Hvitserk's humility. The seeming promise that he's unwilling to boast about the deed that could eclipse Ivar to anyone but his brother makes it seem less like a threat to him.

The imagined threat based in nothing that Ivar was perfectly willing to be angry about until then. Sorry about your brother's everything, Hvitserk.

"I'm not doing that," he says, stubbornly. Like any brat caught accidentally complimenting his sibling would. Embarrassing! "Dragons-annoyance, maybe, if someone else killed it." He leans forward on his crutch, though. A crossbow that shoots fire sounds exactly up his kind of alley. "I want to see a gun." I want to steal a gun for myself, he means. Ivar always has been the type to look with his hands, after all.

[middleborn]

When will Ivar realize that the only people Hvitserk really ever seems to want to impress are his family, which at this point basically just meant his brothers?

"Why not? You suggested it. I think I will not answer unless it is 'Hvitserk Dragonsbane'," He smirked.

"I've been told there's an armory but I'm not sure if they have guns there," He shrugged, seemingly uninterested, "Fighting with them seems so... almost dishonorable. Like it is too easy. What god would be impressed by such a thing? Well... No. They would be impressed by the weapon, but not by the one who wielded it."

[crippled]

Knowing Ivar... it might take forever. Or at least about 10 seconds too long to prevent something terrible.

"In a moment of madness," he protests, before squinting suspiciously at his brothers' dismissal. What weapon could possibly be so wondrous as to impress the gods while at the same time dishonoring the warrior who wields it? It seems like some riddle that he has no answer to. He struggles to his feet, working his crutch up under him and heaving all his weight onto it before hobbling forward a few steps finally, with a grunt of effort. "Just show me way to the armory, Hvitserk Dragonsbother."

He doesn't ask nicer, because if he bothered to say 'please,' Hvitserk might die of shock.

[middleborn]

"I don't know where the armory is," He said with a laugh, letting his guard down momentarily and immediately regretting it.

His easy smile disappeared, suddenly wary and watching Ivar, expecting the flash change, the flare of his brother's temper, that dagger pressed to his throat again. But it was less about his own personal safety and much, much more about disappointing Ivar.

"I just... know there is one," He added, trying to placate his brother, "I'm sure it will not be hard to find someone who knows where it is."

Hvitserk practically held his breath, waiting for Ivar's reaction.

[crippled]

Ivar stops in his tracks and his eyes flash with annoyance: he gives Hvitserk the long, slow look that usually precedes some particularly biting comment. Something unnecessary and pointed, meant to cut him down. Ivar is filled with the intense urge to turn from his brother, to look to one of his other men for the answers right in front of him, just to make a point about how easily replaced he is. Just to make him feel small.

But that's the rub, isn't it? Because he's not replaceable, here. He's all Ivar's got.

Ivar breathes out through his nose, the fingers of his free hand smoothing down the front of his clothes, dangerously close to the ring grips of his throwing knives. But he smiles thinly, instead. Tells himself to make nice. "Well then, brother, do you know anything useful?" Okay... so not that nice.

[middleborn]

Hvitserk immediately saw it, the disappointment and subsequent anger. He knew he should be annoyed by the reaction. After all, it wasn't his fault he hadn't gone to check out the armory yet. He was perfectly happy with the axe and shield he'd arrived with. Instead however, he bit his lip and looked annoyed and disappointed in himself, mentally berating himself for not going to look at the armory on his own. He should have. Of course, he should have.

Ivar really didn't have to make him feel small, he'd already managed to condition Hvitserk to do it to himself.

"Have you tried to use your, um- They call it a 'phone'. It was probably in your pocket when you arrived," He said quietly, avoiding eye contact for the moment, "There is a lot of information on it. About the gods here. And I have learned about their enemy. Our enemy since they also attack those of us who have been brought here. I have learned about the Door, the way we were brought here. And more about the beings who call themselves gods here."

See, he hadn't been doing nothing!