Test Drive Meme #31

[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 April 24th, and apps are open May 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: WHAT BIG TEETH YOU HAVE
[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.

Even if the monster looks cuddly.

Direwolves are not quite what you medieval fantasy folks might think they are- they're untameable and almost the size of a bear. While usually a predator like the direwolf might wait for the opportune moment to strike, these beasts hunt in packs and are very, very hungry. You won't be able to tame them, and any attempts may result in a couple of missing fingers.]

S O R R O W

SCENARIO TWO: REGRETFULLY YOURS
[Have you ever done something you regret? A thought or an action you've performed that you look back on and wished you hadn't? Even if it's something outside of your control, something you couldn't have known, if there's something rattling around in that brain of yours, it's coming out in full force right now, leaving you guilt-ridden and prepared to confess all your sins to the nearest bystander.

But what if confessing isn't enough? You need to show them how sorry you are in any attempt at redemption you can muster. Work as hard as you can and maybe someone will forgive you. Work even harder and maybe someday you can forgive yourself.

This is a mini version of our Tears of Joy event this month.]

R A G E

SCENARIO THREE: TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK
[The goal is simple: stay together in this room and use the supplies provided to build the best tower you can. You've got matchsticks, popsicle sticks, Q-tips, four different kinds of glue, and various little wheels and doodads. The team with the best tower at the end of the exercise gets a wish granted! That isn't so bad, is it?

Except your teammate is insufferable. Everything from their ideas, to their building strategy, down to their accent is absolutely intolerable to you. How can you be expected to work with such a difficult partner? If you leave the room your tower is forfeit, but who can expect you to stay in these conditions?

Careful- they're just as fed up with you as you are with them. Can the two of you overcome your mutual disdain to build this arts and crafts masterpiece, or will it be a race to the door?]

Comments

Reaver | Fable 2

[freebullets]

FEAR

He would be sure to find someone to blame for his being here. Definitely not his, this he was sure. How the beast got here, in front of him, without him hearing it, was surely someone elses fault. If you give him a second, he'll figure out just how he can spin that, but for now, explaining the logic of his inevitable finger pointing could wait.

Not dying seemed like a better use of his time right now.

Sword and pistol out, he was more than just a little surprised when one bullet in the face wasn't enough to make this bear-like wolf cease moving. It was pretty clear running wasn't going to save him here, so he'd taking the exact opposite approach.

Digging in his heels and refusing to give any fucking ground at all good choice.

Rage



"Would you be an absolute dove-" There's a gentle little clatter as Reaver reaches over and just... flicks a popsicle stick support beam out of the way, sending that flying across the room, and the small building that was starting to grow, down into a pile of discombobulated craft supplies.

"And kindly find somewhere else to be incompetent in? I would tell you that it is nothing personal... But it absolutely is, I hate you."

Fear~

[atravellerwithabow]

With the monsters that had been plaguing Hadriel since his arrival now thoroughly driven back, Nil enters the coliseum on the day the newcomers arrive not to save them, but to scratch a certain itch that's been nagging at him for days.

An arrow flies, whistling, and blood sprays as the direwolf closing in on Reaver is very suddenly trying to puzzle out why it has a shaft of wood lodged through its head. It doesn't ponder this for very long, however, before collapsing to the ground and twitching messily.

There's another arrow fired for good measure, and then the man who fired them appears to retrieve them, pulling them free of the wolf in two sharp tugs.

<3

[freebullets]

Okay so the last time Reaver played this iteration of Rock Paper Scissors... Gun beats bow.

Gun beats bow every time. Look, there was a reason he happily flung himself head on into progress, it was so he could do shit like that easier.

Okay, yes part of him is happy to not be dead. That's definitely there.

The rest of him is very irate that the hole in this creatures head wasn't his doing.

"Well, aren't we talented." Look he even managed to keep the jealous edge out of his tone, eyeing up the man who appears to start yanking arrows out.

"I didn't think an arrow was capable of that." So quickly.

[atravellerwithabow]

"One of us needed to be," Nil replies blithely, after the retrieval of the second arrow. He doesn't bother to clean the blood from them, but seems quite intent on using them again in short order.

He looks down at the corpse of the direwolf with something that looks very close to disappointment. Normally, he doesn't let things die so quickly.

"Almost a waste of a death. You should move, before something eats you."

[freebullets]

There's a kick given to the dead beast on the ground, as the pirate examines the bullet holes in its face.

Should have aimed for the eyes, there's a neat, bloody indentation dead between them. This is what is wrought of showboating with animals you ain't never shot before, Reaver. There's a thoughtful hum, and he inspects the gun's chambers for a moment.

"No... No I don't think I'll do that." He has a point to prove now, dickbreath.

"You're free to move if you'd like, of course."

[atravellerwithabow]

"I had no intention of standing around," comes the smooth reply. The thing about Nil is, he really has no ego to bruise. At least, not in the traditional sense.

A quick glance around shows plenty more wolves to pick off. He nocks another arrow into his bow and gently tests the string.

"How about we keep score." If you can actually manage to kill anything with that peashooter you're carrying around, Reaver.

Rage >.>

[redwinekindofgirl]

"... Call me dove, one more time, and I'll actually give you a fucking good reason to hate me."

Oh, god. God, they've been here for hours, and the only thing that's stopping Julie from leaving now is that she can't stand to give him the satisfaction of watching her go. The aggravation long since turned into a furious, hot knot in the middle of her chest and she stares him down for a long few moments before she speaks again.

"If you don't want to be here, you can just go. I'll be better off doing this by myself than with a guy who has nothing better about himself than petulance."

[freebullets]

"Every reason I can fathom is a good one."

He's not leaving. Nope. In this totally unnecessary battle of the wills, he will win no matter how pointless the victory is. She stares at him, and he stares back, the smile sharp and stiff, more of a bearing of teeth disguised as a grin.

"Better off by yourself. They want a tower, not a ramshackle depressive tee-pee. Why don't you take a few match sticks and toddle off for a while, ducky?"

whats that dont call u dove okay

can do.

[redwinekindofgirl]

"We'd have a tower by now if you didn't keep knocking it over like a two year old."

Julie doesn't take a few match-sticks as much as she flicks a few glue-soaked ones at him from her position. If he's going to be this level of difficult, well, she can be difficult too.

"What do you think you're going to achieve by sitting there and putting this back to square one over and over again?"

[freebullets]

"Correction, we'd have a sad, soggy subpar tower, and I for one am not in the business of being responsible for wilting spires. I'm not cosigning on your dreadful design ideas."

Each gluey match is easily snatched from the air and then tossed right back at her.

Unstoppable force meet immovable object.

[redwinekindofgirl]

"You're not doing anything to help, so don't bother complaining like it means anything."

God, he's infuriating. The sticky match hits her hair, though thankfully not enough of it to get tangled, and Julie removes it with a deceptive amount of calm...

... before shoving her hands under the edge of the table and tipping the entire thing over him.

[macgyver]

[ Just.

Hooking his hands under the table and dumping the entire crafts store nightmare in Reaver's lap. WOW FUCK OFF. ]

[freebullets]

[YOU FUCK OFF.

It's a mixture of amusement and anger that causes Reaver to give a bubbly little titter, and then snatch a bottle of dumped paste (you SHOULD BE THANKFUL IT DIDN'T SPILL ON HIM) and throw it at his partner's stupid stupid face.

FIGHT ME]

[macgyver]

[ oh you done did it now

Meaning that while the mature, ~functional~ choice here would probably be to just leave, Hugh is in no way going to actually do that. Instead, he's taking that paste to the shoulder - how fucking dare - and grabbing a handful of popsicle sticks and hurling them at Reaver's face in turn, hoping beyond hope that he somehow accidentally inhales one and chokes to death on it. ]

Your tattoo is stupid!

[ it's actually supa kawaii but WHATEVER ]

[freebullets]

[It's very fashionable to beauty up your beauty mark, thank you~

And since we're absolutely livid, we're not going to have the brainpower to come up with anything better to shout back so as Reaver goes to grab two fistfuls of popsicle sticks, rub them in discarded paste and then shove Hugh in the attempt to cover him with sticky popsicles, Reaver heads for an old favorite-]

Not nearly as stupid as yours!

[NO U]

literally just spams my one angry icon, rip

[macgyver]

That doesn't make any--son of a bitch!

[ Now he's covered in gluey popsicle sticks?? On his favorite outfit, please die? Is there glitter nearby? There is now. Hugh - whose hands are covered in paste at this point - goes for it and then goes for Reaver's hair. As far as vain shits like him are concerned, he might as well be going for the throat. ]

This outfit is worth more than your life!

[ It's some random crap he found in one of the shops probably, so it means next to nothing to him in the grand scope of things, but Reaver's life means even less. ]

fear~

[bythewaves]

"Daro!" Someone's voice sings out, and there's power in every syllable, the air almost trembling in it's wake, and the wolf falters, for the briefest of seconds, and a long-handled knife thuds into it's shoulder, it's owner following with a longsword in his other hand.

"This way! There's too many in here, they won't follow out of this area."

/gasp it u

[freebullets]

Reaver's rapier flashes as he jerks at the sound for just a moment, before quickly hopping back to allow this newcomer to bury his knife in the beast. Oh.

Well.

That's flashy. As far as he knew there were no sound related spells in Albion. He'd consider it later, he wasn't going to waste any more bullets on beasts that wouldn't die when he shot them, that was offensive.

"Right." Off and away then, but not after quickly inspecting his gun to see what he had left in it.

/HIDES

[bythewaves]

Maglor yanks the knife out in the same movement as he beheads the beast, the whole movement taking seconds.

"Blades work best." He jerks a head at the rapier. "They seem to slough off most projectiles unless you hit it in the eye."

He turns to lead the way out.

GET BACK HERE

[freebullets]

Very flashy. There's a brief moment, a small comparison between Sparrow and... whoever the hell this is. Another hero?

He wasn't even sure if this was Albion anymore, to be quite honest, who knew if other lands had heroes as they did?

Whatever, that comment about projectiles sounded like a challenge to him.

It wasn't, but that's how he's gonna take it. There's a light, easy, bubbling little laugh, his inspection of the guns chambers complete as he goes to reload. He does, after all, have a few extra rounds on him.

"Thank you for the tip." He's still coming, don't worry. Now he's got a to do list though.

rage

[notblayde]

For the briefest of moments, Matt actually thinks Reaver has a genuine, perhaps even helpful, request. It's amazing how similarly his mood and the mass of popsicle sticks and matches crumble to the floor.

"Do you mind," Matt begins, biting his tongue as he snatches a handful of now-mangled tower pieces, "Not interrupting genius which you clearly can't appreciate?" The look he shoots his 'partner' is almost poisonously bitter.

Re: rage

[freebullets]

"Oh I do apologize, I didn't realize hastily pasted popsicles arranged in a miserable little pile was genuis.

I'm a rather avid art collector, were you attempting Dadism?"

[notblayde]

"Hastily!" Oh, listen to all the indigence in his voice. "What you did was hasty!

Oh please. My influences were clearly Romanesque and Gothic architecture. Some art collector you are. Would you even know Dada if it slapped you across the face?"

[freebullets]

"You're correct! It was! Fast action had to be taken in order to correct the atrocity you were committing against architecture."

He snatched up a gluey popsicle stick, and darted in to try and fix it to Matt's hair. Think fast!

"My apologies, you're right. It was more along the lines of pure Absurdism, isn't my face red?"

Rage

[anamusingtrifle]

The Count seems hardly fazed when the beam is gone and all of that progress is laid to waste. His smile only twitches a little, and he sets his palms flat onto the table.

"Incompetent? Yes, certainly. I suppose I should offer my apologies." Except he actually isn't. "Tell me, then, is your hatred simply because I am much more skilled than you are?"

That is what it is, isn't it? After all, what else could it be?

"Yes, yes, it makes all the much more sense, now. Your spite is a resentment of yourself, and thus you must take it out on others. I suggest you take your pride elsewhere. Or what's left of it at least."

He has a smile, but his tone is every bit icy cold. What is he going on about? He's not entirely sure. But he certainly feels justified in it.