ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadrielmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dankmemes2018-06-20 10:04 am
hadrielmods) wrote in dankmemes2018-06-20 10:04 am
Entry tags:
Test Drive Meme #33
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 June 24th, and apps are open July 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: WEARS HIGH HEELS WHEN SHE EXERCISES
[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.
And this one is, well, particularly creepy. Especially if you dislike body horror, or spiders, or being eaten. This time, the Door has brought in Virginias, from the video game The Forest.
Virginias are rather disturbing-looking monsters, looking a bit like multiple bodies all squished together. They move quickly, they can charge and leap at you, and those creepy arms and legs hurt like hell. They also make skittering noises, if you want to be even more creeped out. So have fun with that!]
L O V E
SCENARIO TWO: YES, LIKE THAT
[Today, it's you time. You woke up this morning and you knew it was the perfect day to practice a little self-care. To put yourself first. To treat yourself. And that's what you're going to do!
Whether that means drinking too much, skipping out on unwanted obligations, telling people what you really think of them, or eating that last donut - you're looking after you now, and it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks! All that matters is that you're happy. So party on, and let's hope your fun doesn't get in the way of anyone else's life.
This is a mini version of our Love Yourself event this month.]
R A G E
SCENARIO THREE: JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS
[This morning you didn't wake up wanting to treat yourself. Oh, no. You woke up wanting to show your anger - to the world, to yourself, to anyone watching. You want to break shit, start fights, get into pointless internet arguments. They're wrong, after all.
So why not? Find a stray piece of wood and start smashing windows. Tell someone you don't like the way they're looking at you. Post something incendiary on
Let's just hope you don't go too far.]
Deputy Pratt || Far Cry 5
[Things have not been going well for Deputy Pratt recently. He's been held captive by a brainwashing psychopath for months, tortured, starved, and his brain is Swiss cheese with a side of that rotating static from old tube televisions. He's still trying hard to sort out what parts of him are still him, and what parts were made by Jacob, molded in the man's own image.
But right now... right now he doesn't care to do any more soul searching. Everything is deep and heavy and depressing and he's done with it.
He has Jacob's, no, his canteen filled with whiskey, the real cheap stuff that can be smelled from across the room. And several cans of corn and olives that he's eating right out of the can with his fingers. Because he does not care about propriety nor the fact that this is a horrifying combination of things to be consuming together.
Also he hasn't eaten regularly in a long time, so he's gonna enjoy this no matter what anyone says.]
[Three || Train.Hunt.Kill.Sacrifice]
[This is a man who should not have a sledgehammer. This is a man who is probably going to hurt himself and everyone around him with said sledgehammer.
He is going to town on a radio, smashing it to bits, and then turning those bits into plastic shrapnel. It was cathartic the first time he destroyed a bunch of televisions. So why isn't this giving him the same release?
Maybe because the radio wasn't playing back his torture. It's just a random object he decided to pummel on the off chance it dared to play music at him. But he's gonna keep smashing anyway, missing every few strikes because he is so skinny and malnourished that it's a miracle he hasn't dropped the thing on his head.]
Who else thinks I'm weak?!
I'll show them strength. I'll show them... Show them all!
II
Cautiously, she draws her pistol but keeps it at her side. The door knob is turned and pushed open so she can look in, only to find a man scrounging about.]
Hey... are you okay?
[And what is he eating?]
no subject
Never better!
Why? Something wrong?
[Probably the fact that he's eating olives and corn and drinking whiskey.]
no subject
[But Jill isn't really sure of that assessment. The guy hardly looks like a threat, so she holsters her pistol so he doesn't get scared or anything. Not that he seems to notice much right now other than his food.]
Aren't you going to make yourself sick eating like that?
no subject
[ Or people. ]
Guess it's kinda wasteful, but I don't give a shit right now.
3!
It doesn't seem to be working too well, though.
Curiosity draws Connor forward, approaching cautiously and keeping some distance, more for Deputy Pratt's benefit than his own; he doesn't want to startle him.]
Are you alright?
[Don't overexert and injure yourself, human.]
no subject
No. No I'm not alright.
[He looks over at Connor, not recognizing him, and therefore deeming him as not a threat. Leaning heavily against the handle of the hammer he tries to get his breathing back under control.]
This felt better last time I did it.
no subject
The adrenaline rush that comes from destroying something is likely being counteracted by the resulting exhaustion. Perhaps you should rest, and break a different radio tomorrow.
[It's not flippant, just matter-of-fact, although Connor does recognize that there's some inherent ridiculousness in it. But it's also the truth, and he really is somewhat concerned about this human exhausting himself too much; he doesn't look all that well.]
no subject
I'm fine.
[No he's not. And even he knows it.]
I don't think the radio is the problem. Maybe it's the sledgehammer.. Or I should just shoot it next time.
[He sets his jaw thinking about that, and almost immediately realizes that he sounds like a complete basket case talking about shooting radios. He bursts into pathetic laughter, dropping the sledgehammer so he can hold the sides of his head and hunch over.]
I'm going crazy aren't I?
no subject
He furrows his eyebrows a little at the last question, continuing to watch Pratt, a lot more concerned about the seemingly hysterical laughter than anything else.]
I'm not qualified to make that assessment, but destroying inanimate objects out of frustration or anger is not overly unusual.
no subject
[ He rubs his head one last time before plopping down onto a nearby crate because his legs are done holding him upright. ]
I'm Pratt by the way. Deputy. Deputy Pratt.
no subject
It's nice to meet you, Deputy Pratt. My name is Connor.
[And... He might need to come up with a last name if he's going to do this whole 'blending in with humans' thing, but Pratt only gave one name so maybe he can get away with it himself.
As for the question--]
I work with the Detroit Police Department, and so although I rarely deal with individuals wielding sledgehammers, I am often shot at.
[And actually shot, but he'll leave that out considering the whole human thing, again.]
no subject
[ He manages a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up at the ceiling. ]
We don't even get hazard pay for getting shot where I am in Montana. I'm gonna have to cash out some PTO to replace my car that got blown up. Things any better in Michigan?
no subject
Not in that regard, no. I don't receive hazard pay either. How did your car get blown up?
[It sounds like there's a story there and he's curious.]
no subject
[Well it would probably have been good had where he lived not descended into cult controlled madness with everyone murdering each other.]
Damn Peggies. They tried to blow it up with me in it actually. Shot it with a grenade launcher. I loved that car, 1973 Pygmalion SSR. Bright red.
[ That's a Pontiac Firebird for those not trying to escape copyright infringement and licensing agreements.]
no subject
[He feels like he's missing something here, although it's obvious how much Pratt liked his car. Connor's also a little amazed he survived being shot at with a rocket launcher, but maybe it was a near miss or something.]
no subject
It's a cult we're dealing with in my neck of the woods. Hopefully not spreading out of the valley.
no subject
[He's instantly fascinated, both due to his programming as a detective and from his own genuine curiosity. He knows some basic, general information about various types of cults in human history, but they can be quite different and he wants more details.]
no subject
[ He looks away, running his hands through his hair. He doesn't really want to talk about this. ]
They're building bunkers all over the place for the Collapse. Which would be fine if they weren't murdering and kidnapping everyone who disagrees with them.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
two
The Bliss helped with that (and sometimes the sounds of the angels would bite at her heart but she learned to swallow such things).
When she spots Pratt, she recognizes him immediately. Jacob had him and she knew how Jacob worked men and women alike. He relied on brute force, on torture and brainwashing. It always worked so much better with the Bliss, with her voice to guide them.
She approaches the deputy with careful, dainty steps. In her arms, held gently, are beautiful white flowers whose scent can be intoxicating—addictive. Still, she has no intention of using them; they must grow and bloom before she can work on Bliss production. No, right now, she's curious.
Jacob did a number on him and, given everything she knows, she knows better than to do anything to rile one of her brother's works up. ]
Hello, Deputy. [ No vitriol. No mocking. Just a simple greeting, a careful one. She feels much like the careful fox approaching a wild animal. She may die one day but that day will not be today. ]
SCREAM
I know this wasn't tainted...
[Also she's not floating, so she might actually be there. Which.. honestly he's not sure if that's better or worse than this being a hallucination.]
Faith.
[Or Rachel. Or Selena. Or Lena. Or whichever one this was. He scrambles to his feet, backing up. He's pretty damn drunk though, it doesn't take much to get shitfaced when you're emaciated and starved.]
What... What are you doing here?
no subject
She can see her brother's handiwork everywhere she looks; the bruises, the wounds, the emaciation visible even beneath his tattered, soiled rags. In comparison to Pratt, Faith appears almost biblically pure; a literal angel decked out in white, feet bare as if the the very earth she walked upon could cause her no harm. ]
Do not be afraid, Deputy. [ Her words are sweet, gentle and warm; inviting. It's clear she's so very different from Jacob. She speaks and it's as if it's laced with honey.
Poisoned honey. ] I didn't come to bring you any harm.
[ That's not her duty. She deals with bliss, creates the smoke that clouds the mind of the chaos to come. ] You should sit back down. [ She does not come closer but lowers herself nearby, knees tucked carefully beneath her, and straightens the lace of her dress. See, how can she possibly bring harm to anyone? ]
You'll become ill if you don't tend to yourself. [ It's in her eyes. She's warm and tender but her eyes speak. Jacob hates the weak, right, Deputy? ]
no subject
[Before turning them into Angels and using them as mindless slaves to harvest Bliss. He'll just keep his distance thank you.]
I'll be fine, I know myself better than you do.
[But his eyes narrow a bit. He sees what she's getting at and he does not like it. On the other hand, Faith isn't Jacob so he doesn't give a shit what she thinks of him. He cares what Jacob thinks, and as he's not here, he'll just keep drinking till he pukes because screw all of this.]
You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?
no subject
When he insists, she doesn't press but does look downward with a somewhat disappointed sigh. ]
I'm here for the same reason you are. [ When she looks back up, her eyes are sad. ] I fear it may be because we've failed. [ Everything was getting messy. There was someone intervening, that one deputy that slipped away like water in their cupped hands. It made so many worshippers nervous but they were prepared—prepared to fight and die for their faith, as was she. But what if they lost? What if something went wrong? What if she failed? ]
no subject
[ He doesn't really mean that, it's more instinctual and he's just drunk enough to have bad judgement about what he should or shouldn't say to someone who could have him knocked out on the floor in minutes. ]
They're better off without us.
[ He sits back down and rubs the sides of his head, he's barely drunk anything and he can tell he'll be hungover tomorrow. ]
I hope you all fucking fail.
[ Does he believe Joseph's gospel? Yes and no. Parts of it seem accurate, and parts of it seem too hypocritical for even his fractured mind to wrap around. He sure as shit doesn't believe in John or Faith. He may be loyal to Jacob, but the Herald isn't here, so Pratt isn't beholden to anyone. Not to mention Jacob barely tolerated anyone else in his family, including Joseph. ]
We're probably dead. Did Rook kill you? Good for them.
[ Which means he starved to death, soft and weak. Oh well. At least the afterlife has canned corn. ]