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dankmemes2016-03-21 10:22 am
hadrielmods) wrote in dankmemes2016-03-21 10:22 am
Entry tags:
Test Drive Meme #7
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 March 25th, and apps are open April 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: HOW UNUSUAL
[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 a few Rodents Of Unusual Size, from the film/book Princess Bride.
These large creatures are about the size of a large dog and can be stoked into a frenzy once they smell blood. They typically hide in the shadows and wait for an opportune moment to leap out of the dark and strike at you. Though they can sometimes look like overlarge puppets, take no doubt that these monsters are very much alive, and they love the taste of flesh.]
H O P E
SCENARIO TWO: MIRROR, MIRROR
[While exploring, you might be surprised to come across a pristine mirror in this underground city. It could be lying in your path, it could have been dropped into your bag by a mysterious someone, or it could find you some other way, but it will be there. This is no ordinary mirror, however- upon looking inside of it, the glass will show you a vision of a future that you hope for more than anything.
Regardless of what you want, the mirror shows visions that you believe are possible so that you can adequately hope for it- whether or not they actually are isn't really anyone's concern. Feel free to hide in a corner and stare for hours, throw it away, or try to peek at as many other mirrors as you want- we won't stop you!
This is a mini version of our Hopeful Future event this month!]
R A G E
SCENARIO THREE: PAY 2 WIN
[How cool are carnival booths? Super cool, right? And luckily, the grand prize in this one is something you've always wanted. It could be a briefcase of enough money to make all your troubles go away, that sacred amulet you've been questing after, or something a little less concrete- the approval of someone you want to like you, a curse upon someone you don't like, general freedom... the choices are endless.
And all you have to do to win it is play a game or two.
Something strange seems to be happening, though. Each time you finish a round of the game, the prize requirements just get a little higher, just stretch a little more out of reach. Play again, we're sure you'll get it this time! No? Well, you've definitely got it next time.
Get fed up and smash the booth for the prize? Well buddy, now you're disqualified, and tampering with the booth sets that thing you want most up in flames. Sorry, bud. Better luck next time! And look, there's another booth right behind you...]
HELLO FRIEND
the meta steps from the shadows and rumbles a low greeting, and wash's arm wavers where he holds his gun, fingers flexing around the grip. some part of him isn't surprised. of course, why wouldn't he be here, of all people? wash can't have a second's peace without guilt crawling in and foaming around his ankles to drag him down, down, to places he doesn't want to see anymore.
how many times has he stood across him like this, and how many times is he going to have to watch him die? maine died a long time ago, back in freelancer, back with with sigma, just another one of the director's many casualties. what's left of maine now is an empty shell, a living ghost, and no matter how many times he repeats that to himself, it's still hard and it still sucks, every single fucking time he has to look him in the face and remember.
( this isn't real, that's not his friend, this isn't real, that's not his friend. )
fine. nowhere to go but forward. let's do this. ]
Meta.
[ surprisingly, there's no trace of anger in his voice. he sounds bitter but tired, eyes flitting from his helmet to his holstered bruteshot. they're not in an ideal area for a firefight. too open, no cover, and the meta may be big but he's faster than he looks; if he gets too close, there's jack shit wash can do to stop him from snapping his spine.
he needs distance, and so while he doesn't retreat, he does fall back a step, his free hand inching toward the rifle on his back. ]
HAAAAAI nice to see you again!
And there's Maketh to think of. Wash may not be a civilian, but the directive not to harm anybody unless it's necessary is something. Better than wandering around without an objective. He's not afraid of the consequences of acting against her, it's just not necessary right now.
Not until Wash reaches towards his rifle, anyway, and even then he still doesn't reach for his own weapon. Maybe it's arrogance that he won't need to, that he'll be able to take him out even if Wash draws first. Maybe it's a suspicion that he won't really pull on him, that ultimately sentiment and history will keep him from it.
More likely it's the surprise at seeing him, especially so soon after the mirror. He clenches a fist, the same one he sliced open when he shattered it in his frustration over what it showed. He wants to ask if he finished it, if it's all over. If that's why he's here. But there aren't any words for that, and now's not really the time to ask anyway, not when Wash's trigger finger's clearly still itchy over recent history. Instead he raises his hands up, making a show that he's not going to attack him right now.
He's got nothing here. No fragments, no power, no leads on either, just him and armor that's not running at 100%. No reason to go after Wash.]
you too!
his armor doesn't appear undamaged, but he's most likely without an ai. he wouldn't attack him if he had nothing to lose or protect because he's resourceful, good at getting what he wants, good at using people to his benefit, and wash should kill him just because they've been down this road before (and before and before and before).
but guess what: wash is resourceful, too. ]
You make one wrong move, I will kill you.
[ an empty threat. they both know that's not how the situation will unravel if shit goes south. he says it more for his own benefit than for meta's, lifting his gun away but not holstering it as he falls one experimental step forward. ]
How long have you been here?
\o/
But Sigma's gone, and with it most of his taste for manipulation and schemes. Maine was never all that much a fan of them anyway, mind games were all Sigma, he'd just as soon approach the problem head-on. Now it's just that the voice co-ordinating the moves is gone.
He shrugs at the threat because he knows, today at least, it's only that. If Wash wanted him dead he would be, it's not pushed that far yet. Wash moves forward and he remains where he is, completely still. The picture of calm and nonthreatening, or at least as nonthreatening as he's capable of. Doesn't mean he's not watching, doesn't mean he's not ready if something changes. He growls in answer, relieved finally there's someone here who understands him without having to play the game. He hasn't been here long, maybe a month. Long enough to get settled in but short enough he's not complacent about it.]
no subject
the translation isn't always correct, though he's usually pretty damned close. ]
A month? [ a month without completely tearing the city apart or blowing shit up. that's impressive. good job, buddy. gold star.
he falls forward another step, still testing, still watching, and he can feel meta's eyes on him, too. this isn't a show of trust; wash won't trust him again, can't trust him, but he's a familiar face (helmet) and even now and here in a place completely cut off from their universe, he's still wash's goddamned responsibility.
no escaping that. ]
You haven't hurt anyone?
[ not that he particularly cares about faceless strangers, but if he's going to be aligning himself with the meta again, he needs to know where they stand and what he's stepping into. ]
no subject
He shakes his head at the question and rumbles at him, like he's offended he would ask that question even though he knows damn well it's justified. No, he's been behaving himself. Only killing monsters.]
no subject
Look, I've gotta cover my own ass.
[ nothing personal, right?
meta isn't moving, so wash advances closer, step by steady step, and stops only when there's a few feet of space between them. he holsters his pistol but keeps one hand on the knife at his hip for easy access in case meta decides to pull any shit, and then lifts his free hand to show that he's unarmed. harmless. ]
I want to look you over real quick. You good?
[ the last time wash saw maine, he was looking haggard as hell, with his armor punctured in multiple places. he looks better than he did, but it doesn't hurt to check, especially if he's going to be relying on him to watch his back.
unfortunately, he can't execute a comprehensive scan of his armor and possible compromises without the assistance of an ai, and since there's no doc to take his place this time, he'll have to get a little more hands-on. ]
no subject
He keeps his attention on Wash as he approaches but doesn't move; he knows where the hand is, why it's there, it's not a threat so much as a warning.
So the Meta nods in answer, holds up his own hands to parrot the sentiment back. He's not here to fight him, or kill him, he's just here. Wash wants to check him over, it's a step in the right direction. It's a good sign. So he points towards one of the tall, spiraling buildings and rumbles at him again; he'll let him check him over, but not out here. Not out in the open. He starts walking towards the building, where his temporary base is, assuming Wash will follow. It's not far.
It's an apartment building, abandoned to most accounts but still occupied. The door he stops at isn't locked exactly, more secured, and he steps inside once he's got it back open and moves enough to let Wash in before shutting it behind them. The room inside, an apartment for one, looks like it's been taken apart and put back together, shards of reflective glass pushed together into a pile near a wall while some of the furniture seems cracked in places. But hey, most of the blood's gone, at least, so there's that.]
no subject
it's not the rats that worry him, though. despite their numbers, they're barely a threat, hardly more than a faint blip on his radar, easily taken out by a few quick stomps or a couple bullets from his rifle. what truly worries him is the unknown, and the fact that if maine is here, then anyone else could be, too. he's completely out of his element, vulnerable and exposed, and worst of all he can't do shit about it, can't enact a plan or strategize when he has no real information and no idea of who or what is lurking in the dark beyond a few overgrown rodents.
he hesitates for only a second before he follows behind meta at a reasonably safe distance. when meta opens the door to an apartment building and stands aside to let him pass, wash is careful not to give him his back, his right hand always hovering a few inches from his pistol.
every corner in the room is blanketed with inky shadows, cobwebs and dust settled across the ceilings and floors, and some of the furniture is stained dark brown with long dried blood. wash raises a brow and tilts his head in maine's direction. ]
I like what you've done with the place.
[ he means it, for however dry and sarcastic he sounds. it's a hell of a lot better than he would've expected from meta.
after giving the room a quick scan, mostly to ensure that they're alone, wash turns to face meta proper and gestures him closer with an upwards nod. ]
All right, c'mere. Let's get this over with.
[ like ripping off a bandaid: the faster, the better. ]
no subject
He doesn't move right away when Wash gestures, though, almost as if he's second guessing once the situation's actually concrete. It's not fear that fuels it, Sigma hollowed him out too much before he was fried out of him for anything as strong as that, and anyway he's pretty sure he can take Wash down if it comes to it, history or no. It's wariness, like a wild animal, an ingrained awareness of the situation. Of his surroundings. Wash may have been a friend once upon a time but he can't rely on that now, not after everything that happened. Everything he did, but there's no guilt associated. It happened. He can't undo it, can't bring them back, can't pretend the other doesn't have every reason not to trust him. It's too late for apologies anyway, or explanations.
But ultimately, it doesn't matter. Wash won't try anything, the fact he's here at all proves it no matter how close his hand lingers to his pistol, and if he does the Meta won't lose. So he closes some of the distance to stand in front of him before reaching up to undo the hooks and clasps keeping his helmet in place and eases it off, finding a table to set it on before moving on to the rest. He doesn't spare more than an occasional sidelong look towards Wash throughout the process, essentially enough to assure himself he's not about to take advantage of the situation as the pieces come off and the pile of armor next to him gets bigger and bigger. It's not an entirely smooth process, he stalls and guards in places, because it isn't as if the place is safe, isn't like he hasn't been fighting plenty while he's been here, but he's intact and isn't bleeding, everything else is barely worth mentioning. And then he's left standing in front of Wash in the suit underneath, watching him with an expression that's almost a challenge, shoulders hunched like he's fully expecting an ulterior motive in it, like he's waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and come at him. His armor's scuffed and scratched, more than it was the last time Wash saw it, and his hair's not as shaved as he usually keeps it, skin grimy like he hasn't bothered to actually get out of his armor in days, but then new place, with too many unknowns, and he figures he really can't be blamed for that.]
no subject
the last time wash saw him out of armor was just before he defected from freelancer — years ago, now. he's been meta for so long that it's been easy for wash to forget that some small trace of maine still exists, locked behind hundreds of pounds of titanium alloy and a gold faceplate, a familiar face dredging up unwelcome memories.
what happened to maine wasn't fair. what happened to any of them wasn't fair, but that's old fucking news and a wound not worth reopening.
wash takes a long time to move, even after meta is fully stripped and standing still in front of him. his shoulders and arms are tight with tension, fingers curled into fists where his arms are tucked against his chest, and he only stirs when he's certain his knees won't buckle, stepping forward to half-circle meta as he activates a simple scan on his hud.
his vitals are normal, no anomalies. wash leans sideways to glance at the back of his head and confirm that, yes, his implantation slot is empty. good. one less thing to worry about. ]
Looking good, buddy.
[ or looking healthy, at least.
the inspection lasts no more than thirty seconds before wash steps back to give him space. for the first time that night, he turns completely away from him and moves across the room to look out one boarded up window. he'll give meta time to reequip his armor before he starts bombarding him with questions. ]