dankmemes | Test Drive Meme # 1

Welcome to Hadriel's very first 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 September 24th, and Apps are open October 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!

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: ANYONE GOT A LIGHT?
[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. In this instance, the door has managed to grab something truly horrific, and it's definitely out for blood (and brains) tonight.

Smokers are enemies in the video game series Left 4 Dead, who use their prehensile tongues to capture unwitting people and either drag them away for consumption or hang them up to strangle them. With all of the activity of characters trying to find out what's going on and where they are, there are more than a few of them, lingering in the shadows and waiting to try strike at anyone who may be lagging behind.]

SCENARIO TWO: YOUR HEART WILL GO ON
[You awaken in a windowless room, the walls strangely curved. The door, when you try it, is quite firmly locked. No amount of force is able to break through, so it seems to be sealed by supernatural means. Next to the door stands a slender pedestal, about as big around as a large man's thigh. At the top of the pedestal is a indentation, as if something were meant to go there.

But you're not alone in this room. There are two things with you: a person and a corpse. Pinned to the body is a note: Place a heart on the pedestal to leave. Tucked neatly into the corpse's pocket is a letter opener, small and not particularly sharp.

Did you have weapons or tools on you before? You don't now. But look at it this way: what better form of bonding is there than helping a friend or stranger dig a heart out of a corpse with nothing but a letter opener and your bare hands?]

H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: HAVE YOU HAD YOUR BREAK-IN TODAY?
[You're standing outside a storefront, colored glass set into intricate designs. It's beautiful, artistic, but more importantly - there's definitely food inside. Good food, too, by the glimpses you can see through the window. In fact - wait a minute - isn't that your favorite dish in there, just waiting for you? You've been searching for food for hours, it seems, and the city is bare. Your tummy is getting awful rumbly. What luck!

You try the door. Cruelly, it is locked. The food taunts you, just out of reach.

The glass is lovely, intricate, but it's just glass. Or maybe you know how to pick locks. Or maybe there's a back way in. Or maybe some passing friend will be able to help you. There's a lot of options here, if what you really want is a mouthful of the finest... whatever it is you like.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You seemed quite sure of what you were doing a moment ago. Pardon me if I presumed you might actually have some idea of what's going on.

[Dorian is, of course, a touch annoyed - but not enough to get overly rude about it. He surveys Gren, taking in his unsavory demeanor, his scars, his terrible fashion sense. Really, he should probably not have been asking for guidance from someone who dresses like that.]

Where are you from, then? Clearly not Thedas.

Somebody left a note.

[Don't worry, Dorian, Gren can be rude enough for the both of you.]

[And hey, Gren's from the 80's, he has an excuse for his shitty fashion. That still doesn't excuse his hair or the fact that he's a walking personification of poor life decisions, but still. It's something.]

New York City. It's pretty much a shithole. [Cities don't really sit that well with him, but he's gotta work to get his glamour and avoid getting sent to the Farm. If they'd even take him, because apparently monsters aren't really appreciated there.] I'll keep an eye out for Thedas or whatever in the back of a fuckin' wardrobe.

An impeccably maintained wardrobe that belongs to a man of exquisite taste, one can hope.

[The cultural reference, naturally, flies straight over Dorian's head.]

Are all those from New York like you?

[He says the name carefully, a bit strangely, as if it's awkward, because it kind of is. Totally unfamiliar, and Dorian is very well-educated.]

I suppose you must not have much use for manners there.

[This asshole says New York like it's another language, and there's not a mundy alive that doesn't know about New York freaking City. So either this guy is really committed to his whole ren faire schtick, in which case he's tres motherfucking crazy, or he might not actually be a mundy at all.]

[Which is also a can of shit that he doesn't want to open. Really, Gren's hungover and every piece of this has 'shit he doesn't want to deal with' written all over it.]

I dunno. [His voice is flat enough that you could put a rug on it and call it a floor.] Is everybody where you come from like you?

[And let's be real, Dorian's not exactly a paragon of grace and good manners right now either.]

I'm gonna level with you for a hot second, okay? I've had a real fuckin' shitty couple a' days, and I'm getting the distinct feeling that it's not gonna be getting any better anytime soon, so how about you turn down the passive aggressive bullshit to a minimum.

Absolutely not. I am a singular and unique creature.

[But hey, that's fair enough. At least it's somewhat reassuring to know that all people from New York probably don't have as much of a chip on their shoulder. That would be tiring, Dorian thinks.

This is pretty tiring, all on its own.]

I haven't had a particularly pleasant few days either, though I imagine I ought to be more magnanimous, considering I'm not the one who just stuck my hand in a corpse.

[A pause.]

Not that it wasn't appreciated. Necromancer or not, I'd rather not have innards on my clothing.

[Gren glances down at his bloody hand and gives a half-shrug.]

Least it ain't mine.

[This time, anyway.]

[He pulls a face, though, when Dorian mentions necromancy; not really one of the nicer branches of magic. The million dollar question here really is whether this guy's nuts or actually the real deal-- the former's just nuts, the latter's dangerous and possibly also nuts. Gren figures you've got to be at least a little coo-coo for cocoa puffs if you actually want to go fucking around with corpses in your free time.]

So, what, you're some kinda witch or something?

[True. Not having your insides on the outside is a plus that Dorian can't ignore.]

I'm a mage, fully educated inside a Circle, rather than an apostate witch.

[He doesn't seem particularly offended, though. It's clear enough that they aren't from the same sort of place at all. Maybe witches in this man's world are something else entirely.]

And what are you, then?

[The Homelands are big and diverse enough that Gren can't really rule this guy out as just somebody from a part of it that he doesn't immediately recognize.]

[Still-- even if this guy might take the whole 'hi, I'm a big scary monster' thing better than your average joe, Gren's just going to keep that card close to his chest. He doesn't need problems.]

Fuckin' pissed off, mostly.

~~[Gren, the salt king of Fabletown.]~~

[And that really just makes Dorian laugh.]

That much I could have guessed. Well, I suppose I ought to thank you for doing the dirty work and freeing us both from that ridiculous prison.

[Rude or not, he does appreciate it.]

And naturally, if there's anything I can do to help you in return, feel free to let me know.

Can't think of anything right now, unless you've got a fuckin' drink stashed somewhere.

[Otherwise, his new mission is going to be 'locate nearest bar' and then 'get shitfaced in nearest bar'. He can figure out how he's going to get back to New York once he's drowned out his current hangover with a new hangover-in-progress like the classy sonofabitch that he is.]

[Because that's Gren-- a class act through and through.]

If I did, I'd be a much happier man.

[You know, just in general. It's a lot easier to put on a pleasant face when you've got a backup bottle of wine or five stashed somewhere. Sadly for the both of them, Dorian does not.]

I wish you luck finding that, at least.

[And he raises a hand in farewell, turning to be on his way. To - you know. Wherever.]

Test Drive Meme # 1

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