Test Drive Meme # 1

[hadrielmods]

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.]

Comments

[casperdisaster]

[The label promises that the flavor is sweet vanilla cream with flakes of chocolate mixed in. Noah smiles a little at the comment about 'stupid fancy name for ice cream'. It's a sort of awkward smile, a little too shy, and again he looks up only briefly before looking away as he roots around for a basket or something similar. He is going to take as much gelato as he can carry. Real food, what's that good for?]

Kind of? Um, I guess in Europe there's got to be a minimum amount of milkfat or cream or something to be able to call itself Gelato. It's just... super creamy ice cream, basically. It's great.

[unitas]

[ His smile is awkward, small and shy, and would have been considered endearing if those types of thoughts ever had the tendency to cross her mind. Instead, she thinks: yep, stupid fancy name for ice cream. But it doesn't sound bad, so she slips it into the knitted knapsack hanging off her shoulder.

She turns her attention to the stock of treats, and begins to slip anything that sounds remotely good or familiar into her sack (careful to add more frozen goods towards the bottom to keep things from getting too melty). ]

So, is that what you wanted in so badly for? Fancy ice cream? [ She doesn't have much room to talk, to be honest, she came for the poptarts. ]

[casperdisaster]

Yeah.

[Noah is a simple boy with simple needs, and one of those is the fancy ice cream. Last time he had a crack at some he literally ate until he made himself sick. He still doesn't regret it. He'd had a body for all of like two weeks at that point.]

I had some like two weeks after I got a body again, but nothing since then. And not for seven years before that. There's this great place in Henrietta, Virginia. I'd go there all the time.

[unitas]

[ It sounds so conversational that Sharon almost misses it. Her head snaps in his direction, dark brows crinkling above suddenly narrowed eyes. ]

What? [ She appears more quizzical than on edge, fingers wrapped around a box of strawberry frosted pop-tarts. Did she really hear him correctly? ]

[casperdisaster]

[Noah is rooting around for spoons or something that works as a spoon - as long as the ice cream isn't too melty even a fork will do actually, and he's not really thinking too much when he replies to Sharon's question.]

Oh, uh, yeah. I didn't have a body for a while. I died seven years ago. Almost eight. Actually it might be eight now?

[He hasn't really been counting the months, but he's been 'alive' more or less for two months now, he's pretty sure. Something between alive and dead. Both alive and dead at the same time.

Schrodinger's teenager.]

[unitas]

Jesus. [ She whispers, more to herself than him. He has her full attention now, watching him so intently as if she were trying to see through him. He looked solid, slightly messy, rough around the edges, but average. It's instinct to want to question, to accuse him of lying.

What are the chances of that being true?

And then she comes to a startling realization: as much as it was that she was burned alive in a ritual to give birth to a god. As much as it was that she was currently trapped in some underground, long forgotten cave filled with alien, futuristic furniture and buildings while also containing common Earthly items like fucking poptarts and gelato.

She swallows, saliva suddenly thick in her mouth. Her life is really fucking weird. ]

That's fucked up. [ Was that appropriate? Probably not, but it's true. ]

[casperdisaster]

[It gets more fucked up. Noah was a sacrifice, too. His face beaten in with his own skateboard, skull ruined and choking on his own blood from the hand of his best friend driven to a desperate act to try and gain power.

That's not exactly first conversation material.

Noah doesn't exactly like acknowledging that he trusted someone who did that to him. That he still misses Whelk, still considers Whelk a friend.]

Well,

[Well.]

It isn't that bad. I wouldn't have met the friends I have now if I didn't die, and they're really nice. So.

[So. So he deals with the fact that his soul is now decaying back where they came from, where he's tied to a magical source of energy and is basically completely at the whims of whatever is powering him at the time. He's got a body here and now, and Noah deals with his problems by pretending they don't exist.]