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

[axemeaquestion]

What the hell are you -- augh -- don't just touch it! Shoot!

[It's sort of hard to be demanding when part of a mutant zombie tongue starts to wrap itself around your next, but it wouldn't matter in the next few second. Nick finally got her gun and shot it.

She'll catch her breath later. Quickly, she shoves the detached bit of tongue off of her and gets on her feet. Then she snatched the gun away from Nick, spun around, and finally shot her attacker dead.]

Ohh shit.

[Okay, NOW'S the time to catch her breath. Panting, she rests one hand on her knee and slowly cranes to Nick.]

Thanks. That's why you're supposed to stick close with these things.

[worldofshit]

[ In case his eyes didn't look big enough before, they are practically bulging out of his head now. He's got cold sweats as a mix of fear and adrenaline. The clothes he is wearing are worn and dirty and ill-fitting and clearly not his, originally.

He runs his hands through his hair, silent for a few moments as he comes to understand exactly what just happened. He looks between the smoker and woman for awhile. ]

You...you've seen these before?

[axemeaquestion]

These things are everywhere all the time. What, what rock have you been living under? [She gives a breathless laugh.] Can I live there too?

[All seriousness though, she could tell this guy was freaking out. It was weird... not that he afraid, but that he looked like he'd already been through the wringer. How could he look like that and not have seen a single one of these things?

Then again, she was exceedingly more stained in zombie blood and zombie vomit, but that's another story.]

We need to get you a new weapon or something. I need ammo myself.

[worldofshit]

I was trying to get into a warehouse when one of...those...showed up. Looked like there was stuff inside. Not sure what though. Nothing was marked, and all the buildings are super weird looking here. Plus it's really dark.

[ Babbling done, willing to follow behind wherever Rochelle led them as he talked to keep himself from freaking out. He could talk more hushed if there seemed to be sounds coming again. He was checking around himself just standing still, expecting more tongues to appear out of nowhere and try to strangle him. ]

At home, people are getting sick, and then they die. But they don't stay dead, and some of them seem to want to attack people? I know, it sounds crazy, but I swear, it's true. And the government...I don't know what's going on, but power kept shutting out and then the army or something showed up and started breaking inside and marking on people's houses...

[ He really looks like some kid who accidentally found himself in the middle of trench war-fare, but his voice is more modulated. He's used to talking things out to keep them from overwhelming his head. Saying them releases the worry they cause...for a few brief moments before it makes it all sound so much more real.

He swallows and empties his pockets. ] I have this lock-pick and that's it.

[ Also a plastic bag he is filling with painkillers and anything to curb his withdrawal symptoms that hopefully won't happen anything immediate. ]