dankmemes | Test Drive Meme # 1

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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.]

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SCENARIO ONE

So far, this place was a total nightmare. But between the chaotic state of events back home, and some actual nightmares he had while using, he wasn't sure if he could call this worse yet. It wasn't how he'd pictured Hell, not that he was sure there was a point believing in things like that anyway. In all honesty though, he couldn't say if he knew he was still alive at all. He couldn't even say if he was conscious. He could still be in a coma. This could all be in his head. Or he could be crazy, and seeing things as they weren't.

But he wasn't to the level of having another series of panic attacks over it, because he felt somewhat vindicated by what Mom and Travis had seen when Calvin got up from being dead, just like Gloria but with Less blood. He was dead, but he kept getting back up, and everyone had seen. And then it kept happening, with people on the street, the neighbors. The were dead, and still moving, and wanted to attack everyone, though he didn't know why. He knew it was real, everyone saw it...

This was different. He hadn't found anyone he knew yet. He had been wandering the dark streets for hours, and having a hard time finding anyone at all, when suddenly, noises. Moaning, pained. Sounds that made him think of whatever was happening to everyone back home, making him stop and become extra alert. He was terrified, but for some reason, his body kept moving forwards. It was as if he was disconnected by the fear, but it ran on autopilot anyway.

It was when the freakish creature, like the walking dead back home but deformed, fast, enraged... And deformed. The beast's tongue shot out like a lizard, inhumanly long and flickering about like a snake. Horror and shock snapped Nick back into his body, and with a loud noise that sounded somewhere between a scream and a yelp, he tumbled over backwards, sliding against the wall, skipping off and flailing against gravity to bound off the sidewalk and flee down a side-street. What the Hell was that?!

SCENARIO TWO

Now feeling faint from all the banging and shouting he's done around the perimeter of the room - to no avail; either no one is out there, or no one cares (or maybe they just can't hear him scream) - Nick slides down a wall and sinks his head into his knees. He seems to be running his hands through his hair, trying to comfort himself.

Finally he looks up, pale, eyes wide, but looking resolved.

He yanks the knife out with determination at first, but stalls, rolling it around in the palm of his hand, clearly hesitating. A sharp intake through his nose suggests he's trying to psych himself up to start jabbing at the corpse's chest.

[Ronan is nearby when he hears the scream. And he knows he shouldn't get involved- he has friends to look after, a city to map out, more shit that has to get fixed before he can relax- it's difficult not to come running when someone obviously needs help.

Still, he doesn't run. He moves quickly though, toward the sound of heavy footsteps and the more distant sound of choking and wheezing. He doesn't have any weapons on him- typical, that they wouldn't let him keep his gun, or any of the knives he's dreamed up- but he has his fists, and he's a creative bastard when he wants to be. Though that doesn't necessarily mean he's anticipating hideous zombies, well... sometimes, you make do with what you have.

And what he has right now is a near-collision. Nick very narrowly avoids just crashing into Ronan on the side street, and Ronan lets out an angry noise at that, shoving at the other boy in an attempt to get some distance between them, to stop him from going- wherever it is that he's going.

Screaming and running or no, he likes his personal space.]

Was that you yelling?

[There's a pause. A raven screeches overhead, and Ronan looks past Nick's shoulder, a thin frown only serving to make his pointed face sharper, his shoulders drawn up and tense.]

The fuck are you running from?

[He startles at the appearance of an actual person, who talks, and doesn't smoke and rot and flick a tongue and shamble after him...

A person who could also still be a threat and doesn't look super happy to have heard him. Was he screaming? How embarrassing.

No time to feel self conscious yet, though. Eyes bulged, out of breath, he waves an arm towards the street he'd just ducked out of, then motioned from his mouth in a manner similar to the smoker's tongue, and whispered sharply:]

There is a dead thing with a freaky tongue man, and it's coming. We gotta get inside somewhere!

[Ronan... really doesn't understand the hand motions, but the description doesn't sound like anything good. Not that it makes much sense- dead things generally have no business coming or going anywhere- but Ronan has seen enough things by now not to question it and he nods, trying to think of a plan quickly.]

Back this way.

[The way Ronan came from. At least there's a clear path behind him, right? He leads the way, careful but quick.]

Just one? How far back is it?

[ He scrambles towards the suddenly appeared 'guy with a place to go', not caring if he was just going to try to mug him. He didn't need to trust him. They didn't even need to get along. They just needed to get somewhere where the only thing he had to worry about were unfamiliar people who had a pulse and proportional body parts...more or less. ]

There could be more. There were noises like that coming from different directions. Have you seen any? Is this normal here?

[ He was speaking fast, but not too fast to understand. He had to clamp his mouth shut to avoid asking too many questions right now. ]

Do I look like I know?

[Ronan snaps, irritated. Of course, it probably does look like he knows, but he scowls all the same, glancing behind them just in time to see the shadow of- whatever it was- sinking into the alley behind them. Shit.]

I just showed up here too. I don't-

[He turns a corner with Nick in tow, and his eyes widen at the sight of one of the zombie creatures standing just a little further down the street. Grabbing at the other boy's shirt, Ronan yanks him back into the shadows of the alley, his heart pounding so hard that he's surprised it hasn't burst out of his chest yet.

One ahead of them, one behind them. The one ahead hasn't noticed them yet, the one behind is still after them. Fuck. Fuck. They need a plan.]

-c'mon, we have to find weapons. A pipe or a bat or something. Hurry.

I saw some rusty pipes back at this warehouse I was gonna duck into, but then these came out the front.

[A hard swallow.]

I think there is a back entrance though. If we can climb down from the roof. There was a window open a few stories up.

[Not-so-recovering junkie is good at spotting shit like this, which was useful and something reprehensible until the world switched to survival of the fittest. Or survival of the most resourceful.

Whatever.]

❰ and for the most part, alicia let him do it. like, he's not hurting himself, right? and maybe this banging and shouting might get them rescued. in fact, she did some banging and shouting of her own at first too, but the younger clark slid resignedly down a nearby wall long before nick was satisfied with his efforts.

that's where she sits now, knees tucked to her chest and her hands swallowed up by her long hoodie sleeves where they're wrapped around her legs, when he matches her gesture of resignation, and now they're both on the floor. he's all kinds of fucked up, and part of her feels like she should say something to try and reassure him but what the hell even is there to say?

one second they're in a car, driving away from their home and their undead neighbors and all of the memories they had left of their dad - and the next, they wake up here. kidnapped, i guess, as impossible as that seems with all things considered.

she hasn't put much thought into the dead guy since her initial gag reflex at the fact that he was stuck in here with them, though that was probably because she positioned herself carefully against just the right wall that mr. corpse was barely out of sight. now, though, nick's crouching over the corpse and alicia scoots hastily into view to see what the hell he's doing. it looks-... well. it looks like nick's looting him, at first anyway, but then she sees the knife.

at his words, her mouth falls open a little. she's been unusually quiet, but it probably doesn't much shock him this soon after the revelation about matt and what he's become. it might even be a relief for nick. less telling him to shut the hell up. but now she's silent because she can't quite find the words to shape her objection to the totally nonchalant way he's trying to rationalize cutting into some guy's chest.

but he hesitates. thank god, he hesitates. it manages to loosen her tight throat just a little, and with the sort of edge you'd expect from someone half-ready for the corpse to leap up and attack, she pushes off the wall to crabwalk-scoot up beside him now, though not quite as close to the body as he is.

alicia swallows hard. ❱

You don't-... I mean, I could do it, if you want. ❰ she's not actually so sure that she can, but as much as she hates his stupid guts sometimes, she'd rather something get to her than to have to watch that same thing get to him. this is getting to him. she doesn't know if actually doing it would make it better or worse. ❱

[ He tilted his head, like a puppy with his big eyes and obnoxiously adoring unspoken overtones to just about everything he did, at least, around his baby sister. She might feel she hated him, might have said it, and he'd been expecting those words, but her actions tended to speak differently. Maybe deep down she wanted to believe he could get better and stick around this time. Keep his promise. Even though he'd broken that promise and shattered their relationship over and over again. It was a miracle that she would even look at him. He'd failed her when she needed him most. Without dad, it was only natural that they should become closer. But he'd wrecked that. Wrecked everything.

He wasn't going to screw this up and let her down and get them killed. They weren't going to end here, not like this. Alicia, at least, deserved a life. She deserved whatever happy domestic future she envisioned with Matt, even if Matt was going to have to be some other guy in her future after the wounds heal and she can love again. He was too scarred by the last images of Gloria to want a relationship again...ever, really, in the current state of the universe. But he did want to take care of Alicia. Somewhere in his younger mind, he imagined that was what their dad would want from him. What he might have said if he could communicate his thoughts to them before he died.

He was already so screwed up, what was learning how to carve out a heart to his already frayed state of mind and series of crimes? She didn't need to - literally or figuratively - get her hands dirty. He could be a useful big brother for once in his life. Even if he had no idea how to dig a heart out of a corpse, especially with such a small and useless tool. ] No... I want to. I want to do something right.

[ With a shy stab, which made him shiver at first from the grotesquely hard, crunchy squish, he made the first jab of commitment. The next few were more convincing, getting some cold blood on his hands. His face looked more disgusted than anything else. ]

I don't think this thing is gonna get through all the ribs and...whatever else.

Edited 2015-09-20 00:27 (UTC)

❰ 'i want to do something right.' if he were paying any attention to her face instead of the corpse, he'd have caught a flicker of something on her face - something caught halfway between a flinch and a disgusted scowl, because as much as she loathes every single time he plays that game, there's just a little too much bleeding truth in it to dismiss it as stupid brother drama.

but she doesn't say anything, because what even is the point? especially now, as he's... actually starting to stab at the corpse. she's never been the squeamish kind of girl and visceral squish-crunch sounds are nothing compared to even a shitty b-movie these days, but the follow-up thought about how that squish-crunch must have felt (and relatedly, that nick rather than some stranger was the one who had to feel it) has an 'urgh' sound rising up in her throat as she lifts an arm to cover her nose and mouth with the crook of her elbow, leaning off to the side a little. it's not a hurl sound, he knows those well enough to recognize that. it's just... one half-syllable to perfectly encapsulate how fucked up this is.

but now he's fucking waffling about it, oh my god - ❱

No, just freaking - ❰ before she can change her mind, her hands reach out to wrap around his and she shoves the letter opener down into the corpse with a desperately disgusted sort of force.

it's no stronger than his own attempts, but she's aimed it lower into the upside-down v where the ribs meet. ❱ Cut here, okay? Just do it, we'll-... ❰ her hands, having by now let go of his with shuddery flexed fingers, now shakily mimes the general gesture of reaching in and then up. god this is so disgusting, her throat's closing up a little, but she manages: ❱ Under, not through.

❰ but that's the extent of her participation for now. sorry, nick, she's scooting back a full foot and a half and burying her face into her knees for a corpse-free place to take a slow and leveling breath. muffled a little by her knees, she tacks on: ❱ Just make a hole, okay? We've got this.

[ The note had made it clear they weren't about to walk out of the room until a few ribs had been cracked, and so Sharon hadn't bothered to assist Nick in his desperate attempts to escape. She didn't scream, or shout, or bang her palms against the thick walls, instead she dreaded what they had to do.

It wasn't an easy thing to get a man's heart from his barred chest, tough even with the proper tools, and that piddly letter opener wasn't good enough to cut your wrists with, let alone break through a man's rib cage.

She watches as he stalls, dark brows knit tight beneath her bleached hair. He didn't want to do this any more than she did, but the dead man was their key, and she honestly didn't want to be trapped in this small room with it much longer (not that she hadn't been in much worse situations, but this wasn't exactly her idea of a good time).

Finally, Sharon stands, and crosses the distance between them, looking down at him and the body. ]

You want me to do it? [ There are stains on her white leather vest, dark spatters that may be old blood. It's possible she's done this before, or something similar--or worse. ] You don't have to.

[ Nick has had blood and dirt and grime and all manner of filth on his clothes - which often, as now, weren't even his clothes - more often than not, and considering where he came from (beginning of the zombie apocalypse in Los Angeles, and where he'd been, homeless living in abandoned places and consorting with drug dealers) the last thing on his mind was the blood on the girl's clothes. Even the fact that she was pretty and reminded him of Gloria, before his last image of Gloria was what he hasn't quite figured out to label yet as 'ravenous dead girl glare.'

He takes another sharp breath through his nose. He needs to learn to adapt. He didn't get the chance to prove he could defend himself or his family or be useful with the shotgun they'd taken from their neighbor's house. But he could learn. Maybe whatever he became able to do here could carry over and help his family back home. And he did have to try to get out, closer to home. He couldn't leave them awake and wondering like Dad had. ]

I can do it. I-I just... Is this even sharp enough? And where do you go in? [ Obviously he should have gotten over that freaky buzzing noise and played more Operation as a kid. He pokes at a bit of flesh over the heart. ]

Here? Or...more to the side?

I don't think we can get through the ribs. [ She replies as she settles to the floor, feet tucked beneath her, opposite to Nick on the other side of the body. It made her stomach roll lightly to think what he would have to do to reach the heart, and she wondered, with the way his hands shook, if he'd even be able to.

She swallows, and licks her lips. ] You'd have to start... [ Sharon hesitates, and then presses her fingers against the dead man's sternum; she follows it down, and when her next press receives no bone resistance, she pulls her hand away quickly. ] There.

[ Cut through the flesh, go under the ribs, and pull out the heart.

She's suddenly very glad he turned down her offer. ]

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Test Drive Meme # 1

nick clark | fear the walking dead

SCENARIO ONE

SCENARIO TWO

1!

:D

<3 !

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two,

:D !!!

toldja i would

TWO

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