dankmemes | test drive meme #13

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!test drive

test drive meme #13

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 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, 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: DON'T LOOK AT ME
[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 lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to hop right on you and chow down. This time, the Door has brought in several Boos, from the Mario video game series.

These monsters can be menacing, but are also incredibly shy. When looking directly at them, they will cover their faces and fade into the background- however, when turning away from them, they advance on you until they're in the perfect spot to take a nice big bite. The only way to defeat them is to escape this part of the level- that is, run madly away and try to keep up eye contact while you do so. They may look cartoonish, but those ghost teeth can be sharp!]

SCENARIO TWO: YOU'VE GOT RED ON YOU
[Hadriel is home to many things- temples, irate gods, angry citizens and... well, zombies, apparently. Beware as they start to walk/stagger/generally kind of shuffle around the streets of the city, since where there's one or two, there's usually a hundred more just waiting for the right moment to strike.

Zombies attack Hadriel by the dozen for this prompt, and nowhere in the city is technically safe from them! While they're not necessarily fast or intelligent, they have an advantage on you in that they have a lot more friends and they can't feel pain. So saddle up, bunker down, and try to survive the infestation!

This is a mini version of our Dead Men Walking event this month!]

R A G E

SCENARIO THREE: CAPTURE THE FLAG
[Hey, what's Hadriel without a few mind-numbingly stupid games to forget the fact that you're in a murdercave that routinely tries to scare the crap out of you while also maybe killing you every once in awhile? You're not quite sure who came up with this particular mind-numbingly stupid game, but you seem to be playing, so get your running shoes on and grab that inhaler!

This is a game of Capture the Flag, and thanks to Rage, you're really starting to feel that competitive spirit. You're going to win- you have to. So what if you incur a few fouls along the way?

There's a red team and a blue team for this prompt, with both teams trying to protect their corresponding flags. Try to strategize to take the other team's precious flag, chase someone from the opposing team down, or just go all out and full body tackle that poor guy who got a little too close to your territory- it's all on you!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A real complainer, her sisterthing would point out, and always about the least important things.]

[She huffs, idly sliding a brick off the edge of the roof and down onto a zombie. The zombie teeters a bit before righting itself with a groan.]

It's the principle of the thing, innit? If they must throw me into a cheap horror movie and give me the spooky-jeebies, at least give me something I'd actually be scared of, yes?

[She slides another brick off the roof. This one actually brains a zombie and kills it. She pumps a fist, temporarily giving herself a Sun's Out, Guns Out t-shirt.]

Like a phone bill! Yes, a walking phone bill. Or, gasp! There's been a terrible case of coffee rust and all the trees have died! There's no coffee! Nooooo, what shall we do?! Yes, something properly terrifying, like--

[She looks and abruptly sees who she's been talking to. And then she presses her hands (paws, probably) to her cheeks and squeals.]

Oh, but look at youuuu! Hon, you're beautiful! Hold on, hold on, don't go anywhere!

[She studies the gap between their roofs for a moment, then her legs turn into a flea's hind legs and she just kind of--vaults over onto his roof. Stumbles a bit on the landing and almost eats shit because she forgot to shift her center of gravity, but then she just sprouts a few extra human legs. Like some kind of really messed up spider. Then she throws her arms in the air.]

Stuck the landing! Ten points, says the judge from Moorath.

[She sort of skitters toward him. Not very fast, since she doesn't actually want to spook him, just wants a closer look.]

Yess! Another skeleton! And he's rouuuund! [She milks the word for all it's worth.] I love it! I love it. You're gorgeous, did you know? Like, Powers help me, one of those--fluffy little bluebirds and winter. The other one mentioned--but he's your brother, isn't he? He said as much, lovely fellow--well, he mentioned there was another skeleton around and here I am, silly me, expecting someone more, well, standardly human-shaped. But here you are!

[She sheds a few of the extra legs, the material just shrinking back into her body, and stops a few feet away from him. She's grinning.]

Just goes to show, doesn't it? You know what they say about when you assume. Hu hu hu!

[He'd counter with a weary shrug and an admission that Fear, as far as apotheosizing physical manifestations of emotions go, is not actually that scary a guy, nor is he particularly original. His attempts at telling sufficiently atmospheric scary stories didn't, uh...well, they didn't read over so well.

Then she seems to notice who she's talking to, and - well, he's gotten used to the reactions to his general appearance, the longer he's been here. Squawks, screams, jokes, awkward blinking, queries as to how he exists (don't ask him, buddy, he doesn't even know anymore), yeah, he's heard it all. But this kind of, uh. This kinda takes the cake, he'll just say. The metaphorical cake.

He scratches the back of his cervical vertebrae with a shrug and a grin.]

Met my bro, did ya? Yeah, we're pretty much the exact same just, y'know, the exact opposite.

[To this day, it's still the best way he's ever managed to describe them. Mostly because it's true. In just about every respect, hah.

As far as how her whole seamless shifting of matter goes, he observes quietly, without pausing for a break in the conversation. Where's the extra mass go? Is it thought-based, need-based, what? Interesting stuff. Compelling stuff. Not stuff he'd ask openly about, but intriguing.]

But it's hard not to like my brother. He's kinda the coolest.

[She hasn't really met any of the gods yet, but she's aware of them in a sort of off-hand, tertiary sense. Her people, and most of her world in fact, don't have much conception of gods or godhood, but it makes sense so far. Living personifcations of emotions--sure, got it, okay. So basically just very, very powerful Folk with very, very powerful magic.]

[Oh Powers, look at him, though, does he have an itch? Do bones get itchy?]

The exact same but the exact opposite! Hu hu, I like that! That's how it always is with sibling types, I've found.

[She and Kori couldn't be more different, to be sure, and Zayid was always...well, that's still a bit raw to think about. She's got skeletons to study, anyway. She's tilting her head back and forth, trying to look at him from different angles. How does he get his clothing to just--drape like that, give him that roundness when he's presumably all bones? The other one was all lines and angles. Good fun, that, very skeletal and all, but this guy. Obviously it's some kind of magic, but what kind? Is the clothing just part of him, like her own is?]

[She's also not asking openly, mostly because she's learned that you spring those questions on people bit by bit and not all at once. Also, he seems tired.]

Oh, he is! Very cool! Papyrus, right, for the plant? Or, nonono, for the font, that was it. He was very helpful, and what a volume on him, for someone with no lungs! Possibly no lungs? Magic lungs, maybe. You though--! Round shapes on a skeleton! I'm all about improbable shapes, but I suppose you've noticed.

[So the hoodie is simple enough, that's just fabric. Camille gives a sort of fluffing motion, like a bird puffing out its feathers. The novelty T-shirt shifts and in the next moment she's wearing a hoodie that at least looks pretty similar to Sans's own.]

[She also shrinks about a foot so that they're at eye level. Eyesocket level. Man alive! He's a pudgy little skeleton and he has a brother who is a tall, angular skeleton and she just can't get over it.]

Bones are hard. Literally, even! I normally just skip them entirely, them and the organs.

[She lifts a hand slightly and studies it, face scrunching up in concentration. Her hand becomes quite a bit more skeletal, but it's very clearly not accurate. She definitely missed about half the carpals, ending up with a sort of glob of bone. She clicks her tongue.]

Mmmm, needs work, but that's half the fun of it! So! Been awfully rude here, stealing your hoodie without so much as asking your name! Papyrus said it before, but I'm terrible with names. My name is Camille and it is an utter pleasure to meet you!

[The pace and rate of her speech is positively breakneck, a constant stream of ecstatic ideas vomited out before they can take time to organize themselves. He knows the type, people who fill the void with words; though whether that's due to a fear of the silence that might otherwise dominate or simply a surplus of energy is kinda up in the air. It might be another thing altogether.

Bottom line, she's all in all pretty cavalier about this whole "autoschediastically transported in space and time to an underground city populated by zombies, talking skeletons, and an assortment of things eager to take a bite outta her," which is an attitude he can appreciate. She also seems to be some kinda shapeshifter, and, like her general life outlook - she makes no attempt to hide it.]

Eh, I suppose I'm just big-boned.

[That's his go-to, and it might be cheap, but it's true. Magic trumps logic if it's dramatic or funny enough, but he always goes for the low-hanging fruit, so the comedic contrast between him and Papyrus - well, it's just too damn good a visual to pass up, ain't it? Makes them look like harmless caricatures, and memorable ones at that.]

Name's Sans. Sans the skeleton. I'd offer a hand, but you look like you got yours a bit full there.

[He inclines the rounded-off chin portion of his skull at the oddly malformed bonelike shape it's assumed which is, uh - it's a little unsettling. Bone shouldn't much look like that. It shouldn't look so - fluid. Changeable.

He supposes he'd know, wouldn't he?]

[She's too fast for him--she can tell. Her kind are too fast for a lot of people, so people usually default to the sort of thing he's doing now. Namely, skip over the unimportant bits or just outright ignore half of what she's saying and focus on the meat of the conversation. Or the bones of it in this case.]

[Her smile widens, showing teeth that are a jumble of human and feline.]

Big-boned, I get it! He has jokes too!

[Excellent. People without a sense of humor are no fun at all. They basically exist to be relentlessly tormented, and that gets old after awhile.]

[She looks down at her hand again, eyebrows raised, and gives the hand another shift. It acquires a few more carpals, but they're not in their proper places. Looks kind of like her hand is made of mashed potatoes instead of bones.]

[She shakes the hand out and it turns into a cat's paw, this one much more accurate.]

Really nailing it takes work, you know? Practice! Like I said, that's half the fun!

[Eating him would speed things along, but she's not in the habit of eating people she's only just met, and chowing down on someone just to get the shapes right is incredibly tacky. Besides, who would want to kill such a neat little guy?]

Don't you worry about it, though! I'm plenty adaptable, and I've hands to spare, hu hu!

[She sprouts a few extra for emphasis before letting them vanish again.]

So, Sans the skeleton. Sans the bluebird. This whole silly--zombie mess, is that just an everyday thing around here? Or did I just get lucky?

[Boy, those...

Boy.

Boy, those sure are some hands. Lots of 'em, all in the wrong places. Ha, boy, what a funny little coincidence that must be, huh? What a bizarre and strange thing to make him tense up, a rigid stillness rocketing up his spine, so deeply-seeded in his bones that it ain't really visible to the prying eye.

Least they're gone again as quick as they come. Small mercies, huh?

(There's no MERCY for a thing like him. He's used up that token, wrung it dry. That's just the way of things.)]

Yeah, I'd say you're about the most "adaptable" person I've met.

[Mostly he says it with the air of a joke. 'Cause it is funny, more or less. He can see the humor in just about anything, it's one of his few talents - right up there with slacking off and timing his jokes in just the right way for maximum laughs and/or groans of displeasure. And he's gotta say, the comedic potential here is just limitless.]

But, uh. Pretty much, yeah. Every so often one of the gods takes the city for a spin and does whatever they want with it. In this case? It means the livin' dead. [Evidently.]

[She doesn't see it, of course. He hides it too well, and she's not the best at reading people anyway.]

[She's also busy trying to form ribs, hidden away beneath her hoodie. How many ribs are there supposed to be again? Like...like a lot, right? And they form a sort of cage...]

[Hm, she's probably going to have to see if she can find a regular old normal dead skeleton and eat it instead, get a better sense for all these bones. She'd eat a zombie, but while back home she's immune to most things, it's never a good idea to assume the same applies in strange, dank cave cities. The last thing anyone needs, Camille especially, is a zombified shapeshifter.]

Hu hu, I'd be willing to bet that I am! Are there amorphs where you're from? Shapeshifters, that is?

[She's not sure how far her kind have spread, after all.]

Is that how it is! Sounds like children playing with a dollhouse, or perhaps lighting the dollhouse on fire. Hmmm, what about this cave? [He peers upward.] Well, even if it's a dollhouse, I'd wager that leaving isn't as easy as just unhinging the sides. Not without a lot of kowtowing, or I suppose they'd call it praying, wouldn't they?

Can't says there are, no.

[Least not in the way she seems to be thinkin'. Things that could change their shape maybe, but...yeah, that really wasn't his area. He didn't go down that avenue if he could help it, even if Alph confided certain key details to him from time to time. The dog food, after all, had just been the beginning.

But he won't get into it. When does he ever? Instead he focuses on the more salient points which are, categorically: explaining this whole debacle. The "debacle" being the way their lives are currently, which wasn't exactly a foreseeable thing based on anyone's standards. Whatever the statistical probability for the cessation of his existence leading to this? It was, uh. It was pretty low, let's just say.]

Might be a pretty accurate analogy. I dunno. Way I understand it, we're here to fuel all the emotions these gods need to function. Supposed to be symbiotic except, uh, not.

Well that's a real shame, but! Now you've met me! I'm thinking you and the rest of this city could use a bit of...less bitey excitement. Not that I'm not bitey at times.

[Her grin widens for a moment.]

But, if amorphs bring anything, we bring the excitement! Though I can't stay for long. Got a cafe to run and all that, can't leave my poor sisterthing to do it all on her lonesome, can I?

[As far as she's concerned, this is just a weird little vacation. Possibly an interdimensional one, but that isn't really the sort of thing she can wrap her head around, so she has decided not to think too hard about it.]

Ooh, like little, what, batteries? You'd think something calling itself a god wouldn't need some double-As crammed in their back like some cheap toy. But then what do I know? Never had much truck with god-types.

[Except one, and she kind of hates him.]

Speaking of batteries, though, you're looking like you've run out of 'em! A proper sleepybones, I'd say. You're not stuck on this roof, are you? I could probably get you to a more comfortable roof if you wanted. I'd offer tea from my emergency stash, but I sadly don't have an emergency stash of hot water.

That about covers it, I'd say.

["Excitement" can, uh, mean a lotta things. Not always great things, mind, since that's one of those words like "interesting" that can have a real fluid meaning, a real interchangeable thing based on context and the like. But she seems - not harmless, no, that's the wrong word for it. Heh, guess that makes her pretty "interesting" in turn.

He knows people who'd love to ask her a menagerie of questions about how she functions, what's her history, where's she from, who is she (he almost chuckles aloud at that one), but he's kinda...wrung out, it turns out, from watching kids die. And it wasn't even him doing it this time.

He shouldn't joke about that kinda thing. Should be a set thing there, an off-limits thing. But if you don't learn to laugh at this, you kinda just crack and...yeah, not a good time.]

Nah, I'm just takin' a breather.

[And then he laughs, shrugging his shoulders with a fluid pull of motion that doesn't befit a being without muscle.]

Little joke of mine. Don't have lungs. But yeah, I just kinda been runnin' around more than usual. And running is a crime against nature; I don't recommend it, by the by.

["Harmless" is definitely not a word she would use to describe herself, nor is it a word she has ever heard thrown her way. No one would make that mistake back home, even if she spent her days shifting between the fluffiest little shapes she could find. Humans don't trust many Folk on a good day, and no one trusts an amorph. Everyone knows what they're about. Everyone knows even the fluffiest shape is just a split second from being nothing but teeth.]

[She positively beams at him, though, enjoying the humor.]

Hu hu hu! You're funny, aren't you? I love it! It's important to have a good sense of humor. Especially in dire situations. Though I'm honestly not sure why these zombies are so keen on us in particular? The stereotype is all brains, innit, and I certainly don't have one. Guessing you don't, either?

[Oh Powers, wait, that means she can talk to someone other than her sister about how stupid and pointless the entire concept of organs are. Yes, perfect.]

Oh, I hear you. [She makes a face in the general direction of...the entire concept of running.] That whole healthfoods type thing is bad for the soul and business, when you make your living selling cake and pie. But anyway! The offer stands, and in the meantime, we can keep each other company! Shoot the shit as it were? Maybe chuck bricks at zombies.

[And she can watch him a bit more, figure out how hand bones work.]

["Harmless" is a good descriptor though, ain't it? He gets that one a lot. Just a harmless skeleton. Quirky and weird and not very funny, but harmless. Expectations, assumptions, those're the currency he deals in. He likes to think he's gotten pretty damn good 'em.

He laughs. It's easy to laugh, even now, even after he'd seen the way she'd shook under his grip and wouldn't admit to being scared even if she must've been, must've been so fucking terrified -

Hah. Hah hah, nope.

He doesn't go there.]

I pride myself on bein' real humerus. It's one of my finer qualities.

[It's also the most palatable quality he has. Heh heh heh, geddit?]

You're a baker or somethin'? 'Cause I gotta say, place could really use somethin' like that. We gotta bar, but that's not much for the kids, y'know?

[The kids.

The kids.

That's where his mind goes now. Defaults to it. The idea that, hypothetically, the kids don't get to do things that kids should do.

He is really, really just - fucked up, ain't he? Not that that's news it just - it occasionally whipcracks him real hard all over again.]

[That one takes her a second, but then her eyes widen.]

Oh! Oh, humerus, because it's a bone! Oh, hu hu hu, that's a good one. Puns are an art form. Which one is the humerus, actually? I should probably find out.

[He's to keep the parts all in their right places when you know the names of them.]

Kids? There's kids here? [She frowns.] What, did these gods decide they needed some triple-As too? Well, that simply won't do. No child should be without sweets for too long! Does funny things to their little heads. But, yes, I'm a baker! And patissier and barista, and some other fancy words that are rather redundant. Run the best cafe in all of Corrant, thank you kindly!

[Huh, and she can appreciate a good joke. And wonders never cease. He sweeps a bony hand to the center of his chest as he tilts his skull down in a mock bow with a flourish. Why thank you, thank you. He'll be here all night.

Unlike some people, who won't be here -

He slams a proverbial bear trap over that thought and kicks it to the curb.]

Yep. There sure are kids here. Real great, huh? Gotta love that selective process.

[His grin assumes a slightly chill edge. Who is he looking at, exactly? No one. No one who's listening, right?]

Corrant. That your home?

[And he just went and completely skipped over her humerus question, didn't he. Hmmmm. He's good. Or he doesn't care, or a combination of both. She finds that people don't technically actually like it when you try to steal their shapes.]

[She's just gonna assume it's like a leg bone or something for now.]

Children just running around trying to avoid zombies, eh?

[Maybe this actually is a horror movie.]

Oh, indeed, real kind of these god-types. But I suppose that's the benefit of gods, no? Horrible shit happens all the time, everywhere, often to kids, and half the time you can't blame no one but circumstances. Gods give you someone to blame.

[She grins toothily. Someone to blame who, by definition, won't care and won't suffer any consequences, sure, but still. Nice to let that anger out on someone other than the world in general.]

[She brightens at the question, literally acquiring a bit of a glow as bright colors trace across her "skin."]

City of Queens, no better city in the world! Or at least the Mortal Plane. How about you? Where's home for a pair of neat skeletons?

More or less, yep.

[He keeps grinning. Yeah, what a real wonderful, lovely place this is, huh? He hadn't cared much for that kinda danger, not until he figured that there's a minimum of maybe three children here, some of whom are pretty defenseless when it comes to things like this.

Fun games for the kids to play, huh?]

Suppose you're right on that count. Not that it does much.

[Scapegoats are all well in good, except these ones are untouchable. Only way to stop feeding them is to stop feeling and, uh, well, Chara's a Grade-A example of how the LOVE of an entire world ain't even really enough to choke that into submission. So, yep. Kinda helpless, one way or another.

Must really suck to be left at the whim of a deity that controls your every thought, huh?

Yeah, that sounds like a horrible way to spend your life.

Can't imagine what that's like.]

Home is a little place called the Underground, and it is exactly what it sounds like.

Mm, no, but it's better and also easier to be angry at a person than a circumstance.

[Even if there's nothing you can do to them because they're a) unreachable, b) unkillable or c) you don't get to be the first in line for that sort of revenge, or a combination of all three. At least it's better to have a target for that anger. There's nothing worse than having some random circumstance fuck over your life or the life of a loved one.]

Underground, though, eh? Descriptive! [She looks up toward the cavern ceiling.] You must really like the change in scenery.

[Don't he know it, heh. Except not so much, it turns out. Anger requires too much work for him to bother to get fussed half the time. He burned cold maybe once or twice in his life, and it sputtered out just as quick as it appeared. Maintaining it was too much for a guy like him.

No wonder he ended up the way he did, huh?]

Oh yeah, went straight from the, uh, proverbial frying pan and into the fire, as they like to say. At least home wasn't full of things trying to kill ya.

[Wasn't "full" of them, maybe. But oh, they sure were there, weren't they?]

[She's now scanning the ceiling, trying to judge how far away it is and what sort of wings she'd need to reach it.]

Well...no cave goes on forever, yes? There must be a topside somewhere up there. Anyone tried digging through the roof yet? Could fly up and turn myself into some sort of reverse oil drill, I'd wager...

[But if actual gods want them here, it's probably not that simple. She turns her head into a drill bit anyway, for emphasis.]

Hate to break it to ya, but I think if it were that simple the people here would've tried it already. This place has...well, it's my understanding that it's been around for a while, and so've the people in it.

[But then, he always did give up easy. No real point, huh? For all they know they could just be in some kinda isolated pocket space, some kinda extant dimension removed from everything else.

But that'd be ridiculous, right?]

Hmmm.

And...

[An alarming thought has occurred to her, and she smiles rather thinly.]

Going home, I imagine. Not that simple either, is it?

Nope.

[He spreads his arms wide in an artless shrug, exaggerated indifference rolling off from every line in his grin, the knowing downward wink of one eyesocket.]

Once you're here, you're kinda here to stay. 'Til such a time that the gods don't want you anymore. But I guess they ain't ones for rhyme or reason, or predictable patterns of any kind.

[Ah.]

[So.]

[This isn't a case of borrowing, then. This is a case of kidnapping. Some asshole has gone and yanked her right off the Tree entirely.]

[And back home...]

I see.

[He looks like he doesn't even care. He even winks at her, because it is, after all, objectively hilarious. Does that come from being here for so long that he's gotten used to it, or does he just have practice for that sort of thing? Take nothing seriously and nothing serious will take you, her parents used to say.]

[But back home...]

[She pushes another loose brick off the edge of the roof. It doesn't even hit a zombie, just smashes to pieces on the pavement.]

And being gods, I would suppose that they don't much care whether someone is needed elsewhere.

[She peers over the side. The sound of smashing bricks has drawn a handful of zombies. Camille props her hands on her hips.]

Everything dies, every single thing, even the sort that would claim to be immortal. [Her grin splits her face in half, her teeth like that of an angler fish.] If my sister dies because I'm here and not there, I suppose I'll have to decide that I do have truck with gods.

[Well, okie fucking dokie then. That is a grin that rivals his, honestly, an impressive feat. It just goes and bisects her face, huh.

Yeah, she don't seem too pleased about that. Must be nice to care that much about the way things are back home, huh? Must be awful nice to have that kind of passion and strength sealed up in your SOUL.

Must be nice.

'Course, it must also suck to high hell.

Sure looks like it.

Sans grins.]

Nah, sorry. They don't much care who they pull in, or how long they keep 'em here. Hard to really say.

Like you said - they are gods.

[She clears her throat and her face reforms itself, or rather, now she has a cat's head. The fur and general cat-ness stop very abruptly at her neck.]

[Sure, it's nice to care, and also terrible, though it helps a lot that most Folk don't care about much beyond their immediate interests. Family, friends, territory, possessions, that sort of thing. Amorphs are even more insular than the average.]

[Family is just very important to her, and she's already lost one sibling already.]

No need to apologize. I'm not in the habit of eating the messenger. Either way, I suppose I'll have to have a chat with one of them sometime in the near future.

...What sort of gods, anyway? Gods usually have a shtick, I've found. You said they were emotions-based?

casually collecting skels

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sans stares into the camera like he's on the office

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cw mild body horror

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