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

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?

Well, good. I've had just about enough of things tryin' to eat me, and nobody wants to get a bunch of old bones stuck down their throat.

[~~tell that to your improbable number of fangirls sans but ok~~

He nods tiredly.]

Yep. You got Hope, you got Fear, you got Delight, Rage, and Sorrow. Not all of 'em are what you'd expect, though. This? [He opens a bony hand to gesture at the putrefying hordes below.] I'd guess this is Fear's doing. That's pretty obvious.

What's not obvious is that Fear cannot tell a scary story to save his life.

Weellll...

[She peers at him for a moment before shrugging. There's several entire species back home that would beg to differ, but it's probably best not to bring it up.]

What, no Melancholy? No Ennui? No Schadenfreude? What a shame. [She clicks her tongue.] And of course this would be the work of someone styling themself as Fear.

[She snickers a little at the comment, though it comes out a bit like hissing with the cat head.]</small Not seen a proper scary movie in awhile, I'd reckon. Awful human-centric, too, but I suppose it's hard to make a movie that pleases all audiences. Or frightens them, in this case.

Yeah, looks like they're just the basics for now. Every now and then we get to vote Hadriel's Next Top Emotion on in. 'Pparently you get incentives.

[GPS. Orchards full of things that a skeleton like him can't eat. Yeah, real great incentives. He'll just feel goddamn fantastic about it.

"Sleeping," he's pretty sure, is an emotion, and should be ranked high on the list. But it ain't. What a loss for everyone involved.]

Real great place we got here, huh?

[She blinks owlishly at him, or at least cattishly.]

...That's the silliest damn thing I've ever heard. What possible incentive could there be for Fear? Fear is annoying at best and pointless at worst.

[She heaves a sigh. Stuck here, worlds away from her cafe and her sister, and she has to put up with Vote Your Favorite God Onto the Island or...whatever? This is absurd. Usually she likes absurd, but this is where she draws the line.]

[Apparently it's where the small skeleton draws the line too, judging by his tone.]

Oh, indeed! Quite the tourist destination! Are we allowed to just vote all the gods off the island? Because that, I could get behind!

I dunno, man. I wasn't here to vote the guy in. Assumin' he wasn't here to begin with.

["Sorrow," though. Nice for them to feel like shit for a few days, all for something Sans couldn't even eat since none of the fruit was calibrated to accommodate someone made of magic.]

You could always talk to 'em yourself. They like to talk to us here and again. Pretty far up their respective high horses, though.

Powers above. [She massages her kitty forehead.] Voting for gods. This is dumb.

Oh, I think I absolutely will be having some words with them. Hmm, I wonder...can you punch a god in the face? Being smited or whatever might put a damper on things, buuuutttt...

[The temptation is Real.]

[Oh boy.]

Oh boy.

[He eyes her with a peculiar mixture of expressions that might be difficult to discern in their entirety - curiosity, maybe. Intrigue. Bemusement. Concern?

Nah, concern sounds too much like "worry," and he doesn't deal in worry. Not especially.]

Rage'll have a real field day with that one.

[He looks...bewildered, maybe? She's discovering that it's awfully hard to read an expression without, yanno, skin and muscle, or at least magic pretending to be skin and muscle.]

[Still, she likes that expression and grins brightly at him, clapping her hands in front of her.]

Oh, but just imagine the headlines! "Local Crazy Fistfights Actual God of Anger." I'd be famous! Posthumously. They'd make me into one of those...those...those silly things they put on the internet. Where they take pictures of cats and put words on them. Shame that I won't be remembered for my pies instead, but one has so little time on one's hands. Doubt they hand out blue ribbons down here, anyway.

[She laughs, still that weird giggle of hers.]

Though to be quite fair, I think Rage might be one of the few I'd get along with.

Death ain't really permanent here anyway. Hope brings ya back after a few days.

[If he's anything but nonplussed about that, it doesn't show in his expression. He more or less just seems resigned to it. Kinda just how things are with him. The slow cascade of changing circumstances that he accepts as they come, because what the hell else is he gonna do about it?]

So, uh, yeah, there's that little tidbit that I think you'll find relevant.

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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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