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

[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.

Brings us...back?

[Oh, that's. That's.]

[That's relevant.]

[It's the first time in the conversation that she's actually looked quite a bit unsettled. Her cat ears press backward.]

Does he, ah, have the decency to...bring us back as ourselves, or...?

[Hmm. Yeah, that wasn't a real favorable reaction. Sans's skull lists to one side in quiet contemplation as he considers her words. Bring us back as ourselves. You lose somethin' somewhere along the way back to the land of the living, pal? Drop somethin' in the Styx?

Sans, personally, wouldn't worry about it. But then, he didn't have to die to lose all the important things. Not in any of the conventional ways.]

Far as I can tell, yeah. You'd have to ask someone's gone and done it.

[What is dead should stay dead. If it comes back, in her experience, then...well.]

[She looks down at the zombies again.]

[Maybe there is something to be said for the horror behind corpses getting up and walking around. Trying to kill you. Trying to kill you, even if maybe they once knew you.]

Bit unnatural, that.

[He shakes herself out and turns herself all the way into a cat, albeit one still wearing a miniature version of Sans's hoodie. She hops up onto the roof edge and settles down, loaf style.]

But then, one person's unnatural is another person's natural, I've found. Suppose I can't complain, if the second chance is real. Though, gods and all, I'd imagine there are strings attached to that sorta thing.

I imagine there is, yeah. Unless those strings are just, "you're here now forever, congrats on your new underground home, you're welcome."

[That's what he'd assume, but then again, he's got no clue. He doesn't know anyone who's died and come back.

Just someone who's died. Just the one person. She'd gone in scared, however much she insisted to the contrary. He didn't blame her for that, nor did he blame her for that rampant state of denial.

All things must die.]

Mmm, indeed! Yes, I can tell, this place is going to be a lovely summer home. Caves full of stupid things looking to nosh on tasty Folk, ridiculous fake gods, dubious second chances, and all while no doubt things go to utter hell back home!

[She turns her whiskers forward in a cat smile and peers up at him, tail lashing slightly.]

Tell me another joke, Bluebird of Happiness! Cheer me up!

[Uh-huh, sounds like she's startin' to get it. Sans nods with a conceding shrug of his shoulders as if to say, yeah, pretty much. She really just about covered it right there. Someone should stick it on the pamphlet. Make it the cave tagline.

He quirks a supraorbital ridge in mild amusement.]

Bluebird of Happiness?

["Happiness," he imagines, because of the grin (close enough) and "Bluebird" because...ah. Right. The jacket. The jacket whose clone she decided to start wearing. Guess he's really selling it as a fashion statement.]

Uh, all right. What d'you get when you cross a joke with an existential crisis?

Hu hu hu! Little fluffy bluebird, you are! And all smiles. Funny thing, if you look at a bluebird straight on, they look so angry and indignant! Ah, but don't worry. Too big a bluebird for this little cat right now~

[Yeah, yep, that nickname's gonna stick.]

Ooh! What do you get when you cross a joke and an existential crisis?

["Fluffy" is sure not the word he'd use to describe himself. But, uh...yeah. Okay. Not the weirdest nickname he's received or dealt out to somebody. He can handle it.

Sans abruptly adopts a faux-panicked tone of voice.]

Oh. Oh god. Oh god. What do you get?!

[The sudden increase in volume is only mildly startling, and it takes her a second to get the joke at all. She's not particularly prone to existential crises, though she has certainly, well. Seen then happen.]

Pffft! Hu hu hu! That's terrible! I love it, hu hu!

Okay! Okay, let me think of one. One that will hopefully translate from my, ah, plane? World? Hmmm, hm hm hm, I'm not as good at this as you. Ah, how about! Why are bread jokes so funny?

[Heh, yeah, that's always a good one. A bit abstract, but that never hurt anybody. Abstraction is where all the good humor's at.

Sans chuckles, regarding her with amusement.]

I hate to say this, being such a distinguished "loafer" myself but - I dunno. Why're break jokes a hoot?

[She grins, which looks totally unnatural on a cat.]

Because they never get mold! Hu hu hu!

[Eh, so it looks a bit strange on a cat's face. No stranger than a lot of strange things he sees. He's a purveyor of strange things. Heck, he is one.

He laughs.]

Man, that one was crumb-y.

Hu hu, it's true, very true! All the jokes I have are rather old and crusty!

[Oh god.

Don't get him started.]

Crusty? Nah, that ain't the word I'd use.

The word you're lookin' for is stale.

Ciabatta believe it, buddy. Bread-based wordplay is just one of the cornerstones of comedy, didn't ya know?

[He winks.]

Guess you could say I'm on a roll here.

But I don't fault ya for that, y'know? Food as a topic of comedy is a very loaded market, I've found. The yeast we can do is make the best of it, huh?

[The number of times he's been kicked outta Grillby's or the Snowdin shop for bein' a bit too smart, yeesh. It's always with considerable fondness, though, so he won't fault them for that either.

Or he wouldn't, if any of them were still alive.]

We knead to go deeper.

But don't take my word for it! I mean, what if y'just up and trusted me like it was nothin'? I could be givin' you two truths and a rye here!

[YOU'RE PLAYING IN HIS COURT NOW. GAME. SET. MATCH.]

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DONE