aftr_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

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*test drive meme

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

Test Drive Meme #1

Hello, and welcome to our very first test drive! We’re pleased that you’re expressing an interest in the game. Here, you can test the waters, gauge how your character may fare in the world of LifeAftr, and even gain some in-game incentives, if you so choose.

Remember that Reserves will open on July 17th and that Applications will open on July 24th, in preparation for the game’s official opening on August 3rd!

But first, two important notes!

1. The island of Mu exists apart from the real world and possesses a dream-like quality that characters are innately aware of from the moment they appear on its shores. No need to panic or fret. Dreams are odd things, after all - and anything can happen in them. Why would anyone question where their mind chooses to wander in its sleep?

2. Due to the nature of Mu, threads in our test drive can not only be accepted as thread samples in your application, but can be accepted as game canon as well. In fact, certain choices your character makes in Mu have the potential to bear in-game consequences.

Shipwrecked
The white sand of the beach ridges the island’s edge, even if the clear water soon becomes murky the further out you look across the horizon until the turquoise gleam of the tide disappears in a coil of surrounding fog. Indeed, your best prospects may very well be to strike out among the trees or the crags looming out over the foam-capped waves. There’s lumber to be found and made from the palm-like trees, potentially fruit or edible tubers of some kind if you forage about some. The further you travel, however, the more of your surroundings will reveal themselves in a steady unspooling of curiosities.

One corner of Mu’s current construct drops away into a sheer cliff, initially too dangerous to brave for all but the more daredevilish, but if one starts to scan the sharp rocks below, you might catch sight of what appears to be sodden planks of wood - a wreckage tossed up against the rocks. And a little further...a bobbing, shattered wreck of a lifeboat’s remains, potentially bearing supplies that might yet be salvageable.

Fashion what you can from the wood and stone around you or scavenge from the ruin of the land, if you like. But you can’t simply stand around and wait forever. It’s going to get dark sometime - and if a creature of unknown terror doesn’t catch you, the elements surely will.

Storytime

There’s a sense of camaraderie in this cove, you think. As the sun hangs low over the horizon, the world cast into orange hues, long shadows dispersed by roaring fires that dot across the beach.

That’s right, folks: it’s storytime.

There’s no one to preside over this meeting of the minds in Mu. Call it a vague recreation of things to come, if you like, some vaguely fatidic dreamlike state where you may find yourself drawn to the heat and company that awaits you by the fire. And from there, compelled to default to that old instinct that most of intelligent civilization has revered since they were advanced enough to paint geometric shapes on cave walls.

You tell a story.

Perhaps it’s a tragedy, a tale of woe and of personal loss. Perhaps it’s the sort of thing you’d break out after a few rounds of your alcoholic beverage of choice, clapping hands to your knees as you try to bite back your mirth long enough to spill the punchline. Perhaps it’s an adventure of some sort, some unbelievable rendition of your past exploits. The only common thread to be had, as those gathered around the fire share their tales, is the fundamental rule of a ritualistic sharing of stories such as this: its truth.

But how one chooses to define "truth" is, in its own way, another story entirely...

Dance, Sucker, Dance!
The beat of your heart in your chest is difficult to ignore. It judders with a pulsing, rhythmic quality. If you’re one of those that lacks a heart, the beat is still omnipresent and all-encompassing, until your entire body is unwittingly bobbing in time to a metronomic tune that seems ingrained into your very soul. It’s inescapable. You can’t seem to move unless it’s in time to the rhythm that’s now singing in every atom of your being.

But rest assured, you’re not alone in this musical curse. Everything, from the swaying trees to the waves against the beach, jumps in time to the music. And so do the monsters approaching you, that - wait a minute.

Monsters?

Oh, yes. Did we mention those?

It seems you’ve encountered the wrath of the Boogieman, who curses you to only dance to his infernal beat. If you wish to best him, you’ll have to either evade or destroy the blobs of greenish slime that serve as his minions, all in time to the hard beat of the tune in your head. Clear the radius of his curse or risk an open confrontation, if you dare. Don’t worry if you look foolish; chances are anyone else caught in the Boogieman’s thrall feels just the same.

Mu isn’t pulling any punches to start with. It is a flighty creation, after all, and seems to revel in displacing people into new and uncomfortable situations.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

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[shipwrecked]

It's been too damn long since Lup felt or saw anything, even something that feels like a dream, like she's finally lost it in her shitty curtained prison and checked out temporarily from all the frustration and worry. So wherever this is, however she's here, she's going to enjoy it while it lasts. For a little while, she just sits by the shore, taking in the sound of the waves, the smell of the ocean, the brilliant blue of the sky and the sense of wide open limitless space.

But being still isn't her style, so she's on her feet soon enough, wandering along the beach and whistling a jaunty tune. Not far off, her foot knocks against something buried in the sand, something long and wooden and deceptively unassuming. It's the Umbra Staff, the thing that has been keeping her from her brother, from all of her family while they went through so much, while she should have been at their side. She nearly crushes it right back into the dirt, wants to snap it in half and kick it into the ocean. But seeing it again from the outside, the gorgeous fabric and the wrought wooden handle, she remembers how hard she'd worked on creating it. And how Taako had tried to drag her for it, which was how she knew she'd never have cooler gear than this. Besides, what good's breaking a stupid dream umbrella gonna do? She'd just end up looking like some kind of deranged umbrella hater, no thanks.

So geared up, she eventually reaches the edge of a cliff, and what is that her elf eyes see down below on the rocks? Free dream-shit, is what. Hesitating for exactly zero seconds, she launches herself off the edge, free-falling almost too long before she opens the umbrella and lets Feather Fall do the rest. Fantasy Mary Poppins has nothing on Lup as she gracefully glides downward, scarlet robe billowing, grinning and hollering "Incomiiiing!" to anyone in her trajectory.

[dance, suckers]

Looking foolish is for other people. When the beat starts, Lup is into it immediately, at first idly tapping a rhythm with the Umbra Staff, then striking increasingly complex poses. It's fresh as hell and she doesn't care who sees it. By the time some green slimes come crawling out of the woodwork, she's about ready for a battle of dance or attack moves, so that works out great. Making first contact with a bunch of dream slimes is probably not part of the mish, she figures and starts things off with a good old Scorching Ray, hitting three slimes square in the goop with bright rays of fire, a fourth ray sailing just a little off course and lighting a tree on fire instead. Just a bit, barely worth noting. Two of the slimes go up in flames and melt. Lup dabs.

That's some pretty impressive hollering, the Doctor notes, as he does some less impressive getting out of the way. Do umbrellas really work like that? They really probably shouldn't. It's a good thing that one apparently does, or he'd have expected her to leave a trail like a meteor upon landing. Who just jumps off of high things like that? Scratch that question. "You're either very good at physics, or very bad at it, one of the two."

Lup sticks the landing, naturally, and definitely not on any hobo looking old dudes. Good on him for not getting underfoot, though he could stand to be a little more impressed. "Homie, I'm very good at everything I do," she says with a grin and a wink, snapping the umbrella closed. She takes a quick look around, assessing the situation - he seems to be the only one down here, right next to the potential loot. Is she gonna have to fight somebody's grandpa for dream treasure? Who comes up with these things?

"So, fine day for a walk on the beach, huh? You come here often?" she asks instead, nonchalantly, just to check if he's even interested in the wreckage at all.

Why is this mysterious floaty person talking to him like she's caught on he's escaped from somewhere and is trying to gauge his potential rowdiness? And why does she get to have made the cooler entrance? That's strike one. "No, I've never dreamed this particular beach before. I thought there might have been survivors." He says this in the same spirit of appraisal. He's the kind of person who looks for people to save in dreams even when he knows that's what it is; what's her reason for missiling off a cliff? Actually, scratch that, there's a more pressing issue. This is probably the most painful question the Doctor has ever had to ask. Thousands of years, heartfelt losses, crushing defeats, but this is it, his biggest sacrifice yet. There's just no avoiding it, he can't not ask, even though gravity's his business and it's probably just a dream thing and-- "How'd you do that?"

Well isn't he a good Boy Scout, looking for survivors in a dream. Not interested in boat junk, then, if he's legit, which she isn't sure she believes yet. There's something shifty about this guy, she can tell with her impeccable sense for fellow hustlers. It's like they're trying to rate each other on a scale from inconvenience to trouble ~~on the flighty broads and their snarky horseshitometer~~.

For now though, his question gives her something to laugh at as she leans the umbrella over her shoulder like a really cool gun. "What, you've never seen magic before? Your plane must be boring as hell." Seriously though, what's he doing here. "How were you planning on rescuing people from a dream? Slap 'em awake?"

Edited 2017-07-25 21:23 (UTC)

Magic, alright then. No amount of staring is going to make that a better answer, but he can still give it a shot. It's not like it couldn't be magic, or, well, whatever. It's a word that gets thrown around, maybe a little imprudently, and unless someone is using it as an excuse to do outrageously shortsighted things, he's usually not one to quibble, and that's more superstition than magic. Umbrella or not, she doesn't look very whimsical, however. "It can't be that boring, or I'd be out of a job. If sometimes my job is to slap people in dreams, so be it." He shrugs. It's his plane to insult, is the thing. Maybe a fixer-upper, but he likes to think he's done some good things with it. "Any significantly advanced science is indistinguishable from magic," which is about the second truest thing that was ever probably in a sci-fi novel, right after the one about free lunches. "I like to explain it with food metaphors, usually. Is that what you mean?" It's a very respectful question, surprisingly enough, and there's a pretty tangible effort behind that. Normally he'd be making rude mouth noises instead of saying words by now.

Lup's pretty used to being stared at, but they're usually of the 'dazzled and amazed' variety, not whatever owly nonsense is going on with his face right now. She stares back like she's in it to win it.

Dumb face aside, he follows that up with something notably intelligent and she twitches an ear, minimally more interested. "I know a thing or two about significantly advanced science and you can't really have it without magic, at least not most places I've been to. But they're not the same, like, some kids out on the road can cast Prestidigitation before they can do maths." Not anyone she knows, obvs. "And this thing?," she tilts the Umbra Staff, briefly charging a Fireball on its tip but dismissing the spell before it wastes a slot, "100% arcane arts, baby."

And now she is doing magic with the umbrella, okay. The Doctor can't even muster any internal scare quotes. How even to unpack those various and very matter of factly delivered statements, where to start. What comes out is an uncharacteristically meek yet slightly offended, "I think you can have advanced science without magic, actually." He isn't exactly sure how he would prove that, if called upon to do so. He didn't come to this dream planning on discussing the boundaries of magic and science, which feels like an oversight now. He shakes his head, a little like he's being menaced by some kind of aggravating insect, and that insect is a bunch of words someone just said. Most places? "I mean, I've got a time machine. That's not magic-magic." There's probably a better argument than that, but he's not even really sure why he's arguing, which means it's time for a detour. "You know, that's always bugged me. Arcane isn't just a five dollar word for magical. How arcane can the arts really be if people know about them?" Checkmate, wizards.

Hang on, so he's just gonna throw 'time machine' out there like they're a dime a dozen and then try to squabble semantics? This guy's priorities are on a whole 'nother level, huh. She rolls her eyes, waving away his question impatiently. "Look, you know about music, or, or cooking, right, probably had a baller cake once, but that doesn't mean you get it. Magic takes years of practice and study and a whole lotta talent, there's levels, it's a whole thing." It's not like she'd mind demonstrating the finer points of rad wizardry to a captive audience, but maybe later. Time to get this conversation back on track.

"So, a time machine, no shit? What's it do, how is it powered if not by magic? Is it more of a divine connection?" There's real enthusiasm behind her questions, but also time isn't something to be fucked with, and if someone's fucking with it she wants to know.

He will be the judge of what time it is or isn't, thank you very much arcane arts umbrella person. "What do you mean, what does it do? It's a time machine, it doesn't make copies." What kind of question was that. That was companion level, honestly. "I think it's powered mostly by stubbornness. And energy, but it's the bog standard scientific kind, black holes, the odd temporal rift, that kind of thing." He hurries past this verbally, because it's kind of a non-question. What next, how many gears does it have? Maybe he should do the math and work out the TARDIS' horsepower. He'd need a bigger beach. "Right, so why not just call it magic, then? It doesn't matter how baller the cake is," he is committed, but he doesn't have to like this, "It's still just called baking. By your logic I could call anything an arcane art as long no one around me can do it. Look at me, arcanely yo-yo-ing. Is that how things work?" It doesn't sound that far off, actually. He waves that away haphazardly, already looking for a writing stick, just in case.

This fella is getting pretty sassy with her, isn't he. She'd be annoyed if it wasn't tickling her mile wide competitive streak. So instead she cocks an eyebrow and a hip. "Listen, I'm not gonna tell you you can't be the chief arcane yo-yo-ist, or whatever, you do you. But where I'm from, arcana is a synonym for all kinds of magic, lore, planar studies, all that good shit. That's how words, you know, work? I mean, why do squirrells have so many words for nuts, right?" Honestly, that's just entry level xenolinguistics, what's his beef here. She says the last bit like it's a well-known fact among intelligent beings, even though he probably doesn't know at all, which is kind of the point.

Anyway she wasn't done talking about non-magical time science, thanks. "I mean machines are good for a lotta things. For all I know it's a fancy rice cooker. That's cool I guess." She shrugs, a cooly calculated motion of indifference. That's bound to get a pedantic guy like him talking.

Is that a saying, or does she talk to animals now too? Is it like this when he does this to people? He's sure it isn't. He'll allow the use of the word arcane for now but only very grudgingly and under the extreme duress of losing what he's not actually sure is an argument. This might just be what people call talking, and she's just getting to do an unusual amount of it with a lot more ballast than he generally allows.

"The TARDIS isn't a machine," he doesn't even, "I mean, a time machine, yes. But alive, and definitely not a rice cooker. More like the whole kitchen." He digresses, visibly. "Infinite kitchens, I like to keep them on shuffle." Did that work, he feels like it didn't. "It travels in time, and only incidentally makes rice. You could do the rice, cooked rice is a possible point on any rice's timeline. But it's still science."

Jackpot. That's loads more interesting than anything he's said this far. "So you travel through time in infinite kitchens that are both alive and science?" she says like he's just confirmed not so secretly held suspicions of senility. But then a grin lights up her whole face, because, "That sounds like a hell of a ride! I never thought stubbornness counts as a type of bond, but you know what, I'm not even surprised. So what do you do with it, go back in time and invent sandwiches before whoever originally did it? Because that's what I would do for sure." They're in the shit now, old man.

Yes, they are indeed in the shit. He didn't really come into this expecting to discuss the TARDIS and his travels in much the same tenor as discussing muscle cars in a bar, but oh well. "There's a little of that," he does allow, having one time pre-invented 'dude' out of sheer nihilistic fuckor. "But I try to avoid anachronisms mostly." ~~Hey does she know Zone of Truth by any chance~~ "Mainly I use it to travel and help out, when I find people who need it. It's a big universe, so that's kept me busy for a couple thousand years. That sandwich thing, though," he manages to point to an idea like it's a tangible object, "I'll make sure and get to that soon." She got a few points for calling it a hell of a ride, can you blame him.

"What about you, and your arcane arts? What's that for?" This challenge is mostly just issued out of reflex, before the next actually important thought can bubble up. "And what do bonds have to do with anything?"

Hey maybe he's not so bad after all, not as stuck up as he started out with whatever bones he had to pick with arcane terminology. And there's the helping people again, maybe that really is his deal. Her and her crew didn't always strike people as the type to try and rescue entire worlds either. Probably more like wandering doomsayers trying to con them out of resources. Well, besides Magnus, you can just smell the heroism on him. God she misses them all. She privately wrestles that thought to the ground like she's done so many times before, trying to ignore the fact that she's going to go back to her prison after whatever the hell this spa day is.

"What aren't arcane arts for?" she quips, slightly flattened ears the only indication of her inner turmoil. "Personally I'm into Evocation, the bigger the explosions, the better. My friends and I, we've been fighting this big awful force that consumes whole planar systems like they're an All You Can Eat. Bonds are what powers our ship for planar travel, so I figure it's what your machine runs on too." Kinda a lot of info to just hand out, but what does it really matter, here? Suddenly she doesn't feel like standing still anymore and sets out towards the wreck, expecting him to follow. "A couple thousand years, and you haven't come up with a better name for your kitchens?"

From his spot in the branches - a good vantage point from which to see the approach of the strange greenish slime blobs and evade them as necessary - Angus watches this Taako lookalike dispatch (most of) the blobs with ease, and also panache. She also dispatches his stealth hideout, unfortunately, but with a good roll and his high dex modifier he lands with relative ease (and probably a squeak).

"Hello ma'am! My name is Angus McDonald! Allow me!" With the sort of shuffling dance move reserved for children who aren't totally sure how to control their body yet, Angus takes out his wand and points it at the remaining slime, casting a respectable Fire Bolt. It doesn't annihilate the creature, but it's looking pretty rough right now.

What kinda cute lil peach did she just blast out of that tree? Lup is startled for just a sec by how familiar his voice sounds before a grin spreads on her face as she recognizes Taako's little apprentice. And he's quick on the draw, too. "Atta boy!" she cheers, giving him a thumbs up and then vaulting over to him, out of the way of another slime trying to ooze on her from a branch. These things sure are tenacious. And not alone, judging by the hella suspicious figure shrouded in shadows further into the jungle.

Matching Angus' adorable little shuffle, she sways her hips to the soundless beat on the spot for the moment. "My name's Lup! Think you can keep blasting these blobs while I take a look at Tall, Dark and Broody over there?"

Angus stays silent for a moment, regarding Lup with slack-jawed awe and wonderment. Her effortless dancing! Her expert wizardly magics! Her enthusiastic positive reinforcement and lack of immediate dismissal because of Angus' age! He has just met her and he loves her.

Behind the amazement, his detective mind churns, trying to piece the puzzle together. She looks and sounds like Mr. Taako, like maybe he Polymorphed himself to be a girl. Of course, Fantasy Occam's Razor would suggest the simpler solution: that Mr. Taako - that...

Angus blinks. Mr. Taako... ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░. When Angus tries to follow that line of thought, the conclusion slips away from him, like a lost word on a tip of his tongue that he just can't remember. But it makes so much sense! If it isn't Taako himself, then, then...

He shakes the thought away. Danger first, mystery (or mysteries: why dancing?) second. "My name is Angus McDonald and I - my..." His cheerful smile gets a little more crooked. "My mentor says that I'm - I'm getting real good at wizardly magics!" Well, he gave Angus a compliment once? "I'll watch your six, Miss Lup!" And just for good measure, and also maybe to impress her, he too casts Scorching Ray at the slimes nearest her. One ray sputters out before it hits, one lands and melts a slime, and the third ray - well, that slime explodes.

Aw bless him, he's so amazed by her he straight up introduces himself twice. No wonder her brother has a soft spot for this precious bean. "I bet that's exactly what he said," she chuckles before she vogues off into the forest, stopping only to whoop again when Angus lands an excellent damage roll. "Light 'em up, little man!" she shouts and pirouettes out of the way of another blob trying to splash at her legs, retaliating with a quick Fire Bolt. Maybe Taako will let her borrow him some time, there's plenty more cool evocation spells he might like to learn.

As she gets closer to the mysterious figure, it appears to be someone dressed in a freaky mask and cloak, which doesn't exactly make them rank higher on the trustworthiness scale. "Hey asshole, looks like you dropped a bunch of gargantuan snot balls! Mind cleaning them up?" She levels the umbrella at them and waits for a reaction, only her foot tapping rhythmically and impatiently.

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TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

and here she is, Lup Adventure Zone (spoilers for ep 67)

can i get a uhhhhhhhh cool magicians on the beach

sry i only see one cool magician here

ouch

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see that girl, watch that scene

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