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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

open the door, get on the floor

Y'know... at times, Wade thinks he should ruminate on the directions his life had taken. He thinks that maybe one say he should sit down and really hash it out with himself regarding the paths he's chosen. He thinks that maybe, if he were the kind of man for that sort of deep introspection, he would be able to pinpoint the exact moment that his life got so fucking weird.

But he isn't. And if there's one thing Wade W. Wilson is good at, it's dancing to a different beat.

The creature that stands before him is an ugly motherfucker, tall and humanoid with a strange looking mask adorning its face like some sort of old-timey gas mask. Surrounding it are amoeba-like oozes that pulse and squelch and shudder their way towards him. But Wade doesn't really concern himself with that. He's got the music in him.

He stands still as a statue, almost impossibly still considering who he is, and stares the masked creature down with a look of confident self-assurance. If he'd come with hype men they'd be losing their shit in the background right now. Slowly his legs begin to move in the stomping, staccato beat of a Flamenco dance, his hips quickly following; succumbing to the music even as he never takes his eyes off his quarry.

"Aww, yeah. You see this shit? Get ready for the thunder, motherfucker. Jose Greco, eat your heart out."

A soft metallic shing of sound as he unsheathes the katanas at his back. The blobs have shifted closer, but he spares them only a cursory glance, never stopping his movements. Hopefully Tall, Dark and Fugly over there will be too distracted by his fancy footwork to notice when he buries the blade in its skull. After he takes out its flunkies one by one, of course. He's nothing if not thorough.

Edited 2017-07-15 02:29 (UTC)

This continues to be really stupid.

But the Batter is nothing if not determined to see this battle reach its conclusion and the beast purified. Even if the means of doing so are unconventional at best. Nothing like the battles with the specters that he was so used to during his mission.

Things were different in this Zone, that much was clear, and the Batter would have to adapt one way or another.

However that needs to be left to the wayside for the moment. Wade has a new dance partner in the form of a baseball player coming in on his left side. The Batter has been at this for awhile, the creatures the main beast had been spawning have been keeping him quite busy. The Batter isn't tired but it's clear from his moments that....he's really bad at dancing, his movements too stiff and jerky to resemble anything a trained dancer would know.

But that's not stopping him from slamming his bat into the blobs when they come close enough to get into his range. The Batter isn't also one for mid-battle dialog but he has taken notice of Wade and the strange, bladed weapons he was using to cut his foes down. Interesting...

A dance partner, huh? Judging by the way this guy moves like he's got a load in his pants, "dance" is most definitely a very loose term. Wade eyes the Batter's technique as he, er... bats away a slime that's gotten a bit too close, the flashy movements of his hips and legs degenerating into a more subtle, but no less fluid, two-step. Eesh. Dude's graceful enough when he winds up, but his moves are awful.

"Uhh... hey, A-Rod? Not that I'm about to stifle a brother's flair or anything, but you're kinda crampin' my style here."

Pretty sure you are way too white to say "brother" like that, Wade.

Look. He was made for three things: walking, barely talking and beating up ghosts ~~and children~~ with a baseball bat. Dancing, if it had been added, would be placed very far down the list in favor of more practical things.

Besides, the battle with that girl in Zone 0 already made it clear the Batter was terrible at dancing. Although he had never had it put so...strangely.

There's a delay in the Batter's response as another slime gets too close for comfort, the distinct smell of burning plastic in the air as Run With Grace fires off and he yet again slams his bat against the creature to send it flying. Home run.

"I am not attempting to." And he honestly isn't. The other man clearly knows more about dance than he ever will and is much faster at it as well, so it would be disadvantageous to get in his way. And if that is the case...

"Take out the main impurity. I will handle the rest."

Well damn, it's about time a bro knew how to dance in this place. Count on it to be the equally weird as heck, uh...that is a person, right? Honestly, Guzma can't even tell with how brightly colored that outfit is (isn't he hot??). Whatever the case though, the beat sinks down into him as well, again son of a fuck, and he gives a loud groan of resigned anguish. Really? Again? Well, at least he knows now those goopy things aren't actually Grimer. That way, he can actually knock them around without 1.) getting his skin practically melted off, and 2.) feel deeply concerned they're getting diced like fresh produce.

That's not a Doublade, and it's actually a little frightening that this weirdo actually might an actual weapon on him - though pokemon themselves are potentially very dangerous in the wild and with a psychopathic trainer (he knows firsthand) - Guzma snorts loudly.

"Bro, what kinda music you rocking to? This deadbeat's swinging with the geezer's, lemme mix it up." Guzma clicks his tongue, purses his lips, and begins to beatbox. Flamenco? Hell nah, that's not the jive he grooves to. If he has to make a fool of himself in front of the giant twizzler over here, he's going to at least bust a move in the best way he knows how.

C'mon, man, he's giving you a beat - show him you've got move than just a few hip waggles and leg kicks. Get loose, get wild, because Guzma intends to breakdance after a string of beats, and with his legs going every which way, he could easily send one of those slimes flying out toward the shallows.

Well, at least he didn't decide to switch to dubstep. Thank god for small favors. Fixing the kid with a glare-- god forbid he decide to make this stupid dance battle classy or anything-- Wade foregoes the flamenco for now and segues into an absolutely vicious pop and lock, allowing Guzma's admittedly passable beatboxing to take him through the motions. A slime suddenly lunges toward him; Wade drops into a roll away from it, twisting his body into a tight air flare while lashing out with his sword arm to bisect whatever slimes are in his reach.

Wade keeps up his momentum, twisting around and around on his forearms, a veritable whirlwind of red and black fabric and steel, dodging the slimes' advances while slicing and dicing any poor blobs that are unlucky enough to be within stabbing range. Impressed yet, Guzma? It only took him a few tries to perfect this move, and he's only cut his limbs off three times in the process.

Guzma has had enough 'class' (and flamenco/tango) for one day, thanks. And let's face it, Guzma probably has as much class as he has etiquette. Thankfully, the Red Hoenn Ranger over there can actually bust a move, and he raises a brow with a slow nod of appreciation - not bad, weirdo, not bad at all...especially that living blender move there. He has to admit, that is sick as all hell, though Guzma winces as the swords cut through the slimes. He still half thinks they're just a much stranger looking Alolan Grimer, and he leans back a bit, put off. Does that hurt them? I mean, they're literally made up of goop, so maybe not, but--

"Yo, homie, don't actually do them pokemon any real harm, yeah? Just knock 'em out, they'll usually run away..." It doesn't sit right with him to hurt a pokemon - irreparably hurt them, anyway - and he would never kill one. He may do bad things like steal and sell them for a quick buck, but he's not bloodthirsty or cruel enough to do anything worse.

Wade springs to his feet with surprising agility, shifting his grip on his blades and admiring the work they'd done on the slimes, when Guzma's warning suddenly registers in his brain. He chances a glance back at the man, foot still tapping with the beat even as his gaze turns skeptical.

"Wait-- these are Pokemon? For real?"

Forgive his ignorance, Guzma-- the only Pokemon he can recognize by sight is that Pikachu thing.

"Well, I mean...they the freakiest Alolan Grimer I ever sighted - and I'm a native, yeah - but, bro, what else could they be?!"

Lord, but is he glad someone else here knows what Pokemon are at last. It seemed everyone prior to this that he's run into hasn't heard of or seen a pokemon before in the slightest. Go figure the one who does is the Hoenn Ranger here, but whatever. This guy is pretty rad - Guzma's just concerned about how much damage he's doing.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Golisopod's Ultra Ball, head bopping to the beat that's still going strong in his soul. "I can clear you a path, I think, you head for the ringerleader." Guzma doesn't really care what happens to them.

"I'unno, maybe they're some weird generic enemy from one of those D&D-style games Weasel's always screaming about over Skype with his little nerd posse."

Not that Guzma has a single clue of what he's talking about, probably. Still, quite the gracious (and presumptuous) gent he's run into, offering to clear a path as if Wade had actually asked for his help. Wade cants his head slightly at Guzma, turning back once again to look at the slimy creatures who are inching closer and closer to them with every passing second. If he's right, though, and they are Pokemon...

Wade sheathes his sword once more, digging around in his pockets for a small round object that Guzma will instantly recognize. He rolls the Pokeball around in his fingers, his gaze fixated on their targets.

"Mind if my girl lends a hand in moppin' up? She could probably use the practice."

Edited 2017-08-10 02:48 (UTC)

Yeah, uh...you lost him, Wade. Guzma stares, dumbfounded, then shares a look with his Golisopod, who wriggles his antennae and shifts his posture. Nope, no idea, boss. Sorry. Shaking his head, Guzma files through his mind for which of Golisopod's moves would be best suited for this. Maybe a Swords Dance first, get his attack up to hit a little harder...oh! Snapped from his thought, because he never dreamed to actually see another trainer here where no one thus far knew what the beasties even were, Guzma's eyes widen.

"Yo, y'all actually got a Pokémon?!" He did not really expect that. I mean, the Hoenn Ranger here was doing pretty good on his own, so it never occurred he'd be an actual trainer. Now Guzma is curious, looking at the ball he holds intently. Wonder what he's got... If it matches that red theme, then maybe a Blaziken or some other fire type. Maybe a--

"Shi--Goli, on your right! Sucker Punch!" Oops, almost lost his concentration there. A slime launched itself at the big bug, but a quick, hard jab with those claws splatters it. "Well, if you got some backup, homie, I suggest you call the cavalry already!"

Oof, okay-- so this guy's creature is kinda huge and intimidating. Wade's starting to have second thoughts about letting Tibia out to play. Not that he's embarrassed of his little darling, of course not-- but she is very tiny and hasn't actually been in a real battle before. Still, he's not about to deprive her of what she's apparently been born to do, and honestly, there's really no better way of learning than just jumping in feet first.

Ultimately, it's Tibia who makes the decision for him. She pops out of the Pokeball as if she's been waiting for this opportunity all her life, her claw gripping her bone club and her eyes bright with eagerness and determination as she stares down her opponents. She doesn't cut nearly as imposing a figure as Guzma's Golisopod, especially not with that cute little red scarf around her neck, but there's something rather breathtaking about her posture nevertheless. Watching her, Wade doesn't bother to hide his smile of pride-- she truly is his little girl.

Golisopod is indeed very huge and intimidating, but it's all outward looks, truly. The big isopod is truly one of Guzma's more calm and friendly pokemon when outside of battle, quiet and rather gentle. He's very aware of how big he is, and how very strong he is, opting to take it slow and easy with others - especially his smaller, more delicate comrades.

His antennae twitch when the sound of a ball snapping open alerts him to another pokemon coming out, and while Golisopod isn't entirely used to a double battle, he's a team player through and through. He waits to see what emerges, standing ready to swat away anything that tries to ambush his battle partner.

"Yooo, a Cubone!" Guzma seems excited, and why shouldn't he be? Even if she's a tiny thing, Cubone have a huge type advantage against a poison-type like Alolan Grimer! And he's pretty confident his owner pokemon could tank up a Bulldoze, easy. "Nice, this gon' be a cinch now!"

Wade didn't understand what you said, but was encouraged anyway.

Guzma's enthusiasm is infectious to say the least, and Tibia seems galvanized by it. She squares her tiny shoulders, tightening her grip on her bone club and casting one glance back at Wade-- not out of uncertainty, but with the sharp-eyed demeanor of someone prepared to follow orders.

Wade offers her a nod of affirmation. "Floor's yours, baby girl. Just like we practiced." And Tibia doesn't need any more encouragement than that. She quickly makes her way over to the nearest slime in a way that can only be described as dancing, ducking out of the way as the creature throws a thick gob of itself at the little Pokemon. Tibia retaliates before it even has a chance to recover, viciously swiping with her weapon and reducing the ooze to a viscous paste on the sand.

The little Cubone is trembling now as she sets her sights on her next target, and Wade doesn't have to see her face to know that she's shaking with pure excitement. This is what she was born to do. She glances over at Golisopod, her eyes bright and shining with exhilaration.

Care to dance with her, Goli?

Tibia moves with the grace and elegance of her kind, and Guzma's almost sure she'd do her Alolan kin proud. The Boneclub was pretty good to make mashed potatoes out of one of those Slimes, and Guzma can't help but applaud the little lady. I mean, she is still a lady, even if she's young and very tiny. It's perhaps for that reason that Golisopod lowers himself into an almost bow, and saunters over with a bit of a hop to his usual lumbering gait.

His partner here is a little too close to the line of Slimes, so with a slow twirl, his claws cut through them like the gelatinous masses they are. Flicking off goop from those glistening, dagger-like claws, he offers one very slowly and politely to his partner with a quiet rumble. It would be an honor.

And like a proud parent, Guzma double fucking fist-pumps the air. HELL YEAH, MY BOY IS A GODDAMN GENTLEMAN. "Treat 'er nice, Goli!"

Goli is still very large, larger than even Wade and Guzma, which means he positively dwarfs the diminutive dinosaur at his side. Tibia pays no heed-- the thirst for battle runs strong in her veins at this point, and anyone willing to fight by her side despite her diminutive size is a more than welcome ally. She doesn't shrink from him when he extends his claw, merely grasps it gently in her tiny hand with an eye-smile before dancing off towards her next quarry, her feet still keeping the beat still in the air, counting on him to follow closely behind.

You don't mind if a lady leads, do you Goli?

On the sidelines, Wade grins widely at his little girl's antics. She's not much for talking yet, but clearly she's learned the enjoyment of a battle from her daddy. He turns proudly to Guzma, inclining his head toward the little Cubone currently smashing another slime into the sand with an expression of pure glee on her face.

"Quite the little firecracker, ain't she?"

The eye smile is returned with a very careful, gentle tickle of his claw over the little lady's tummy. Golisopod are very tender pokemon by nature, despite their fierce looks, though they are also fierce warriors when bid to fight. He cares not that the small Cubone is leading, and lumbers slowly after, spinning around in places and lifting his claws up slowly as they cut through the bodies of a few slimes getting a bit too close to his partner. Don't worry, Tibs, he's got your back.

Guzma matches that grin, his nearly eating up his face. She might not be anything to sneeze at in the ways of size and roughness, but even Guzma has to admit she's got that sort of flair that is inherent of her kind - or at least the ones he knows from back in Alola.

"Definitely. Does she know anymore moves, bro? A Bonemeraang should deal some heck'a damage and take out a few of them things at once. Or a Bulldoze? I mean, gonna hurt a bit, but Golisopod can take it no problem."

Heck, her dancing is top-notch, too! She's making her Alolan ancestors proud, and may grow up to be one hell of a Marowak one day. And a true firecracker, considering the typing.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The grin Guzma gives to Wade might be bigger than even Wade's as he watches Tibia thrash another one of the green slimes, and Wade finds himself warming to the brash albino almost instantly. The way to a mercenary's heart is through his daughter, apparently, and Wade can't help feeling like a proud soccer dad as he watches his little girl work.

The fun is kind of mitigated, however, by Guzma's questions about Tibia's moves. Wade's smile fades a little, his brow furrowing in confusion as Guzma lists off a series of maneuvers as if Wade's supposed to be catching what he's throwing.

"Uhh..." There's absolutely no way to bluff this without sounding like an idiot. "I gotta level with ya, bro-- got no idea what the hell you're talking about."

DOES HE LOOK LIKE AN ACTUAL TRAINER TO YOU, GUZMA.

...You've got to be kidding. Guzma's face goes from delighted to plain horrified as the realization sinks in that he's dealing with a total newbie. He glances back from Wade to his pokemon then back and slaps his face with one hand. She...she really must only be a baby. Low-level and not at all battle ready like Golisopod, who has over a decade's worth experience in competitions and normal battles under his belt. Guzma drags his hands down his face and--don't get mad, don't get mad, don't get--

"Moves, man!! Her moves?! Boneclub, Bonemeraang, False Swipe, Focus Energy, Headbutt?!" He lists them swiftly, counting on his fingers. "You threw her into a battle without knowing what moves she's got?! Has she ever fought before?"

He's already expecting the answer to he a hard 'no', and double-battles are a hell of a lot more difficult to strategize and choreograph, too. This is...this went from good to bad real fast. He may have to dictate this brawl right away to keep the little thing safe from harm, if she's really that weak. Lord.

"Golisopod! Swords Dance again, then Sucker Punch anything that gets too close to the lit'lun!" He's only got five of those in him, though, and a Waterfall is dangerous to use with a ground type around...UGHHH!!

Y'know what, Guzma? Wade's not 100% in love with your tone right now. The mood of the encounter seems to change on a dime, and the white-haired punk immediately switches from singing Tibia's praises to acting like Wade's some kind of wet-behind-the-ears jackoff. Which is incredibly unfair-- Wade's damp behind the ears at worst.

"Okay, Number A? You don't have to shout. Two, stop actin' like I just crawled out the womb, and D, of course this ain't her first rodeo! D'you honestly think I'd just toss her in there without knowin' she had at least a little bit of experience? Give me a little bit of credit, dude! 'Sides, she's doin' great so far, ain't she?"

He throws his arm out in the direction of the scuffle to indicate just how well his little darling is doing while Tibia, oblivious, launches herself at another slime with the excited bloodlust of a seasoned warrior.

Wade Wilson | Deadpool (Marvel 616) | OTA

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DA DA DEE DOO - JUST DANCE

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Dance~

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Well it was gonna happen eventually-

EVERYBODY WALK THE DINOSAUR