aftr_ooc | 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

[ Look, this might a dream, one last hurrah before, well, whatever comes next? But the last person he expected to see was Muffet. Naturally, with how Sans got around the Underground and Muffet's, uh, networking, they know each other. And Sans also knew better than to drop in on her parlor, particularly unannounced.

It's also never a great idea to leave her questions unanswered. ]

Nope.

[ Nice effort.

Sans is watching her, and so far doesn't see any sign she's too put off. Muffet's had a reputation for being unflappable (if dangerous to cross), but this is pretty impressive. He's had years to get used to the sky, but her..? ]

I gotta admit, you're takin' all'a this pretty well.

[ Maybe he'll just refrain from making the obvious 'even-keeled' joke. ]

[She sighs, not terribly happy but not really surprised either.]

Well, it was worth a try.

[She puts a lot of effort into maintaining that reputation. It's carefully cultivated creepiness.]

I'm not exactly thrilled about this situation, but panicking certainly isn't going to help. Besides, everyone else here seems to be as confused about it as I am, so they're likely not to blame for it all.

[If she could find the person actually responsible for this, she'd be distinctly less polite.]

[ Worth a try, she says. Sans would shrug, but that feels like slightly more effort than he's inclined to expend on the subject. ]

Aw, c'mon-- [ He grins at her, willing, it seems, to at least keep this to a jovial social call. Gotta stay on the spider's good side, since word is there's little she likes more than loose lips and looser purse strings. ] --I'd say the view's pretty stellar.

[ He cedes: ]

Guess you gotta point, though. No real use gettin' worked up.

[ No telling how long this will last. ]

Just one thing -- I don't remember boarding a boat, do you? All signs are pointin' to us being on one. Whaddya make of that?

[And she appreciates your contributions to spiderkind via both options, thank you~]

Mm. Speaking of stellar, is that a new hoodie? I'm shocked. I'd almost begun to believe you were born in that old blue thing.

Nor do I, no. The last thing I recall clearly was being in my shop, taking a new batch of muffins out of the oven. Although I'm not sure a boat is necessarily the only way we could've gotten here. You of all people must be aware of the possibility of unconventional shortcuts.

[She may not know exactly how he does them, but she definitely knows that he does something. The question of how that hotdog stand always seems to disappear suddenly whenever anyone comes around with questions about taxes or business permits is one that's always intrigued her.]

...Heh heh heh heh.

[ YEESH. Figures.

Normally Sans would be a little more put off to be, uh, scrutinized so? But it's Muffet, and like he's thought before, that network of hers is pretty informative. Hell, he'd have been inclined to tap her for information if he'd ever had the need (or inclination), to save him a lotta hassle.

Thing is, he knows better than to get himself indebted to the likes of her.

Ok, even if the idea of freshly baked muffins sounds pretty freakin' heavenly right now? How long's it been since he had a taste of actual monster food? Since...

A long time. ]

It was a gift. [ His grin goes slantwise, just for a second, as he fails to drum up the name of the gifter. Well... whatever. ] But yeah, s'what I figured. If you find out something else from these humans, mind letting me know?

Thanks a million.

[Look, when your main business competition is Mettaton, you learn to go hard or go home.]

Fuhuhu~

Since it's you asking? I'll tell you anything I find out for half-price.

[Was she actually planning on charging anything until he asked? We may never know...]

[ Sans's eye lights brighten up a tad, like she hadn't just suggested charging him for information about their mutual situation so much as made his day. ]

Nice. I'm flat broke, so--

[ And since he can't afford it, that makes this officially Somebody Else's Problem. ]

Guess that lets me off the hook. Thanks, pal.

[ This is not a game of hot potato where the one left holding it is stuck with the responsibility. Sans, please. ]

Oh, don't worry, dearie...

[That is not a terribly reassuring smile, but at least she's still smiling?]

I'm sure I'll find some way for you to pay me back.

[Translation: you can owe her one. Or several.]

[ Smiles aren't always friendly -- trust Sans enough to know. And hey, he might not mind doing business, but only on his terms. Only reason he isn't beating feet now is, eh, seems like a lotta effort to go through when this is just a fleeting dream before his cares completely disappear.

Kinda freeing, when put that way, huh? ]

Think I'll pass. Might find a few customers with these humans, though. Take it easy on 'em at first, yeah?

[ Don't need stressed-out humans deciding monsters like them are the enemy, and all. ]

Mm, yes. I've discovered that humans tend to be squeamish over the oddest things- really, who wouldn't like a nice, nutritious cup of spiders? They're such a valuable source of protein.

[It's not as though she's asking people to eat spider monsters, jeez. All of her pastries are made from perfectly ordinary, nonsapient spiders. She even removed the venom sacs. What more could anyone ask for?]

[ Without skipping a beat, Sans offers a good-humored, if slightly deadpan drone: ]

Can't even imagine, pal.

[ Besides the fact that he's got a strong aversion to the idea of spiders crawling around in his ribcage, and most humans he's met pulled faces over snails as a food source, for crying out loud. ]

Listen, it's been fun-- [ If not informative. ] --but I gotta beach date with the Sandman. Catch you after forty winks or so.

A bit more than forty, in my case.

[Muffet illustrates her point by winking with three eyes at once, waving him off casually.]

[ See? She gets it, and that does, to her credit, win a low chuckle. ]

Somethin' like that. See ya around.

[ He's seriously not kidding about going to take a nap. There's a pretty shady looking spot under a palm tree over yonder that's far enough from the 'action' -- or where people are scavenging the wreckage -- to keep him out of their way. ]

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

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Wrapping?

Yep!