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

shipwrecked

[ This isn't where she should be. Clementine is pretty sure this is a dream, but usually her dreams have her parents in them, and Lee too. If it's a scary dream there's usually walkers as well, but not here though. That's something, at least.

Pretty soon Clementine has wandered over to the bottom of a huge cliff, where damp planks of wood litter the area. She should make a fire, right? That's what you're supposed to do when you're washed up on a beach like this. Even if this place isn't real, and is just a dream, she should definitely try and make a fire to send a signal and keep warm at night. Except... how to do that?

Why hadn't she ever asked Lee how to make a fire or cook food on it? They had time, all that time. And now he's dead and Omid and Christa aren't here and no one can teach her.

Still, she has to try though. She remembers back in the motor inn, the grown ups sometimes made a fire to cook animals they'd caught, and she sort of remembers Kenny using pieces of wood to get it started.

Putting her gun down on top of one of the nearby rocks, Clementine goes to pull on one of the planks. It seems lodged in between two rocks, and takes some pulling, but eventually it gives. Unfortunately, so does she. Immediately she trips, falls, and feels a sharp pain in her left hand after putting it out right on one of the more ragged rocks below her. Blood trickles out from a cut on her palm. ]

Ow! [ No, no, no. Be strong, remember. There's no band aids here. You can't get anywhere by yourself if you cry from a little cut. Lee chopped his whole arm off and he didn't cry. Probably. She closes her fist, takes a deep breath, then another, and then gets back up.

Now though, there's a small nine year old trying to pull along a plank of wood that's almost as big as she is, only using her right hand. ]

story time

[ Clementine knows about stories. She remembers telling her parents stories, and being told stories, and even Lee would tell her about things that happened to him or his brother when they were younger. Back before the walkers came, her stories were full of squirrels, flowers, and stuff she did in school, or else imaginary princesses defeating imaginary dinosaurs. Now all she can think of are scarier things than that. Way scarier.

She offers a small smile that fades just as quickly. ] Um, I'm Clementine. I think I know some stories? There's... a story about about the farmers that ate people and fed people to other people that didn't wanna eat them. That's a scary one. There's a lot of stories about people getting eaten up.

...All of them are scary though.

[...]

[A kid.]

[For a good few minutes, Ichimatsu lets her be. Quietly observes from the fringes of the jungle, crouched beneath the wide-leafed fronds of a bluish plant. He cringes in light sympathy as he watches her struggle with the planks, take her fall and slice her hand open. Crap, that's why he's not cut out for this. A better person would have gone out to her right away instead of watching from the shadows like a freaking creeper.]

[The part of Ichimatsu that has better sense is telling him that he should get up and walk away right now, because what could someone so useless possibly do for a kid? And yet he watches her steady herself, grab the plank and start hauling, and... jeez, she's a determined little kid, isn't she? Where's her parents, anyway?]

[Gah. Not even someone like him can ignore this.]

[He comes tromping out of the foliage without much preamble, looking for all intents and purposes like a slovenly man barely out of his teens who just woke up from the longest sand nap in history. There's a hunched, unfriendly set in his shoulders as he makes his way towards her and stops at a polite distance, thrusts out his palm expectantly with a dour look.]

Hey, kid. Let me see your hand.

[ Clementine takes a second, but then she's dropping the wood, and reaching over with her good hand for her gun. She doesn't point it at him or anything, but she thinks it's probably a good idea to have one in her hands when meeting strangers.

She knows strangers. Lee was a stranger once, and he was a good person who turned into her best friend, but the man that kidnapped her was a stranger too, and he... he was a bad person. This stranger isn't being horrible or anything, but she's not yet convinced he's especially nice either.

Not that being "nice" is always a good enough clue for whether people are good or bad. The man that locked her in a hotel room and tried to kill Lee wasn't a good person, but he was always nice when she talked to him before that. ]

Why? [ Well, she knows why he wants to see her hand, which is still throbbing lightly, or she hopes she knows. But she can't help but be a bit scared of trusting him. ] Um. Who are you?

[Whoa, the hell -- he hadn't seen the gun before. Ichimatsu visibly hesitates, his eyes latching onto the weapon with a nervous interest. What kind of kid carries a gun around? Maybe he was too quick to think she was helpless... even if she can barely lug this chunk of wood around.]

[The fact that she isn't pointing it at him yet goes a long way. At the very least, he manages to pull his gaze away from it to look at her - or her feet, rather. He doesn't seem very good at making eye contact.]

I'm Ichimatsu. [He mumbles it, then makes a sort of 'come on' gesture by flexing his fingers, as if he's in a giant hurry.] And because you hurt it, dumba - ... d-dummy. Let me check it.

You're a dummy. [ She pulls a face, but even though he's not really looking at her and is being awkward, she's feeling a little better about him. He kind of reminds her of a teenager she knew - Ben. And Ben is - or was - her friend.

Gun still held tightly at her right side, she holds out her cut hand for him to look at. It's not a deep cut, already it's pretty much stopped bleeding, but it is a bit dirty and stinging sharply. She gives him a small grateful smile. ] Thanks... I'm Clementine.

clementine | the walking dead (game) season 1 | ota

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Shipwrecked

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Shipwrecked

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Shipwreck because HOW CAN I NOT? ;__;

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shipwrecked (ARE YOU READY FOR PAIN I HOPE SO)

;__; (I'M ALWAYS READY FOR PAIN)

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Shipwrecked

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story time again! and i commented on the wrong journal before

ah ok! i wondered where you'd gone

sorry about that