aftr_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME ( 009 )

Test Drive Meme #9

Hello, and welcome to LifeAftr! 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 March 17th, and Applications on March 24th!

Two important notes:

1. LifeAftr's test drives take place on the island of Mu, which 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, largely in the form of test drive reward items.

City Slicker
The walls of this place are uniform, gray-tinted, built from sandstone and clay. The architecture is deliberate and monochrome to an unkind extent; homogeneity, here, is the order of the day. All told, while a bit colorless, the place is not unpleasant, particularly with that periwinkle blue midday sky blanketed with soft tufts of cloud overhead.

Except for the shouts of armed guards pursuing you.

You've broken the law, you see. Maybe your hair is too colorful, or your apparel contained pockets. Maybe you carried a weapon without a permit. Whichever one of those ridiculous, lengthy list of laws you've broken, it's put you in the guards' bad sights. Their technology hasn't progressed beyond that of spears and shields, but at least like this, you're being allowed something of a fighting chance.

We say "fighting," but really, your best bet is probably to try and avoid them. Mu has recreated the ironclad system present on the island of Ai'tuoh, though it's eased some of the unfair advantages stacked against you: the militia are no longer cunningly concealed among the populace, and they do not fight with needles slid into arms before you can understand what, precisely, has just gone wrong. This way, at least you have a chance to run before they seize and sedate you.

Which we recommend, by the way. The running.

Sky Islands, or Skylands
While waking on islands is all very well and good - practically par for the course in LifeAftr, in fact - one might need a moment to adjust to the strangeness of this one. This one, it turns out, is floating.

Suspended in midair, this island is one of several dozens peppered throughout the sky. They drift to and fro, close to one another and then away again, but that's far from the most curious thing about them. No; their most peculiar quality is the fact that these islands shift, warping in shape as though caught in a state of perpetual flux. They ripple seamlessly from one visual to the next,: cycling through the varieties of an ice-swept tundra, a lush rainforest, a half-crumbled ruin, and infinite others in the span of mere hours.

And, if you concentrate just enough, you might find that these islands are pliable to even your will. You may be able to mold them like clay through focus of will alone, causing them to gradually shape into something familiar, even desirable: a home you miss, a place you wish you could see. But no matter how you try, you can only fabricate that which is non-sentient - plants, buildings, rocks, trees.

Just take care not to take things too far. You might find that the landscape does not take too kindly to being overly micromanaged. Too much projection of your conscious or subconscious desires will cause the entire thing to start to darken, crumble, and wither away...taking you with it.

And it's a very, very long fall back to earth.

[This prompt is a miniature version of our February event! Feel free to experiment with whatever details you uncover on the info post if you like!]

Kick Back, Relax
It's not all survivalist shenanigans and horrifying, mind-bending events. There are, in fact, plenty of moments of relaxation, of relief, and even fun to be had. Mu is not a wholly unkind being; it can allow you a much-needed respite in the form of something it suspects everyone might enjoy: a good old-fashioned party.

A volleyball net has been strung between two palm trees. A length of driftwood table has been laden with any kind of food you could imagine might be found on an island: drinks served in coconut shells, carmelized shrimp, smoked oysters, skewers of fish. The aquamarine tide laps up at the soft white sand, and those who test the temperature of the shallows will discover that they are pleasantly warm.

And at the center of it all, a cheerful bonfire that kicks up hot flares of sparks into the warm, rich blue of the sky. What a peaceful sight! What a jovial celebration!

Better enjoy it while it's here.

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Honestly, he’s not as surprised with her different form than most might be. Coming from a man who’s typically a skeleton, who serves a god who’s mostly bird, he’s not unused to seeing different shapes or unusual faces. He’s simply far, far out of his depth here- the realm of death doesn’t exactly throw beach parties. He can’t remember if he’s ever even been to one, out of a long existence giving way to forgetfulness past a few hundred years.

The projections are new, though, and he finds himself swallowing as he looks back towards the table for a moment. What was that? It was obviously directed at him. Not that he can respond in turn, he looks back at her, struggling for a way to explain his situation.

“I don’t, uhm— not very hungry. It’s alright.” It’s probably the simplest way to put it, outside of ‘I haven’t needed to eat anything to survive in over a thousand years’, but he’s finding that tends to scare people, leading to a number of other questions he has a hard time explaining. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m sure I’ll come around when I’m, ah, feeling it.”

That isn't really enough to stop the mildly confused look, unfortunately. Easy access to food is unbelievable, and there's just so much of it. Grabbing another skewer of fish, she thrusts it rather forcefully in Kravitz's direction, nodding emphatically. Take it and eat!

Pointedly, she adds another visualization: an empty table, desertified island, and Kravitz just barely pulling himself along the ground, starving.

Surely the rest of this place can't be as good as this heavenly feast, and people have to look after each other -- even people as weird looking as the ones here.

The visuals she’s giving still confuse him as to how she’s projecting them out, but they’re rather clear- she’s not going to be happy until he eats something. Which, alright, if he was any normal being, that would probably be rather necessary. But really, she needn’t worry after him so much. But he gets the feeling trying to explain this would create more confusion than would be worth, and also make him look terribly, terribly rude.

So he sighs, and takes the skewer from her hands, tries to give a thankful sort of smile. “Alright, I… I see your point. Thank you for… looking after me, as it were.”

Even if it was unneeded, he hasn’t had someone to dote after him for any reason for quite some time, so he supposes it can’t hurt to oblige her. He’s sure it isn’t bad, either, so he might as well. He goes ahead and takes a bite, ensuring she can see him so they’re not trapped in this cycle for the rest of the day.

This seems to satisfy her, at least, nodding agreeably with his actions. Good.

Of course he's not the only one with some confusion still. Satisfied basic needs are met, she turns her attention back to appearances. What are these people wearing, anyway? It looks good. With no regard for personal space, she reaches out to touch him... or rather his jacket, rubbing the fabric between her fingers and her nearly-eyebrowless brow furrowing.

Quizzical, and astonished would probably be the most adequate feelings coming from her now. How would anyone make anything like this anyway?

If Kravitz is anything, it’s a fancy boy. Everything he has is finely made and wonderful to the touch, which unfortunately makes most of it incredibly hot. The jacket in question is a soft, fine suiting, lined in something smooth with buttons emboldened with ravens. He’s taken by surprise when she moves in, distracted for a moment by the food, but at least this might be a topic he has more experience in talking about.

 “Oh, it’s— do you like it? I’m quite a fan.” Which is evidenced by the fact it’s all he ever wears. “It’s part of a uniform, in a sense, but I’m also rather fond. The lining actually has feather designs in the dupioni, which I personally requested.”

Also, if you haven’t caught on by now, he’s a goddamn nerd.

She might not have a clue about dupioni (or even fabric, frankly), but she nods in agreement. It is really nice, and seems complicated, like a lot of the things people here have.

Why birds, though? She flashes a series of images again, quizzically: the raven on his button, a more true-to-life image of a bird very much like a raven, then the only other thing that comes to her mind: a flock of birds picking at a days-old animal corpse, all skin and bones.

The image would be apropos, more than she probably knows at the moment. Unlike others might, Kravitz doesn’t recoil from the thought or sight of something dead and dismembered; it is his realm, and has been for many, many years.

“Ah, well— they’re signifiers of my service to my Lady.” He puts the emphasis there, careful not to lose the importance. “The Raven Queen, that is, my patron and to whom I give my service.”

He pauses a moment, something slightly odd occurring to him. Do gods exist across different worlds? Is there a Raven Queen everywhere? Does she even know who he’s talking about? He clears his throat, intent on clarifying. “Have you, uhm, a god or goddess of Death? That preserves the natural order of things, makes sure no one breaks the uh, rules, as it were.”

Scratching her chin with a claw, she thinks solemnly for a moment. Her thoughts flicker almost too quickly to follow properly: a vast, dark room with bodies piled high; a pitched battle against something horrible and insectile, someone falling to the barren ground, a stone cairn. But in the end she shrugs, lingering on the image of a stone cairn, with the sun and moon circling, sky lightening and darkening over and over. Dead stays dead.

Well, at least in her past experience. Which doesn't exactly explain why she's here, now.

There's no reason anyone would have built a cairn for her body under the circumstances, she thinks, but she flashes the image again, with a concentric circle underneath -- and points at herself in case of confusion. She shrugs again, and sips at her coconut drink for a half second before an additional thought occurs to her.

Maybe something happened to this tall and dark stranger too. She repeats the image, but with only a single circle under the pile of stones, and points at Kravitz himself, questioningly.

He tries to parse the images, being wholly unfamiliar with exact specifics of her culture’s death but used to the concept all the same. A memorial, a loss, a— rebirth, as it stands. Kravitz realizes, as she gestures to herself, he never bothered to check if she had ever died. He truly is out of his element. While it prickles him plenty- people should stay dead, for goodness sakes — and it does make him side-eye her a bit, but he knows he’s going to have to explain.

“Well… yes, in a sense.” He moves a hand up to behind his neck, twisting the other at the wrist as he struggles to explain. “I am… a bounty hunter, in service for the Raven Queen. It is my job to find souls who have escaped the land of death and bring them back, and stop those who break these rules by reviving others.” And now, for the kicker. “So, uhm… I have not been mortally alive, one would say, for over a thousand years. But she brought me back on an offer to exact her will, so… I am here.”

Kravitz is realizing he’s rambling, and drops his hands, trying not to look massively awkward. “So, uh, yes. Yes, I am dead.”

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 009 )

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