TEST DRIVE MEME ( 010 )

[lifeaftr_mods]

Test Drive Meme #10

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 April 17th, and Applications on April 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.

Friends on the Other Side
When you open your eyes, it is to a shadow-tinted cityscape. The buildings are clay-built and colorless, plunging seemingly infinitely onward into the sky before disappearing into a dense pool of foglike sky. The silence weighs heavily like a mantle across every inch of this place, and no matter how you squint at them, every structure seems strangely blurred, as though being viewed through distorted telescope lens, or in the reflection of a pool of water.

All told, it's probably obvious from the start that all is not well here. From the moment you arrive in this strange nether-place, your eyelids have begun to grow heavy. Something about this city and its perpetual, misted darkness leaves you inexplicably drowsy, ready to curl up and fall asleep on the spot.

That wouldn't be a problem, perhaps, if you were alone. Mu does not boast a great deal of flora and fauna, but what it does have is a creature capable of inflicting much in the way of misfortune - clockroach. They occupy this city in swarms of wraith-like wisps, both intangible and curiously amorphous. But when they draw close, they instill a sense of terror like no other, usually igniting one's fight-or-flight response as a result. Sure, they might not be capable of actually hurting you, but why should that matter, when they have a skill for inducing a sense of utter dread in their targets?

Ever try to get some sleep with fresh adrenaline pumping in your veins?

Pretty Fly for a...Fire Guy
With indigo-blue skies, lush fields of green, and miles of rippling grass hills for as far as the eye can see, Mu has cast you into the perfect and picturesque evening. As the imaginary sun lips the very edge of the horizon and the last glow of orange fades to the purple of dusk, the fields come to life with a smattering of bright, wavering lights. LifeAftr has its fair share of fireflies native to its many regions, but this particular kind is special. They're the size of quarters, very pretty to look at...and incredibly volatile besides. It's hard to interpret what these wondrous little glow-bugs might view as a threat or not, but at least it's remarkably easy to discern as much based on the sight of them alone: they're handily color-coded depending on their moods.

While they glow a contented amber by default, those that fireflies warm to will find themselves bathed in a green-blue glow as those bulbous, organic lanterns tint with a soft, cool turquoise. A few of them might even settle across your arms and in your hair, if they take that much of a shine to you.

Of course, those the fireflies don't warm to will be able to note as such when they light up a blazing crimson, mere seconds before the insects spit a stream of glowing orange, molten-colored acid. It stings and burns in equal measure, just as likely to scald you as it is to set the surrounding fields aflame.

Flower You Doing That?
Adventurers were both wary and relieved to discover that the next island on the horizon, known as Ziziphus, appeared to be a rather vegetation-rich paradise. They were considerably less relieved to learn that this island contained predators just like all the rest of them, despite the rich green backdrop of its meadows and the promise of lush woodland at its heart.

So it is that you, too, will learn that sometimes tufts of ferns are not tufts of ferns at all...but dangerous creatures called spindlanks. What might initially appear to be a leafy hillock will very quickly prove to be something far more...mobile, if you get close enough. That clump of grass and red ferns will abruptly hoist itself up on six vine-like tendrils, crawling for its prey like a very large, mossy spider. While it's fully capable of swiping at its foes with its massive, leafy arms, the spindlank's favored method of dispatching its prey is simply to scuttle forth until it's positioned directly above you and drop down. If its weight does not crush you and choking on the clods of earth doesn't smother you, don't worry; the spindlank intends to eat you alive with a set of fleshy jaws set deep in its center.

For despite their leafy appearance, spindlanks are very much carnivorous. Their size can vary from anywhere between six and ten feet tall when their appendages unfurl entirely. They burn as easily as any plant matter would, but the size of them can make them quite difficult to topple alone.

And they are almost always hungry.

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Comments

[venesection]

[Donn doesn't glance over right away; the spindlank is fascinating, you understand, a new and interesting lifeform. So it takes a moment, a bit of effort to tear his eyes from its shambling form and focus on this new person that's crept up beside him. He looks from her face to the tooth and back again — and then flinches at the sudden mental invasion, blinking rapidly as his ears flatten. Rubs his temple as though to ward off a headache, but that's all. Because it's not painful; merely unexpected. Providing the link that he does between his community and the forest spirits of their home (does? did? they've become so quiet since his arrival, their chorus of soft voices in the back of his mind no longer murmuring constantly but silent, silent) meant occasionally taking psychic flashes of foreign influence in stride. A thought that wasn't his, a mental picture of a time and place outside of memory or imagination. He's even gotten sorta used to it.

So Donn shrugs the moment off but not quite, resolving himself to ask her just how she did that and why. Just as soon as this burning curiosity about the spindlanks unhooks its claws from his brain.]

Ah, so they have teeth?

[He reaches out to briefly touch the spindlank tooth hanging from her neck, wanting only to run a fingertip lightly down the jagged length to gauge the shape and feel of it. Hunting trophies being so common in the secluded little world of his village, Donn sees no reason to flinch away. Wouldn't even if he wasn't too busy thinking about comparisons to other predators, rats and wolves and snakes, the sort of creatures he knows like the back of his hand.]

Thank you for telling me! Or, well, showing me. [He rubs his temple again and smiles, bright and wide and grateful.] That must mean they hunt for their food, then. No point in having jaws like that otherwise— [and immediately another thought takes hold] —I wonder how much they need to eat in a day? They're so big, but I haven't seen much yet that would be more than a mouthful. What do you think? Did you see anything like that?

[exbarathris]

[The Liberator shrugs, conveying in brief flickers images of the island, flowers and ferns, trees and grassy hillocks. But she hasn't seen any edible-looking animals yet, only the heavy verdant greenery of Ziziphus.

Other than, of course, people like themselves. Slowly getting used to the fact that the people here are so mentally quiet, she adds in clarification a quick point at herself, then Donn, followed by a sharp shake of the spear held in her off hand and emanating a faint feeling of caution.

Does this guy even have anything to protect himself? She eyes him more thoroughly; those little nubby horns aren't going to help much in her opinion.]

[venesection]

[It takes him a minute to follow the line of not-quite-thoughts and flashes of emotion, fingers fisting awkwardly in the dirt and grass as the bigger picture becomes clear. It's not one he likes. Something so big needed a calorie intake to match; something with jaws needed to chew and rend and swallow. And whatever was available, well, that's what was on the menu.

Below, the spindlank finds a suitable hiding spot and nestles into the earth. Donn watches it closely, but as the creature grows still and silent, even his sharp eyes can't quite manage to pick it out from the lush surroundings. Which is totally fascinating but also worrisome. Donn wonders if he'd be able to sense its presence at all if he stood just outside of sensing range — and if he couldn't, then what chance did a normal person have?

Not that he's the only....er, "non-human" here. Was that even the right word to use? This is the first time in his life that Donn hasn't been the one and only "other", set apart from ordinary men.]

I think I get it. Maybe they eat other things, but there's no reason why they wouldn't try to eat us too. [Said without judgment or even frustration, of course. There was no point in being upset.] We'll have to be careful.

[Trusting that he'll be able to hear it if the spindlank suddenly moved again, Donn shifts his weight so that he's sitting down, back against the hilltop. A small sigh, then he looks at her spear.]

I wish I still had my knife. My staff, too, but I don't know how much good it would do against something that big. [Headtilt.] Did you fight one? ...By yourself? Is that where you got the tooth from?

[exbarathris]

[She shakes her head. Not alone, no. There's a mental image of the Knight, a small figure with a sharp little sword and bone mask: the Knight scaling the spindlank with slashes through its vine-y limbs and herself stabbing upwards with the spear.

Aware by now that all these quiet people need a little more of a hint than images alone, she picks a few blades of grass from the ground, holds them up near her nose, makes a disgusted face, and flicks them back into the grassy hillside, imagining the spindlank lying dead on the ground. Not even edible, as far as she can tell.

But this fellow is right in one respect. He should probably have a weapon. Her own spear is metal from shaft to point, dark with oxidation and with bits of leather wrapped around the shaft for hand-grips. But metal only came from underground, melted from rock. There's no way to get that here. Maybe a small sapling, end broken off into a point, she suggests, pointing at the distant edge of the grasslands, where the forest begins.]