aftr_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME ( 012 )

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*test drive meme

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 012 )

Test Drive Meme #12

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 June 17th, and Applications on June 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.

There Goes the Neighborhood
Today, you're not merely waking up on an island. Oh, no. You're waking up in the world's most perfect suburb, complete with perfectly-trimmed lawns, white picket fences, and a uniformity that borders on the absurd. Not a fleck of paint is out of place, and not a blade of grass is out of line.

Mu has attempted to imitate the sort of fabricated happiness that adventurers dealt with in the month of May, but without the full power to shape fantasies to the whims of each individuals, has opted instead to attempt for a blanket, painfully generic alternative.

It's a cheap attempt to mimic something that was already a falsehood to begin with, rote and uncommitted. Thus, much of this world is patchworked with palpable holes, both visible and otherwise: neighbors are featureless specters performing daily routines with robotic precision, entire swathes of the neighborhood are perfect replicas of the same painfully generic family, and, of course, there's you.

You obviously don't belong here. The framework of the narrative is so structured that it's not hard to realize things are amiss. The more you think about it, the more it seems like this entire fantasy is deeply, deeply amiss.

But then again, maybe not. Maybe you buy into it, completely and utterly. Maybe you're so eager to escape whatever life you lived prior to this one that you're all too eager to live in this Stepford-esque facsimile. The degree to which your character adheres to this structured world, and how much they remember from their true life, is up to you.

Do it for the Vine
This next scenario is far from pleasant, though it is much more real. The thick, tropical woodland might be difficult to traverse at first, but don't worry - it's about to get much harder.

Do you like earthquakes? How about massive, twisting vines that swarm out from the undergrowth to attempt to snake up around your ankles and shins and root you in place, perhaps smother you in the dirt? Isn't it fortunate that you're being left to contend with both at once? Mu is compensating for the events of May, it seems; commemorating a god whose demise tore an island apart by mimicking with precision efficiency how that must have felt for everyone to bear dramatic witness.

The good news is that while the vines might be both eerily cunning and vast in number, they still are just plants, and plants can be easily pruned or burned. The subterranean rumbles of the ground as it cracks and ruptures underfoot might be less easy to contend with.

To that, our only suggest is simply to run. Good luck!

Taken for Granite
This particular brand of landscape is striped with cliffs and crags, a lifeless mountain range crooked along the horizon with rock the color of fired clay. And not far off from where you've stirred awake is...a rather eccentric rock formation.

By "eccentric", of course, we mean "moving". And by "moving" we mean "it is extricating itself from the ground like some unholy tectonic zombie and it's coming right at you RUN".

Formed entirely from an amalgamation of earth, rocks, ore, and valuable gems, the earth golem is surprisingly territorial for a glorified lump of mud. Approximately fifteen feet tall and half as wide, this lumbering creature has only one concern: the eradication of anything that steps into its territory. It is sensitive to vibrations in the ground, and is thus very difficult to hide from for those moving on foot. However, it is nearly blind and very stupid, preferring to wallop anything within reach using its massive, boulder-sized fists rather than employ any sort of strategy.

Still, unless you're looking to travel to the other side of the area via the Golem Express, avoiding this creature's warpath may be a wise choice. Especially given its talent at re-assembling itself upon destruction.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

there goes the neighborhood;

[When it came to dreams, Sans walked the familiar caverns of the Underground most frequently. And while that place had its fair share of picket fences, he couldn't recall one that was quite so protractor-straight as the one he found himself in front of now.

The more variable details of his life -- the places he may have traveled in or outside his dreams, the memories repressed or otherwise -- were nothing more than a distant fog. What was left behind was a more base version of himself. Sans Classic, as it were.

But even Sans Classic knew the Underground didn't have a bright blue sky. Not even his wildest dreams had that.]

Huh. [He flicks at the tip of the fence, as if it might warp into nothing when pressure was applied.] Lemme guess, this your place?

[A man -- completely nondescript aside from the word human -- moves past him as if on a track. Good morning! he replies, in a booming gregarious voice. Sans' sockets follow him on his morning st(roll), watching as he offered the same morning greeting to the next house. And the house after that. Like a recorded playback.

As Sans moves down along the cul de sac, more of those human specters appear. One was dressed as a milkman, another tried to sell him a paper, a figure in a dress told him to have a be-YOO-tiful day. Just like that. With the YOO right in the middle, sandwiched like mayo between two pieces of white bread.

Suffice to say, the first person Sans comes across without a glassy eyed stare catches his immediate attention.]

You. [He says, suddenly. The figure he addresses is turned away, but there's a solidness to them that sticks out from the manicured lawns and people. Whether the conspicuous skeleton caught their attention before it, y'know, spoke... well, maybe that's a normal occurrence in the dreams of this stranger.] I dunno if you've heard yet, but word on the street is it's a good morning.

[And here they were, attempting to take exit, stage right. Watching him come down the street is a slap of reality that makes everything else seem downright tawdry, as if it hadn't already. He stands out- unshakeably real in the midst of a laughably unreal dream, eyelights flicking towards the nearest, new voice and away as soon as an assessment has been made.

Unshakeably real. They'd almost take the judging stare of the humans if that's what it took for things to be the other way around. That's not how this works.]

Oh? [They force a smile on their face, turn around. Resist the urge to search for any indications of recognition on his skull- because he'd notice. He was-- astute.] I don't know, sir; some people are still on the fence about it.

[A wave of their hand across the street, where they'd deliberately closed the gate of some of those protractor straight picket fences. The specters didn't quite know what to make of that, aside from continuing to run right into the gates, over and over.

They had to entertain themself somehow.]

[Just a kid, but a real kid. Or as real as he was, at least. That had to count for something.]

Heh, not bad, kiddo. [He laughs, a low and rumbling noise, while taking position next to the child along the gate. A few beats later, watching them bounce off the fence like persistent wind up toys, Sans cants his skull to one side.] Kinda makes you feel bad for 'em, doesn't it?

[He sits uncomfortably just within their peripheral vision. A slapdash sense of familiarity or simply-- the casual motions of someone who doesn't know them like they know themself.

It's fine. They can handle this. Breathe slow and deep through their nose as they keep up their smile, shoulders lifting in a loose shrug.]

Why would I? There's nothing there to feel bad for.

Finding sympathy for figments of your own imagination, sir?

Maybe I am. [His grin is wide and cheshire-esque.] I mean, we didn't ask to be here, they probably didn't picket either.

[Pushing off from the fence, Sans slips both hands deeper into his pockets.] You sticking around here, kid? I think I saw some more mooks up ahead if you wanna get your prank on.

[A quiet scoff- unbidden and entirely reluctant, the upwards curve of their smile becomes-- genuine. For a moment.]
They'll never tell him. They'll never even tell themself. They missed this.
Stand here watching illusions walk into inanimate objects, or converse with a talking skeleton. Golly gee, mister. That's too many options.

[Said even as they step away from the fence, lacing their fingers together behind their back.] Perhaps you should lead by example.

[It was a small moment. Nothing that would turn too many heads, and yet Sans found himself relaxing anyway. His laugh comes from a less taut place behind his ribs, glancing down the street towards a few other specters.]

I think most of my japes require a little more cognitive flexibility, pal. [It doesn't get more cerebral than passing gas, y'know.] But I could take a crack at it.

[As if on cue, Sans rolls his shoulders with a satisfying crack.]

Care to make it interesting?

[Okay, just for that last pun? They’ve changed their mind. They’re leaving. Disowning you. Goodbye forever.

Or just play upon their weakness like the evilest of sadists, that’s fine too.]

Interesting? That almost sounds like a challenge. [Or a bet. You wouldn’t make a bet with a child, would you? Gambling with minors is illegal, mister skeleton.

Probably.]

[Your whole life's a gamble, kiddo. At least this time you stand a chance at getting paid.]

25G to the first person who convinces one of 'em to go off script. Deal?

[If there was a grim irony to this, Sans' couldn't quite see it. Chalk that up to missing context.]

Edited 2018-07-09 16:31 (UTC)

sans | undertale (OTA!)

you better be relaxing too gosh

chilling like a [redacted] over here

good!!!

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I RECOGNIZE THAT FACE

what about THIS ONE?

I know them like the back of my hand

oho

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