TEST DRIVE MEME ( 013 )

[lifeaftr_mods]

Test Drive Meme #13

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 July 17th, and Applications on July 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.

Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat
When you wake, it's to the bucking of tumultuous ocean waves and the heavy sluice of rain. The boat you've found yourself on was probably seaworthy at some point, but it's been wind-battered and weatherbeaten to the point where it's begun, quite steadily, to sink into the choppy waves. Looks like you're all in the same, sinking vessel. To make matters worse, it seems that the storm itself has a nasty sense of humor. It seems almost intuitive in its attempts to toss you from your footing on the deck and into the frothing waters below. Gusts of powerful wind try to tear you from the mast if you climb it, and the boat rocks perilously to try and tip you into the churning waves. Oh, and did we mention the lightning? Because there's lightning, and it seems to have a personal interest in incinerating your pitifully wooden little boat on the spot.

That doesn't mean you're completely helpless. There is an island in sight, one that resembles the waking land of Ensō, albeit somewhat far off, its silhouette fuzzy and indistinct from the curtains of rain. But if you can make it...

Well, anywhere's got to be better than here, right?

Gibbon No Quarter
It's been a year since the first adventurers were initially drawn to Mu's shores, and then, later, to Ensō's. And so, in celebration, the dream-island has cribbed only the best bits of the previous year for prospective explorers to sample on their way in.

Take now, for instance. You'll find yourself in a cage of all things, with the pound of drums and excited hoots of hungry simians to greet you upon waking. This particular breed of monkeys was once unique to Ensō, before travelers were forced to more or less thoroughly exterminate them. Devilishly smart and naturally inventive, gun monkeys are so named for their trademark weaponry - coconut guns, naturally - and their generally cunning capacity to craft tools out of very rudimentary resources. And oh, right - they're also very carnivorous. They've set up a smoking bonfire in the center of the jungle clearing that makes up their temporary home, and if you don't figure out a way to come out of your cage (have you been doing just fine, perhaps?), then you're going to be next on the menu.

Think fast, or work with whoever's nearby, and you might have a chance. Or you could always call for help. That always works out, right?

To Be Continued
Stories, stories, stories. Anyone who's hung around the block for any length of time can tell you, dear newcomers, that those little things are of the utmost importance in this neck of the woods. There's no mistaking the purpose behind this inviting scene - log seats set up around a roaring campfire, and even a packet or two of marshmallows if you're feeling hungry.

It almost might be enough to distract you from the fact that there's no fuel for said fire. And what's more, the darkness surrounding the woodland backdrop is so impenetrable that you may as well be an isolated blot of warmth in an otherwise unforgiving void. And within that void, if you listen close, you might hear something - a snarling, an indistinct rumble of massive jaws parting, hungrily, in search of something alive. If that flame burns out...well, something out there isn't fond of fire, and that's the only thing keeping it from claiming everyone seated here for its own enjoyment. But the good news is that there's a very easy way to keep this fire blazing well through the danger. Can you tell where this is going?

It's stories, of course. Regale us with tales of your past exploits, or with fairytales or nursery rhymes you remember from your childhood. Relay your tales of triumph and of grief, of laughter and of agony, of anything you can possibly imagine. As long as a story of some sort is being told, the fire will burn merrily onward, and the blanket of all-consuming darkness will be kept at bay.

Just try not to embellish too much. If your story is too vague, if it is more lies than it is something genuine, the fire might start to gutter dangerously low as a consequence. And that beast, whatever it is - oh, it's hungry.

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LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

Comments

[dupelicate]

[Attempting to follow her thought process answers nearly zero questions. Originally? In a bag?? His face screws up in doubt of a pile of the sticky minipillows in a bag—or edible—but voicing this concern is sidelined by the girl's questions. His face brightens up.]

Chocolate, yeah, of course! No idea what kind of cracker flavor graham is, though, sorry.

all of this is true, and also, I'm so sorry

[hotshot_momma]

[...She grins. Ribald. This will end in a bawdy joke, you have been warned.]

Way I heard it, Graham crackers were first made by the eponymous religious nutter - no pun intended - who wanted them to be the Most Boring Flavor of cracker. Bland stuff that's the bare minimum energy you need. So that Graham could avoid his flock getting... distracted. Let's say.

And where I'm from, teenagers at summer camp toasted marshmallows over a fire, used them to melt chocolate between his Thou Shalt Not Sin crackers, and then sneak off to each others tents before the counselors can find them.

[She starts to assemble a smore.]

That part's optional, of course, and that wasn't an offer. I'm just tickled that No Fun Allowed Graham's Crackers completely and utterly fucking failed at what they were supposed to do.