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

sorry for being slow!!

[scholiast]

(With the wind in one ear and Magnus in the other Lucretia is feeling a little overwhelmed, to be sure, but she's grateful for the arm up. She steadies herself, looping an arm back around the mast in order to keep her balance. If Davenport were here he'd be making jokes about them all having to earn their sea legs, something like that. Where is he? She twists her head about at Magnus' question, as if she might spot him on a second or third glance over of the ship, but... they're definitely still the only two on board. No dice there.)

No, (she shouts, her shoulders slumping,) I think it's just the two of us. Unless somebody is hiding– (another wave crashes over the top of the railing and salt water sprays everywhere, making her splutter,) eugh, below deck! And I wouldn't blame them!

But– why would a talking rabbit be here? Aren't you– what about the Captain? Or Lup, or– Merle, the others?

No problem! I'm pretty slow too

[proficienciesouttheass]

Hum! About that! [ This is so not the place to have this conversation. To explain all the crazy bullshit of this place- and, by the looks of it, all of the crazy bullshit from their world. Oh lord.]

We should get below deck! Right?!

sometimes it just be like that

[scholiast]

Who is going to steer if we leave?

(It's probably pretty easy to tell what point of the cycles Lucretia has come here from: a couple decades earlier and she would have happily gone below deck to wait out the storm with him. Experience doesn't stop her from finding the noise of the storm paralyzing, but it has granted her the ability to withstand it.)

C'mon, we have to– try. (She's trying to untangle a rope from around the mast. Looks like it's keeping the sail tightly furled.)

[proficienciesouttheass]

What! [ Wait, shit. Magnus, fall in place, you dolt. Be the adventure hero!

He shifts closer and grabs hold of the rope.]

Wait, the-- isn't the sail gonna rip if we drop it?!

[scholiast]

I don't know! I'm playing it by ear!

(This is ridiculous. Lucretia wipes her glasses and stares at the sail and tries to think again.)

Maybe if we– do it together, and slowly. Don't make a sex joke. (funny how decades of living with taako have caused her to automatically tack that last bit on the end, there.)

[proficienciesouttheass]

Hah! [ Oh goddamnit, fine. You got him.

However, something tells him this is a bad idea. And Magnus doesn't get that feeling often! Specially not when the idea is by someone like Lucretia.]

I don't think that's gonna work! It's going to break the mast!

[scholiast]

Okay! (Lucretia concedes, frustrated by not knowing what exactly to do,) do you have any ideas, then? Or are you just going to pick at mine?

(They can't even see land, so swimming is out. Magnus wanted to go below the deck before but she just doesn't see how that will help. Letting the ocean carry them where ever it wants until the storm dies out is a little frightening: too unpredictable.)