aftr_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME ( 013 )

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*test drive meme

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 013 )

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.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

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Don't rock the boat, baby

Of all the things she'd said and done, waking up on a boat in the middle of what appeared to be a thunderstorm probably took the cake. Pidge shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself as she looked around. What was she supposed to do now? This was so not her area of expertise. The only ships she'd been on were spaceships.

"Ugh... Now what?" She's not directing this at anyone in particular. It's more of a rhetorical question, to be sure, but an answer would be lovely.

Monkey Business

She couldn't feel Green.

That was the first thing Pidge registered as she opened her eyes and sat up. Her eyes widened as she took a look around. "Am I...."

Yes. She was absolutely in a cage. And she wasn't alone, at least. That was something, right?

Outwardly, she appeared calm. But on the inside, she couldn't have been more terrified if she'd tried. The sound of drumbeats and the hoots and hollers of ... apes? filled the air. Her eyes narrowed as she scooted nearer to the bars in an attempt to get a good look at her captors. "This isn't right," she murmured. "We can't stay here." Hello, understatement.

Mostly, though, she was eyeing weapons in the hands of some of the nearest ones. Were those...?

Are you afraid of the dark?

Compared to the things she'd seen and done, sitting around a pleasantly blazing campfire seemed like a nice break. Pidge smiled as she held her hands out, enjoying the ambient warmth.

She's seated on the ground in front of one of the log seats with her legs stretched out in front of her and a content smile on her face. Even the distant growling rumbling from the dark wasn't enough to put much of a dent in her mood.

And she's not alone, a fact which was somewhat comforting and also somewhat alarming all at once. For the most part, she'd only been listening to those gathered around her, to their stories. And she'd noticed the effect the words had on the fire, as well as the lack of any other fuel.

So that's how it was...

"Any story will work?" She wasn't much of a storyteller, but she figured she should make an attempt, at least.

Wildcard/Choose your own

[Wanna do something else with Pidge? Goferit! Also, I'm willing to match format.]

The campfire was, by now, one of the more familiar aspects of here now. Telling stories around a campfire is a classic, and being brought in to help...make the local god more powerful or whatever happens frequently enough it's not a surprise. It doesn't make the threat of something out there less real or less unsettling but, well, Lance has been around the block a time or two.

(Once. It's only been once, and he had probably chatted the Storyteller's ears off, but leave it to him to act like he's an expert after doing anything once.

"Any story you think is worth telling," he mumbles through a mouthful of marshmallow. Despite being an island hellhole, the food is so, so much of an upgrade over foodgoo and whatever alien foods Hunk could try to make work. "Preferably one with tons of action, though."

Because those are the stories most worth telling!

Telling stories around a campfire wasn't a foreign idea. After all, she and Matt had camped out in the back yard plenty of times when they were younger. Before things had gone completely crazy. It seemed like such a long time ago now that she couldn't help feeling slightly sad about it. But there were more important things to worry about than that.

"Huh. That makes sense, I guess," she mused. She didn't even have to turn around to recognize that slightly distorted voice. "Hi Lance. What story did you tell?" Because she's nothing if not curious about the kind of thing he'd use for something like this.

"Fortunately for us, we have a ton of stories with lots of action." Now maybe the hard part would be picking just one. Although...

"Hey, what happens if we tell more than one?"

"Weeeell," he starts, picking up another marshmallow and spearing it onto a stick. He's prepared for this to be a long night, even if time always seems a little peculiar on nights like these.

He keeps an eye on the fire, watching it. It's still cheerfully blazing along, so he's sure he has enough time.

"Remember when we all got spit out of different worm holes and me and Hunk ended up on that ocean planet?" It was a fun time! He got kissed by a mermaid. "Told that one my first time and I think it went over pretty well."

At the second question he pauses, holding his marshmallow over the flame. "Dunno. Thinks it makes the Storyteller stronger, but I haven't asked how much it does. Probably wouldn't hurt, though."

As much as she wanted to be patient and wait for Lance to get around to answering on his own, she was also pretty curious, so it took a surprising amount of self-restraint to keep from trying to hurry him along.

Eventually, though, he did speak up, and she was content to listen to what he had to say. "I remember that, yea," she admitted. Or at least, she remembered hearing about the ocean planet later after they'd all met up again. "Huh, so even something like that would work? That's good to know," Pidge mused. "Ooh! What about the time we went to the space mall, and dressed up at Coran's insistence?" That had been an interesting day, to say the least.

While she wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, Pidge just sort of blinked at his answer to her second question. "Interesting. With a name like Storyteller, it makes some kind of sense that hearing stories might make them stronger..." Or maybe she was just trying to rationalize it.

You can't rush an artist, Pidge. That's how you get something really terrible and cringey!

"Of course it works! It's a story, with loads of action!" Gosh, Pidge. It had everything - he got kissed by a mermaid! - but after a moment of hesitation, he smiles. "But yeah, I think just about anything goes, so the space mall definitely counts."

It's kind of a classic teenage story, getting kicked out of a mall. Except even more absurd, because they were dressed like pirates and got a cow.

Lance shrugs - he hasn't put much thought into why the Storyteller is the Storyteller. They're a god of stories, so it makes sense stories are valuable to them, but he hasn't really considered what exactly that means in the grand scheme. "It's pretty on the nose, but that's as much as I can figure out."

That was certainly an answer.

"So any kind of story with any kind of action?" There's a good chance she might just be thinking of questions to bug him now, but he'll never be able to prove it. Just her inquisitive nature, after all, Lance! "Alright, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Lance!" And she's just going to smile happily at him because it was a little comforting to hear that she'd be able to use just anything.

She'd probably lost count of how many movies she'd seen with almost that exact story, maybe minus the dressing like pirates and acquisition of a cow, but still.

But of course she'd already be thinking about why the Storyteller was called the Storyteller. If it had been called something else, it wouldn't have been as big a deal. But a name like Storyteller invoked a certain kind of mental image. "Maybe it's something we'll figure out after we've been here for a while." That was possible, right?

Pidge is just going to shrug and glance back at the fire. They'd been talking for a couple of minutes at least, so she wasn't expecting any huge change in the flame.

Now, what is answered swiftly, a black armored hand grabs the side of the raft and a shadowy figure pulls themselves up. Lightning flashes as Keith flops onto the wood. His mask disengages and he rolls to one side coughing up a bit of water. "Okay. This is...getting stupid."

He looks up and stops, eyes widening. "Pidge?" He looks shades older with his hair longer than it ever has been, some of it plastered against the inside of his pulled back hood. He rolls onto his hands and reaches back behind him to the spear made of coral, bits of shell, and bone, and sealife. "Hang on. Help me get this off the straps and we'll use it to row ashore."

That certainly was a hand shooting up to latch onto the side of her raft. Well then. Not really big on the idea of being tossed into the water ~~or possibly murdered~~, she took a couple of steps back and tensed up. The sudden flash of lightning startled her into letting out a very dignified squeal-y sound and she immediately regretted it.

But then she realized that she recognized her would-be assailant when he spoke up. Sort of. "Getting stupid?"

She shrugged at that and allowed herself to relax again when he finally seemed to notice her. "Hi Keith," she greeted, tilting her head curiously at him. He looked really... tired. But she waited as he rolled and then leaned over to peer at the weapon on his back. Interesting.

"Nice spear." So maybe teasing him wasn't the best idea given their current circumstances, but easier to ignore the rising panic at being on a boat in the middle of a storm if she had something else to focus on. And right now, that something else happened to be Keith. But even still, she's moving closer to see how she could help. "Did you make this?"

"No. Traded for it. It should be with Lance." The spear is trapped to his back by a series of leather straps. He pulls on it and it snags on a sand dollar mid-way up the weapon. "The Jormun make them." He taps the sickle made in a similar manner strapped to his right side. A knife is sheathed on the left.

He looks up around them at the mast and sails that aren't rigged for helping them to shore. "Once I get the spear free I'll go up and rig the sails." They need to move fast. He'll have to keep an eye out for Shiro and Lance. They might still be on the island.

"Oh." Somehow, that was slightly less impressive. But she supposed it was still smart of him to acquire a weapon either way. Regardless, she's mostly focused on the weapon strapped to his back. "Jormun. Got it." Pidge had absolutely no idea who or what a Jormun was, but apparently they made weapons. So, good to know? The presence of the two other weapons wasn't even surprising, because she knew Keith.

When he spoke up again, Pidge tore her eyes away from the assortment of weapons to have a look around. As soon as she realized she had no idea what he was talking about, though, she was right back to trying to get the spear free. Carefully, she's tugging at each of the straps systematically, while keeping an eye for some kind of buckle or something. "Or you could tell me how to do it." She could probably manage if she had some idea of what to do. Maybe.

"Straps open to the right." He says, ignoring her suggestion she goes up and handles the sails. Hell no. These winds would toss her around like a leaf. The spear comes free and he hands it to her. "Use it to row towards the island. Okay?" He passes it into her hands without letting her answer.

This is a storm at sea and he isn't an idiot. He is up and scaling the mast with his knife between his teeth in little time at all. He sees what the problem is once he's halfway up. The knife is swept in a fast slash, freeing the sails from the tangle of rope. He swings back down to the deck via the ropes as the wind hammers at him. But at least they're moving towards land now.

That was helpful. Yes, good. "Got it." It was easy going after that, and soon enough he was handing over the spear. And completely ignoring her suggestion to handle the sails. Any other time she might have tried to argue, but she'd really only brought it up because she wanted to make herself useful. He was more than welcome to handle it if he wanted to. "Okay. I think I can do that," she told him with a nod.

And then he was gone before she could even turn around, so she wouldn't have been able to get another word in even if she'd wanted to. Shrugging it off, she does turn and busies herself with doing what he'd suggested. If nothing else, she's good at following directions when she's in the mood to cooperate. It was rough going at first, but she did manage to get them pointed in the right direction.

She glanced up at his return. "So... is it safe to ask what's going on?" This wasn't exactly a normal thing for any of them.

"Did you have a dream about a rabbit with antlers?" He asks as he draws a sickle and moves to the other side sweeping it through the water to assist in rowing. "It would have told you what was going on." He adds as he settles on his side of the raft. He keeps an eye out for trouble. "Shiro and Lance are here too. But..."

But they're from different points in time. If anyone would accept that, it's Pidge. "We're from different points in time. Shiro's from before he vanished from the cockpit of the Black Lion."

"Huh..." Come to think of it, she had dreamt of a rabbit with antlers. But as she didn't ordinarily remember her dreams, she'd been willing to forget about it. "I thought it was odd. But yea, there was a rabbit with antlers. I uh... just figured it was a fever dream or something," she admitted. It was actually a little comforting to hear that she wasn't the only one. "But...?"

He didn't make her wait long for the rest of that statement, but she was still blinking a little. "Very wibbly-wobbly," she muttered. "What point are you from?"

"Just after we won at Naxzela." Keith catches sight of something moving through the water like an arrow. Narrow fin on top. He gets the flash of a face. He signals for her to keep rowing as he unsheathes his Marmora blade. It catches the light from the lightning flash.

He tenses on the boat. It moves to circle the raft. His eyes narrow, he flicks the blade like a cat flexing their claws. "That was Storyteller. What point are you from?" Come on. Swim a little closer.

Since she couldn't remember what he was talking about, she was going to assume that he was from a different point as well. Swell.

But before she can say anything more about it, he was gesturing at her and whipping out a blade. That was... probably not a good sign, but she was just going to casually focus on rowing and let Keith deal with whatever it was for now. "Storyteller, huh," she muttered, trying the name out. It made sense, she supposed.

"Uh... just after you and Hunk came back with the scaultrite for the wormhole generator," she admitted with a shrug. How far ahead did that make him? Should she ask? Maybe when they were on solid ground.

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TEST DRIVE MEME ( 013 )

Pidge | Voltron: LD

fancy meeting you here (in the dark!)

it's a small world, after all~

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Don't rock the boat

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