TEST DRIVE MEME ( 015 )

[lifeaftr_mods]

Test Drive Meme #15

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 September 17th, and Applications on September 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.

Drawn to You
The forest is dark, silent but for the snap-buzz of cricket song. Nearby, the soft babble of running water threads its way between the rough-barked trunks, though the origin of said water is difficult, at first, to pinpoint.

Granted, you probably aren't paying much attention to the forest, or the water, or the darkness. You're probably more concerned about the creatures flitting to and fro in sparse groups, most of them quite small. They tend to vary in appearance - some look to be totally benign, while others considerably less so - but all belong to the same species.

Scribblets are wily beasts, dream-haunters by nature, and they seem to revel in the idle torment they inflict upon those who cross their paths. You, dear travelers, are no exception. And while they are quite easily crushed into dust once caught, they are exceedingly slippery, agile creatures that are most difficult to pin down. If you're not careful enough, the scribblets will fasten a peculiar tether to you. It looks very much like it is made of the same materials they, resembling a sketchy line of crayon, drawn into the third dimension. Their intent, tonight, is to tie you to something that will make your life difficult - binding you to a tree trunk or to a branch far above the ground, tying your hands together...or even tying you to someone else. These bonds will only grow progressively denser and heavier the more you struggle against them.

Fortunately, the solution here is very simple. Like any drawing, it can be washed away if you find water. You'd simply better hope that you're able to collaborate with whoever you must in order to access said water, whether it's working alongside whoever you might be tied to, or convincing someone to lend you a hand.

You'd better hope the scribblets don't go after them either, by the way.

Quarantine Breached
Whatever this place once was, nature has long since claimed it for its own. A darkened, secluded laboratory now nearly swallowed by thick snarls of overgrowth is probably not your ideal vacation spot, particularly since there's a dearth of any decent lighting sources here. Drenched in shadow as this place was, it might have been helpful if you had thought to bring a light.

Fortunately, that problem is soon to be solved! Twin smoldering points of light abruptly ignite several yards away from you, paired with the pitched mechanical hum of engaging circuits. Another pair of lights immediately spritzes to life just beside it, and another pair, and another...and another...and...

Well, there seems to be a lot of them, doesn't there? "Attention," chimes a pitched, automated voice, doubtless issuing from one of the many automatons that have begun to stir awake, one by one. "Potential host sighted. Quarantine breached."

You must understand, traveler: the island of Umui was nothing like this. The guardian units there were conscious nurse-bots, charged with caring for the sick and dying populace of a hospice island. Most did so with as much care as they were capable. But in the initial days of Umui's exploration, a great deal of explorers' anxieties revolved around these fallen automatons, and what possible purpose they may have served.

We invite you to imagine a scenario in which this went horribly wrong.

Consider these automatons to be shadowy, overzealous mirrors of their long-dead, real-world equivalents. They have learned to become hyper-devoted to their task of keeping their patients safe; so devoted, it seems, that nothing will stop them from fulfilling those obligations. They intend to catch and sedate you so that you can be...returned...to a place of safety.

Unfortunately, this place of safety probably entails an inescapable four-walled room or a hospital bed, and it's doubtful, to say in the least, that enough of their programming remains for them to remember to care for and feed you once you've been returned to whatever passes for a quarantine zone. In a decrepit, dilapidated building like this, it's probably not pleasant.

Our advice is to simply not get caught. If this means doing some inevitable destruction to all this complex hardware in the process, well...at least there's no chance you'll be billed for damages.

The New Farm Simulator Looks Great!
It is possible that you vaguely recall being asked to take watch this evening. By whom? Oh, please, that doesn't matter! With the pleasant hum of crickets in the air, and a backdrop of paddocks and grain fields around you, there are plenty of worse ways to spend your evening than this. All you have to do is keep an eye on passive livestock. The farmer's life is a simple one, where your biggest problem is trying not to fall asleep before your shift is over.

In theory, anyway. While the scenery of the quiet countryside may be ideal, the state of the farm's buildings and and fences is far from it. For the curious creatures such as popo, there really isn't much to keep them in one place for long, wide stretches of fenceline ruined by fallen sections. Meaning that these massive, shaggy creatures can simply step over the crushed regions and start plowing their way contentedly in the direction of the fields of grain - fields that were certainly not intended to end up in some silly beast's stomach.

For others, sweet grains aren't as appealing as that sweet, sweet taste of freedom. A word of advice: once the popo are over those hills, you won't be seeing them again. And they might not be terribly fast on their own, but in a herd, they can get to be as dangerous as a stampede.

Hope you weren't expecting an easy night, because in LifeAftr, there's no CJB cheats menu to save you.

---

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

Comments

[ourcurrency]

If I get an opening. [Which has, so far, been a bit of an issue. She raises her gun again, but there are too many for it to be a good solution.]

[counterblows]

Opening. Right.

[Maybe she'll catch the gist of the expression he shoots at his rifle, despite the visor shielding his face - as always. It's something like mournful resignation, and a heavy sigh.]

Get down. [And he braces the stock against his shoulder and opens fire on the whole damn lot of them.]

[ourcurrency]

[WELL, AT LEAST HE GAVE HER WARNING. She ducks, holding her gun closer to her chest.]

That works.

[And when he stops firing, she starts running.]

[counterblows]

[At least he doesn't have to give her any further instruction. She starts moving, and he moves with her, calmly burst-firing on the clouds of the things as they try to swarm up behind them.]

Did they get you anywhere else?

[ourcurrency]

Not that I've noticed. And I think I would have noticed.

[Considering how damn sticky it is. Even if her armor caught it, she's pretty sure she would have caught onto something else.]

I have to find a way to get it off me.

[counterblows]

Here. Let me -

[One of them sprays a sticky line of scribble-juice across his ankle which, while it doesn't tie him down to anything, reminds him of the electrolyzing impact foam of a paint round jamming his armor into lock.]

[Two rounds shears the thing's head from its shoulders, and he unclips a knife - one of Felix's, he'd guess - from a magstrip down his waist to toss it to her.]

Try this!

[ourcurrency]

[WASH HER HANDS ARE LITERALLY GLUED TO HER GUN. It bounces off her arms and she looks up at him, managing to exude annoyance despite her completely concealed face.]

Any other bright ideas?

[counterblows]

[Guess it was a little bit too much to assume that would work. Wash takes the moment to glare, briefly, and he knows from experience (from Tucker's hyperbolic proclamations of the exact magnitude of his visored death-glares) that he manages to communicate exasperation despite the faceshielding of Duraplex and gold.]

Well, I could try shooting it off.

[ourcurrency]

Let's save that plan for last resort. I like having hands. [She frowns down at the stuff on her hands.] It looks as much like a drawing as they do. Maybe we could get it to soften with water or something?

[counterblows]

That makes about as much sense as the rest of this. Fine. Did you see any water around, or are we going to have to look for it?

[Another scribblet comes chittering at his heels. He forgoes shooting it for simply whipping it back into the herd with the stock of his rifle.]

[ourcurrency]

Sorry, it must have slipped my notice while I was fighting with crayon drawings.

[She probably doesn't need to be so snappy, but it's been a weird afternoon.]

[counterblows]

Then start looking. I'm a little busy keeping these things off our -

[That's when a loop of something snaps around one ankle and pulls, bringing him skidding across the dirt. He fires blindly, bullets streaking outward in a chaotic spray of lead and cordite.]

[ourcurrency]

Wash!

[Goddammit, they do not need this. She mutters curses as she takes careful aim at the one who got his foot and starts firing.]

Don't shoot if you can't see where you're aiming!

[counterblows]

Thank you - for the - instruction.

[Swing. Slam the stock of the rifle into the side of one scribblet's face. Burst-fire into the midsection of another, blowing out shreds of charcoal-black. Kick at the one that tries to tie one ankle to the other.]

[ourcurrency]

As the person who could get shot, it's kind of important to me!

[This is hard with her hands tied, and a gun in them besides, but she rushes forward and loops her arms around one of Wash's arms.]

Hold on. This would be so much easier with free hands.

[counterblows]

I'll keep that in mind. Don't -

["Don't touch me" is what he intends to try for. It doesn't really work out. He ends up needing to lean on her for leverage anyway, boosting himself to his feet, and by the time another scribblet latches onto his foot, he can burst-fire its head clean from its body and watch it squirm lifelessly into the dirt.]

Don't wait for me - just move.

[ourcurrency]

[She's gonna ignore that. Whatever her other flaws, she's no coward, and she's not going to leave a man behind.]

Can you walk?

[counterblows]

Yes, I can walk. But I can't keep our six clear and keep you from getting hit again at the same time, so just -

[Another strand of...stuff...slaps across one shoulder guard. He lets loose another spray of bullets.]

[ourcurrency]

I'm a war journalist. I can handle myself. Just move so we can both get out of this.

[counterblows]

Oh, of course. You're a war journalist. Obviously. Thanks, I could absolutely tell.

[He rolls onto his side, and then onto his feet. Several leaves have seemingly glued themselves to his armor thanks to the crayon-like stuff, but at least he's not tied up.]

[ourcurrency]

Yeah, the social column writers don't wear as much armor. Usually.

[A beat. Has she actually introduced herself? It's weird because she already knows him, but he clearly doesn't know her.

She starts to move.]

Dylan Andrews. I've written about the Reds and Blues for Interstellar Daily.

[counterblows]

You've - sorry, what?

[That actually arrests him for a second, which turns out to be a bad mistake. One of the scribblets gets a loop of drawing-stuff around his neck and pulls taut. It doesn't run the risk of strangling him, but it yanks him sharply backwards and nearly floors him again.]

[ourcurrency]

[Goddammit. She turns to shoot the scribblet that's snagged him. She's going to run out of ammunition way too soon at this point.]

Never mind, saving more revelations til we're not running for our lives.

[counterblows]

What do you mean you've written about them?

[It's really quite incredible. He can manage that quintessential "Blue Team Leader Squawk of Outrage" even while riddling one of the scribblets with bullets in a belated retaliatory effort. It's a talent.]

[ourcurrency]

So that's a no on waiting til we're out of danger.

[Sigh, that's what she gets for insisting she stay with him and then telling him how she knows him. How deep exactly does his memory loss go?]

"Colorful Space Marines Stop Corruption." Sound familiar?