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.

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Comments

[sealedvessel]

[Damaged?

They consider the question. It's a bit of a loaded one, where they're concerned. But there's nothing new, nothing worth noting. So the Hollow Knight shakes their head, slowly.

And, just as slowly, they rise back up. Not to their full height, as they slouch, but good enough.

They watch Legion carefully, not... really sure what they're dealing with here.]

[forwearemany]

(Legion doesn't question them about the damage further. Perhaps, like with them, it has simply become a part of who they are.

Does permanent damage to synthetics count as a form of scar?

More importantly...)

Are you capable of communicating via sign language?

[sealedvessel]

[They stare at Legion, not quite comprehending. Sign language? That's nothing they've heard of before.

So they shake their head.

Learning ways to communicate had not been encouraged.]

[forwearemany]

Acknowledged.

(After a moment of consideration, they bring out their omnitool. Look at the pretty glowing thing on their hand.

It projects images of one handed signs.)

Yes. (They say, as they display the corresponding sign.)

No. (Another sign. They'd just use their own hands except they're of a rather different shape and use a rather different variant of the language as a result.)

[sealedvessel]

[They watch the projections curiously. It's a level of technology they've certainly never seen before. But then, Legion themselves is a level of technology they've never seen before.

They do pay attention to the signs. And they... hesitate, even as they bring up their hand.

Communicating was discouraged. No, far stricter than just that...

Do not speak.

But, this... This should be fine, shouldn't it? They don't know if their father would approve of sign language or not, but this much can be made clear even just from nodding or shaking their head anyway.

So this much... At least this much should be okay.

They imitate the signs. They're simple enough. Easy enough to memorize. And they look back at Legion.

Did they do it right?]

[forwearemany]

(They nod, pleased, as they watch the Hollow Knight make the signs.

For the moment, these alone are sufficient for communication, though should this individual arrive on Enso, more shall need to be taught.)

Do you wish to know where you are?

[sealedvessel]

[They... consider that. Where they are...

It's not where they should be. Far, far away from it, as best as they can tell. Although, it doesn't feel entirely... right, either.

They would consider the fact that it's a dream, perhaps, if it hadn't been ages and ages since they last slept. The feeling of a dream is no longer recognizable. So, they answer.

Yes.]

[forwearemany]

This is a shared dream. More specifically, it is an inaccurate representation of an island known as Umui, part of a larger archipelago upon which entities of various species and worlds periodically arrive.

Such dreams have previously heralded such arrivals: it is likely that such will be the case with you as well.

[sealedvessel]

[They look up, as if startled. All the specifics... the island, worlds, species, almost fades into the background. They latch onto the part that matters.

Dream.

They look around, quickly, but... there's no sign of the light they're thinking of now, not even a hint of it. No infection. No voice, talking to them.

...It's worrying information, anyway.

They should not be dreaming.

They should not be arriving anywhere.

They're still needed.]

[forwearemany]

You are distressed?

(They headtilt.)

[sealedvessel]

[They... nod. Their hand far too preoccupied to practice the sign they just learned, as they've put it on their face. It hadn't hit them before, what being here meant. But now they knew. It was impossible to ignore. They had... failed. Honestly, Legion, they might be way beyond just distressed.]

[forwearemany]

(Perhaps, but Legion tends to classify all negative emotions as some form of distress.

Chattering, they take a few steps closer, uncertain of what to do.)

You do not wish to be here?

[sealedvessel]

[They shake their head quickly and look around, as if, somehow, an exit will just... present itself.

As if that would even fix this.]

[forwearemany]

We are not currently aware of any method for leaving this place.

(It is unfortunate, perhaps, though they themselves do not wish to.)