aftr_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME ( 015 )

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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The stranger just keeps doing things they can't predict. The sudden detonation startles the Hollow Knight and, useless though it would be, they still raise their one arm in front of them. A futile attempt to shield themselves.

Not that it seems to have been necessary to try at all. They look confused as they realize that nothing seems to have happened... to them. The scribblets being far less fortunate.

That's... certainly new.]

[A quick glance ascertains that the scribblets are dead - or, at least, they won't be a problem for the foreseeable future. The Drifter moves on.]

[Namely, they move on to trying to loosen the bonds binding the creature to the tree with their own hands. Despite the claw-like pointed tips of their fingers allowing for relative purchase against the crayon-drawing strands, the restraints are alarmingly sturdy. Several long moments of twisting at the ropes, circling the tree in search of some sort of knot they can loosen - all proves for naught.]

how much can you move

[The Hollow Knight moves around a little. They can move a little bit within the bindings and their limbs don't seem to be held back. It's mainly their middle that's stuck here, preventing them from leaving the tree.

They look back at the Drifter.

About that much.]

[They latch around the roping, digging their heels into the dirt. The Drifter is not built for strength; they are speed and lightning agility, they're the blur in the battlefield. But atrophied muscles strain beneath the folds of their clothing as they pull, pull, pull back in an effort to allow for as much room to wriggle free as possible.]

try

[They say try and it's no suggestion or request. So even if they, themselves, don't feel the need to move, they feel compelled to act when someone tells them to. The short command, just a single word, reminds them too much of their father for them to do nothing.

It's hard... moving out of this. They're still slow and awkward in their movements, immobilized or not even in control of their own body for so long.

But they manage... just about. They move, they struggle. It's a lot of effort. But soon enough...

They're out.]

[The Drifter releases their old as soon as the larger creature is out, staggering slightly. Their breath is a short, rasping wheeze. They are not built for that sort of straightforward, brute-forcing of a solution. Their usual strategy involves a lot more hitting things, and also a lot more time in which they could catch themself in between strikes.]

[A low cough, a hitch of their shoulders. The cloth around the front of their face darkens with a patch of neon, and they rub it away.]

[The exhaustion catches up to them, even here.]

you
name?

[They tense up, at the coughing. It's only the fact that they don't see any orange that makes them relax again, though they're still... wary.

They don't answer at the question.

That should be obvious, of course. They have no voice to answer with. But they make no effort to see if they can write something either, even just in the ground with a stick. Honestly...

They can't remember if anyone had ever asked them for their name before.

So there's no answer. They just continue to stare ahead.]

[Even the Knight had tried. They'd been...forthcoming in communicating. They'd not simply stood there, and stared. If they'd not already met the Knight, grown accustomed to their curiosity and childlike sense of wonder and play, the Drifter may have simply moved on, and left the poor creature where they stand.]

[But.]

[But it is not that simple anymore, for them.]

[The Drifter bends down, and picks a stick from the ground. Uses it to sketch words into the dirt.]

DO YOU HAVE A NAME

[And they hold the stick out for the Hollow Knight to take. It's not so hard, see. Try it.]

[They take the stick without even thinking about it. In fact, half a second later they glance down at it, as if they're not entirely sure why they did.

The question... is important, it seems. It's being asked again. So they should answer, how they can.

So the stranger wants them to do the same. To give the answer like this, by writing it. Something... Something very simply.

And yet they look lost as they look down at the ground and more lost still as they actually try to do the same.

The way they hold the stick and the way they scratch it is... clumsy doesn't even begin to cover it. What they sketch into the dirt is shaky, scratchy... nearly illegible, despite their best attempt. And it is... their best attempt. There's... what maybe seems like an 'H' at the start, before the rest deteriorates into meaningless scribbles. Other than that, all that's clear is that it's two words.

It's not great.

In fact, the way they're scratching into the dirt at the end seems a little quicker than the rest of their movements. A little more animated. A stark contrast to how they've been throughout the rest of all of this.

It almost seems like... frustration.]

[It is for the best that the Drifter has grown so astute at interpreting the subtleties of body language. Subtlety is not, in practice, their specialty - not usually. But when one cannot speak, one learns to adapt. They interpret what others do not, or cannot, or, in some cases, openly refuse to.]

[The Drifter takes up the stick again and sketches out a crude shape in short, sharp motions. It is a very elementary rendering, but it should be relatively clear what the shape is: small, horned, draped in cloak, with dark pits for eyes. Their horns are not as serrated as the Hollow Knight's, which is a fair indication as to their identity.]

[They simply want to know if they are recognizable.]

[They're not sure what the Drifter is doing, at first. But then, they see the shape. Familiar. Of course it's familiar, in general. They know what a vessel looks like.

But those horns.

Their attention has definitely been gotten. And they lower themselves down to touch the sketch. Immediately after, they look back at the Drifter. The Hollow Knight moves their hand from the sketch, to themselves, and back to the sketch.

Yes, they know them. Similar. Connected.

Sibling.]

[Presumably, then, this would be the "big sibling" that the Knight has mentioned previously. They would have to be, given their size and stature. The Drifter may not be able to communicate with them with much success, but they can perhaps facilitate the connection with one who will.]

can take you to them

[Given the dream-texture of their current meeting, this may not even be possible. But the Drifter is, as always, more than willing to try.]

[They rise up immediately, quickly.

It's not something they're even thinking about, if they should see their sibling. If it would even be right to run into them, to meet them again. What their father would think of it. They don't consider any of that.

They just nod.

Yes. Please.]

[That might be the most animated they've seen them...though their agitation over being unable to so much as inscribe their name, that comes close. And it is a more solidly ascertained answer than anything else the Drifter has gotten thus far.]

[They'll find them, and that will probably be for the best. If not for allowing clarity - an overrated concept, the Drifter thinks - then for simplicity and practicality.]

[They just have to figure out how to find...the Knight...in all this...]

[Somehow.]

[They'll just pick a direction and start moving!]

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 015 )

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we can fade out here if you like!