TEST DRIVE MEME ( 021 )

[lifeaftr_mods]

Test Drive Meme #21

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.

In conjunction with our monthly Test Drive Meme, Reserves are now open! Applications will open on March 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.

Come to Ink Of It
Mu is a strange land, and one that seems to take a conscious interest in the activities conducted upon the waking world. This month, its fixation takes an almost childish delight in emulating the ink-spattered wars and hazing that have occured on Ensō's shores - which is to say, Mu would absolutely enjoy a charming little game of Splatoon.

When you wake, it's in a labyrinth of soft, stonelike material that manages to be the rough consistency of foam. If you take the time to inspect it, you'll discover that it's as good at cushioning blows as it is serving as adequate cover...and it appears to have been shaped into plenty of buildings and barricades, threaded throughout the cavernous room in which you've found yourself. In fact, the whole place looks very much like a battlefield of some kind. In case you didn't get the picture, the paint gun in your hands should give you an inkling. Colors may be up to personal preference, but the rules are simple - solo, in a team, or as a double agent, your goal is to paint the town red, or blue, or purple, until victory is tasted in the form of aesthetic domination.

Do keep in mind, however, that battle cries may be a double-edged sword in this scenario. Unless you wanted green teeth.

I AM THE SHADOW, THE TRUE

-looks at smudged writing on hand-

...SHELF

What's more trouble than the true manifestation of all your darkest fears, desires, and secrets? The manifestation of all of the above that's just - not very well-made. In order for a shadow, a true self, to appear, one really should know themself somewhat consciously. Of course, this also applies true to the world in which they're standing; an effort Mu is willing to make, but not quite hitting the mark.

And by "not quite hitting the mark," we mean egregiously. "Shadows" are an off-brand simulation of what one might expect during a typical shadow event, though their attempts at acting like the character they should be are closer to emulating the opposite. Whether based upon a looser definition of canon, a fanon-style iteration of what your character might have been in worse hands, or simply going in a direction that veers into the territory of edgy Harry Potter OCs, your "Shadow" is here, and ready to be a nuisance.

Unlike ordinary Shadows, a "Shadow" cannot be accepted and dissipate as one would hope. Respite from these garish versions of who you really are will come only upon waking. So until then, enjoy attempting to explain just what, precisely, is dogging your every step, and probably refusing to shut up all the while. Though granted, if they share any of your powers - grossly magnified or otherwise - you might be grappling with them in far more ways than one.

A Bug's Eye View
The lush, verdant shores and the peaceful population of newly-arrived island of Cahypdo have been noticeably present on the minds of the islanders lately. Mu has shifted to reflect those thoughts, but as with many things Mu reflects, things have become a little...skewed. For, you see, the native inhabitants of Cahypdo are the Roaka, and as tree-people, they tower over much of the current inhabitants. They range from six to twelve feet in height, generally, but it seems that their heights have left a....very marked impression. The Roaka certainly tower over you now, even more than before - but so does everything else. Wherever you find yourself in the verdant, fertile valley that houses much of Cahypdo's plantlife - whether it's rich jungles or well-tended farmland - you'll be met with the same undeniable height difference.

Trees are dizzying heights to be scaled the same way a mountain might. Blades of grass and colourful flowers you might once have trodden on without a second thought are like a forest unto themselves. And the fields of crops you might have known from the waking world, like sweetcorn, peas, and tomatoes? Even a single ear of corn or a solitary tomato is now a much, much larger obstacle.

Just pray you don't run into any of the native creatures here, as even ordinary beasts can become potential dangers when they're all the size of giants relative to you, and can stamp you to jelly without so much as a second glance. Snaplings might regard you as a tasty little snack, tigerlilies might think you make for a fun little toy, and worst of all, the native Cahypdo entities known as hydrac, warped hybrids of sharks and dragons, might very well decide that you'd be a fine addition to their hoards.

There's a lot to look out for, when you're this small and the world is this big.

---

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[counterblows]

"You forgave another version of me. I'm not even..." How does he deserve that? Confusion is standard but the mire of emotions that explanation has dredged up doesn't service itself to anything except for the most straightforward and immediate and familiar out it knows how to take.

A vindictive, acidic cling of something he recognizes as steel-toned hatred swells up at the back of his throat, pointless and petty and wholly discharged in the direction of his quantum clone, separated by dimensions, because metabolizing shit into anger is still the easiest thing in the world. Fuck him, for leaving them both to this shit.

It's senseless, but it lightens the weight of things. Marginally.

"I'm not him. Does that change anything?"

[a_shadow]

She sighs lightly and crosses her arms, shifting her weight back on to one foot. What is it with agents Washington and their stubbornness?

"You're not ready to be forgiven," she fills in. "Nope, you're right, you're not him."

Her words were true, she's not an asshole. But she's not the most altruistic either. If he doesn't want to be forgiven? Fine. She extended her hand. He's the one who refused to take it.

Her head shakes slightly.

"I forgave him because he explained his reasoning, and what the consequences were for him. And you know, circumstances were such that I apologized too. Because I brought the Invention down and didn't come back to look for him—for you. But you know. Whatever."

She activates her cloaking.

"Just remember that this is what you wanted."

[counterblows]

"Woah, I didn't say that."

Does he deserve to say otherwise? Does he deserve to just brush this shit off, accept that some other version of him went through some kind of important growth that she was privy to, and ride off of that?

He knows he doesn't. And he'd prefer, in general, if he didn't get the shit kicked out of him, but is he about to say he doesn't deserve it?

He knows what he deserves.

For what little it's worth, at least he'll make her work for it. So he starts to run.

"Damn it, Tex."

[a_shadow]

Upon activating her cloak she had ducked behind the neighboring pillar. Now, with him running off in some random direction, she is ready to begin stalking his path. She doesn't really intend to beat him up, but she sure would like to beat him in this round of paintball now.

She's back to the silent-and-deadly mode she had been in when this round started. Using her cloak is definitely cheating, so she clicks it off after she's out of his sight. Soon enough she's moved to a spot where she once again has a good view of him, and she fires. Excellent, a headshot. She has her times when she would brag about that, but not today. Not anymore.

[counterblows]

He almost expects it to be a real bullet.

It's a pretty dumb instinct, in retrospect. They're armed with nothing more potent than paintballs, but the impact splatting against the back of his helmet is more of a shock because it doesn't drop him in a second. He ducks down behind a low wall, one hand to the back of his head. His gloves come away wet with paint.

Son of a bitch.

"Is that what we're doing. Really." And she's cloaked too, which is cheating. When was the last time he fought anyone and the stakes weren't life or death? When was the last time this sort of thing was done for fun and sport, and not because his life literally depended on it?

He doesn't know how to adjust, so he doesn't. Just snaps his paint-gun free from its mag-strip and starts moving, braced for the sound of more fire.

[a_shadow]

"I don't know what you would have expected," she replies. She's not cloaked now, but as good as she is at remaining hidden, she may as well be.

Honestly, she's kind of pissed off now, even though he has stated that her assumption was wrong. He shouldn't have protested so much.

He's already splattered with so much paint it should be clear that he's lost, but shooting something feels good when she's mad. So she fires at him whenever she catches sight of him, which is often enough, since she remains on the move. She stalks him, like a lion with its prey.

[counterblows]

"Jesus! Okay, I get it," he fires back, after getting a fresh blot of paint right across the visor. The hydrophobic finish wicks the worst of it away, but he still stumbles before converting it into a tuck and a roll and a dive behind cover. For all the good it does.

"Are you done?"

[a_shadow]

"I didn't have to start, you know."

She steps out of hiding, right in front of him, and very much not cloaked. Just in case he was in doubt about that. One hand goes to her hip.

"Are you conceding?"

[counterblows]

Wash doesn't have any remaining pride to care that he's gotten his ass kicked at a game of paintball - particularly given who his opponent is. He raises his hands, palms out, in a clear gesture of surrender.

"Yeah. Okay. I concede."

[a_shadow]

"Good," she says, and clips her weapon onto her mag strip. "Let's clear the floor so someone else can play."

She figures that's what the next best move to make is, anyway. She turns and leads the way in what seems to be the most logical direction to find the exit.

[counterblows]

"That might be an issue."

It's Mu, after all. He has no idea if there is a way out, or if there is, what it might take to get to it. This place looks like it goes on forever, and for all he knows, it does. Even if it doesn't, what comes after that?

Waking up, he'd hope.

[a_shadow]

She stops and turns around to face him.

"Why?" she asks. Her tone indicates he better have a good answer after the way this whole encounter has gone.

[counterblows]

"Because it's...this place, it isn't a physical one. It's - you dream, right?"

The aside, the interjection of his current trajectory, maybe it makes for a convincing smokescreen. It almost suggests it's something he's never thought about.

[a_shadow]

She scoffs. How ridiculous. But her answer isn't probably the one he's expecting.

"I remember things, while I'm sleeping. They're sort of like dreams, I guess."

[counterblows]

"This, right now? This is a dream."

The logistics of A.I. and robots dreaming escapes him, but he now knows that it's possible. He just doesn't know how.

[a_shadow]

She stares at him for a moment.

"Bullshit," she says finally.

To emphasize that she thinks he's full of it, she crosses her arms and turns her head away to one side, looking past him. Things do have that strange, fuzzy quality that dreams have. Is she really lying in bed on the Moira and dreaming this strange thing?

[counterblows]

"You don't have to believe me." Well, why'd he say that? She already doesn't, and he knows he doesn't. "But that's how this place works. It drags you in by your dreams, and then you wake up on an island."

Assuming she...shows up. The possibility that she doesn't, that he's just visualizing this whole thing in a vivid hallucinatory nightmare, that's certainly out there, considering the state of his mind.

[a_shadow]

She grunts an acknowledgment and then looks at him again, arms still crossed.

"So what, we're expected to keep fighting until we wake up?"

That's not what she plans to do. It's pointless, especially after he rebuffed her offer of forgiveness and then conceded the paintball match.

"Because that's not happening," she adds.

[counterblows]

"That depends on if you'd want to."

Which, it's pretty clear that no one here really wants to. And, hey, no one is forcing them to keep shooting at each other, so you know what? Wash is fine to call it here and now. Point awarded to Agent Texas, match over, end of.

"I don't think anyone's going to force us."

[a_shadow]

"Good," she says. "If that's all we have to do with each other, then, I'll move on."

Hopefully knowing it's a dream will mean she can control it, and she'll be able to exit.

She goes to the edge of the room and begins to walk the perimeter, looking for a way out. After a while it's clear—there is none.

She seeks Washington out again, then, wandering in towards the middle of the course. Someone fires a paintball in her direction then.

"Washington —!"

[counterblows]

As if that doesn't fucking seal that they can't really leave. Wash hits the ground in a roll, paint-gun out in record time. It's not, strictly speaking, necessary. It's really and truly not. It's paint, and hardly going to kill anyone - add to the fact that it's a dream, and that just makes the entire performance more unnecessary.

Still, there's no accounting for instinct.

"Where'd it come from? Did you see?"

[a_shadow]

That seals the fact that Washington wasn't the one firing on her again, that he hadn't decided to start this match up again. Tex feels a momentary pang but dismisses it easily. It had been a plausible conclusion. No need to feel guilty.

She tucks her body in beside a pillar and raises her weapon.

"2 o'clock, behind that wall," she says. It doesn't escape her that the two of them have never fought together properly like this, never teamed up and eliminated the same target. She decides for once not to showboat and take point immediately— she'll let him have a chance at taking the lead this time.

[counterblows]

It doesn't occur to him to question it. He falls into step easily, taking orders from the next person up the chain - Carolina, or in this case, Tex. Some part of him never shook that inclination, the need to take someone else's orders and incorporate them into the ever-changing circumstances inherent to military combat.

"We can flank them, whoever they are. We move fast enough, we can pin them."

Personally, it's doubtful Tex actually needs his help for this. But it's better than getting his ass dragged by her yet again, so he'll take teamwork instead.

[a_shadow]

What he has said was obvious enough that Tex almost feels like mocking him for it, but best to work together and forget the fact that working with others takes so much damned talking.

"Going right," she replies, and starts off in that direction immediately. If she gets the angle right she will be able to intercept the enemy and fire back at them point-blank.

[counterblows]

"...left it is, then." He's forgotten what it's like to work with people who work in that kind of straightforward way - who are, he won't use the word competent, but know how to employ legitimate military strategies without asking a million questions. The ability to improvise and trust the off-the-cuff scenarios and unconventional thinking works...for his team back home.

Time to remember how to work with people who actually know what the hell they're doing.

He starts moving left. He's slower and more careful than Tex, obviously, courtesy of lacking a cloaking unit. Taking cover where he can, darting between pillars and barricades in an effort to get closer.