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

[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.

[a_shadow]

Tex rushes in like a guided missile, seeking out the enemy without mercy—she's a little more reluctant these days to outright kill people without knowing the reason, but since this is just a paintball match she has no reason to be moderate. She darts past the first couple of pillars to the right, then moves forward, trying to intercept the person in the location where they stand.

Meanwhile, the enemy seems to have moved, or multiplied. A paintball fires in her direction from the area she had just come from, leading her to stop in place and take cover. She places herself so that she can't be shot from either place the paintballs had been coming from.

[counterblows]

"God damn it!" A flicker of memory hitches up in the back of his throat, snagging like fish hooks at the corners of his eyes: C.T., a guttering twin of her, her simulacra splitting and fading into a flare of static and pixels.

Whoever's at them, they're either many-numbered, or capable of something similar.

"Any sight of them?"

[a_shadow]

"No," she says tersely, though that's the weird thing that she's been noticing—there's no apparent enemy, or at least not a visible one, just paint balls flying in her direction.

[counterblows]

"Then where the hell is it coming from?"

He ducks another salvo of paintballs with a muttered curse, ducking low to the ground.

"I thought cloaking was your thing! Unless - "

An ugly, painful thought blossoms beneath his chest, and he tries to force it back, but - no, no, he can't be positive, he can't be. Dead people show up here all the time.

Dead people with stolen Freelancer tech could show up just the same.

[a_shadow]

"Unless what?" she snaps, impatient. She breaks off, heading in the direction she was originally going, to intercept the assailant on this end. She's not going to be bested by a dream.

[counterblows]

"Unless it's someone from home who uses stolen cloaking tech, which people do." And boy, does he not sound happy about that.

"God damn it."

[a_shadow]

"Stolen?" she says. She whips around a pillar where she expects to confront their antagonist, only to find no one. "What are you trying to imply, Washington?"

[counterblows]

"Can we not do this now?" He hurdles a low wall and presses himself up against it as another hail of paint pellets spatters bright green in the place where he just was. "It's a long story and I'd kind of like to figure out who's shooting at us first."

Goddamnit. Here he thought he could be done with telling people shit they didn't want to hear.

[a_shadow]

Tex doesn't snark back at him, just falls quiet, trying to find the assailant who she was sure had been around this corner. No one's here though, and the next volley of paintballs that careens her way is coming from another direction.

"What the fuck?" she bites out. Nothing had hit her, but it had come damn close. And she didn't play games with that sort of thing.

[counterblows]

"Way I see it, we got two options. One, we wait this out until whoever is shooting at us - " He raises his voice pointedly at their unseen opponent. " - gets bored or tired. Or, two."

Lower, now, and hopefully their stalker won't hear:

"We split up and see if they can follow both of us at once."

[a_shadow]

Tex agrees, and flashes her marker on his HUD.

"Go to 6 o'clock, I'm going 12."

Of course, with the way they're being fired at, it's inevitable that when she makes a run for it that something would hit her from the incredible volley of paintballs that has continually been vaulted in her direction. She doesn't stop when one gets her, though. She keeps running.

Because she has spotted the exit.

[counterblows]

"Sync."

Fall into line. Make a break for it, tearing out across the battlefield. He gets a fresh coat of paint on his shoulder, gets splattered at his thigh, and another whips across the back of his helmet, but he doesn't stop until he's headed for what looks like a way out of here.

No time to radio the information. Comm's busted anyway. He just has to get out of here. Clear the rest of the way to the door, and -

Get out.