aftr_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME ( 030 )

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*test drive meme

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 030 )

Test Drive Meme #30

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.

Reserves and Applications are always open, and are processed every weekend.

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.

Polar Opposites
Adventurers in the waking world have had to contend with the temperamental island of Monsun, which has recently undergone some rather drastic changes. These changes have now become all the more evident in Mu. You see, upon waking here, you're likely to end up on one of two sides.

The east side is a frozen wasteland, rife with glaciers and beasts that you could expect to see in an ice age - woolly mammoths, sabre-toothed tigers, and dozens of others besides. While they're not innately hostile creatures, you should probably keep your distance...unless your idea of a good time is getting into a brisk fight with one or more of these beasts. Nothing like a good brawl to warm up the blood, after all!

What's more is that your body may also begin to reflect physical properties inherent to the region. This can be as simple as a thin layer of semi-permanent frost that settles over you, and as complex as sprouting icicle horns and spines all over your body. These changes can be slow to emerge or extremely painful, or relatively painless and immediate. If you get the odd ice-based power to shoot icicles out of your hands or slick the ground beneath you with frost on top of it, well...that's just a bonus, isn't it?

On the other hand, you could wake up on the western side of this recreation of Monsun. Things here are just as dangerous, but in a rather different sense. This place is a blasted, scorched wasteland of volcanic corruption. The parts of the land still traversable are little more than seared patches of coal and rock. All around you, rivers of magma seethe in haphazard, highly volatile tributaries. At irregular points, parts of the land detach seemingly at random and drift into the air, as though decoupled from the island's gravity. Heavy chunks of charred rock hover in midair, though it's not clear how it is they remain suspended. The land is periodically rocked with earthquakes that spurt fountains of lava into the air in burning arcs and further fracture what little solid ground you have, causing more of it to break away from the ground and bob listlessly in the empty air.

You can also expect to be pursued by the odd monstrous entity on top of these environmental hazards - so tread carefully!

There are benefits to this, however. Just like with the east side, sticking around on the heat-blasted part of this world may cause your body to reflect physical properties inherent to the region. Whether it's a fiery shimmer bathing your silhouette, your skin becoming blackened and veined with magma, or any other variation besides, is up to you. These changes can be slow to emerge or extremely painful, or relatively painless and immediate. And, of course, if you pick up a fire-based power or two in the interim, that's just a bonus. Maybe you can shoot fire from your hands now, or make whips of lava out of thin air. Pretty badass, right? Totally makes this potentially traumatic transformation worth it, right?

Well, we thought so.

Can't Let It Go
It is in the thick of winter, and while the tropical islands on LifeAftr are only intermittently reflecting this, the dreamworld of Mu is the exception here. You'll have to be careful when braving these thick, high-piled snowdrifts, however. You might see the occasional lump of snow that looks like someone nearby has made a couple of snowmen. That's nice, right? A good sign of civilization?

Not so. These are, in fact, creatures known as snowgoons, and they are very much hostile. So not only is it very cold, but you're being hunted by terrifying snowmen on top of it. They are intrinsically hostile, incredibly lethal, and what's more? They are relentless.

It'd be bad enough if these things only wanted to rip you limb from limb, but they don't. What they really want to do is turn you into one of them. They primarily accomplish this by stalking you and hounding you more or less nonstop until you essentially collapse from exhaustion or no longer have any means to fighting them off, and then packing snow around you. Assuming you don't freeze to death, you can still get free as long as they don't get to your head. Once they've covered your face, there's no coming back.

The best way to deal with these creatures is to keep them at a distance as much as possible; snowgoons are only really effective at close range. They can be picked off fairly easily from a distance, though we recommend figuring out some kind of way of generating heat to keep them at bay. These things, true to their appearance, despise fire and heat.

Hope you brought a flamethrower!

Mistletoe? More Like Mistlefoe
Ah, mistletoe. A long-standing wintertime tradition, often used to facilitate all sorts of romantical shenanigans throughout history. This isn't necessarily requisite, or forced, fortunately. In this wintery wonderland, most mistletoe is in its uncut, untendered state - little more than a parasitic fuzz clinging to the branches of the trees overhead.

You have a roughly equal chance of running into two different types of mistletoe. There is, of course, the conventional mistletoe, wherein you will more or less immediately experience the urge to express affection to whoever else is nearest. This can translate to romantic, familial, or platonic affection - cuddling, kissing, hand-holding, hugging, or just plain being nice to them, as per your comfort level. This may be a mutual affection...or it might not.

There is also the other type of mistletoe. Instead of a one true soulmate, this type will select your one true foemate.

Upon crossing paths with this type of mistletoe, you will be seized with the immediate and overwhelming desire to fight whoever else is nearest. This sensation might be mutual, or it might be wholly one-sided. This can translate to an unthinkable, murderous bloodlust that obscures all other reason, or it might relate to a polite request for a formal duel. This parasitic plant has selected your government-assigned nemesis; are you really going to run from that?

Unfortunately for you, these two types of mistletoe are virtually indistinguishable from one another. It's entirely possible for one person to be affected by the former and another person to be affected by the latter simultaneously.

Good luck.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Threaded | Flat

Frozen Wasteland

At a glance, it likely looks to the average person like someone’s pet must have gotten lost out here: There’s a large brown tabby hunkered down against the wind, pushing his way through the snow, with a spiked collar secured around his throat and his long fur shaved down to fuzz over most of his torso. And, technically, that’s kind of true… though the Rum Tum Tugger is a little less concerned right now with the absence of the humans he lives with than that of their dwelling. Independence is one thing, but he never signed up for complete exposure to some kind of ice-blasted wilds, without so much as a rubbish bin to hide inside, and he can feel the frost sticking in his fur and clinging to his ears and whiskers.

On the other hand… not everyone around here is quite average, are they. And those with sufficient powers of perception, particularly those of the magical kind, may see something wildly different before them, still crouched down irritably in the snow-- and still nearly chest-deep in it, actually, still no bigger than a largeish housecat.

Whether this new face is that of a lost housepet or a tiny man clad in a furry bodysuit, though, his eyes lock right onto the first hint of movement nearby, and he goes very still, ears pricked forward (if they’re ears and not just a hairstyle resembling cat ears?) and tail lashing (if it’s a tail and not just a belt) with visible interest.

Mistlefoe

Have you ever wanted to fight a housecat? Or, alternately, a two-foot-tall mancat?

Too bad, because he’s going to fight you.

Evidently, in his exploration of his strange new surroundings, the Rum Tum Tugger has come across some of that strange mistletoe - and now whatever unfortunate soul happens to be closest seems absolutely infuriating, and is going to pay for it.

At least he’s not particularly stealthy, and his chosen victim will get a moment’s warning in the form of a furious hiss-and-snarl before he leaps at them, claws outstretched.

(( OOC: YES this is how we’re doing this; generally speaking, if someone is nonmagical/doesn’t have any particular powers that would allow them to see magic/perceive things others don’t/etc, they will probably just see a cat! A talking cat, granted, but a cat. However, if your character DOES have some kind of magical sight or anything along those lines, i will leave it up to other players if they’re seeing a cat or a tiny mancat.

As for other senses, like, say, scent: i do not know for sure tbh. He may smell kinda OFF for a cat, but if you want to figure stuff out more wrt that hit me up over PM or at

omixgirl10. I’m willing to be loose with this, i’m out here playing a dancing cat man ))

Volcanic Corruption

Papyrus doesn't recall putting much thought into what might happen if, say, the CORE catastrophically failed and set off a volcanic eruption. Science isn't his driving interest, after all. But his subconscious, as tirelessly hard-working as any part of him ought to be, has plainly put a whole lot of thought into it! For this dream is a vivid and somewhat painful outline.

The way the ground quakes from time to time, breaking up to reveal even more rivers of magma... Or is it lava, with the way the mountain's exploded so hard that the underground is now almost above ground, with chunks of rock floating above like they're caught in the barrier?

Or the way the heat is so pervasive, so magically-infused, that his bones are bursting into a flame that's somehow part of him. As though someone fused him and Grillby into a particularly firey skeleton. If only he had a spiked leather jacket, he could look really cool. In the way where coolness is literal hotness.

That heat hurts like a drawn-out sparring session, and he's ready for this dream to end. In the meantime, Papyrus does his best to leap between the remaining bits of solid ground to search for somewhere less exploded. And worse than the pain, worse than the way the few magma monsters he's seen weren't exactly friendly or talkative, is the way his usual gravity-defying abilities just... aren't working right.

"I never thought I would wish for steam vents," he laments after barely making another challenging leap.

Mistle...toe?

Well, life can't be all fun, and games, and running around while literally on fire in a volcanic wasteland... Sometimes life is about walking through a snowy forest, encountering strange vegetation, and finding a new purpose.

Like watching intently for signs of other people, and ambushing them.

Unfortunately for the hapless ambushee, there's no immediate sign whether he's been affected by mistletoe or mistlefoe; friend or foe, Papyrus feels the need to greet them with a fight. Either way he doesn't intend to kill anyone - and his mastery of his own magic is good enough that he's not going to (unless it, too, starts glitching on him).

But, thanks to whichever plant he encountered, he absolutely, dapsolutely is not taking 'no' for an answer here. They're going to have a cool spar if he has to chase them and pummel them with bones to make it happen.

[OOC: Feel free to respond with action tags or prose as you prefer, I'm good either way. If you're taking the mistletoe/mistlefoe prompt, let me know if you prefer one or the other! If no preference, I'll flip a coin or something. And followup tags won't be as long as this - I just wanted to set up the scenes in some detail, and the playful narration ran away with me.]

Edited 2020-01-01 05:48 (UTC)

frozen:

[the figure in white blends right in with his surroundings. when the wind blows, it makes the fluttering of his robes seem like nothing more than the stirring of another snowdrift. xiao xingchen treks across this frozen landscape, seemingly unaffected by the cold.

he stops every now and then, turning his head in one direction or another, listening. the white blindfold that covers his eyes might explain why he can't enjoy the scenery - not that there's much to see.

he can tell by their footsteps, the heavier ones of the mammoths, the pacing of the cats. xingchen adjusts his path accordingly to stay out of their way. even if there's a sword on his back, these aren't the kind of things he normally hunts. besides, there don't seem to be any people around for them to be a danger to.

or is there? he stops again and tilts his head before his voice comes out on a frosty cloud.]

Is someone there?

mistletoe:

[he doesn't feel a drastic change. xingchen is always gentle and kind, but the strange plant that he encountered definitely enhances a little of that feeling.

it's nice to feel some warmth after all the cold, even if it's the more internal kind. but there's still other ways of warming his hands, like...maybe lacing his fingers with those of anyone who's close to him.

maybe he's just asking for a guide?]

POLAR OPPOSITES, A WEED SPROUTS IN THE WASTELAND

[ It's cold.

Looking through what feels like a thick haze into the darkness behind closed eyelids, Shiemi doesn't think that's right. She wasn't cold, not a moment ago. She remembers light and heat and a wetness, thick beads, tears falling from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. That's right. She'd been crying. She still is. She winces realizing the sting, the frost clinging to her lashes, moisture frozen at the corners of eyes she slowly opens. More than that, it's Yuki...! She'd just been telling Rin about Yuki-chan, that she'd messed up, that she'd gotten angry, that he'd said -- and her fingers ball into fists, clench snow and so much ice as she begins to really clear the haze, to wake up from what seems to her in that moment like some deep sleep -- that he didn't have a single friend or even family.

That he was alone.

She sits up not quite dazed, fists finding the fabric of her kimono just above her knees. She exhales and the moisture in that breath turns to ice before rapidly fluttering lashes as everything begins to come into focus. It's cold and this isn't right. She turns her head left, then right. This isn't the table at which she'd been sitting, the room where they'd gathered. She isn't there and no one's here. She remembers Rin had turned to go, but that doesn't explain this, the ice spreading from the tips of her fingers into the fabric of her clothes that sees her gasp and let go of her clothing. ]

Wh-what...?

[ What is this? She can't shake it off?! She looks from her hands around her almost frantically. ]

Where am I...? Everyone? A-anyone! [ She calls a little louder, her voice echoing through the nothingness. Her lower lip quivers slightly, brows furrowing as she dips her head. ]

Yuki-chan...

[ She hopes he's alright. She doesn't know where she is, where he and the others are right now or what's happened, what's going on, but... she's got to get up. She knows she does, but she feels so heavy. ]

MISTLEFOE, TAMER SHIEMI WANTS TO FIGHT!!

[ When Shiemi had glimpsed that familiar plant hanging in its uncut, untendered state atop a lonely branch, she had brightened. She's seen many things in this frozen wasteland, but very little in the way of readily apparent familiar foliage. She expected as much. Many plants and flowers sleep in the winter, she knows, and just because that thick white blankets everything doesn't mean there isn't life beneath it or thriving in the midst of it, but this is the first she's seen and she wants to get a closer look at that resilient little guy perching up there. That's her first mistake because that desire sees her walk directly beneath it in looking for a way to maybe climb...?

She might seem fine should someone happen to approach her. In fact, she's pretty focused on getting up there to take a look at that mistletoe... until she notices you. Then, she stops. Then, her expression twists into some kind of alarm and the leg up she'd gotten on the tree fails and she kind of. Plummets down several feet.

She's apparently fine, though, because she's hurriedly pushing herself up. ]

Y-you...!

[ Yes, you. There is five feet, five inches of blond walking up on you and that expression of hers is shifting from alarmed into some sort of tight lipped, fist clenching furious. She's ready to fight! ]

Polar Perfection

A horrendously volatile, burnt-out landscape doesn't bring much happiness with it. One could be forgiven for looking out across the desolation and finding the dreary atmosphere sinking into the very recesses of their SOUL, pulling their mood down to smoldering embers of what once may have been mistaken for... happiness? Idealistic, wonderous scenes of familial intent that made one feel at Home.

For Chara, this place was none of these things. But sometime between observing their surroundings and resigning themself to the fact that this is, in fact, happening- again, they'd discovered something entirely unexpected.

They can shoot fire from their hands.

It's not the controlled flames of the woman they had once called mother, capable of redirection and regulated temperatures, but those are most certainly giant balls of Fuck You shooting out of their palms, and though there is a veritable menagerie of complications and issues they could be ruminating over, actions they should take, next steps that will undoubtedly be uncomfortable for everyone involved, Chara Dreemurr is, for a time, more of one thing than any other thing.

They're a child who can shoot giant Fuck Off balls out of their God Damn Hands.

Their unbridled joy at this fact can be heard for miles. And if the near-continuous cackles and whoops of enthusiasm don't catch attention, the violent explosions overhead as Giant Fuck You balls of God Damn Fire collide with floating pieces of blackened rock may just do the trick.

It's the little things.

Can't Let It Go

[There is possibly such a thing as enjoying yourself too much.

They should be running for their life. The cold should be biting at their heels, threatening both life and limb as they attempt to find somewhere, anywhere, that could be called safe. Warm. Warm and safe, the very basic need for shelter something Mu appears rather insistent on reminding them they still have requirements of. They ignore it. There are rather haunting creatures in their midst, looming out of the snowstorm with a suddenness that demands a spike in their already heightened levels of paranoia, until their entire body screams with the need to lash out, to take charge of things before things take charge of them. Every atom of their being demands control.

Who are they to ignore that?

They may not have flamethrowers, but their knives are a constant companion. Their knives were enchanted years ago, by a man in a castle whose name they recall perfectly, who stayed long enough to cause some damage, and no longer. Their knives are capable of wreathing in flames at the mere twist of their wrists, and boy howdy-

Chara doesn't need to run. They are. If they don't, their quarry has an unfortunate habit of blending into their surroundings, which really doesn't provide the same satisfaction as driving a flaming knife into an instantly melting face.

There's a possibility that they're enjoying themself, far too much.

But as Chara rushes towards a new target, flaming blade raised high, they at least have the good grace not to immediately stab at anyone a little less... frozen.]

Awfully bad weather for a walk, is it not? [The smile that splits their face, ear to ear, is about as welcoming as the flaming blades in each hand.] One would be tempted to believe you want something unfortunate to befall you.

[They seem a little too chipper at the notion.]

A Cold Day In Hell

It's not the cold that Omega notices first, it's the aloneness. There's no other here... not his brothers, not her, not some idiot begging him to stop or be nice. No one... he's alone in his own mind and he's 63% sure he doesn't like it. It's only after this sinks in that the fact he's cold registers.

Can an AI dream? That's stupid, meat dreams and he's not meat. This is probably just some sort of glitch. The final nanoseconds of his existence being corrupted as he's burned away by the EMP. That must be why this place reminds him Sidewinder, it's a corrupted memory or something like that. That would definitely account for the giant furry elephants.

Omega half trudges half stalks across the frozen landscape, expecting to find something familiar or familiar-ish. Preferably something he can vent his frustration on. But something that can help him figure out what the H.E. double hockey sticks is going on here wouldn't be unwelcome.

"Hey, you!"... Or maybe someone... "Random person I don't know."

Mistle... wait, what?

On his absolutely best behavior Omega is snarky, scheming, and low key annoyed at having to play nice. In fact, of his brothers only Sigma could be considered less of a 'team player'. But, the past couple of years stuck with an idiot pacifist for a host body had given him unexpected room to grow. Having said that, Mistletoe isn't going to make him exactly cuddly... More chill and conversational.

At his worst 'vicious psychopath' seems generous. He isn't used to his body but that isn't stopping him from reverting to his pure core attribute... rage. Mistlefoe has him attacking whoever's most convenient and without any sort of subtlety. Not even a fun quip or overly dramatic threat first. Lucky you!

((ooc: open to prose or action. Whatever works best .))

i. Polar Opposites - Fiery Beast

[This...isn't right. This place is not where she's supposed to be, nor is it where she's supposed to go. It has nothing to do with any of her objectives, the day to day thrall that has given her purpose for many, many years... Not only that, but those others...those people accompanying her back to Ozette, back home to her daddy...they're gone, too. The thought given to her companions is a fleeting one - they held little purpose other than getting her to where she needed to be - before she pushes herself up, not bothering to dust off the ash and dirt from her clothes, and looks carefully around for her axe. Thankfully, it's nearby, though the leather casing that protects the blade is long gone. It's fine...she can make another, she has the skill, and there are certain to be creatures here she can tan.

And no sooner does the thought cross her mind that she hears them...lumbering footsteps far, far away. Her cruxis crystal glitters slightly, and she strains to focus on what they could be, a list like a computer matrix passing through her head on information about various beasts she knows. Monsters, creatures that would live and excel in this sort of terrain. A golem is her first thought, and as she clutches her axe's handle, she makes swift movement in the opposite direction, only vaguely realizing that her touch scorches the wood only slightly.

It's odd, to see a child walking through this sort of place, and odder still to see that same child carrying an axe over her shoulder that looks almost the same height and weight as herself. Her expression is blank, emotionless and stoic, as she presses onward, though she will take note of anyone either in danger or coming upon her. The latter might get some tension, and any touch will be met with a swing of her axe or a fierce jerk and slap. Contact, if met, will also burn. Her skin feels...hot. Scalding, and her usually blue eyes have become an amber hue, tinted with yellow-orange. Her skin, also, seems redder in spots than others...]
---

ii. Can't Let it Go - A Song of Ice and Fire

Monster species, unknown. Subclass, unknown. Possible ice or snow golem...carnivorous? Unknown. Threat level - severe. ...Danger.

[The laundry list of nearly robotic monotone is uttered as Presea is surrounded by a group of five icy snowmen, though they hesitate to approach. She still bears her axe, an outstanding level of strength unfitting a child her age and size, and...a new power she's come to find. Fire arcs as she swings her axe in a circular motion, spinning on her heel, and the snowmen disperse slightly, growling and gnashing their jagged teeth. She takes the opportunity to break through their ranks, and crashes her axe into the nearest one blacking her path.

It cuts through, metal hot and glowing almost red-orange from the girl's grip, and the snowmen screeches in pain as much of its lower half erupts into steam, ice crackling and hissing as water spews from it. Incapacitated, Presea makes a break for it. She can take maybe one or two of these creatures, but not an entire group of them. Not only that, but she needs to find shelter, food, resources....a way home. There are people here, she can feel their presence, and has even encountered some, but...no villages. No towns.

No answers.]

+ polar opposites +

[ if you happen to be moving through the frozen tundra that is Monsun, you may notice a strange, glove-shaped hat, peeking out from behind a large rock. The hat is firmly iced over, and the little fingers that are visible beyond the protection of the rock look like they're blue, and...swollen. And painful.

Even with that being said, her eyes brightly absorb the environment Not terribly far from her large, stoney protector, is a woolly mammoth-- large, and in charge, but not interested in her.

Luna, however, is overwhelmed. She can't stop grinning from ear to ear, whispering words to...someone? Something? That walks around the corner slowly, keeping it's icy white body between the child and the monster, far out of reach. ]

C'mon, Nina-- he's not charging at us! Maybe he can help me? He looks pretty warm, too-- ouch! [ Luna yelps when "Nina" nips at her arm bitterly. Obviously, the answer here is no. Despite that being the case, Luna still grins, and pulls her body back from the rock as far as it'll go, tugging, and tugging--

But...it looks like her hands are stuck to the rock. She sighs, sticking her tongue out of her mouth a little. ] Guess I'm gonna have to get creative with this, huh...?

+ can't let it go +

[ in a frozen clearing, where the storms have died down and the bitter chill remains, Luna stands proudly, focused on the scene before her. Snowmen line up aggresively in front of her-- and when talking to them resulted in her body almost being covered in a thick layer of dense snow, Incineroar came to her beck and call. They stand close to one another, with the large wrestling pokemon roaring it's demands in a language that the snowgoons can't understand.

Luna, for that matter, is not fluent-- but she does know one thing. This situation? Is dangerous. She exhales, a soft sound with a cloudy, frozen puff following it. ]

Kitten, are you ready? We need to take these guys out and find help...or other people who need help. You're all we've got! [ the pokemon roars, flexing it's broad chest outward and burning the cold air around them. ] That's the spirit! Fire Fang!

[ at her command, the large creature dives at the snowgoons-- before they have much of an opportunity to decide what they'd like to do, Incineroar burns through them all head first, leaving puddles of water and broken snowmen in his wake. The snowmen back up and begin to disperse, but it's a slow process.

Luna waits, moving close to where Incineroar ended his fire-spree. Let them run if they need to.

What would he do?

She grins. ] He'd probably go crazy on all of them...probably. But we're going to let them decide if they want some more of you, Kitten!

[ when she looks up...they're all gone, aside from the remains of the offending snowmen who looked at Luna the wrong way.

Safe, for now. ]

Threaded | Flat

The Rum Tum Tugger | CATS

Papyrus | Undertale

xiao xingchen | the untamed

Shiemi Moriyama | Blue Exorcist

The Demon That Comes When You're A Tad Too Edgy | An Incredibly Obscure Canon

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