aftr_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

Test Drive Meme #1

Hello, and welcome to our very first test drive! 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 July 17th and that Applications will open on July 24th, in preparation for the game’s official opening on August 3rd!

But first, two important notes!

1. The island of Mu 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.

Shipwrecked
The white sand of the beach ridges the island’s edge, even if the clear water soon becomes murky the further out you look across the horizon until the turquoise gleam of the tide disappears in a coil of surrounding fog. Indeed, your best prospects may very well be to strike out among the trees or the crags looming out over the foam-capped waves. There’s lumber to be found and made from the palm-like trees, potentially fruit or edible tubers of some kind if you forage about some. The further you travel, however, the more of your surroundings will reveal themselves in a steady unspooling of curiosities.

One corner of Mu’s current construct drops away into a sheer cliff, initially too dangerous to brave for all but the more daredevilish, but if one starts to scan the sharp rocks below, you might catch sight of what appears to be sodden planks of wood - a wreckage tossed up against the rocks. And a little further...a bobbing, shattered wreck of a lifeboat’s remains, potentially bearing supplies that might yet be salvageable.

Fashion what you can from the wood and stone around you or scavenge from the ruin of the land, if you like. But you can’t simply stand around and wait forever. It’s going to get dark sometime - and if a creature of unknown terror doesn’t catch you, the elements surely will.

Storytime

There’s a sense of camaraderie in this cove, you think. As the sun hangs low over the horizon, the world cast into orange hues, long shadows dispersed by roaring fires that dot across the beach.

That’s right, folks: it’s storytime.

There’s no one to preside over this meeting of the minds in Mu. Call it a vague recreation of things to come, if you like, some vaguely fatidic dreamlike state where you may find yourself drawn to the heat and company that awaits you by the fire. And from there, compelled to default to that old instinct that most of intelligent civilization has revered since they were advanced enough to paint geometric shapes on cave walls.

You tell a story.

Perhaps it’s a tragedy, a tale of woe and of personal loss. Perhaps it’s the sort of thing you’d break out after a few rounds of your alcoholic beverage of choice, clapping hands to your knees as you try to bite back your mirth long enough to spill the punchline. Perhaps it’s an adventure of some sort, some unbelievable rendition of your past exploits. The only common thread to be had, as those gathered around the fire share their tales, is the fundamental rule of a ritualistic sharing of stories such as this: its truth.

But how one chooses to define "truth" is, in its own way, another story entirely...

Dance, Sucker, Dance!
The beat of your heart in your chest is difficult to ignore. It judders with a pulsing, rhythmic quality. If you’re one of those that lacks a heart, the beat is still omnipresent and all-encompassing, until your entire body is unwittingly bobbing in time to a metronomic tune that seems ingrained into your very soul. It’s inescapable. You can’t seem to move unless it’s in time to the rhythm that’s now singing in every atom of your being.

But rest assured, you’re not alone in this musical curse. Everything, from the swaying trees to the waves against the beach, jumps in time to the music. And so do the monsters approaching you, that - wait a minute.

Monsters?

Oh, yes. Did we mention those?

It seems you’ve encountered the wrath of the Boogieman, who curses you to only dance to his infernal beat. If you wish to best him, you’ll have to either evade or destroy the blobs of greenish slime that serve as his minions, all in time to the hard beat of the tune in your head. Clear the radius of his curse or risk an open confrontation, if you dare. Don’t worry if you look foolish; chances are anyone else caught in the Boogieman’s thrall feels just the same.

Mu isn’t pulling any punches to start with. It is a flighty creation, after all, and seems to revel in displacing people into new and uncomfortable situations.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ As the skeleton monster speaks, the small, dim lights in his eye sockets swing down briefly -- perhaps noting where the Kid's hand is resting, and on what. Doesn't seem terribly concerned about that, doesn't even skip a beat, grinning through the question that follows. ]

Yep.

[ He pops the p, despite having no lips to shape the sound, or lungs, or a voice box. In the following beat of silence, Sans concludes that this guy probably doesn't laugh much.

That's fine, he's got something else to address, like the hand on a pretty hefty hammer, for instance. ]

Relax, buddy. I'm on your side. I'd say we're in the same boat, but, uh...

[ That flotsam the Kid had been hauling was probably a piece of said boat, huh. ]

[There's lights in its--his?--sockets that move almost like eyes, to the point Kid can tell the guy is sizing him up. Taking note of his hammer, and apparently deciding not to worry about it.]

[Which does make him feel a little underestimated. But that's fine. Other people's esteem never mattered much to him.]

[So, puns. A talking skeleton telling puns. Funny thing is, his first thought is how he hasn't heard a pun in awhile. Zia likes puns, but she tells them scarcely. The talking skeleton part, meanwhile, is still just sort of floating around his head, like maybe this is still just a hallucination.]

Huh.

[You're supposed to laugh when someone tells a joke, but Sans's guess is right. He never did laugh that easily.]

[After another moment, he lets go of his hammer. Fair enough. He's not out to pick fights, not even with monsters.]

Mm. Jus' never met a talkin' skeleton afore.

[The dead aren't usually very talkative. But, whatever. He's adaptable.]

[ Perhaps because there's no more indication that the Kid is inclined to swing a hammer at him, Sans extracts a hand from a pocket to wave it in a negligent gesture that might have been dismissive if he'd put a little more backbone into it. ]

Eh. Most humans haven't.

[ He takes a gander at the debris the Kid had been trying to drag across the sand, but no offer to help is forthcoming, not when he next sizes up the human himself and, finally, offers that hand to shake.

Honestly, he half expects it to get stared at. ]

But hey! Now you have. The name's Sans.

[The skeleton seems awful casual for having washed up on a beach. Maybe when you get to the point that you're all bones, not much bothers you anymore.]

[Though the way he says "humans" implies something else.]

Y'ain't?

[He doesn't expect help, really. Nor would he ask for it. It's not like this stuff is heavy, and even if he was, he's always done the heavy lifting.]

Sans.

[Doesn't sound Caelondian or Ura.]

[By now he's got the crate of...whatever this is safely away from the water, so it's time to start pulling it apart and seeing if any of it's usable.]

Kid.

Whew, and a kid of few words.

[ Sans chuckles, watching from a short distance, just in case something comes loose from those waterlogged boards. Habit, really. But seriously, the monster's pretty sure that was just three going on four words there, tops. Or was it five? Hell if he knows, contractions are harder to count than some other things.

He gets the impression 'Kid' doesn't get too many opportunities to be one. A kid, he means. Even watching him diligently attempt to crack that crate open, Sans can see he's no stranger to toil. ]

And, uh, nope. Not human, either. Your name's really Kid, huh? Where are you from, Kid?

[ Call it idle curiosity, or maybe he just wants to see if he's able to tease more than a few words from the human -- Sans could retreat to crash somewhere, but, eh. He's already here. ]

[He makes a noncommittal sound, unsure if the skeleton is making fun of him or not. It doesn't really matter either way. The Kid isn't really one to get riled easily, and yeah, he knows he don't talk much.]

[The wood itself might be usable if it's left to dry, but when the container comes open a few mysterious, sealed jars of something come rolling out. Kid picks one up carefully to inspect it. Looks like some kind of preserved food. Maybe pickles.]

[So the skeleton's not human. Alright, then. Some kind of construct or spirit, maybe? He's not too sure about mystical stuff like that.]

'S what ever'one calls me.

[Everyone who's left. All three of them.]

Real name don' mean much no more.

[None of them really bothered to ask after his real name, and it's not like he had much attachment to it to begin with. Rucks would probably just keep calling him "Kid" either way.]

[Plus he knows he looks younger than he is.]

Caelondia. [He glances up at Sans again, setting the jars upright in the sand. One of them has broken open and, yeah, smells like pickles.]

You?

[Where would a skeleton call home, anyway? If not in a grave.]

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

it's sans PUNDERTALE to you kid (I love Bastion)

new au: bastiontale. because we don't have enough of those

where everything's the same, the calamity dusted all the monsters lol

sans deffo wants to see his brother turned into a dust statue right

the au no one deserves

the au WE ALL deserve