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aftr_ooc2017-07-04 10:46 pm
lifeaftr_mods) wrote in aftr_ooc2017-07-04 10:46 pm
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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!
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!
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.
( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )
no subject
Bro, you make that sound tempting.
[That's...not even banter anymore. This is sick, he wants to die. Would death be swift if he really leapt into that frothing muck? Would he be allowed the luxury? No, his luck is never that good.
There's not much to grab at his shoulder other than skin. With his hoodie discarded, all Guzma has is his faded, white tanktop under. His kneejerk reaction is to swat the hand away - fucker do not - but instead he grips Ichi's hand in his, albeit it may, uh...hurt a little (a lot). Guzma's grip is crushing, and his own smile is manic, edged with his growing fury.
Leg up, shithead. Guzma caught the glimpse, and with a grunt, he pivots on his heel and grabs Ichimatsu's waist, lifting him up in time to (hopefully) kick away the opposing monster before a feigned drop, catching the smaller male in a crouch with one hand holding up his arm and the other behind his head.]
If I vomit, it'll be on your face.
no subject
[But he's still pissed off, and this thuggish guy... irritates the hell out of him.]
[He seizes Ichimatsu's waist and the impulse is to literally gnaw that arm off, but instead, he finds himself bracing against Guzma's shoulder and dutifully swinging his leg out just as he's swung around. He doesn't see so much as feel his foot crash against the gelatinous mass, but he doesn't need to look to know that it's going sky-high. Good fucking riddance.]
[The larger man catches him low to the floor, and Ichimatsu grudgingly realizes that he hadn't doubted his dance partner for a moment. Disgusting. Screw him, seriously. A sharp accordion chops its way into the melody, giving Ichimatsu just enough time to peer up at Guzma with a scoff.]
Too bad. There's five more where this one came from.
[What does he even mean by that? Well, no time to ask. That arm that Guzma has manipulated over Ichimatsu's head suddenly pulls down, thrusting straight between them as if Ichimatsu is shoving him away -- but he holds on, throws his torso into a sharp half-turn, his leg and other arm thrusting out in a flair that spreads his fingers wide. It's pure coincidence, surely, that another incoming slime just so happens to slam into his palm. His fingers close around it and he sharply jerks it down to the ground as if flicking down a sticky candy wrapper.]
[And then the horns wobble in a sustained note, and a slave to its choreography as they both are, he uses Guzma's forearm as an anchor and tugs himself close again. Really freaking close. Shit, what now?]
no subject
Really he should be ten million light years away from here- not because he's afraid! NO FEAR just many fears and if he was gone...who would fill everyone's hearts with song? No one, that's who. No one. Surely, there would be no greater punishment in this world than the loss of blessed music.
Of course his family would skew his course. Of course it would be Ichimatsu, Ichimatsu flirting with death and pure muscle and Ichimatsu he needs you Ichimatsu what the ever-loving HELL ICHIMATSU HE RAISED YOU WITH HIGHER STANDARDS ICHIMATSU THAT IS CLEARLY A BAD MAN ICHIMATSU DON'T MARRY YOUR FAMILY INTO THE YAKUZA, ICHIMATSU.
He has two left feet. Literally the way he makes his way over is through a series of off-key claps and stamps of his feet, edging him ever closer to the fray. The only slime that attempts to get in his way sails across the beach, mostly because he's not actually paying attention and hardly out of any semblance of what could be constituted as skill, no sir.
He has something to say here. Something. To. Say.]
May I cut in?
[Ichimatsu's attempt to tug himself closer might wind up with him on the ground, considering Karamatsu somehow decided that grabbing the big. dangerous man round the waist and dipping him was a good idea. A great one. Get the fuck out of here, furrymatsu.]
1/?? kill me
2/
3/
[He knows that voice, that... that horrible aura.]
[You.....]
[You.]
done
[die with him and forget you ever fucking saw any of this.]
[OTHER ASSHOLE, YOU DIE TOO.]
Shittymatsu... Shittymatsu, Shittymatsu, Shittymatsu...!!
1/3?
Fuck this guy. Fuck this guy and his shitty attitude. He's gonna crush him. The second they're free from this shit, Guzma is going to grind his goddamn skull into the sand. Go on, you pissbag, get even an inch closer, he'll--]
2/3
Guzma barely has time to even register there's someone else here - someone who saw - before he's nearly toppled over into a dip that miraculously doesn't have his head smacking into the ground due to the difference in height. Sputtering, Guzma blinks and...a-and...double.
He's seeing double?
No. No, there are two. Two of these little shitheads. Two of them that bore witness to his demeaning display.]
3/3
He's not even really thinking clear when he launches then, but maybe it was dumb luck that the two brothers soar through the air and crash into the Boogieman with a sound that's remarkably similar to the clang of symbols and the sad, woeful sound of a lonely kazoo.
The slimes gurgle only once before they seem to melt into the ground, leaving the area clear at long last. Guzma says nothing, just skulks over to where his hoodie lay discard, snatches it up, and storms away through the brush.]
no subject
So this is how he dies. He always knew a dance skit was going to be too much for them.
But then again, his brother's (woefully small and probably not even existent) pride is at stake here. Boogieman goes down, Matsu's and all, and Karamatsu is the first on his feet. Shaking his fist at the bushes like he wouldn't immediately turn tail and run the moment Guzma turned back around.
...He won't do that, right? Haha no he won't do that.]
Yeah, that's right! You keep your grubby mitts off my brother!
[HE IS A FRAGILE FLOWER WAITING TO BLOOM, GUZMA. A FRAGILE. FLOWER.]
1/2
[But, fuck. Of course the fall wouldn't kill him. Of course Karamatsu had to absorb most of the impact with that enormous head of his. Ichimatsu lies hopelessly on the ground -- ah, even the slimes, his final bastion of hope, are melting before his eyes -- and allows his twin to get up and play chicken with that steroid-loaded asshole. Whatever... it's your ass on the line, Shittymatsu. He doesn't even care anymore. He can lie here and will himself to death.]
[On this hard, lumpy jungle floor.]
... nn?
[Ichimatsu shoots up. He's just barely noticing, but he'd been draped over....]
no subject
Oi, Shittymatsu, screw that guy. He sucks.
[His voice is raised plenty loud for all to hear. Bunching his fists into the folds of a dark, tattered coat, Ichimatsu hauls the Boogieman up by the collar, who flops bonelessly and emits a sound reminiscent of a long and sad oboe squeal.]
This bastard... it's all his fault.
no subject
Then he sends him flying into the ocean.]
That's right! Next time, you'll know not to cross Karamatsu! Protector of delicate and in progress flowers!
[He's talking about you, brother.]
no subject
[ugh, he almost thought something really embarrassing there. Screw that.]
[Speaking of embarrassing, Ichimatsu's situation seems to catch up with him just as the ripples from the Squeaky Toy's splash begin to fade off. His face colors beet red, and he wrestles desperately with the knot of his hoodie sleeves. It's halfway back over his head when he starts speaking in a muffle through the fabric.]
Tell anyone about this and I'll kill you.
[A familiar threat, no less venomous through a layer of clothing. Actually, he seems to have no particular plans to finish putting his head through the hoodie. Yeah. He'll just stay here.]
[Leave.]
no subject
He really shouldn't take a death threat as such a positive sign. What it means, however, is that his brother is okay- and at the end of the day, that's what really matters, isn't it? He'd ruffle his hair if Ichimatsu wasn't hiding in purple fabric- but he's not Osomatsu.
Gestures like that aren't particularly welcome from him.]
Aa, I'm heading back to the fire.
[He takes his leave with the confidence of an elder brother who knows the cat-like instincts that are bound to kick in- sooner or later, Ichimatsu will come hover in his periphery, a black cloud that isn't entirely unwanted.
It's a furry thing, he guesses.]