TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

[lifeaftr_mods]

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 )

Comments

[pyrrhaicvictory]

[ If anything, her smile deepens pleasantly. Pyrrha might be unsettled by her own thoughts and situations, but she's not weak of heart. She doesn't tremble or balk easily and she has looked a monster in the eye and came out with her soul triumphant. ]

I hope it will be.

[yallstupid]

[Ohoho, Guzma has mixed feelings about this chick. He's a little miffed she has the gall to sass him, but he also enjoys it when punks stand up to him, too. It's entertaining, if anything, and likes brats with a bit of spunk...reminds him a little bit of the brat he knows.

His smile spreads into a wider grin and he shrugs lazily to her comment. Who knows what will happen. Clearly they're here, stuck here, might as well make do until they get something more tangible in ways of what the heck is even going on.]

So. Since y'all aren't gonna enthrall me with tales of valor, guess I got no choice but to come up with something. [He looks up at the sky overhead, clicking her tongue as he thinks. Uh...ghost stories are usually told around a fire, right? He knows a few, but without the known context of pokemon, the ones he knows might fall a little flat. Hm...well, no means in not trying, anyway.] How much y'all know 'bout ghosts?

[pyrrhaicvictory]

[ Pyrrha tilts her head, her ponytail swaying. Ghosts . . . Most ghost stories were Grimm in nature and they can hardly be called ghosts. She shrugs loosely. ]

Not much.

[ Her lips quirk slightly. ]

I take it you know a few?

[yallstupid]

[Wow, at least pretend to be spooked. Guzma frowns a second, running a hand through his hair. Bah, he's really gotta get a good one if he wants to scare this broad. Or at least make it so he's got one over her (because clearly this is now a competition). How did that story with the Unown go again? Ugh, he doesn't remember parts of it, NEXT.]

Not personally, nah - not my type - but them and psychic types got a lotta weird qualities 'bout 'em. No one really knows how most ghost pokemon come to be, but others...well, he know how they come into existence, and it ain't pretty.

Anyway. [He waves his hand dismissively, looking into the crackling flames.] Kids start their journeys where I'm from when they're real young - 'bout ten or eleven, yeah? They get their partner pokemon, a li'l monster buddy to keep 'em safe and for companionship, right 'round that age. Everyone and their granny's Lillipup knows not to wander out anywhere without one on account of it's dangerous where wild pokemon make their homes.

[This is literally drilled into kids' skulls by the time they can walk, seriously. Don't go into the tall grass. Don't leave home without an adult or without a pokemon companion. Yet still--] ...Some plucky brats don't listen.

[pyrrhaicvictory]

[ Her expressions loosens a little. It sounded similar enough to the world she hailed from. While they might not have monster buddies to help, they're always aware of the nature of monsters. They're woven into the fabric of their lives. ]

Then what happened?

[yallstupid]

A kid got out into the forest. Nasty little punk, too...spoiled rotten and probably fattened by entitlement and mummy and daddy's, uh, generosity. [He chuckles, removing his sunglasses and wiping his brow a little where some sweat has gathered by the legs of his shades. He leans back again, away from the heat of the fire.] Now, you oughta know how them brats are, yeah? Think they can do it all - and I mean do it all - without no one saying nothing, or anything happening to 'em.

Kid's gone waltzing through the forest, kicking at any weak, wild pokemon...swatting away bugs with a stick, tossing rocks at nests where wild bird pokemon got their eggs and their own kiddos to look after... They begin to think they the king of the world, bigger n'better than all them little runts.

Well, it starts to get dark, and the path through the forest ain't so wide no more... Y'see, there are all sorts of pokemon - they can be birds, bugs, fish...

They can be trees, too. [His grin widens, illuminated by the blaze of the fire and making it appear a bit more sinister.]

[pyrrhaicvictory]

[ Spooky. Pyrrha politely hides her smile. Her interest is still genuine as she listens attentively. ]

What did the trees do?

[yallstupid]

Well, they're called Trevenant. [Guzma gives a brief, but detailed description of the pokemon in question, just to fill in any gaps in his story.] Ghost and grass type, considered a protector of the forest...and none too friendly to those that do it wrong.

As for what they do, well...it don't seem like much, yeah? But imagine wandering around, thinking you know the way, but all'a sudden...landmarks ain't the same, the path through the trees gets narrow, until it ain't even there no more... They box you in, make it so you can't get out, can't get back home. They get up and roam around, they they blend right into the forest, too, so you dunno what's what until you gone in circles. And on a cold night like what it was, the little tyke what got lost is starting to feel what he never been taught a'fore - each action has a consequence.

It's cold, and there's thunder rumbling overhead. Gonna rain soon, kiddo can feel in the air, and he don't got no light or nothing. He calls out into the gloom - I'm lost! - but no one answers back. No one but the wind in his ears, and the crackle of lightning that splits the sky.

[pyrrhaicvictory]

You're quite the story-teller.

[ Her compliment is genuine. She doesn't know much about Pokemon, but she's enthralled all the same. The nature of different monsters also has her engaged. A part of her wonders if it's due to dissociation. ]

[yallstupid]

I ain't even finished yet.

[Ohoho, Guzma is actually liking this attention - and despite his prior misgivings, he's enjoying himself. It's nostalgic, telling a scary story. When the power got cut out at the mansion in Po Town during the ever present deluge, he and his grunts would pass time telling stories in the dark or having rap slams or...really, anything silly to pass the time. It reminds him a little of home, and his brothers and sisters.]

Anyway, after wandering around in the forest, tryin'a find their way in vain, the kid sees a light in the dark...a flame what flickers blue-purple in the gloom. Curious, the kid wanders over...and what do they find? Well, it's a friendly lil Litwick, there to light the way! Pretty dang lucky, yeah? Heh heh...

[That, uh...that chuckle suggests otherwise.]

[pyrrhaicvictory]

[ Pyrrha smiles, following the thread of logic in the story. ]

He certainly has a kind of luck so far.

Sorry for the delay!! ;__; this week has been very busy.

[yallstupid]

[The following chuckle is louder this time - maybe this cheeky redhead isn't so bad, if she's getting the gist now. And actually? This isn't so bad; it's actually pretty fun to tell these kinds of stories again, to someone that's never heard them, even if she's not spooked. Feels good to have someone hanging off his every word again.]

Ain't that the truth, yeah? But serves the little punk right! See, Litwick are real uncommon in Alola - place I'm from - y'can't really find 'em out in the wild unless you get real lucky. I'm saying like, a one in a million shot, but there's one thing a whole lotta people know 'bout these little stinkers. Never follow 'em. No matter how cold it is, no matter how lost y'all is, no matter where you are, you see a light in the dark, asking you what to follow it? Don't.

So, uh, pretty sure you can guess what our wayward anklebiter did, yeah? Heh, heh... Y'see, Litwick's another ghost type - fire and ghost - and that cute lil light it's got? It needs fuel to burn.

no worries <3

[pyrrhaicvictory]

[ Oh. That was awful and there's a flicker of unease. After all, her death wasn't exactly pleasant and her body was . . . There's a minute shiver, remembering the orange glow in Cinder's eyes. ]

Light can be dangerous.