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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
He's been there, hopeful for a moment at a familiar face (even with his brother a handful of times) only to realize -- heh, yeah, this is what he gets for expecting anything. The skeleton recognizes that particular expression on the human's face. It's better that the human's already used to this, it stings less when you're used to it.
Newt leans forward in interest, and Sans recognizes it -- for all they went through, it still seems like the survivors are always keen to find others like them, to hear about them. Reconnect. Sans used to think monsters in the Underground came together like they do because of the nature of their souls. He's starting to think shared struggle plays a mighty significant role, too, with humans and monsters alike. ]
Let's find out. Tall guy, always had a wise crack ready to go. Real thing for wearin' red and black. Went by Wade. Kinda hard to miss.
[ Harder to miss than he wants to admit. ]
no subject
Holy shit--you know Wade? [and just like that he's across the fire pit as fast as he can scramble with the intent of sitting down next to him, already talking a mile a minute as he moves] How is he? When is he? The last I saw him we were in the same world but time is screwy as shit in these places so who the hell knows--
no subject
He huffs a low chuckle. ]
Couldn't really tell ya.
[ Time is screwy as shit in these places. That's pretty interesting, the way he so easily says that. ]
I know he missed you guys like crazy. So, uh, wanna throw me a bone here? Which one are you?
no subject
It doesn't.
It's sharp and sudden, like being kicked in the ribs because what it really is, is a confirmation that it's not that the memories are dormant or temporarily forgotten, but it's that they're not there. And this guy looks at Newt with Sans' face and his voice and asks who he is like there's no midnight table discussions about physics that hinted at something more tragic and moments of danger and terror experienced together and banter full of puns passed between them just to piss Hermann off--]
U-um...[and fuck, fuck his voice just went all wobbly for a hot second and Newt can feel his eyes start to burn--] Call me Newt. [his voice is high and cracking and shit, he didn't expect to start crying now, but he can feel it at the back of his eyes and he really needs to get out of here--] Listen, can you, uh--just--gimme a minute--[and he's pushing to his feet without waiting for a reply, wanting to move quickly away from the fire and further up the beach so he can hopefully find a palm tree to hide behind and pull himself back together]
no subject
Too little too late, or something. Now he's gone and kicked a guy while he's down.
Sans sits there, watches firelight make the growing damp in the guy's eyes even brighter, listens to the warble of emotion in his voice, sits there without responding when Newt takes off. It's quiet, further from the crackling fire and the murmur of other voices, where the water sucks at sand that gleams like powdered glass.
Nice respite for a guy trying to pull himself together.
Or it would be, if not for the skeleton's abrupt comment, entirely without unnecessary preambles, like, say, the sound of approaching footsteps? Yeah, those might've been helpful. Instead of just being there, but hey. Maybe he's used to that, too. ]
Hey, uh. Newt?
[ He hopes that doesn't sound too much like it feels -- like testing something out for the first time, because he is. Sans's sloped shoulders and the baggy folds of his sleeves with his hands vanished into the pockets of his galaxy print hoodie makes him look a lot rounder than a skeleton has any right to look.
Eventually, a bony hand reaches up from one pocket to scrub at the column of vertebrae at the base of his skull. ]
Listen, it's been a weird day. Leaves a guy rattled, you'd know. [ Of course he would, the guy just got choked up over-- heh, over what he assumes is a suddenly one-sided friendship..? That's rough. ] So... howzabout a do-over, pal?
no subject
However, when Sans pops over, it's enough to startle him pretty badly. Not that Newt hasn't seen him do that before, but when you live in places like Haven and Hadriel, one usually develops a bit of a hair trigger. Newt is no exception, jolting, hands jerking out from behind his glasses and his butterfly knife is in his hand, flipped open, before he can even think.
When he realizes who it is, though, his shoulders drop slightly in relief--though he swallows again against that tightness in his throat. He might have been temporarily distracted from it for a moment, but it only returns once he registers that joke. Rattled. And Newt can't help but let out a huff that might've been a laugh were he more up to it. He shakes his head as Sans finishes, though, and tucks the butterfly knife away again.]
...listen, dude. [he chews on his bottom lip, then, folding his arms over his chest as he leans against the palm tree, his attention directed at the ground] You didn't do anything wrong. But, like...when I say I need a minute, I need a minute, okay? [he clears his throat, then, against the tightness that threatens to choke him] Because this is, like...a lot? [and yep there his voice goes, cracking again, and he swallows, waits, tries to finish] And I do wanna ask you about where you've been and when you last saw Wade and all that but...I really do, u-uh...[his voice wobbles again because if Sans doesn't remember him, what will happen when Hermann--] I need that minute.