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.

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LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[gempathic]

"Well, I do like making the most of things."

Steven sits in the sand next to Sans and, after a moment's thought, kicks off his sandals. This beach is nicer than the castle, in some ways. But it's missing a few too many familiar faces for his taste. He hadn't met everyone yet. Just got used to walking past certain people or seeing them in the mess hall.

If it were about getting a choice, he would have stayed. That was kind of the plan. Which would be great if he remembered it ever existed during his waking hours. Then he could plan to get back somehow.

Maybe he can only remember if he's in someone's dream on a tropical island.

"Are things... going okay?" There's a little bit of a laugh to Steven's tone. He's got a chance to really check in, and he can't think what to ask first. It's like getting asked what his favorite kind of donut is. Suddenly he can't think of any.

[justribbing]

"Welp," Sans isn't about to spend this last, weird dream making a good kid like Steven miserable, so maybe the kid won't blame him for putting some spin on this tale. "Queen showed up. So everybody decided to let her know how we really felt."

Sans shrugs, "Guess that means we made it to the big showdown between the good guys and the big bad. But if you ask me, you ain't missin' much."

Easy for a guy like Sans - indolent to the extreme - to kick back and leave all the heavy lifting to the castle's other residents, most of them powerful heroes from their own universes, or at least experienced in that sort of thing. Sans? Not so much. And Steven..? Hell, he'd have probably tried to convince the Queen to reconsider her choices, and Sans is pretty sure how that'd end.

He's better off being literally anywhere else.

"How 'bout you, kiddo?"

[gempathic]

"That's a huge deal! Try not to sleep through the whole thing! If I learned anything from video games, it's that the showdown with the big bad always gets wild."

Gotta be awake to dodge. He... assumes. When he thinks about it, he hasn't had to see Sans dodge much. Maybe that giant musical shadow? Sans was pretty good at breakdancing, too. It's almost the same principle.

"Things are going okay back home. I don't think we've really hit a big bad showdown. Just a lot of training and bonding and stuff." A lot of Rubies drifting aimlessly through the void of space. "Oh, plus a little bit of drag racing. And it turns out I can float and walk through dreams? I got my healing powers back, too, which was great since I lost those for a while! Aaand my dad's a millionaire now."

He pauses, presumably to breathe.

"You know, it's an awful lot of shenanigans for one town when I just start listing them out."

[justribbing]

Hey, hey. The dancing-- Sans ain't up for much of that stuff, he'll blame the weird effect that swept the castle back then, the magic that made music into a potent weapon against the Queen's shadowy horde. Don't expect that again!

"I was supposed to stay awake for that?" Sans replies, with false wonder, "Whoops."

Things are going okay, says the boy, except for the training and racing and gaining twice the neat tricks up his short sleeves. That might've phased even Sans, a little, except he's grown used to the idea of humans sporting crazy powers -- and the not-quite-humans who look like them. Oh, and his dad's a millionaire.

Sans might have had something to say, except Steven ends up echoing his own thoughts -- he laughs. Feels good to.

"Geez, kid," Sans says, settling down on his seat on the ground, "You sure keep busy." There's a nebulous gesture that follows, and a question, too. "Eh, you're exactly where you're supposed to be. Don't worry 'bout the castle, y'know those guys. They got our heroic bases covered."