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

[ Pyrrha nods slowly, looking down. ]

Yeah. I'm sure . . . the others are doing fine too.

[Well he doesn't miss that look, nope.]

It's alright to miss them, even if they're doing fine.

[ Pyrrha shakes her head. ]

I just never thought I'd get the chance.

Why wouldn't you get the chance to miss them? It's not like any of us forgot anything just because we came here.

I . . . I wasn't alive. I died.

Well, yeah. I died too. We all did.

[At least, that is what he is assuming.]

[ Pyrrha blinks, caught off guard. ]

What? That's — that's not possible, is it?

Nobody really knows what happens to us when we die.

[...okay that probably sounded weird coming from a guy dressed like a priest. Give him a moment to revise that statement.]

There are a lot of guesses, but nobody knows for sure. This could be the 'after' part. Or maybe at least one of the possible 'afters', if there's really a 'heaven' and 'hell' and stuff.

I . . . I suppose.

[ It's still hard to wrap her mind around. But she feels solid and Pyrrha was sure her body . . . ]

But we're all here. With weapons and . . . solid. It doesn't make sense.

And neither of us have our death-wounds either. Sometimes things just don't make sense. Sometimes they just 'are'.

[He pauses for a moment, looking down at his hands. His left hand, specifically, though both are right there.]

...There's another story I can tell. One about love. If you would like to hear it, that is.

I don't think I could handle it.

[ Pyrrha sort of confessed her love with a kiss and sent the object of her affections far away while she went to fight. And died for it. Needless to say, love's still a sore topic. ]

Ah.

[So she must have died for love too, then. Admittedly Shiro's was a familial love, not romantic, but he will still respect her wishes.]

Do you want to talk about it? The death thing, I mean.

[He won't pry into her love life unless she starts talking about it first.]

[ Pyrrha shakes her head. Simply saying she died was monumental. It still felt unreal. She presses her hand to her chest as if trying to remember what a heart beat sounds like. ]

There isn't much to say.

What, no tale of glorious battle for the mead hall?

[His tone is joking there. He has no idea how close to the truth he is.]

[ She tilts her head at him. ]

I was fighting a force of nature. Something beyond my powers. I guess it can be called glorious.

[What.]

Please don't tell me you tried to stab a hurricane.

[ Her lips twitch. ]

Not that kind of force. Someone who stole powers from a greater . . . source.

[ It's hard to describe the Maidens without knowing their background. Or anything from Pyrrha's world of Remnant. ]

Ah. That makes a lot more sense, yes.

[Ironically, people like that exist in Shiro's world too, though their powers work a little differently.]

Maybe we did end up in some kind of Valhalla then, because I died in a fight too.

I'm sorry. For your loss.

[ Because it is a loss, no matter how anyone might spin it. Pyrrha didn't die for glory or a song. ]

[Shiro shakes his head.]

It's alright. I died, but because of that my son got to keep living. That's not a loss to me.

[ Pyrrha doesn't know if she can look at it in such a clean-cut manner. ]

I don't know if I did anything in the end.

Maybe you did. Hopefully.

But what matters the most is that you tried.

I would have kept trying.

[ Pyrrha is a Huntress. She didn't give up.

But Pyrrha is also only seventeen and still reeling. ]

That's a good attitude to have. You don't really fail at something until you give up trying.

[Even if the whole 'being dead' thing makes it hard to go back and try again.]

[ She folds her hands on her lap, pressing her fingers together tightly. ]

Where does that leave me though?

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