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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
[They shouldn't, really. They shouldn't. Even in Frisk's and Chara's best-laid plan, neither of them could account for the Dreemurr that everyone seemed to forget without the help of the CORE. For the prince, or his husk, or whatever he wanted to call himself or be seen as -- the only one who would probably be able to see through their plan, because he exists outside of the both of them and their combined Determination.]
[The exact person Frisk and Chara deserve to see, before they erase themselves from existence completely.]
[Maybe it's the fact that they left Asriel back in the castle that softens the blow - his SOUL intact, just a boss monster who wore a striped sweater to show he was still a kid. Helps reinforce the idea that none of this is real so much as it is some strange, phasing afterlife, a passage on their way to oblivion. Which maybe doesn't make much sense, but who is Frisk to decide how things work? They're just a kid.]
[They're all just kids.]
[There's a shift of the sand behind Flowey, plenty of forewarning before the human child appears at his side. They say nothing; simply sit beside him, pulling one shoe off and tipping a scatter of sand onto the orange-bright earth. If they fear being attacked, even berated, they don't show it.]
... I'll wait.
no subject
[ How many stories does Frisk have stashed away about bumbling skeletons, venemous spiders, and starring on television? Flowey had seen it all already. What could he possibly tell that he hadn't? Ah, maybe that time where he did everything he could for everyone in the monster world and made everyone happier, only for Flowey to reset once he realized he wasn't sharing in that happiness? Or the time when he was the most cruel. Flowey had reset so many times it wasn't funny. It was never funny. Because usually he left the monster world in disarray, until Frisk came along.
... how could one person do so much that he couldn't?
He'd be angry if he could feel it. That must mean he really is beyond SAVING. ]
Talk about what happened after you left the monster world.
no subject
[Or maybe he's trying to teach them a lesson... he always had been, in some sense, right?]
[Well, it doesn't matter. Frisk smiles into the fire.]
Everyone lived happily ever after. Because I left for the castle.