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

Mean is . . . a simple way of putting it. They lack souls and they feed on negativity. They try to destroy us at any chance they get.

[ Pyrrha holds no special hatred for the Grimm. It's a fact that they reach out to destroy. As a Huntress, she's meant to protect. ]

[Frisk doesn't comment; they don't think it's something they should get into. Where they come from, monsters were a race of people who suffered for too long because of humans. And the only monster they know of who didn't have a SOUL was...]

[... anyway. It's nice, besides that. Frisk eases some of the strain from their expression, allowing it to lift into something a bit more humorous.]

That was kind of a sappy story.

[ Pyrrha chuckles, a light sound. ]

Yeah, I guess it was. Sorry I don't have anything better.

[ She had plenty but the feelings still remained too close to her heart to dislodge. ]

[Oh, good. They think the joke landed. Frisk's mouth pulls upward at the corners.]

I liked it, though.

[Just not so much the monster part.]

...

Is it my turn?

If you want it to be.

[ Pyrrha is more than content to sit quietly, lost in her own reverie. But maybe that's not the best solution for her. She has a tendency to overthink things. ]

[Frisk is quiet, thoughtful, as they stare at the campfire. They're not sure if they want it to be -- they're not the best at speaking and they never have much to say. Yet after the pretty lady shared something like that, it feels only fair that they reciprocate.]

[... but...]

[... okay. They think they've got one.]

There used to be monsters that lived in a mountain. They liked pie and snails and ketchup, and even though they didn't get along with humans, sometimes kids would climb the mountain and fall inside.

[ She tilts her head, listening quietly. Frisk has her undivided attention. Still. Monsters that liked pie and snails?

She'd take those over Grimm any day. ]

There were only six of them, but the monsters loved them a lot. Nobody wanted to hurt each other. The monsters were tired of being trapped in the mountain... so the kids decided to help them get free.

[ Her prompting is gentle. ]

How did they manage that?

[Frisk is quiet for a beat. Then, they shrug.]

Determination.

Anyway, it worked. The magic barrier keeping the monsters trapped fell down. Monsters went back to the surface and humans learned to get along with them.

Everyone lived happily ever after.

[They know it's not a very well-told story, but... they're not so great at skirting the truth. The less chance they have to muddy the details, the better.]

That sounds like a lovely story.

[ Pyrrha isn't sure if it's true or not. It seems too neat, but she has no reason to doubt it either. ]

TEST DRIVE MEME ( 001 )

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