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.

---

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[yallstupid]

[Ariados clicks her fangs when she sees Guzma (there you are!), scurrying over to greet him with a light bounce in her step. After he sinks down into a quick squat to pat her head with a tiny smile reserved only for the large spider, and a softly cooed question of if she caught anything tasty, Guzma stands up again and straightens out his back with a faint pop.

Ah, right...gotta address the kid with the knife, too. Sniffing, GUzma's air changes from pleasant back to stiff and imposing at the drop of a hat. His eyes roll at the blade pointed at him - like that's never happened before, lol - and shakes his head with a sigh.]

Yeah, 'sup. You gonna put that thing away or do I gotta take it from you, tiny?

[postictal]

["Tiny." That's not a nickname that gets thrown at him often. Despite the glower in the other guy's look, he's not...overtly threatening. That doesn't mean Tim is going to relax by much, however; his shoulders ease downward and he lets the blade drop back to his side, but he doesn't put it away.

It might be minuscule, but it's his only real defense against anything this island might have to throw at him.]

Is that...that's your, uh...your pet?

[He's only encountered first gen. Sorry.]

[yallstupid]

[His frown only deepens, and Guzma growls darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. Excuse you? Pet? Does he look like the type to walk their Furfrou down the street to show off its new haircut? Even Ariados seems a little put out, and she bobs on her legs indignantly, clicking her mandibles at Tim with a soft hiss.]

Partner. And I got 'nother one skulking 'round here somewhere, and he ain't like Ariados when it comes to people what wanna do no good'a me. [Even as an itty, bitty, baby Wimpod, the little insect pokemon always stood up for Guzma when he was a child, and actually took initiative when he was getting a good thrashing from his dad that one time...attacking the old man just long enough so Guzma could retaliate and make his escape from that house once and for all. Even now, as a Golisopod, the pokemon is very aware of humans and how they can have very bad intentions in mind, and do harm to others. He's become quite protective of Guzma, considering they've known one another over a decade.]

So I ain't gonna ask y'all again...put that thing away.

[postictal]

[Partner. Okay. Well, fine, then. Apparently that was an offensive question on several levels, and Tim glances at, uh, Ariados down there with an expression that looks falls somewhere between nervous and uncertain.

Not apologetic, just yet. His guard's not down enough for a thing like that to happen.]

Dunno if it occurred to you, but we might not be alone here. [His grip on the blade tightens. This is about the extent of weaponry he trusts himself with, but he's damn well gonna hold onto it.]

[yallstupid]

[There's a brief silence as Guzma considers Tim words a moment, then he leans forward and down a tad, grinning. There's a slightly loose edge to that smile, something sinister and somewhat unhinged.]

Tiny, I been through heck and back already, twice if ya wanna count my actual life - if'n any beasties wanna tussle with your boy, I say let's bring the party here. [He straightens up a second later, shrugging lazily.] But suit yourself, keep your knife out on you if you need it to feel like a big boy. Ariados, go find Golisopod and tell him the meatball here's good people.

...He'd get chewed up if you don't.

[Ariados looks between Guzma and Tim, sizing him up, and clicks her fangs together. Mmm...yeah, actually. Sorry, Tim, but she knows her teammate and he's uh...well, he's something. She scurries off into the brush and up a tree - better vantage point from there - before she's lost among the palm frond and banana leaves.]

[postictal]

[Tim's shoulders hitch back up to his neck as the guy's expression coils into a smile that succeeds in being both menacing and slightly manic. He's already moving backwards, away - he's not about to get into some kind of pissing contest with someone who's taking offense to the presence of a tiny little pig-sticker.

(Whose instinct calls on him to keep it? Did it work? Did it work, and did they cut him out entirely, or are they still in there, something to be used like a tool?)

Timothy Wright. (Mr. Wright.) That's - that's who he is. Tim Wright, and no part of him has been blacked out or [REDACTED] in a drawn strip of black marker.

Focus. Step back into the present, Tim, and focus. His tone isn't as light as he means it to be - far from disarming, and more adequate at telegraphing his own wary dismay.]

So you've got more than one partner, huh?

[yallstupid]

[A weapon is still a weapon, and people do stupid things when they're overly emotional - angry, scared, sad... Plus, the fact that Tim was ready to stick his pokemon just a few minutes ago is a key factor to why, yes, he wants it out of sight. But it seems Guzma has made his point; he doesn't follow after Tim when he backs off, just watches Ariados leave to make sure she'll be alright and find her way back.

He notes Tim's tone, has heard it before - that shaky sort of voice that's bred in your gut and not the vocal chords. It's a forced steadiness. Guzma doesn't make much note of it.]

I had five. [Had. He's missing three. Guzma walks back toward the tree Tim found Ariados in, inspecting the carved mark in the trunk, then squints further into the forest, spying another one a small distance away - in easy eyesight.] ...Huh, not bad. You're pretty clever.

[postictal]

[Again, an immediate response wells up in the back of his throat - something adequately snapped out, probably scathing in some manner or another. And again, he has to counter the urge with a question of whether that's really him thinking it. It has to be. Doesn't it?

He can't spend every minute of every day second-guessing himself. He can't.]

Yeah, well. I don't like getting lost in the woods.

[You got lost in woods you've never been in?

He shakes away the shreds of memory, shoulders hunching lightly.]

[yallstupid]

[With a thoughtful hum, Guzma tries to peer out the way Tim came, opposite him it seems like, more or less. He hadn't found any sort of springs or lakes yet - half the reason his pokemon were out and about now, to forage and to find water or any signs of actual life on this island.

Besides this fellow here.]

Yeah, right... [Very dismissing. Guzma's not exactly keen on being in the forest, but he's confident he can get out. Plus, having two more sets of eyes is always a plus in his case.] You find anything on your way here? Anyone other'n me?

[postictal]

You'd be the first. You and...what's-her-name. [At least it's not it. He's kind of not got the most charitable view of pokemon, even if they're meant to be helpful most of the time.]

Just trying to keep the path marked in case of trouble, but I haven't even seen any animals or anything. It's just...empty.

[yallstupid]

Ariados. [It's grunted, the indignation very clear in his voice. Guzma loves his pokemon, and would gladly go to war with anyone that disrespected them for any reason. They've been his companions and his friends since he was a child - there for him in the worst and the best situations. It's half why he's try desperately to distract himself from thinking about the three that are just...gone.]

Noticed that, too, when I came up from the other side. You'd think there'd be something, yeah? I mean, there's fruit and fish here, and plenty of vegetation for bugs - plenty for 'em to eat, but no animals or people... Not even a Wingull, Grubbin, or nothing.

[It's unnatural to see a place so lush and vivid with the colors of life, but devoid of any sort of animal or something to make use of the habitat.]

[postictal]

[He's sure they're fine, uh, partners, or whatever it is that Guzma calls them. He's certain that there's nothing objectionable about them. He just doesn't particularly feel the need to engage with them unless it's necessary.]

A...are those...birds, or...?

[Do they not have dogs and cats in this world of Guzma's.]

[yallstupid]

[A thick, black brow is raised in Tim's direction. Okay, he sort of understood not knowing about Ariados - they're pretty hard to find in regions outside Alola, but come on...everyone knows what Wingull are. They show up on every ding dang beach across the globe. They're practically flying ocean rats, they are every-goddamn-where.]

...The heck? Boy, ain't you never seen a pokemon before?

[Not...quite?? There are cat and dog pokemon! But no, the fauna of his world is all 'mon.]

[postictal]

[AIN'T YOU NEVER SEEN A POKEMON BEFORE]

No. But I had to play a fun little game where I had to name them or risk drowning when I hadn't even seen one before, so if I never see one again it'll be too soon.

[yallstupid]

[Guzma does a doubletake, staring at Tim first when he says no, then when he states the, uh...predicament he was in before. He screws up his face, raising an eyebrow at him like he's crazy or just pulling his leg. It's hard to tell, but Guzma's petty sure he knows full well Tim's being truthful. It's just...startling.

For as bad a guy he is, and how bad he's roughed someone up, they never actually were fatally injured. He had the capacity, sure, but Guzma also had the morality and conscience to stop before he got to that point of no return. Hence why he asks--]

Y'all ain't being serious, right?

[postictal]

[That earns a look that's not precisely a glower, but it is cast out from beneath lowered brows, with a firm downturn of one corner of his mouth in an undeniable scowl.

Yeah. 'Cause Tim here is just such a joker.]

You ever heard of a Castle in the Mist?

[Yep. Capitals. It's just That Important.]