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uploadedmeme2018-08-18 12:01 am
uploadedmods) wrote in uploadedmeme2018-08-18 12:01 am
Entry tags:
Test Drive
TEST DRIVE 001
-TDM threads can be considered game canon if players involved agree & if it suits any roles you may decide to choose for the current plot.
-Any reserving player that does not submit an app by Saturday morning will be subject to challenging applicants.
-Participation in the Test Drive is worth a flat 10 points per month rather than per thread, and you must have a minimum of 5 comments in that month to qualify for it.
-This TDM is good for the duration of the Mist setting. A new TDM will go up before the next setting.
The NETWORK for this setting is a voice-only walkie talkie system that can be used to communicate between all locations. The default channel will be open to all walkie talkies, but characters can change to an unused channel for private conversation.
of note: There seems to be something strange about these walkie talkies, in that there is no static. The quality is disturbingly crystal clear, like the person you're speaking to is right next to you instead of miles away.
CONTENT WARNING: Some prompts contain gore, character death, and substance abuse.
Applications will open Saturday, September 15 until Saturday, September 22
The lights above you are a blindingly, pristine white. The walls around you curve up into the ceiling like the inside of an MRI machine. Your hands, feet, and midsection are strapped to a clinical table, and minutes seem to tick by, with no clear course for escape presenting itself to you.
The curved white space above you flickers with color, and a perfect square like a television screen expands before your eyes. It pans over what appears to be a town, something small and simply populated.
“Hello, and welcome to your first setting,” a neutrally cadenced feminine sounding voice begins, riding the line between human and machine. As she speaks, captions of the text type themselves in neat and perfect Arial font. “The location is loosely based off Bridgton, Maine, United States of America, Earth. The year is 2007. You have been selected to participate. Obedience ensures an enjoyable and immersive experience for our audience. If you have been granted a role, instructions will follow. Do not talk about the role. Do not attempt disobedience. If you have not been granted a role, your objective for this round is simple: survive.”
After that, the shackles may release promptly and allow your character to roam free. Or perhaps not — perhaps they've been given a role to play, and if so, further instructions will play out upon the screen. Once suitably briefed, characters will be released to their own devices. Beware the mist.
learn from the mistakes of others
A pair of unperturbed mall inhabitants decide to chance the mist. They're the first of a handful to trickle out the front doors, and they seem to get by just fine. About a minute ticks by, and they disappear completely into the dense fog that presses in from every direction. It's so anticlimactic that for a moment it almost seems stupid to feel uncomfortable by the sight of it.
Until precisely one half of a body is hurled abruptly and with great force from an indeterminate point in the obscurity. It's not a top half or a bottom half; no, it's a cleanly sliced left half, head to toe as though a neat line were cut down the middle. It slams into the transparent glass doors and crumples before them, still and obviously unmoving, slowly leaking.
After a few seconds, a dark tendril of something reaches out, curls around the jutting left ankle, and drags it with painstaking slowness back into the fog.
At least the rest of them probably made it, right?
Right?
Hopefully you weren't one of the others to follow their lead. If you were, that dark shape seems to be closing in awfully quick.
eff this, let's bounce
A pair of car keys can be found discarded or perhaps dropped in their owners' haste. Braving the mist when it's at its lightest and pressing the key fob will cause a car to beep politely, flashing lights to indicate its location in the fog. Take anyone willing to go with you and pile in. Try to get the hell out of dodge!
An excellent idea....
Within five miles of the car's journey the battery will die and the engine will stall. Consider yourselves effectively stranded and with no one but yourselves to blame. Perhaps help will come if you wait long enough? Hours, surely no more than a few days... Maybe you should consider braving the fog to get back? Five miles can feel like a hundred in conditions like these.
Either way, it seems like you're trapped in the car for about as long as R. Kelly got trapped in the closet during that one unfortunate CD.
radio chatter
Characters in the library and the church will be able to communicate via walkie talkie radio chatter immediately! Characters in the mall will not have this ability until later in the month, so any network style threads with a mall character will take place during Week Two of the October plot or later, after most people have already been fully introduced to the setting and given time to adapt.
Employee of the Month (Multiple)
Some characters will be printed wearing a designated kiosk uniform, their name sloppily stickered in slightly crooked letters onto a Dippin' Dots badge, or whatever store they may happen to be assigned to. The cool voice that introduces them to the mist will carry on to tell them that they'll be playing employee # _____ in this month's immersive experience. Their motivations and objectives are simple: go to work.
Except the role seems to be bugged, because they can never not go to work. If they leave the five or six foot radius of their designated post they'll begin to experience consequences, which worsen in severity based on distance and duration. The role doesn't end at mall closing, it doesn't end on Saturdays, it simply doesn't end. Hopefully next month's code push will have a bug fix; we apologize for the inconvenience.
(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the role will wear off within the first in-game week)
Aggravated Assault
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of a CONVICTED FELON having recently been released on parole. Your motivation for this month's immersive experience is frustration. Having undergone hard time, you'll find that we have increased your aggression and temper characteristics, and lowered your inhibitions. Your objective is to find and begin an altercation with Snuff the Rooster, who will be playing the role of the person who turned you in, NARK. Your altercation must take place in a public space with witnesses, and may not stop until Snuff the Rooster is unconscious, evicted from the mall, or someone intervenes.
Thank you for your participation!
Consequences for not completing the objective in this role can be moderate to severe.
Snuff the Rooster
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of NARK. Formerly a close friend and ally of CONVICTED FELON from Aggravated Assault, you were quick to roll on them during police questioning in exchange for your freedom. Your motivation is to turn over a new leaf, and get your shit together. Your objective is to survive the altercation.
Thank you for your participation!
The Lovers (Duo Role)
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing one half of a partnership role! Please seek out (character 2). Your motivation this round is love, and the need to protect your partner from threats both inside and outside of the mall. Your objectives is to greet your lover with a kiss and place them above all others. Do not act like strangers.
Consequences for not completing the objective in this role or failing to present a convincing couple can be mild to moderate.
Pathological
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. Your motivation is to tell lies; at least one third of what you say must be unarguably untrue. Your objective is to keep these lies from being discovered as false.
Consequences for not complying with this role can vary from mild to severe, with the compulsion to tell larger and larger lies growing as time goes on.
Scared Speechless
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. You may choose one person, stranger or otherwise. This is the only person you may communicate with, either verbally or through writing.
Consequences for not complying with this role are severe.
potency error
Someone seems to have miscalculated the relative strength of intoxicants; all inhibition-altering substances seem to have been cranked up to eleven. One shot has the strength of three, though the taste seems to stay exactly the same. One or two drinks will quickly creep up on you. One of the joints found discarded in the bathroom trashcans will easily green you out. God forbid you've got anything stronger.
greatest movie of all time
Settling in to the relatively nice theater found at the far end of the mall is a decent way to make the time go by. The projectors are automated, and there are six different theaters that show flicks at scheduled times.
Except that every single one of them is showing Spider-Man 3. Every single one, every single showing, no matter what is advertised, becomes Spider-Man 3. That's how you know this is a horror game. Hope you didn't wander in by mistake because the doors will shut behind you and leave you to watch the entire showing. Please keep your feet off of the seats.
please replace toner cartridge
It seems there was an error in printing someone this first time around; everything came through but the visuals somehow. Your character is flesh and blood, fully formed, wearing tangible clothes even, but are completely invisible. Donning additional clothing causes it to clip out and then promptly disappear. Taking clothes off will cause them to reappear. Hopefully this gets fixed in the next lite patch.
(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the glitch will wear off within the first in-game week)
Dean Winchester → Supernatural
Dean Winchester is not a happy fucking camper. He's not a particularly happy consumer either, because he's pretty sure he went to sleep in god damn Montana and woke up in an MRI machine in Maine. He missed about the first half of the speech Microsoft Samantha rattled off to him, and only tuned in during the latter half where he's kindly informed he's got to hunt someone down a plant a wet one on them, or else...?
He scoffs. Or else what? Yeah, okay, like that's gonna happen.
Except fifteen minutes into wandering the mall his stomach starts to ache, a deep and unavoidable pit like he's gonna hurl his guts up. It spreads to aching in his joints, to a burning fire in his chest, and a singular thought consumes his brain- play your role.
"Okay, okay, Jesus Christ-" He snarls and no one in particular, and stalks through the crowd until he finds the face that matches his other half. Whether they're interested in participating in this god damn charade or not, it doesn't seem to matter. He whirls them around by the shoulder, announces a rather spiteful sounding, "Mornin' honey!"
And plants a firm smackeroo on their mouth.
Then looks up to the sky and barks out a pissed off, "Happy now?"
Judging by the fact that the pain's gone he's gonna say yeah, they're happy.
So, yeah, okay, he's seen people wander off in the mist. And he saw that half a body get slung back, but if they think for a single second that's gonna phase him they obviously haven't read the god damn novels, right? Winchester heads toward the sporting goods section and hunts down a machete from the camping gear.
And then he realizes there's a veritable god damn arsenal in there ranging from shotguns to crossbows, and he can't help but murmur, "Merry Christmas."
Catch him loading up a small army's worth of weapons, or catch him stalking out the front doors like he's ready to put down whatever the hell's out there waiting for them.
Lovers!
"There are better pick up lines, you know." Maybe he didn't have a choice, but he could at least put in some effort. Something told her whatever force was holding them here under whatever pretense this was wasn't going to remain happy for too long if he kept yelling at it every time he had to do something.
"You're not being very romantic, are you?"
no subject
And then he promptly shakes it off and goes back to being the pissed off asshole he's always meant to be.
"Yeah, well. It's been a long day at the office," He answers flatly. See, look, this is him playing along. Technically passing, just like every other test he's ever taken in his life. Skating by on the skin of his teeth.
no subject
She gave a soft, pitying, and still somehow entirely sarcastic smile and reached out to thread her arm through his. Why not? If something was looking, they'd be covered and maybe they'd move on to watching someone else.
"Oh? It sounds like you need a drink."
no subject
"You know me so well, dear," he agrees, with maybe just a hair too much ham. He's never been a good actor, like... seriously. Seriously bad. "You know a place around here, sweetheart? Lead the way."
no subject
"I just saw one, actually. How very lucky for you." Or maybe she'd actually been wandering for hours trying to memorize the layout of the place since she can't just download it anymore. Whichever.
no subject
He lets her take the lead, because that I need a drink urge isn't going away any time soon.
no subject
"Nothing a little alcohol can't fix, I'm sure."
I'm bugging you because I can. also this is prompt 2
She feels very much naked without a gun or other weapon, so the first chance she gets, she's doing a bit of raiding of her own. The order of the day is a firearm and ammunition, which she's just started loading up with when she spots Dean pulling out a machete, among other things.
"You look as though you're preparing to take down an army single-handed," she comments as she glances through the smattering of boxes of bullets.
no subject
It'll do.
Once he's satisfied with it, he drops his eyes and skims them over to her and.
Oh, hello. Despite the circumstances, he manages to muster up a quick pleasant smile at her. Greets her with a chipper-sounding, "Howdy."
no subject
She's still leafing through the bullet boxes, but she doesn't miss the way he looks her over. "Howdy yourself." That expression gets a smile out of her, because it reminds her of depictions of cowboys in old newsreels. "You seem lively enough, which is more than I can say for the shopkeepers I passed on the way over here."
(not) learning
Tex watches for a moment, a smirk growing on her face, and decides without much preamble to join the man.
She approaches the place where he's gathering various weapons, passes by him to reach the glass of the doors, holds the keys aloft and presses the button. For the first time since she found the keys, a faint orange flashing can be seen in the mist.
Tex's smirk grows. "If you're looking for a way to transport all that shit I think I've got it."
no subject
He shakes off the thought in favor of dropping his eyes to the keys in her hand, to the gentle flashes of light in the glass behind her, and a single eyebrow arches up high.
"Well, if that ain't a sight for sore eyes I don't know what is," he agrees with with a nod and a shift. Consider him firmly on board, except- he pins her with a look, a little cock to the head, a little scrutiny. "You sure you wanna wander out there, sweetheart? You saw that thing throw half a body earlier, right?"
He is not, by the way, asking because she's a chick. He's asking because she looks like a normal damn human with a reasonable head on her shoulders and the standard desire to live. He meets none of the above criteria.
no subject
She doesn't say a word in response, though—just fixes him with a look, then glances at the glass doors. She looks down at the keys as she holds them up in her hand, rifles her fingers between them to make them clink against one another, then shrugs with that shoulder.
She fixes that same look at him again. The message should be clear.
loverssssss
So, this isn't exactly the kind of scenario John Blake was expecting when told to anticipate a role, and had he been given the choice, he certainly wouldn't have picked this option.
For sixteen minutes, he's experienced the consequences of not seeking out his alleged lover, and now, without so much as a moment to protest, he's faced with the other half of this ridiculous charade taking away any chance he had to test the boundaries set forth for all of them.
Expression tight, eyes narrowed, John gives Dean a shove and stalks a few feet away to compose himself. He's supposed to be playing a role, and while he's instantly relieved from the nausea he'd been feeling by that smooch, it doesn't take away the knot in the pit of his stomach.
He grumbles as he resists this whole ordeal, but already there's a mounting grossness suggests he needs to do a little better for his part.
"Where were you last night?" He'll ask the ridiculous question, and as soon as he does, he's back to feeling fine. Someone really wants them to interact in these roles.
no subject
He's not, however, immune to the shoving. He stumbles back a step and then cocks his jaw like you mother f- before he can reign it in. Great, so it's gonna be like this huh?
"Out with your sister, dear, you're putting on weight," He answers back flatly, deadpan, and within a second he's coughing like he sucked something down the wrong pipe. He swivels away, shoulders hunched, hacking up- maybe a literal lung judging by the spattering of blood that leaves his lips and stains his gums.
So, yeah, okay, maybe that's not... exactly meeting the qualification of lover is it?
no subject
Jaw working slightly, he folds his arms and looks away so Winchester can take care of himself in relative privacy.
"You promised you wouldn't be cruel," he says, maybe feeling a little sensitive about the comment despite having fired the first shot. "You said we'd work on this together."
They're supposed to be lovers, they're supposed to take care of each other over everyone else. That's the role he was given, at least, although he knows he can't ask Dean to confirm its the same for him without breaking the rules. But maybe hinting at a truce will be enough subtext to at least get them to lower their proverbial pistols over this turn of events.
no subject
"Yeah, well," He mutters darkly and then bites back the sarcastic comment that threatened to come with it. It seems he can be tamed, all it takes is intense chest pain. Who knew. "Maybe we should consider getting some private counseling."
Like taking this out of the public eye to somewhere quiet, where he can at least remember this guy's name. If they're stuck in this together he figures that's probably important. Unless they plan on calling each other pookie, in which case...
Gun.
Mouth.
Blam-o.
"I need a fucking drink."
no subject
"Right, because that's your answer to everything," he says, and while the words have a sad bite to them, he does find that he's sort of affecting less drama with every passing moment. Is there a possibility he might be taking his role too seriously? It doesn't seem like it takes much to keep John from feeling sick — he only has to play along, though — so he wonders if he maybe should give this guy a break.
Clearing his throat, he tips his head in the direction of the food court, a conciliatory agreement. "Look, I'll be at the Jamba Juice. 'Cause I guess I'm watchin' my figure now." It's a dig, yes. Unabashedly that, although he has no right or reason to hold the comment against Dean. By now he's backing away. "If you really wanna to talk, then that's where I'll be."
John doesn't know how private it'll be, but he knows that this guy's going to be forced to agree, so at least he probably won't have to wait too long.
no subject
Fuck this whole place and the tractor it rode in on.
Twenty minutes later, Dean shows up at Jamba Juice. He made a little pit stop by the package store because apparently he's shameless and his borderline alcoholism remains completely unshaken by accurate commentary.
On the bright side, it's rum so it'll mix well with any damn smoothie in this joint. He produces a second bottle from his pocket once he sees Blake, plunking it down on the counter and sliding it forth.
"Don't say I never thought about you, Pookie Bear."
no subject
"You haven't called me that in years." It's dead flat, a little levity levied as part of the truce. Anyway he can pretend he's a real comedian if he wants. He supposes he can play any part of himself or no part of himself if it means that he isn't suffering the churning neasea. Maybe that's part of the point. Or maybe he's just grasping at straws while he tries to figure things out. It does seem a bit like low hanging fruit to just sit back and think of England through all of this instead of actively trying to decipher the puzzle.
He sighs and folds his hands on the tabletop. It feels like there's nowhere to go from here except to the truth or to the rum. But then, whose truth is the real truth anyway?
lovers!
So, alright. She can find a 'lover' of hers in this strange, broken down village of men. Whoever it is could not possibly rival Hermes for infuriating her. Circe tells herself this to combat the tightening in her gut that says it is, in fact, very possible they are worse than Hermes.
No. Play her role. Deal with what comes.
She goes about tentatively exploring, her wariness more like a mortal's than a goddess's manner, and she scrunches her face up in distinct displeasure at this cavalier treatment when she does at last run into her lover. Circe is not much of a goddess, in truth: she has a messy braid over her shoulder, is distinctly uncomfortable in her modern garments, and there is no telling resonance to her voice at all. She mostly just sounds plaintive.
"You may perhaps attempt to address me rather than the ceiling, if you wish to please the creator of this scheme."
Lovers!!
"Hello to you, too, sweetheart," Matt smiled once he caught his balance. "Am I supposed to be happy to see you? I mean, I know what the voice said, but it wasnt very specific. Are we clandestine lovers? Star-crossed variety? Or the old married couple out on a Sunday walk through the Mall. I participated in a LARP once but it was more wizards and swords and less making out with strangers. If you want to make out, however, might I suggest the massage chairs by the food court? I have two words for you - magic fingers. Not half bad, actually."
mistakes were made; Gwen's role is pathological
"Do you have, I don't know, a plan? Or were you hoping to shoot the mist in the face?" Because as far as she's seen, they have no idea what's out there, what its weaknesses are, or if it's even tangible. It's probably tangible, seeing how it's torn a person clean in half, but you can never take anything like that for granted. She's seen enough strange worlds to know.
Her attention is drawn to his arsenal. "And are you really gonna use all that?"
good_old_fashioned_LOVERS_boy.mp3
(For those you you taking notes at home, though, eating him? Not a hard no.)
And he had been planning on riding out said Consequences (tee-em), even manifesting as they are in the uptick in paranoia; the gnawing, awful feeling growing in his mind insisting that, as usual, the few people he gives a damn about are going to pay dearly for his refusal to play nice; the intrusive scenarios that are becoming more pressing, more violent, more realistic by the minute... It’s getting bad enough that he barely notices the incredibly disgruntled dude stalking in his direction, instincts only belatedly kicking in when he’s whirled around by the strong hand on his shoulder and unceremoniously headbutted in the mouth by another mouth.
A damn nice looking mouth, he realizes as he dumbly blinks masked eyes at who he’s assuming is his shiny new government-mandated bf. He could do a lot worse, but still. DAMN YOU, YOU COMMIE FUCKS.
He’s only handicapped for another heartbeat, though, and never one to be upstaged he leans over as the guy yells at a cloud, wrapping an arm around his waist and laying his free hand against his chest.
“Good morning yourself, sweetie-pie,” he coos, somehow managing to convey a coy fluttering of eyelashes even with an entirely covered face. “I was wondering where you’d run off to; it’s not nice to leave a lady to wake up alone, you know...”
He taps a gloved finger against the guy’s chest admonishingly. Remember pal, you started it.
“How you gonna make it up to me?”