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3.0 Test Drive Meme
3.0 Test Drive Meme
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Welcome to Well! Characters arrive a little differently this month (see the first prompt). Your character arrives this month in the middle of the formless desert with only a handful of memories, clad in old west style clothes of your choosing, with no items from home.
Anyone is free to play on the TDM, but you need an invite to apply. Feel free to use these prompts, and interact with the arrival or locations. NPCs are around, but only say a certain set of phrases. TDMs can be considered game canon.
This TDM takes place from the first week of August onward, and can happen concurrently with other events during August and September. This will be the only TDM for August, September, and October.
Applications are open July 26th until August 1st, and August 27th until September 1st. Invites are available for friends of current players.
A Little Lost
Content warnings: heat exhaustion, feelings of unreality
You wake up in a sea of sand. It’s hot, and dry, and it seems to go on forever. You don’t remember much about yourself except your name and a handful of memories that most likely aren’t useful right now.
The sand slip-slides under your feet with every step. Sun beats down heavy and hot on your neck and your head. You’re so thirsty. How did you get here? How long have you been walking? Where are you headed? You can’t know. You feel like you’ve been walking forever, but the sun stays high above you, like it’s always noon. It may have been hours, it may have been mere minutes. What are those things circling in the sky above you? Vultures? That can't mean anything good.
Eventually, you find someone else, another new arrival, maybe, or a resident of the town who may have wandered a little too far into the desert. Maybe they have some water on them? Either way, company is exactly what you need right now, because there sure isn’t anything else in this desolate place. Not a cactus, not an animal, not even hints of a town.
Once you’re together, it seems a little easier to move forward. Time starts to move, too. The sun dips in the sky, your feet tread through the sand, and together, eventually you find the town.
If you take too long after you find one another, and the sun sets, be careful. Cacti sprout up closer to town, and after the sun sets, the cacti start to move, and they seem hungry for blood.
tl;dr:
You wake up in a sea of sand. It’s hot, and dry, and it seems to go on forever. You don’t remember much about yourself except your name and a handful of memories that most likely aren’t useful right now.
The sand slip-slides under your feet with every step. Sun beats down heavy and hot on your neck and your head. You’re so thirsty. How did you get here? How long have you been walking? Where are you headed? You can’t know. You feel like you’ve been walking forever, but the sun stays high above you, like it’s always noon. It may have been hours, it may have been mere minutes. What are those things circling in the sky above you? Vultures? That can't mean anything good.
Eventually, you find someone else, another new arrival, maybe, or a resident of the town who may have wandered a little too far into the desert. Maybe they have some water on them? Either way, company is exactly what you need right now, because there sure isn’t anything else in this desolate place. Not a cactus, not an animal, not even hints of a town.
Once you’re together, it seems a little easier to move forward. Time starts to move, too. The sun dips in the sky, your feet tread through the sand, and together, eventually you find the town.
If you take too long after you find one another, and the sun sets, be careful. Cacti sprout up closer to town, and after the sun sets, the cacti start to move, and they seem hungry for blood.
tl;dr:
- This time, new arrivals wake up lost in the middle of a vast desert.
- There's too much sun, too much sand, vultures circling and too little water.
- Finding each other makes time start again, and lets you find the town.
- If you don't make it back to town before nightfall, vicious living cacti appear to attack you.
Face Your Fears
Content warnings: hallucinations, reality shifts
In this town, fear soaks the hot, dry air. It lurks in shadows and the corners of rooms, waiting for their moment. What is it that you fear? Monsters? Disappointing your parents? Maybe you’re afraid that everyone you love will leave you, or that you’ll end up alone. Whatever it is, right now, there’s a chance of becoming very real.
It happens suddenly. Your mind drifts. You lose focus on what you were doing, and when you look up again, the world around you has shifted. What was a nice lunch with a new friend or a fun visit to the saloon becomes a nightmare. What fear manifests is totally up to you, and it can be different every time. The person beside you could become a monster you think is trying to attack you, or you could be suddenly alone in a cold dark space, desolate and empty.
Whatever horror your mind conjures up for you, it will feel real in all ways and with all senses including, of course, your perception of pain. As far as you know, you’re trapped in a nightmare with no way out.
Except, of course, there is a way out: you just need to figure out that it isn’t real. Maybe you’re strong enough to do that on your own; maybe you’ll need help from a friend or a new pal, reaching through the illusion to pull you back. After all, these hallucinations are entirely in the mind of the beholder: to everyone around you, it sure just looks like you’re yelling at your pancakes!
tl;dr:
In this town, fear soaks the hot, dry air. It lurks in shadows and the corners of rooms, waiting for their moment. What is it that you fear? Monsters? Disappointing your parents? Maybe you’re afraid that everyone you love will leave you, or that you’ll end up alone. Whatever it is, right now, there’s a chance of becoming very real.
It happens suddenly. Your mind drifts. You lose focus on what you were doing, and when you look up again, the world around you has shifted. What was a nice lunch with a new friend or a fun visit to the saloon becomes a nightmare. What fear manifests is totally up to you, and it can be different every time. The person beside you could become a monster you think is trying to attack you, or you could be suddenly alone in a cold dark space, desolate and empty.
Whatever horror your mind conjures up for you, it will feel real in all ways and with all senses including, of course, your perception of pain. As far as you know, you’re trapped in a nightmare with no way out.
Except, of course, there is a way out: you just need to figure out that it isn’t real. Maybe you’re strong enough to do that on your own; maybe you’ll need help from a friend or a new pal, reaching through the illusion to pull you back. After all, these hallucinations are entirely in the mind of the beholder: to everyone around you, it sure just looks like you’re yelling at your pancakes!
tl;dr:
- You start hallucinating that the things you fear most are actually happening to you.
- These fears feel like real, concrete sensory experiences, even though they're only happening in your head.
- You can escape by recognizing that what's happening isn't real, either on your own or with help.
Bullrider
Content warnings: mild bovine coercion, alcohol
Come on, hot stuff. You know you want to.
Bet you can’t stay on for more than half a minute.
You don’t look too tough.
You think you can tame me?
In the saloon, you hear a voice in your head. It calls to you, the words seductive and enticing: you want to prove it wrong, you want to find out what it’s promising, you hate to lose. Whatever the motivation, you find yourself abandoning your drink and making your way to the new attraction at the back of the saloon: the bull.
It’s a big boy: a massive mechanical bull. Covered in spotted cowhide, with a bull head and big horns, this thing sits on a massive pedestal like a challenge. Around it is spread... relatively thin padding and a flimsy rope to keep the audience back an appropriate distance.
The compulsion keeps a hold on you until you’re on the bull. Maybe you’re on it with a friend, or a stranger, and it starts up with a mechanical buzzing. It starts to sway under you, and now you have just one job: stay on.
It starts easy, but gets harder as it goes along. It’s incredibly difficult to stay on for more than a minute. But during that minute, you feel amazing. You feel hot as hell, in whatever way that works for you: sexy, powerful, bold, in control.
Until he throws you off onto the padding or into the crowd! When you get thrown, there's a good chance you'll go flying into the crowd. Hopefully they're ready to catch you!
If by some miracle you manage to stay on for more than a minute and a half, the bartender slides you a bullrider special: a spicy whiskey cocktail with a hint of lime. Feel free to leave it up to pure chance, and have the mods roll a die for you to see whether you manage to stay on or not.
tl;dr:
Come on, hot stuff. You know you want to.
Bet you can’t stay on for more than half a minute.
You don’t look too tough.
You think you can tame me?
In the saloon, you hear a voice in your head. It calls to you, the words seductive and enticing: you want to prove it wrong, you want to find out what it’s promising, you hate to lose. Whatever the motivation, you find yourself abandoning your drink and making your way to the new attraction at the back of the saloon: the bull.
It’s a big boy: a massive mechanical bull. Covered in spotted cowhide, with a bull head and big horns, this thing sits on a massive pedestal like a challenge. Around it is spread... relatively thin padding and a flimsy rope to keep the audience back an appropriate distance.
The compulsion keeps a hold on you until you’re on the bull. Maybe you’re on it with a friend, or a stranger, and it starts up with a mechanical buzzing. It starts to sway under you, and now you have just one job: stay on.
It starts easy, but gets harder as it goes along. It’s incredibly difficult to stay on for more than a minute. But during that minute, you feel amazing. You feel hot as hell, in whatever way that works for you: sexy, powerful, bold, in control.
Until he throws you off onto the padding or into the crowd! When you get thrown, there's a good chance you'll go flying into the crowd. Hopefully they're ready to catch you!
If by some miracle you manage to stay on for more than a minute and a half, the bartender slides you a bullrider special: a spicy whiskey cocktail with a hint of lime. Feel free to leave it up to pure chance, and have the mods roll a die for you to see whether you manage to stay on or not.
tl;dr:
- There's a mechanical bull in the back of the saloon!
- There's a strange deep voice in your head, coercing you into giving it a shot.
- It's hard to stay on, but when you're on it, you feel powerful, bold and in control.
- The padding's pretty thin and you'll get thrown hard when you do. You might hit someone!
- If you stay on for more than a minute and a half, you'll get a fun little drink as a reward.
3 bullrider
A bright-eyed, enthusiastic young man applauds as Cam dismounts. She may have seen him earlier getting brutally, embarrassingly thrown onto his rear end off this very machine, but besides a slight stiffness to how he's standing he seems no worse for wear.
"That was amazing! You really showed that stupid hunk of junk who was boss!" Not that he's vindictive, or anything, however dire the look he casts at the bull might be. He perks right back up when he returns his attention to Cam.
"You get a drink as a prize for staying on a while, I think. I saw some other people get one. Careful, though - a lot of the stuff they serve here is alcoholic! Not to mention the jello...watch out for the jello. It can't be trusted."
Re: 3 bullrider
"Thank you," she says with a rare, warm smile, allowing herself to enjoy his enthusiasm and the lingering feeling of confidence. It turns up a little at his warning about the alcohol, and she wonders if, wherever he comes from, there aren't bars there. She isn't used to exactly what to ask for or what it is she's drinking, but she knew when she walked into this place that establishments like this one are just -- well, they're everywhere, aren't they?
Perhaps not.
Her brow does furrow, though, and she gestures with his head for him to accompany her to claim her free drink. "...Jello?"
no subject
But he can't start thinking like that. It'll be different this time. They'll make sure it's different, and one or more of these new people might be the key to figuring it all out.
In the meanwhile, he has important jello information to impart.
"So imagine juice, right?" Jaune holds up his hands as if to indicate an imaginary glass. "Now imagine that juice gets thick, but it's not frozen, just...jiggly. Delicious sounding, I know, but what they don't tell you is sometimes they put alcohol in that, too, or worse! Some of it is full of strange effects."
He emphasizes 'strange effects' with a wiggle of his fingers as they walk, then leans against the bar as the bartender slides Cam's prize over to her.
"Thank you, ma'am," he says, politely, before returning his attention to his conversational partner. "So, be careful around the jello."
no subject
Cam's brow furrows a little as she listens, imagining first something heavy, coagulated almost when he says it thickens, then reconsidering entirely with the adjective jiggly. It sounds bizarre, and she can't help but chuckle at his assessment and quirk an eyebrow at strange effects.
Were they still just talking about alcohol? She thought maybe not from that waggle of the fingers. "Strange effects..." she echoes, her voice tipping up with a little bit of question in her tone that he can take as a prompt if he wants to.
She nods a quiet thank you as well, catching the tumbler reflexively. It warms her, if in a slightly amused way, that he also thanks the bartender despite not being the recipient. He seems very...wholesome. Kind, generous. Cam's tempted to group it in with naivete but -- it's not unlike some of the things she appreciates about the Warden. "I certainly will," she says with a little laugh of confusion, "thank you for the warning."
"I'm Camilla," she adds, after a pause. "Hect." She proffers a hand, a little awkwardly. Meeting new people makes her even more keenly aware of the lack of her necromancer. It's as though there's a missing space a half-step ahead where he should be doing the introductions, an amputated limb or unfinished sentence. She can't remember enough of him and can't stop remembering him at the same time, but it doesn't matter: it's just her right now.
no subject
"Jaune Arc," he says, clasping her hand for a firm, friendly shake, "And I don't know what all of the effects are, but for example - I had one that made me honest. Too honest. Not that I lie a lot, or anything, but sometimes, well, people don't need to hear everything you think right when you think it."
It had turned out that an unfiltered honest Jaune was a touch more direct than Jaune usually likes to be. Remembering some of the things he said to Aizawa still makes his cheeks pink if he lingers on them. But he is, fortunately, not lingering on them now. Instead, his brain is catching up to Cam's name, and as soon as a certain thought occurs to him it's already tumbling out of his mouth.
"This might sound a little weird," he says, having the remaining good sense to let go of her hand before he keeps talking, "But do you know someone named - well, you might not know his name, but he's tall, glasses, dark hair," scrawny, "slim build, monochrome wardrobe, grey eyes - and I mean, really grey eyes? Palamedes Sextus?"
no subject
"Oh," Cam says, blinking at the implications there, and winces just a little in sympathy. And honestly, slight horror. She can't remember all the things she's thought or the situation she's been in, but she's been in the bar for a good half hour, at least, and she has a general sense that it wouldn't be a good scene if it all came tumbling out at once. "Yes....I value honesty, but I think there's an art to timing."
She tips her head when he leads with This might sound a little weird, lifting an eyebrow. Cam's about to shake her head, ready to let Jaune down that she doesn't know anyone and she wouldn't know if she did, but -- as he starts describing the man, her eyes go a little wide.
There are a million people this could be: tall, glasses, dark hair, her mind points out, pragmatically. He says really grey eyes, though, that almost disbelieving or not-describing-it-enough tone to it that somehow, somewhere, she's heard before in the description of her necromancer, and her chest clenches.
Palamedes. It crosses her lips without sound. And without thinking, her mind tries to fit it backwards into a thousand feelings, and it's like a migraine hitting her all at once; she stumbles a little bit, pressing a hand to her eye. It comes away with a bright red smear of blood across her palm. Her gut twists, terrified, and yet there's a little part of her that wants to laugh, thinks, I'm not the one who cries blood, and she can't chase that either, can't try to make sense of it.
"I'm sorry," she says, absurdly, off balance, and catches at his arm, looking up at him even as the last vestiges of blood blink out of her vision. "Yes." Camilla nods urgently, and dabs at her eye half-apologetically with her cocktail napkin. "Yes, he's -- my -- " Everything? How to explain the Warden in a way that makes sense? She doesn't even remember all of it. But also --
"You know him?"
no subject
Jaune's not thinking about where he picked up any of his habits when he's staring at her bloody eye with wide ones of his own.
"I'm sorry," he says, urgently, parroting her words back to her with much more stressed intonation, "I didn't mean to - I should have known better - "
He almost says don't think about it, which would be a mistake for a host of reasons, starting with that being the most guaranteed way to make someone think about anything. More specific to the situation, this is the Camilla, and if there's one thing Jaune is willing to bet he already can guess about her it's that 'not thinking about Palamedes' isn't going to be an option now that it's been introduced.
Which means he might accidentally be responsible for scrambling her brain, which is just fantastic.
"I know him." Jaune nods, trying not to look too anxious and largely failing. "He, um. He mentioned you. Just...try not to press on anything that hurts? In your brain? It'll come back easier if you don't force it - do you want to sit down for a second? I think you should sit down for a second."
no subject
Reflexes and pain tolerance, both without context, stabilize her. The sharp pain is dying back down, leaving a lingering ache behind; she feels entirely off-kilter but there's no way not to and she attributes that to -- everything that's happened today, and just happened. Mostly, at least. Not to mention having had a few drinks that she's not entirely sure of the alcohol content of.
Cam shakes her head, holding up a hand to stop him. "No, don't. Please." She shakes her head, dog-like, as though she can rid herself of whatever this is. "I'd figured out that there's --" She makes a face, frustrated. "Something that prevents trying too hard to remember. But, him." She glances at Jaune, still anxiously regarding her and takes a little breath. "I think I know him better than I know myself right now. And I still couldn't come up with -- Palamedes."
Camilla repeats the syllables, precise and careful and oddly warmed, as though someone's just told her a word in an entirely different language for something familiar and beloved and she's trying it out.
Which is almost the truth. If it wasn't his name, she'd still have no choice but to believe Jaune.
But how -- Does that mean he's not -- She tries to not think about any of the glimpses of memory she does have.
"I'm fine," she says instead, "It probably looked worse --"
It probably looked horrifying.
She gives Jaune a little rueful smile and allows, "Let's sit down," nodding at a booth and earning a little echo of dizziness for the nod.
no subject
"I've done the same thing. I know how it is," Jaune assures her, releasing her arm but hovering nearby as they make their way to the booth. Letting her know he knows what it's like serves two purposes: the first is that she'll know he's not imagining it being worse than it is, while the second is to let her know she can only minimize it so far. They can brush it off this time, but he's going to worry if it happens again.
He stays standing until she's sitting down and then slides into the booth seat opposite, watching her face with what he hopes is an excusable level of anxiety. He's been trying to work on that, but - well, he thinks some anxiety about blood spurting out of people is always called for.
"Okay." He flattens his hands on the table and nods. "So, here's my idea. Why don't you tell me what you definitely, actually remember about him - no forcing it, just what comes easily - and then I'll know what's safe to say about him?"
just some light reading o_O
He stays standing as she sits down, in a sort of chivalrous manner that makes her huff slightly at him and simultaneously a little amused. It makes her think he'd fit in -- in -- somewhere, she's not sure exactly, but wherever home is for her; a sense that there are certain places in the universe, some more than others, that expect and appreciate that sort of formality.
Camilla knows it's care, too, caution: she did after all start bleeding from the eyes, but she nods at the opposite bench pragmatically when she's seated and stable. If she can't resist clawing at her mind for more answers after this, that lack of discipline isn't something he can do anything about.
She takes a breath. It's not a bad idea, better than testing things he knows about Palamedes one at a time to see if they hurt her. But she can feel her ears and neck warm a little at the prospect, and decides promptly if she's much of a blusher at home, she's going to conveniently forget all about that, because she hates it immediately. "It's -- difficult," she says slowly. "Most of what I know isn't something you could put into a list, or a form..."
She takes a sip of water that's shown up, somehow, without her noticing anyone bring it or leave. It's cold and smooth and almost miraculous on her throat after fighting her way through the desert. "We grew up together, in a place called the Library, which is in, or -- belongs to, the Sixth House." She's trying to extract information from memories, and it's a delicate process, but then again, she knows how to be delicate, doesn't she? That's a thing she remembers too.
Cam takes a breath and tries to let it come naturally, out of order, however it wants to. "He's got these ridiculous eyes," she says, and laughs because who cares, but it's part of why she knew Jaune was talking about the Warden. "And looks like someone stretched him out, and remembers everything he's ever seen, which is a pain."
Now she's relaxed, smiling, enough to try more serious things. "He's Master Warden of the Library, and I'm his cavalier; I'm called the Warden's Hand. He's the youngest Master Warden to earn the title ever." Camilla can't keep the pride out of her voice, even though she can barely comprehend what a Master Warden is, much less remember what it took for Palamedes to become one or exactly what he's done beyond vague moments that slip through her mind like spectres.
"I don't know if they have cavaliers here. I don't --" She does flush now, feeling the uneasy ground she's treading on memories split under her. She knows that they are necromancer and cavalier, remembers the oath, knows how it feels.
But she knows she should be able to describe how they function, what necromancy consists of, the history of cavaliers in minute, distinct detail and she simply can't. It's as though an entire part of her mind is just gone. "Palamedes is a necromancer. He's my necromancer. Not everyone has the abilities that he has, but when they do, they're paired with a cavalier that, hopefully, balances them out. We swore an oath to be -- each other's."
She hadn't meant to say it quite that way, and she takes a sip of water. It's not untrue, even if she doesn't remember all of what led to it. She can feel in her chest, remember bits and pieces: they were each other's in some inextricable way far before being sworn Warden and Hand.
no subject
At least, he thought he was.
He should have expected it'd be about love. She never uses the word. She doesn't have to, like Palamedes didn't have to when he talked about her. It spills from between the words like light, like water. He doesn't know what kind of love it is, exactly, but there's so much of it he's left half-wondering if there's really a way to take it all and fit it into one sort of thing.
It makes his heart ache, a real, physical tightness in his chest. All the details she's stuck on not being able to recall perfectly don't register for him as anything missing. He understands, or thinks he understands, enough. They're each other's. Cavalier and necromancer, necromancer and cavalier, a pair, a duo, an inseparable bond. No wonder Palamedes looked like something had cut him in half at the grave. It might as well have.
When she's done, taking her sip of water, Jaune looks at her with wistfulness he doesn't know is so clear in his round blue eyes. It's a look too old to fit his face, a look with years stretching into decades in it. As the seconds creep on, he remembers himself, and swallows dryness out of his mouth.
"Okay," he says, softly, "You remember a lot more than I know, so...we should be safe."
It feels like a lousy excuse of an answer to all of that poured out devotion, but Jaune doesn't know what else he could start with. Everything he feels about it is all jumbled up, hopelessly tangled knots he needs to work out himself before he'd even start to have words for it. It's fine, though. He knows what he's going to say next, and he thinks that'll be enough for her to be happy.
"He's doing fine." Jaune smiles, still wistful, but not so weighed down. "As fine as anybody is, anyway, but he's not hurt, and he's been keeping busy. He's been really helpful figuring out everything happening in this town. Organizing meetings, keeping track of things, which makes sense, with the Library and all. But he's missed you a lot. He's going to be really happy you're here."
no subject
She can't bring herself to ask, not having just met him, but she files it away somewhere with the hope it won't disappear like everything else.
Cam huffs a laugh at his soft answer. "You know more about what he's been doing lately," she returns, with a smile that's mostly a curl at the edge of her lips.
Her whole body feels like it relaxes, though, when Jaune says he's doing fine. "Good," she says quietly, and nods as he keeps going. She doesn't know what all of not fine or even as anybody is could consist of, but in a place that dropped her in what seemed like an endless desert, she imagines it could be extensive, and not being here -- not remembering, even, where she was, or what happened --
And of the few things she knows, she knows that he's not fine at home. At least --
Camilla smiles at the description of what he's been up to: it sounds like the Warden she remembers. Her chest clenches, achy, at Jaune saying he's missed her a lot, in ways she can and can't fully separate into distinct feelings; she settles for facts, her brows drawing together in confusion. "How -- long has he been here?" She doesn't bother to try her memory but on pure instinct, she can't imagine not seeing him for more than a day.
no subject
There aren't a lot of people out there who makes as much of themselves about protecting other people as Jaune does. He knows, because he's been told, it's not always a good thing.
But it doesn't look that bad from where he's sitting. It just looks familiar, and he can practically feel its echo. He relaxes a little with her in sympathetic understanding. He's getting the order of things right so far, and it kindles a small, snug warmth in his chest. Now the trick is staying on track.
"Six months," he says, like a quick pull of a bandage, and then he lifts his hands palm out, "Sort of. Time doesn't work here like it does where we all come from, okay? So you're not late."
It's a guess at what he thinks she might worry about, because he knows exactly what he'd worry about if he showed up somewhere to find out that Ariane had been there first for half a year without him looking out for her.