wellcome | 4.0 Test Drive Meme

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4.0 Test Drive Meme

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Welcome to Well! This cycle is a little different, if you've visited us before—this TDM takes place in Well's updated setting. See the first prompt for how your characters arrive in Well. Your character arrives with only a handful of memories, clad in a mix of Old Western clothes and clothes that might fit in at a renaissance fair, and 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 November onward, and can happen concurrently with other events during November and December. This will be the only TDM for November, December, and January.

Applications are open October 27th until November 1st, and November 27th until December 1st. Invites are available for friends of current players.

Into the Maze

Content warnings: deadly traps, aggressive foliage, vines, potential drowning, spikes

You wake up surrounded by green. Thick, dark hedges as tall as two adult humans stretch all around you. They're thick, nigh-impenetrable. You don’t quite know who you are, but you’re pretty sure that here, right here? Is not where you want to be.

You’re at a crossing: paths stretch out between the hedges on four sides of you. Which path do you take?

The sprawling hedge maze is vast and complex, especially if you’re not even sure where you should be going. Along your way, you hear giggling, shouts, excited screaming, low murmurs, and, sometimes, the sound of radio static. You might see the faint outline of someone slipping around a corner, and hear them giggling, a long, white dress or robe following them as they move. But you never find whoever, or whatever, is making these noises.

If you follow them, you instead come across:

Thorny vines laying on the ground, or hidden in the hedges, that slowly wrap themselves around your ankles or your wrists, pulling you back, trying to subsume you into the hedge.
A dark pond stretching clear across the path, blocking your way. You can wade into it, but when you do those voices get louder, so much louder, screaming in your ears. The bottom drops away from your feet. Strange things brush your ankles, turning into hands pulling you down into the oily water. The more you panic, the more difficult it is to get to the other side. Staying calm keeps the water at about chest height.
Pieces of the path fallen away, down into a pit full of spiny cacti. You might not want to test this one, and instead trust yourself to jump across. It’s just short enough a gap to be scalable by most, but it sure isn’t a comfortable distance to cross. If you do fall in, boy howdy do those things hurt. You’ll need some help getting out!
The graveyard. There’s nothing getting in your way in the graveyard, but you may simply stumble upon it. The graves are overgrown and covered in moss. The ground is moist and springy. In the middle you may find an old mossy well filled with clear water.

Thankfully, at these obstacles, you might find another person, equally as lost as you. They may have been following the same person. Once you join forces with each other, the way out is easier to find. Not easy, but possible. If you continue to forge on on your own, the exit will never reveal itself to you.

When you do finally stumble out of the maze, you’re greeted with the site of Wellstone.

tl;dr:

You wake up lost in a hedge maze! You hear strange voices around you, and a figure dressed in white runs away from you.
You run into obstacles: spiky vines, a deadly pond, a pit full of cacti, or the graveyard. Work with another character (or not) to escape the maze!

Welcome home

Content warnings: disorientation, feelings of being lost

When you stumble your way into the run-down old town of Wellstone, the deadly peril of the maze seems to be over. It’s cold and damp, sure, but at least you’re not in danger, and you’re in luck: up a small hill beyond some gates, you can see an ornate house with golden windows, practically beaming warmth.

Staywell Manor is a grand place, with high ceilings and exposed, ornate beams, lush carpets and tapestries, beautifully upholstered furniture. A man dressed like a butler (the old hotel receptionist, for those who’ve met him) greets you with a bland smile:

“Welcome to Wellstone. We’re so glad you’re here with us! What’s the name on your reservation?”

You remember your name, and you give it to him, and he offers you a heavy brass key. No matter the number, your room does exist in the four-story manor, and is decked out with a four-poster bed, a nice settee, and a closet full of clothes that fit you like they were made for you. They’re a strange mixture, though, a mishmash of old American Western rhinestones and denim and medieval fabrics and silhouettes in bright colors. You might find a fringed tunic dyed bright red, or a pair of cowboy boots with the toes curled up like a jester’s slippers, bell-tipped and absurd. Are those pantaloons made of denim? Weird!

While the manor is lovely and inviting, and much warmer than the outdoors, it is also pretty big. Well, it must be, because you keep getting lost! It’s incredibly difficult to find your way to your room this month. You might find your way to the wrong floor, to the parlor, to someone else's room. Remember to knock!

tl;dr:

You're in the town of Wellstone, where it's cold, damp, and rainy.
Staywell Manor is warm and inviting, but hard to navigate, and you're prone to getting lost in its halls.

Warm Your Bones

Content warnings: alcohol, intoxication, accidental consumption of blood, hallucinations of demons and shadow people

The town of Wellstone has clearly seen better days and warmer seasons. Cobblestoned streets trace their way between crumbling buildings overgrown with moss and ivy. The early-fall nip in the air is enough to make your breath fog up in front of your face. Clouds hang low and sulky over the down, spitting out little bursts of rain here and there. Wind whistles between the close-crowded buildings, blowing a few leaves and the odd tumbleweed along the damp stone.

With the heavy chill in the air and fog drifting the streets at night, thick and cold enough to creep into even the warmest clothes, it’s tempting just to stay indoors.

Luckily for everyone tired of the damp, the golden light spilling from the Cactus Pad Pub beckons. Just walking inside hits you with a blast of warmth. A fire blazes at full strength in the hearth, snapping and crackling, but more than that, every single table is set resplendently with mismatched fancy china: cups, saucers, creamers, little pots of sugar, and of course, tea, steaming and hot.

It’ll be hard to resist the urge to sit down at one of these little tables, and the moment you do, you’re stuck there for at least an hour. Truly: your butt is glued to that chair. At least there's tea, and there are cards on the table with conversation starters on them. But these conversation starters are a little, ah... odd? Comment below to get a conversation starter for you and your tablemate!

May as well have some tea while you’re here, and hope that it is in fact tea. You have a one-in-three shot. The steaming liquid in that pot might be:

Piping hot black tea, caffeinated and bracing. Drinking it makes you energetic and exciteable and very eager to talk to your neighbors. It also makes you feel extremely fancy! Put that pinky up and use the biggest words you know to impress everyone around you.
Dark mulled wine, spiced with ginger and cloves. Drinking it fills you with unbridled confidence bordering on arrogance. You'll feel lordly in whatever way makes sense: condescending and snotty, benevolent and patrician, whatever you might be prone to.
Something… else. It’s dark, hot, and sweet, but there’s an odd metallic tang that sits strangely on your tongue. Whatever it is, it’s addictive. The more you drink, the stranger the world around you becomes: you’ll see faces in the shadows and glowing red in the eyes of your companions. Shadowy figures seem to haunt the walls of the pub, moving toward you. You’re filled with fear and paranoia but rooted to the spot.

Each of these effects lasts from half an hour to an hour, and longer if you drink more of whatever is in your respective pot. Once you're free from the table, if you sit down at another one, you'll be trapped there, too.

Feel free to ask the mods to roll for you to decide which teapot your character gets, and for a conversation starter, just for you!

tl;dr:

There's a fancy tea party happening in the Cactus Pad Pub. It's sort of mandatory.
Sitting at a table traps you at the tea party for an hour, and you'll be drinking one of three random drinks, each with different effects.
There are conversation starters on the tables to help you get to know your fellow tea partiers!
Tea makes you social and fancy, mulled wine makes you lordly and a bit drunk, and the last hot, sweet liquid tastes weird and makes you see demons.
Ask the mods to roll a random teapot type for you if you'd like!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[she can't articulate right away, rather overwhelmed by how suddenly things have gone from complete agony to the safest embrace she knows. she does try, but words fail for a few breaths while winding her arms around his neck and clinging tight. each repeat of her name in his ears is another stab - painful, but pain she needs. the rest, he's...saying something. something important. she needs to focus, but it's difficult right away.]

This is--it's...real?

I don't care if it is. I need this. I need you.

[As he holds her, she might notice his usual steady form is shaking a bit. The weeks apart and the harrowing horrors he endured while she was gone are all coming home to roost at the same time and right now, where they are is the least of his concerns.]

[He just needs her to be real. He needs her to remember him. That's it.]

...

[honestly? that answer's more certain. he's much braver than she is by a mile - he would set aside the logic just to accept what's laid out for his senses first and foremost. grounding, bearings... she should do likewise.

she gulps, stifling another hiccuping sob as she threads fingers into his hair as she pulls herself up into him further.]

How long was... [she trails off, realizing the answer barely matters. it had been a brutal end, hadn't it? that's what it was. an end.

she shudders, burying her face into his shoulder and just...exists with him, squeezing against the tremble in his own skin.]

I'm...I'm so sorry, my darling. For making you wait. [however long it was. doesn't matter. she doesn't need to know.]

Not your fault.

It...it wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault...

[He rests his head on her shoulder; feels the heat of her neck and basks in the scent of her hair.]

I wasn't...I didn't get there in time. And...gods so much. So much happened and...

[And I broke...]

[the absolution does little to ease the weight of guilt that comes in hearing how struggling his words are. she swallows back on that knot and relaxes her hold, having to push a little to let him let her look him in the eye.

he does look so wretchedly worn (but some of that probably comes with being covered in excess foliage).

she puts a hand on his cheek.]

And you still...came and found me. Just as before. You're still quite good at that, really.

I'll...I'll always find you.

Always...

[He manages a smile and it's only because he's seeing her face again in what seems like forever. He leans in and touches his forehead to hers and for once, he's the one who can feel the tears welling up in his eyes.]

I'm nothing without my muse...

[affectionately:] Nonsense. [she tilts her head to peck at the corner of his mouth before pressing in a more earnest series of kisses. they help punctuate the reality of the present for her as much as they are to make it up to him for leaving him on such a wretched note.

when there's need to breathe, she settles for just cradling her head against hers while her gaze drifts past tufts of his hair and stray twigs, at the odd horizon line that the hedge wall makes.

the fog is thick, but her eyes are keen, and after actually focusing on more than themselves, she can start to trace the shapes lingering consistently within it.]

...Spires... There's...a building somewhere near...

[He takes a steadying breath. There's still so much more he wants to share with her. So much happened, so much he needs to get off his chest. Idly, he pats his chest where a small, tied bundle is still secured against his person.]

[...It'll wait. It'll have to. For now, he needs to sack up. He needs to be the man she thinks he is.]

...Then...we should go check it out.

[true enough. honestly, she'd rather just remain safely entangled with him (and then some), but it's likely not safe out in the open. actually, the more she's aware of the open space beyond the hedges, the more exposed to danger she feels.

she shivers again, then nods, accepting the help up to uneasy feet, clinging to his arm after-the-fact.

slowly, her gaze moves away from the murky shape of spires to the comically Darin-shaped hole in the hedges.

...yeah. yeah, no...he wouldn't be doing a maze by the rules. and as much as she hates the idea of getting so much junk in her hair, the shortest distance between two points is a line, isn't it?]

I, I can keep us on-target if you lead the way...?

You got it.

Let's go.

[He doesn't charge bullishly the way he did before. With her at his side, he takes a more leisurely stroll and, to his credit, uses his large frame to shield her from any twigs and branches as he pushes his way through the shrubbery.]

We're...probably near the outside of the maze. Be ready.

[she keeps a hand clutching to his clothes at his back at all times, and for a brief moment, she does get to wonder about said clothes. it's not the same as before. neither are hers, for that matter!

what is going on...?

his voice pulls her out of her fashion musings and she blinks focus back to the larger shape of the tower ahead of them. she hums the affirmative, hoping she can be ready for--

for...a hill, and then...]

Where...where are we? [the place looks almost palatial in ways, but...]

[Darin steps forward slowly. Was that...was that a building up ahead? It's huge. He strains his ears for signs of...anything. Anyone. They couldn't have been the only people that made it, right? Unless...]

[No, no sense in thinking like that for now. Wherever they were, they needed to find someone and that building was their best bet.]

I don't know. But I'm gonna find out. Come on.

[He takes her hand and starts to march up the hill, manor in his sights.]

Wellstone?!

[she echoes the name as the butler greets them just inside - only after which she realizes.]

Darin, he's--that's the concierge. [she looks to him before back at their greeter.] He's changed, too. With this place.

Wait this...this can't be.

This is...This is Wellstone?

[He stares incredulously at how lush everything is and...how huge this place is.]

What...what happened??

[it's definitely strange...stranger still that the concierge is actively in their way, rather than behind a desk! it's distracting, because she wants to look more at the vaulted ceilings and filigree than talk to him (dreadful, but habitual honestly), but after another insistence for a name she gives it, then blinks as he holds out a brass key.]

Ehm...than, thank you... [she looks to Darin, to let him claim one likewise, holding her tongue until the butler seems satisfied with a job well done as to leave them.]

Suppose...our rooms...?

[Darin's stunned. He's holding his key in his hand and she can clearly see the gears turning.]

You don't...you don't suppose this is because I...

Because we...

We moved things in a different direction? [her brow knits, looking toward the grand staircase.] Was it our meddling? The fortifications? [squint.] But, the storms...where did all the sand go? The prickle-plants?

[squint.

ah.

look.

decorative cactus plants over on that elegant gilded table.]

It's like we...we broke something.

...Our rooms. Our research.

[she looks back down at the key.

after a beat, she squeezes his hand.

quietly:] It's not a loop. It's a progression.

[to what? she doesn't know, but...] We're not trapped in a cycle...

So we...we changed it? We actually changed it...?

[Did...did he do this? Did he manage to actually effect some change...?]

[He's dumbfounded. Looking at all of this...it was...decidedly better than the desert ghost town. It almost seemed like a reward.]

[she feels like someone's set a small, electric current through her skin, prompting her to fidget in place foot to foot. the excitement threatens to bubble up too bright, too fast, and she swallows back on it to instead look toward the grand stair.]

Let's go look. Our notes, collected things...maybe they're still there?

[and if she's going to freak out one way or the other, she doesn't want to do it in a parlor with excellent acoustics.]

Y...Yeah. Yeah, we need to check on our things...

[He walks like he's in a daze, admiring the extravagance of it all. Would the others like it? After all, this place seemed...almost cozy. Leagues better than the desert ghost town they'd called home for nine months.]

[He walks with Cecelia, hand-in-hand, up to the first of their rooms. At least, he thinks it is, he finds himself getting pretty lost.]

Is...this it?

[once he's set the key in and found it accept and give them passage, Cecelia pushes the door open and steps in first.

it's...beautiful. her head had throbbed the entire walk here, the nostalgia so thick upon the walls for her, but this doesn't even bother her for how just...comfortable this space feels?

she steps further in, eyes wide with wonder, and it takes a double-take for her to focus and realize.]

Oh, look...! [she moves over to the writing desk, picking up one of Darin's astronomy-themed notepads, doing a fast glimpse inside before turning with a hopeful ghost of a smile.]

It's your handwriting. They, they might've crossed with us...

[He spares her a smile as he walks the perimeter of the room. This all just seemed...too good to be true. It was strange; normally he's the optimistic one while she's pure pragmatism...but the events of the last month still have him on edge. It's like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.]

[But finally, he takes a seat on the edge of the large canopy bed.]

It's...real, isn't it. We changed something for real.

...We broke the loop.

[she leaves the notebook where she found it, herself drifting toward one of the windows to peer outside. the hedge maze extends out to claim much of the view, and with her sharp vision she can swear she sees some heads of hair moving about; she can only hope in her heart that some of those are her dear friends...

we broke the loop. is it true? is that possible? was it ever a loop? was it preordained?

as she moves toward the washroom she finds herself feeling around her collarbone for the chain and the ring looped upon it.

Aniel...you would know, wouldn't you?

she doesn't speak up for a while, but there is the distinct sound of a faucet squeaking and water running, followed by a soft cry of relief before it's eventually shut off.

in something of an uneasy daze, uncertain of whether to be suspicious or elated, she wanders back toward him, reaching to put a hand on Darin's shoulder as she steps in, the other on his head as she leans in.]

I...I don't know.

It's not blood...

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