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 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...

[He offers her an exhausted smile.]

Go enjoy a bath, then.

You've earned it...

Mn.

[the appeal is there, sure, but a reluctance in her sparks some unease as she starts to sink into his lap.

if she went and did that, he might disappear.]

I don't want to be far away. Even a foostep. It's too strange. It wouldn't be safe, would it?

[He wraps his arms around her waist and holds her there in silence.]

I'm...I'm sorry if I'm not my usual self. A lot...a lot happened. After you were...

[He takes a shaky breath.]

I'm...not sure how to even begin...

[her heart jumps, feeling the vindication of her dread. a lot can be so many things, and so few of them good from the how Darin's voice seems to tighten in efforts to avoid faltering.

she watches with unblinking, concerned eyes, sketching his expression to memory. she hopes she never has to see it so often, if ever again.]

Whatever comes naturally, I suppose. [she can't rightly just pull things out of him, can she? no more than he ever could her. the arm not draped over his shoulder lifts so she can cup his cheek in a hand, stroking at it with her thumb.]

[He's quiet. It takes a few minutes before he even finds the first words to speak.]

After...you were gone...

After you were gone I was...scared. I thought...I thought if I managed to succeed in breaking the loop it meant that you'd...that we'd never...

[He swallows the lump forming in his throat and continues on, skipping over the obvious implications.]

I...wanted to keep myself...sane. Had to believe I'd see you again so I...

[He releases her for a moment and reaches into his shirt. He grunts a bit and she'll hear a snap; twine being broken. Whatever it was, he'd tied it to himself. What he pulls out of his shirt are...a bundle of letters. Stained with grime and blood but letters nonetheless. Weeks worth.]

I wrote these. One a day...

[He holds them out to her.]

[What she'll find are all of his emotions poured out on the page. The fears he had when he had Diluc burn her remains and give her a proper funeral. The nightmare of the blood flood and the collapsing Staywell. How he'd done everything in his power to keep the building from being swept away even if it meant drowning himself.]

[The horrors of his abduction. How he was picked apart. Tested. Made to feel like the freak he always feared of being because these beings wanted to put him through his paces. Even now, his body is criss-crossed with hairline scars like a garrote mummy.]

[How he remembered his promise to his brother. To be a great hero. And how he'd ran from it all his life. Only to claw his way out of his sealed grave to find devastation and failure.]

[The last few pages aren't notebook paper. It's paper he'd desperately transmuted himself. It's uneven and looks more like patchwork leather than anything, but it was filled with remorse. How he'd broken. Taken to killing the gravedigger because she kept interfering with his work. How he'd slain his double. How he was waiting for the end of the loop any day because he thought he'd get to see her again.]

[And through it all, he never once forgot to write 'I love you' to her. Every letter it's written without fail. Even as the handwriting becomes more disjointed and broken, as the pages are stained with mud, blood, sweat, and tears, that one single flame continued to burn for her.]

[When he hands the letters over, he lifts her off of him and sets her on the bed so he can go sit in silence in the corner of the room. No doubt she'd read them and he didn't care if she read them in front of him. He just...closed his eyes and waited.]

[it doesn't feel good to see even the faintest bit of blood, least of all coming from his person. it feels worse when, handed these worn papers, she is set aside for him to move. she feels a chilly sting in her chest, but she dares not protest, lest she cut off some other word.

instead he just...leaves her. she feels rather sick, watching him move over there, and she wants to ask what he means by that, but...apparently 'what comes natural' is to let the words speak for themselves.

how like her; she'd laugh if she didn't want to cry. instead, she just tells herself to focus, and read.

unless he also plugs his ears, he's not safe from the sniffles and stifled sounds of weeping and little, tiny dismayed sounds. the recollection of her own imprisonment bleeds through and paints more violent pictures than the words themselves do, andmore's the guilt that there had been nothing - nothing! - she could've done to help him. console him. save him.]

Oh... [she can barely see anything as her tears blur her vision, forcing her to have to scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand. she sniffles loudly.]

Darin. Darin... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. [her shoulders shake and teeth click as she forces her jaw to shut to stifle herself.]

[He shakes his head.]

What...are you sorry for...? I didn't write those for you to feel sorry...

I wanted...I wanted you to know what happened. While the emotions were still fresh but it was...

It was for me too.

I had to believe I'd see you again. I know we take death for granted here but I was going to break the loop and...if I did that...

[He trails off, sighing and dragging a hand down his face.]

I was just...scared.

[stop crying. he hates when you cry. stop making it worse.

she wipes furiously at her eyes, turning her head away to keep from staining those already-stained pages.]

Scared alone! If I was at least there, I! I don't know, I...it's...at least better than being scared alone, and...!

Gods. Darin. I--I'm sorry, [hic.] I know I'm--I make it worse, just blubbering, I'm--

I wasn't alone...

[He says it a little too quickly, a little too sharply. He pulls himself back and tries to steady himself before he stands and moves to sit with her on the bed once more.]

I...I wasn't...I wasn't alone. Yeah there were days where I felt alone and I barely slept the whole last week because I was afraid of what nightmares I'd have but...

...But I carried you in my heart. Everything I did, I heard your voice keeping me...keeping me sane. And...

And we've made some really incredible friends here....friends who saw me suffering and sat with me. Talked to me.

They helped me...process things temporarily. Kept me from becoming my own worst enemy...

[He puts an arm around her. A shaky arm, but an arm nonetheless...]

Don't...don't put everything on your shoulders...

It's all on yours, you sweet fool! [she sags against him, pressing the heels of her hands into both eyes.] And I can't even, even carry just a little bit? For you? It's not fair! I can, can do better than just...leaving you to sad notes and horror, can't I?!

How was any of what happened your fault though? Did you forget that I died at the end of the previous loop to my own double? We can't always predict everything!

Hell, I spent three months preparing for a storm only for the world to flood!

[she groans a dismayed sound, sniffles, and scrubs at her face. why are they arguing about this?! she actually laughs out her anguish as she realizes how bloody stupid it is.]

Look--listen, [sniff. exhale. she drops her hands, leaning her head back against him.] I just...feel better thinking it's my fault, I guess. Ha. As if all these happenings are my responsibility. How arrogant. That must be...some side-effect of the job left over?

[ha.

sigh.]

No matter, that.

Thank you. For saving those. For...remembering to write. And remembering me. [she swallows, feeling around to recollect the pages in her lap without looking down.]

If you say it helped...I believe you.

...I...I get it. I think I feel something like that too. This...almost overwhelming sense that I should be able to stop every bad thing from happening.

The drawback of all this power, I guess. But if we start blaming ourselves for the horrible things then...the people...or beings or gods that are responsible...they get off scott free.

And I know you're at least capable of assigning blame where it's properly due.

[Listen, he knows Cecelia is capable of grudges.]

[she hums a dry sound at that, carefully, almost reverently re-folding the pages at their creases, watching what she's doing now.

she kisses the little bundle when she's finished.]

...I will not forget. How much we have had to hurt...just to be alive. And still be here together.

It's too important to forget.

[her head throbs a bit as she thinks: And if nobody remembers anymore, I have to.]

[Darin lowers his head suddenly feeling like all of the exhaustion was hitting at once. He'd barely slept since he woke up in his own grave and he forced himself to work to keep his mind from spiraling inward. It had to have been a week or so now since he'd had any proper rest.]

[He falls backwards onto the bed. He can't even begin to process how nice the mattress feels. All of this...it was decadent compared to their spartan rooms in the old hotel. He can't help but wonder if he broke something in a good way for a change.]

[He closes his eyes but he stays conscious. He doesn't want to cut his time with Cecelia short for stupid little things like sleep.]

How....How are you holding up? What do you make of all of this?

[She missed out on the horror show of the last week. Maybe she's in a bit of a better presence of mind than he is. Cecelia could always make sense of anything.]

[the immediate exhale of all that tension startles her a bit, and she does a bit of a double-take when he flops backward, blinking owlishly.

...of course he's tired. thank goodness that nonsense argument was cut right at the knees...

she sighs, shifting so she can get up and set the notes on the nightstand. from there she climbs back onto the bed (this one is distinctly larger and honestly? way better than what had come before), scooting in to settle partly on top of him.]

Oh, I'm petrified. This is outlandishly different than before, isn't it? We've no precedent outside of...I don't know...intuition.

Mm...it's a good thing your intuition is so sharp, then.

We just...need to do things like we always do. Careful. Methodical. Don't take anything for granted.

…

[careful. methodical.

nothing for granted…

she’s quiet for a while, just listening to him breathe and his heart beat.

after a bit:] We should wash. I think.

...Huh?

I...yeah, you said you wanted to take a bath. I think you've earned one.

[For some reason he hasn't connected the dots that she probably wants to take a careful, methodical bath with her boyfriend.]

Mn. Yes.

You, too, though.

…There’s still leaves and such in your hair.

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