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4.0 Test Drive Meme
4.0 Test Drive Meme
Premise & Arrival ֍ FAQ ֍ Apply ֍ Navigation
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:
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 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:
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:
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:
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!
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either way, he reminds himself, he needs to be polite and not overwhelm her and not trigger any headaches, either. ]
I should warn you that trying to remember things can be a bit of a risk. Even being reminded of something that you've forgotten might, um. Hurt. A bit. So— if you're willing to risk that, I'll certainly tell you what Yuri's told me, but if you'd rather not... it can be strange when someone knows more about you than you do. Yuri remembers something I did at home that even I don't, and that's still strange.
[ It feels strangely natural to walk arm in arm this way, to lead Estelle around a crowded display and toward the dark little doorway to the rest of the town. ]
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The headaches, yes? I did experience one earlier.. It's just...it's strange, not knowing who we are, isn't it? I can't help but want to try--to reach those memories, if they're there somewhere, even though... Yuri said it was best to wait for them to come to us.
[She looks up to the sky as if she'll find a memory there, floating like a cloud.]
...Although I suppose I'm a little nervous to know what they might be, too.
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[ Generally speaking, he says, like he hadn't thought himself into passing out every few days that first month here, like he hasn't been chasing after his memories with fingers outstretched.
His breath mists up into a tiny little personal cloud and drifts away into the damp stone. Everything is close-crowded and wrong. The sky is so much smaller. ]
It is strange, though. And hard to put into practice, because of course we want to know who we are! Is there anything in particular worrying you?
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She's a little hesitant, but with this bond of understanding they already have...she glances to him as she takes in a little breath, then unleashes some of those worries.]
Well...aren't you afraid of remembering? Or worried about who you were, or what you might have done? I...I mean, for all you know, I could be--a serial arsonist, and neither of us would know!
N--not that I remember setting anything on fire, of course! But not remembering is the problem, once again...
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Sorry, I'm sorry, it isn't— I just really can't picture you as a serial arsonist at all! It isn't funny, really, and I suppose it's possible, but... well, I wouldn't put any money on it, so I'm sure you can strike that specific worry from your list.
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It's not that I was concerned about arson specifically... But--but I'm being serious.
no subject
No, of course— [ He squeezes her arm a little in proper apology. ] I didn't mean to make light, really. My apologies. Honestly, I worry about the same things. When you only have a few bits and pieces to go on, and when those bits and pieces paint a worrying picture, it's... hard. I've had months to get used to it, and even then every time I remember something, I start worrying all over again.
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[Her pout melts away immediately as understanding takes its place. Concern, too--how unnerving it must be, to have those worries come back in full force each time they manage to remember something...]
It almost sounds like remembering becomes more stressful than staying as we are...
[And yet...he agreed, too, that he couldn't help but want to know. If the opportunity to remember was in front of her, of course she would reach for it...she thinks.]
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[ Honest, though he'd rather not be. If he could tell her not to worry, that it would probably be alright, he would, and it would be such a disservice that he can't even think of it, really.
She doesn't deserve to have to worry, all the same. Flynn sidesteps a loose cobblestone. Fog hurries away from his feet like a startled cat. It's starting to crowd thickly around them. Flynn squints into it, suddenly unsure of his direction. It has to be just up the street, doesn't it? The town slopes upward toward the manor, so ideally as long as they're climbing...
He hopes he's leading them correctly. ]
It would be nice to be given the option of remembering, so we could each decide whether it was worth it, but it happens without warning, and you can't pick what you remember.
[ He adds, more softly, after a beat and a muffled step, ]
When it happens to me, I forget myself here and now for a little while. Talking to the people here helps.
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[She appreciates his honesty, even if she would rather that they didn't have to worry in the first place.
Nevertheless, he comes back around to: it's good that they're not alone. At the moment, she can only imagine what it must be like to learn some new facet of themselves, to have to reorient their understanding of who they are.]
I wonder if I'll be the same way... But...I can't imagine having to go through this alone. It's a relief to have someone at your side... If I can ever help, promise you'll talk to me, too?
[She's vaguely aware of the fog settling in thick and fast--it would be impossible not to notice it at all, really--but most of her focus is on Flynn, on asking him that promise. She's not entirely sure why, like so much else that drives her actions here, but she's decided this is important to her.]
no subject
It's too much, a little voice in him says. You can't ask that of someone, you should be able to handle it on your own, all the practice you've had.
A few months ago, he would have left it at that, but there's another voice now, smaller and softer but no less true.
It helps to help other people, it says, and it's true enough for him so what's stopping it being true for others? Fog eddies and swirls and then drifts away over damp cobblestones. Up ahead, there's a ringing voice; Flynn dismisses it for the moment, though it prickles at his head. ]
Only if you promise to do the same.
[ It's his compromise, tentatively-offered. ]
You won't ever have to go through it alone. All the knowledge we've picked up has to be useful for something!
[ The voice echoes again, a wordless shout, high and young-sounding. Flynn's head turns, just a bit. ]
no subject
Yes...I will. If we face everything together, we'll be able to help each other.
...By the way... [It really is getting too hard to ignore now, just how thickly the fog has descended, blanketing everything in a chilly, dreamlike haze.] It sure is foggy, isn't it? I hope we don't lose our way.
[She thinks she sees a humanoid shape off to the side, wonders if her mind is playing tricks on her--she thinks she's heard of such tales when it comes to mist this heavy--but she also glances ahead at the sound of the voice.]
Did you hear something? [And then louder, because it does sound so, so young-] Um...hello? Is someone there? Are you lost?
no subject
[ Flynn starts, hushed, holding her arm a little closer— this seems like the sort of fog that might play tricks, and Flynn has certainly been led astray by voices here before— but before he can get the rest of the words out the small voice shouts, a yell that echoes damply through the mist and bounces off the walls. Flynn starts toward it without even thinking, half-tugging Estelle with him. ]
That sounds like a child!
no subject
Please keep calling! We're coming--we'll follow your voice!
[It's hard to judge the direction, but she thinks...ahead, and then to the left, maybe?]
Are you close? Hello!
[And then, through the mist is--]
Look, Flynn! Is that--a boy?
[He's terribly young to be lost here, isn't he? That's Estelle's first thought, before anything else.]
no subject
[ Flynn echoes her thoughts in a half-whisper, sharing a concerned glance as the boy comes tumbling forward, his face set in a determined yell, a tiny sword held tight in his hand. He smashes into a target that isn't there and bounces off it with a yelp, stumbling backwards. Flynn's already moving to try and help him up, except—
his hand goes right through the little ghostly form.
He blinks.
The boy whimpers quietly, sniffs, and moves to pick himself up without any help at all. Flynn twists from his half-crouch to look at Estelle. ]
...another illusion.
no subject
Oh... So we can't help him...
[Regretful, she watches in worry as he picks himself up, wishes she could reassure him that it's okay and that he could hear her. But all she can do is watch on, helpless...]
Who do you think he is?
no subject
[ Although, that's not strictly true. There's something achingly familiar about that washed-out blonde head and the determined little face. Flynn watches him push up and grip the sword again, his face creased in concentration, aimed at something he and Estelle can't see.
When the boy charges again, all determination and shaky steps, Flynn gets a better look at his face and his breath catches. ]
...or... could that really be...
Estelle, can you see his face at all?
[ His little charge is, in fact, taking him right on a path toward Estelle's knees. ]
no subject
Oh-!
[She knows he's not solid, but she steps aside from his lunge all the same, eyes on the small form as he darts by. That face--he's so young, she's not sure, but...]
Yes, I... He looks familiar, but I'm not... [She looks up at Flynn as she answers, trailing off. Hmm...could it be...?] Could he be related to you, Flynn? Ah--is it possible you're a father?
1 / 2
I....
[ Flynn, with building panic, looks at the boy. Looks at Estelle. Looks at the boy again and then at Estelle ]
2 / 3 actually
[ He looks at the boy again, at his determined silvery little face, the pale hair, the familiar eyes, and then back at Estelle with his eyes wide ]
3 / 3
no subject
[It's a hum somewhere between thoughtful and questioning. The boy looks so much like Flynn, it's hard to think they're not related. She considers the boy--so, so young, but trying so hard already--and then to Flynn.]
Actually, I'd say you're just about the right age! Maybe you would have been young when he was born...but--it's okay, Flynn! I'm sure you're a great father! Look how hard he's working!
no subject
[ He's reeling in these implications here, watching this little boy pick himself up and try to charge again, his tiny face full of determination. Could he be the sort of person who has a son? Shouldn't he remember a mother, then, or something like one? Someone important enough to raise a child with must take up so much space in his heart but the only person Flynn remembers, really, is a boy raised beside him with eyes full of fire, so unless that boy somehow...
But then what kind of father would he be? ]
To be a father who abandons his child to go join the knights... I'd hate to think that— oh!
[ Thankfully for them both, before Flynn can spiral even further into thinking about maybe being a distant dad, a larger figure looms through the fog, landing a hand on one tiny shoulder. The boy freezes and looks up, his eyes full of fear and adoration both, a terrified sort of determination. ]
Again, Flynn. That was sloppy.
[ The man says in a low voice, and Flynn's stomach flips over on itself. ]
no subject
But then the man appears. There's a vague familiarity there, too, like he shares some of Flynn's features, but somehow fewer than the tiny boy...]
Huh? Flynn, he has the same name as you...
[It's as she's glancing to her friend again and seeing the look on her face that something finally clicks, though, and her hands fly to her mouth in surprise.]
Wait--you don't think...? Is he...actually you?
no subject
Flynn swallows, his fingers flexing uselessly. ]
He.... must be. It's hard to imagine I was ever so small. So then, this man must be... my father?
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