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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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He meets her gaze steadily. “But if you know that, then what is it that troubles you?”
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"The impression left," she says. "Between this and...and what happened when we last tried to contact the spirits, I've not...been much but strife, have I. Strife and horrible happenings. I don't want to think of being left behind for my safety, but I, I can't even fully contest it at this point, can I?"
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“Cecelia, for goodness sake. Something wanted us out of the graveyard, and they burst your eardrums to make it happen. Would you rather they had made me bleed out of every orifice instead?” All right, that’s a disgusting image, even for Pal, but he is trying to make a point. “And my double manipulated you by playing on our trust in one another. If our positions had been reversed, I would have fallen for it, too.”
“None of us are infallible, and none of us are indestructible. That doesn’t make any of us a liability.”
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"Then I can expect...in-person invitations to future discoveries, noteboard be damned. Yes?"
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The matter of Cecelia's culpability settled, Pal gives her hand a final squeeze and gently lets it go. "Since we're discussing sources of strife, I should make a confession. While you, ah, were absent, I'm afraid I was the cause of a bit of trouble. And not even the fun kind."
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It's a very brief bit of respite.
"You yourself, or...?"
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“You see, back home, John is our Emperor. The King Undying. God.”
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Her tone flattens a bit, her expression starting to wince.
"In practice, title, or nature?" Or all of the above? she wonders with no shortage of dread.
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"I am afraid to say that due to that lapse in judgement, I put a lot of people in danger."
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"Palamedes, I don't understand. What do any of the doubles have to do about this? What happened?"
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But this isn’t a story to be told out in the open.
Pal takes Cecelia to his room, and there shuts the door behind them. On instinct, he goes to the kettle in the corner and puts it on for tea.
“A few hours before everything came to an end, those of us who were left gathered in the graveyard. It remained by the storms and the flooding, and we were safe, relatively. That’s where John’s double found us. He revealed himself as the King Undying and said he wanted to kill Cam and I. Because we had betrayed him.”
“Which, to be fair, is true.”
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None of it is reassuring, and it just invites more questions.
"A double with true information?" This is news to her, horrible god-reveal aside.
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Pal hesitates, and his gaze goes distant. “He…touched us. He peeled off Camilla’s skin like a piece of fruit—“ A sharp exhale. “Some others tried to help, but he just mowed them down with some of the most destructive necromancy I have ever seen. When the earth opened up to swallow us all—well, it was almost like this place saved us from him.”
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Right away, she wants to question what that means for John himself. After all, her own counter had been able to do such incredible, powerful things...but she herself wants to do anything but sow destruction.
That doesn't strip her free of the potential...and it won't free John of his, either.
This is bad.
"Does...John remember this betrayal? That you know of."
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Pal has been staring hard at the opposite wall. Now, he drops his gaze to meet Cecelia’s. “I know we are not our doubles. The two of us are proof enough of that.” He almost smiles. “I’m not worried about that other John. It’s the one out there right now that I don’t trust.”
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Necrolord Prime. Egads, what a dreadful and ugly-sounding title; it makes her want to shudder, but she wills herself to remain still and sturdy, if only for Palamedes' sake.
"He's expressed interest in helping understand our connections to the dead here," she says. "I imagine that would be true regardless of intent...but it'd be foolish to seed discord among us all, yes? What advantages would a place like this have to someone of that capacity, especially when he himself is beholden to everything we suffer?"
From where she stands, the real division is just the knowledge itself: Palamedes being on edge (and by proxy, herself on edge) is already a wall being raised regardless of what John wishes.
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Palamedes begins to pace.
“Thus far, everyone who has been brought here has instinctively understood that we are stronger together. We have avoided the sort of arguments and factionalisms that, I’m afraid to say, can be far too common in times of danger. Our unity is our greatest asset, I have no doubt of that.”
“But unity isn’t always easy, and we cannot assume that everyone will always be so committed.” As abruptly as he had begun to move, Pal stills. “What if John Gaius thought that he could throw us all under the bus to gain his own freedom? What would he do then? If I'm being entirely honest, Cecelia, that's the question whose answer I am terrified of learning."
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She stands sentry by the kettle as it heats up, watching Palamedes pacing around, hugging her arms to herself as if that would keep her from doing likewise.
Terrified, he says, and she's certain it's not hyperbole.
"Palamedes," she starts, hesitating to consider her words with a bit more care. "I think we could get lost in all manner of speculation, but I don't think that is the best use of our time. We can only work with what is right in front of us, what we know that is, not what could be.
"Besides," her tone softens a little, her mouth quirking, "should I get a whiff of betrayal off that dreadful man, I know a different kind of god who can help us ensure he'll not hurt anyone...and I don't think it'll take violence to convince him."
Because while Darin's power is immense and destructive, his will is set on forging better tomorrows.
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But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be cautious. Taking off his glasses and briefly presses his thumb and finger into his eyelids, he sighs. “I know there’s no action I can take. And I know worrying myself into the ground won’t do any good.” He offers a faint smile. “But I want to keep an eye on him, just in case things do take a…less savory turn. I don’t wish to sow discord, but I don’t intend on giving him any more of his trust. And, if I may be so bold, I hope I can entreat you to continue to keep your distance from him as well.”
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"You realize the hypervigilance may just galvanize darker tendencies out of spite or might, yes? A lack of trust breeds untrustworthy behavior; why aim higher if the bar is so low?"
She says this, but she's not exactly been the most gracious with John herself, despite her efforts. She can't help that he's naturally repellent to her senses!
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She unfolds her arms in order to lift the near-whistling kettle off the active burner.
"I only mean...Hm." She sighs, pouring cups. "Well, it's easy to say, but it is a tougher thing to will one's self to stop prophesying disaster, all things considered, isn't it."
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“It is decidedly more difficult,” he agrees. “But to be clear, Cecelia, I do not want to prophesyze disaster any more than you want me to. I only mean: our dangers here are many. We both know this intimately. And I have good, rational reasons to believe that one of those dangers may one day be John Gaius.”
He sips his tea. “I am only suggesting that we watch and wait. And perhaps not take everything he says at face value. Is that so very extreme?”
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