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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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Gideon follows John to a booth. "Okay," she says, pushing a knuckle against the leather of the booth before she slides into it. "Where's the menu?"
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"Well aren't you cute. How about a milkshake?" It is not wholly clear which of them he's talking to. Maybe both. John waves this off with an absentminded Thanks and collects the menu, which is now printed in fancy script. He passes one to Gideon with a hum of consideration.
"I don't even see a milkshake, but apparently we're doing chicken dinners. Garlic bread, that's nice. And cheesecake, hard to go wrong with cheesecake."
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As she looks over the curling, fanciful print, Gideon encounters another problem: it’s not that she can’t read it, exactly, but her ability to read has become somewhat hypothetical. She gets through a few items — like tomato bisque, which don’t even look like real words — before her eyes glaze over and meander pointless over the page. She blinks, shakes the menu once.
“Yeah, sure. That sounds fine — holy shit, is this real paper?”
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It puts him ill at ease; there is something tighter and less genuine in his face as he looks back at her, voice still mild. "Looks like it. Let's hope they put that sort of effort into cooking."
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(In his memories, they scrape the floors and tremble. They do not call him John.)
If the paper comment put him off-kilter, this brings the concern fully into his face. Still: John pauses for a moment to admire her recommendation. It's definitely a winner. He's adding it to the list somewhere above His Celestial Kindliness.
"A proper First name," he considers aloud, like they're workshopping this. "Unisimus Prime. That has a ring to it. But I think I'll stick with John."
The waiter returns, flips open his notepad with the same bright and vacant smile: You tried our pancakes yet? They're just the fluffiest things— "—I could eat 'em all day," John agrees, in unison. To Gideon he raises his eyebrows as though inviting her into commiseration about an annoying neighbor. "Construct. He's doing his best, really. What will you have?"
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"Chicken," she tries, pulling desperately for recollection of the nonsense words John had said, "and the garlic bread? And the... bisque."
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He only gets to do this bit once per new arrival, until they figure out there's no money. But from the sound of things, the imperial economy might run purely on bone chips and bad vibes.
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She flattens her arm onto the table and leans forward, hand curled into a fist.
"Okay. What's the catch?"
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"God will provide?" he offers, without much hope it will change the set of her shoulders. But it's fine, he's been through this already with Alec. "Now that you mention it, there is one thing I like to collect. And you, a rare Nine Houses native, may be uniquely qualified to assist me."
He drums his fingers on the table as though weighing his price. Really draws it out. The waiter continues to watch them in vacant, cheerful silence.
"Two good bone jokes for the meal and the cheesecake. That's the deal."
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Instead, she knocks the side of her fist against the table restlessly. Her expression becomes no less serious.
"Are you asking me to... throw you a bone?"
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With perfect gravitas, he agrees: "Make no bones about it." And to the waiter, "Fantastic. That's lunch. Thanks."
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"What prison do they send bad necromancers to?"
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"I don't know, and I'm a little afraid to find out. What?"
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"The Rib Cage."
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"Guess I'll stay on best behavior. Thanks."
The waiter reappears with diner-standard icewater for each of them, and John doesn't bother to question whether that's on-theme. He makes a show of inspecting his obviously clear glass.
"Good news: no blood."
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Her face turns away to watch the waiter go. "First time back since the special?"
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"I can draw water from plasma, but, you know." He makes a wiggly-fingers gesture with one hand, to convey goopy. "It's not glamorous."
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"Fine by me." He splays his hands as though conceding the point, then drops them back to the table. "Best behavior, remember? Necro shit only with enthusiastic consent. I'll stick with tap water."
And, as an olive branch: "Can't fault me for trying to stay useful. You should see me try to hold a sword."
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The waiter reappears with garlic bread, bisque, and spiced potato. John gives another absentminded Thanks and takes up a fork to gesture with.
"Glad you're here to even the numbers. More necromancers would be nice, but then there's no one to keep us getting mowed down by monsters while we wave around the bones." And: "Try dipping that. Classic combination."
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She leans forward a little, hits her elbow on the table. Steam blows from her mouth as she surreptitiously coughs into her hand. All she can taste is garlic, and the taste is mostly just burnt into her nose.
"Where'd you get a sword?" She clears her throat and reaches for another one with only slightly more caution. "Lost mine. Need one."
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He cuts a bit of potato, picks it up with his fork, pops it in his mouth. Hopes maybe she'll get the picture before the waiter brings them each half a chicken.
"There was a whole trial to pass, way out in the woods. You'd have to walk out into the wilderness, find your way before the wolves found you..." He takes up gesturing with the fork again, setting the scene. "And if you were lucky, you'd make it to the grove. A beautiful clearing, honestly, lovely ambience. Sunlight through the trees, that sort of thing. At the center of it all was a great slab of stone, and embedded in the stone: a sword."
He raises his eyebrows, inviting her into a joke at his expense. "My first try? I set foot into that clearing and the whole thing yelled at me. It was like setting off a car alarm."
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But she does at least rip this piece of bread in half before jamming it into the bowl of garlic bread dipping sauce. She stares at it steaming, doesn't know what to do about it, and just repeats the process of forcing herself through the heat. Having been expecting it, she doesn't cough this time.
Gideon listens to his explanation, but the warning is lost on her. She's not at all dissuaded.
"Okay. What do you mean, was? You get the only sword?"
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