wellie: (Default)
Well Mod ([personal profile] wellie) wrote in [community profile] wellcome2022-01-03 05:30 pm
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1.0 Test Drive Meme

1.0 Test Drive Meme

Welcome to Well! Characters arrive the same way every month. Your character arrives with only a handful of memories, clad in old west style clothes of your choosing, with 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.

Applications open on January 20th, and the game opens on February 1st. Invites are available for members of the mods' plurk lists.

Put on your dancing shoes
Content warning: Alcohol, intoxication, altered mental state

Something’s happening at the Cactus Pad Saloon. It’s lit up bright against the growing night, and music spills out onto the street. Seems like a fun time that you should check out. In fact, it’s hard not to check it out: the closer you get, the stronger the urge to join the fun. If you’ve been spending a lot of time alone, you’ll feel even more compelled to come get a drink.

The bartender serves up anything you can think of: from whiskey to apple juice to blood, if that’s your preference. She doesn’t blink an eye, no matter what’s ordered. The funny thing is, no matter what you order, once you take a sip, the world feels a little easier to deal with, your worries seem to melt away. You’re flush with sudden confidence.

If you strike up a conversation with the person next to you, conversation flows like you’re talking to an old friend. You feel a sense of kinship, deep and meaningful, good or bad, that bonds you together.

The old record player is playing a fun ditty, and the longer you stick around, the more you’re tempted to join, or start, the dancing. Whether you’re a great dancer or you have two left feet, you find that you feel capable of dancing like no one’s watching. No one knows you here, after all. You barely know yourself, so why not draw a partner into the fray? A party’s better together!

If you end up staying there til closing time, the bartender kicks you out with a gruff “come back tomorrow,” leaving you to stumble home with your new best friend. What was their name again?


Sand trap
Content warning: Quick sand, potential drowning in sand

You step through a door into a room you didn’t mean to enter. You were trying to head into the saloon, or your hotel room, or the bathroom, and instead you’re here: in a small, tight, windowless room in a white-washed building. The air here is old, stale, and thick. Hazy gold light bounces off the walls, but you can’t tell where it’s coming from, since there’s no visible ceiling. The walls just stretch up and up into bright nothingness.

Someone else is there, too, coming through an identical door on the opposite wall. Both doors snap shut, and won’t open again, no matter how hard you try. They won’t even break.

This might not be so bad, except that a sound starts to fill the space: sand, trickling down the walls. It’s just a dusting to start. It comes sprinkling down above, seeping through the cracks in the door. The longer you stand there, the faster it comes: sand flows down the walls in massive torrents, building up on the floor, shifting and thick, trapping you in place.

The only way out is up. When you look again at the walls, you’ll notice it: about 10 feet up the wall hangs a flimsy rope ladder, half-hidden by the waterfall of sand. You’ll have to work together to even reach it, or maybe let the ever-growing pile of shifting, slippery sand lift you up? Be careful, because even if you manage to reach the rope, you both have to get out of here, and the longer you’re here, the faster and harder the sand falls. The ladder seems to go on forever, tens of feet up an endless wall. The better you work together, the closer the top seems. No matter how well you collaborate, they're at least 50 feet high.

When you’ve fought your way through the sand and reached the top of the ladder, you finally see it: the sand is coming in through the open windows of a steeple. You can’t see where it’s from, not really. You can’t see much of anything, but it’s clear: the only way out is, well, out. You have to jump, trusting that yourself and your companion will be safe.

Once free, you land together outside of one of the buildings or rooms you were trying to enter, like nothing happened at all. It’s a calm day, after all.

Memories of the living
Content warning: Cemetery, contemplating mortality

Dusk settles purple over Wellstone. Early stars are out, the moon is thin, and you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the graveyard. You can resist, but the more days you do, the harder it gets. The graveyard is calling to you in a voice you can’t hear.

While it seems small before you enter, once you start walking through the crumbling graves, it seems to stretch endlessly. You pass elaborate dust-covered crypts carved with strange angels; bleached wooden crosses overgrown with cacti; a crumbling old well, long gone dry; worn-down headstones jut at odd angles. Some graves have old offerings on them, brightly colored beads or candles or framed photos, sun-bleached beyond recognition.

You may have been walking for five minutes or fifty, but when you look around, you can’t see to find the exit. You hear howling, and see the flicker of lights from behind the graves, but you can never find their source, no matter how much you look. No matter how long you spend in the graveyard, the sun never seems to sink lower in the sky. An oppressive sense of being watched grows to the point that you whip around, expecting to find someone there until—

You do. You find each other. Others drawn here to the graveyard, walking among the crumbling stones, will end up by the same headstones. Exploring together eases the watchful feeling just a little, but it won’t help you get out. No, you’re looking for something. The exit? No, you’re sure there’s something more important than that.

If you follow your impulses, you may just find it: a gravestone, weathered, old, with a familiar name on it: yours. Your date of birth can be visible, but the date of death is too weathered to read. You may find an offering there, something small and meaningful to you, a small shiny coin or some bright beads.

Once you find your grave, when you look up, you’ll see the exit. You’re really not that far from it, after all, the rusted iron arch barely a stone's throw feet away. Your companion won’t see it yet. You can make a dash for it, get out of this awful place, or help your companion find their own gravestone. When your companion finds their stone, they will also be able to see the exit. Exiting together will alleviate the impulse to come back to this place. Leaving alone will only draw you back, making it more difficult to find your grave again.

You can take the offerings left on your grave if you want, but the sense of being watched will only grow greater until you’re compelled to return them, and leave another offering of your own.

hedonistic: (pic#11971749)

[personal profile] hedonistic 2023-01-11 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
Cool. I can die at peace, then. Thanks, man.
thinkfirst: (skit | determined | ready)

[personal profile] thinkfirst 2023-01-11 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
Flynn. Scifo, if it matters, although I don't suppose it does.

[ At least she isn't another one of the repetitive unhelpful shopkeepers around here. Flynn, too, relaxes a little, some of his frustration leaching away into the morning air. He looks from the map to the front doors. ]

I don't seem to know much else. I don't even know why I'm here, and I can't say it's becoming any clearer, because this seems like a terrible place to take a vacation.

[ Nope, hold on, calm down, Scifo. Getting annoyed again isn't going to help anything. He sucks in a breath, breathes it all right back out, and sets his chin. ]

If you'd tell me about the patterns you've already found— would you like to fill out this map?
thinkfirst: (talking | neutral | worried)

[personal profile] thinkfirst 2023-01-11 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
Um—Flynn. Scifo–sorry, do you—what are we looking for? Do you know?

[ Hard to disguise the naked hope in his face and on his face, or the way his entire body perks up like a dog offered a ball. Help, and polite help, goes a long way to ease the crawling feeling that he's missing something.

Even if it's still clear that he's missing a lot.
]
unjedi: (225)

[personal profile] unjedi 2023-01-11 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
You're welcome, I suppose.
thinkfirst: (skit | sheepish | soft)

[personal profile] thinkfirst 2023-01-11 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
Flynn snorts. It's dark humor, sort of, but it helps with the ambient frustration. Being frustrated alone is awful. Being frustrated with an equally-exasperated kindred spirit might actually be productive, if they can channel it together.

He flashes his new friend a bright smile. "If we're being served sand at breakfast, then I'm certainly not here for a vacation. Shall we at least take the recommendation? I'd like to know if anyone around here has anything more useful to say. There's nothing of use in the rooms, either."
simplefarmboy: (And they pull you under.)

[personal profile] simplefarmboy 2023-01-11 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
[And that's great news. Clark could also get there a whole lot faster if he wanted to. But he's a little worried about what super speed could do to Ryan's stomach.]

That's me- Clark Kent. Designated carrier.

[His tone is half resigned, half amused. He doesn't mind that much.

The sudden lean in and stage whisper gets him curious. But he masks it with plain old confusion.]


Big bugs...?

You mean like aliens or something?

Nah. can't say that I have.

[Then a pause.]

...Have you?
thinkfirst: (concerned | worry | get ready)

[personal profile] thinkfirst 2023-01-11 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's certainly taking his time about it. There's nothing wrong with that—there's no urgency, except that Flynn doesn't have answers and would like answers and apparently isn't good at simply sitting still and waiting—but when he gets back Flynn is so relieved that he practically shoves himself up off the wall, bright-eyed and clearly ready. ]

I think simply seeing how large this hotel is is a good start, and then the town beyond it. Maybe someone out there is more helpful than our friend up at the desk. You'd think—well, I don't know what to think. About anything.
rottencactus: (38)

[personal profile] rottencactus 2023-01-11 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
Well met, Flynn Scifo. Ah, you may call me Mayoi. Ayase Mayoi...

[He offers him a polite tip of his head, something shy of a bow.]

[As far as what they are looking for, Mayoi will gently step back so that he is standing by the headstone that Flynn initially startled him off of and gently rests his hand on the top of it. It reads Ayase Mayoi (礼瀬 マヨイ).]


We must find the one that belongs to you.
simplefarmboy: (C'mon I've been waiting for you)

[personal profile] simplefarmboy 2023-01-11 03:20 am (UTC)(link)
[He considered that briefly and eventually gave a bit of a shrug.]

You're right.

But it might not be a bad idea to air on the side of caution until I know a little bit more-

[There's a pause and he lightens up a little.]

Since you know and everything though- I guess there's no harm in telling you.
unjedi: (109)

[personal profile] unjedi 2023-01-11 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
I'm honoured. And you're right, it's best to play it safe. I'll keep it to myself.

Besides, you're not the only one with powers.
hellonspectacles: (his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey)

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-01-11 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
“Only one way to find out,” says Palamedes. Without even thinking about it, he takes the lead and pushes open the broad doors that lead out into the town of Wellstone, at least according to the so-called receptionist. At some point, he may stop to examine this instinct, and what it might say about the person he is, but for now he has other things on his mind.

Unfortunately, the out-of-doors greets them with a veritable wall of heat. Pal pauses on the steps of the hotel, squinting in the sudden brightness. “I’m called Palamedes, by the way. Palamedes Sextus.” The syllables feel correct on his tongue, though he can’t remember speaking them before. “I don’t believe I mentioned that.”
hellonspectacles: (Thanks!)

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-01-11 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
Palamedes brightens. Okay, the scissors look a little grimy, and even lacking the extensive medical knowledge he once possessed, he knows that using them to cut at his own flesh is a terrible idea that could lead to something gross like tetanus.

But he’s a man on a mission and beggars can’t be choosers. He'll be fine... probably. “Excellent! I’m going to find out if I am, in fact, organic. The evidence so far says yes, but I would like to check for certain.” He holds out his hand for the scissors.
hellonspectacles: (We'll get to the bottom of this)

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-01-11 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
“The land expands whilst our memories shrink.” Palamedes screws up his face. “No, no, I don’t like that at all.” There’s a ruefulness in his voice, though. For now, it’s the shifting, changing ground beneath their feet that they need to worry about. Once they have escaped this strange, eerie cemetery, maybe he can return to the puzzle of his identity.

He follows her gaze over the plots, looking at them with avid curiosity now. “Do you know if they leave bottles of wine for the dead where you’re from?” he asks as he approaches one of the stones, which has a small pile of trinkets at its base. “If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds like a waste.”
hellonspectacles: (He surveyed his work and saw it was good)

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-01-11 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
“That is…disappointingly predictable,” says Palamedes, regarding the matter of their rooms. He looks at the key the receptionist gave him, slips it in his pocket, and nods. “At the very least, a meal will tide us over in case they do serve sand for breakfast. Or nutrient paste, for that matter.” And because he has managed to remember social niceties—or, at least, has remembered them about as well as he ever did in the past—he offers his new companion a hand. “I’m called Palamedes Sextus, by the way. I wish I could tell you something more about myself than that, but…” He shrugs ruefully. “I get the impression we’re all a bit handicapped in that regard.”
shiro2hero: (never skip arm day)

[personal profile] shiro2hero 2023-01-11 05:35 am (UTC)(link)
People getting kidnapped from all over the place... and ending up here with no memories.

That really doesn't bode well.
shiro2hero: (no i dunno the lyrics to Go The Distance)

[personal profile] shiro2hero 2023-01-11 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
That earns a shrug. And a slightly frustrated expression. "A plane, probably. But when I try and remember more than that... it doesn't work."

He just remembers flying. And loving every second of it.
unjedi: (29)

[personal profile] unjedi 2023-01-11 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
It doesn't.

But there's not much we can do about it right now.
shiro2hero: (my migraines are named Lance too)

[personal profile] shiro2hero 2023-01-11 05:56 am (UTC)(link)
I don't... think so.

It's - this just doesn't feel right.
shiro2hero: (gonna pet the shit out of that cat)

[personal profile] shiro2hero 2023-01-11 05:57 am (UTC)(link)
Just stick together, see what happens?
unjedi: (193)

[personal profile] unjedi 2023-01-11 05:58 am (UTC)(link)
If we don't have each other's backs, then who will?
bojackingoff: (tdoicons3)

[personal profile] bojackingoff 2023-01-11 07:21 am (UTC)(link)
No, I'm --

[ Hey, why was he here? He couldn't really grasp it, which really was probably the effect from the alcohol, and that clearly meant he should take another long swig from that bottle on the bar. After a long moment, he looked back at Dale, over the long, long snout that was his horsie snout.

He stared at him, and then blinked once.

Twice.

A snort.
]

No, that's stupid. I think I'm from... [ He scratched at his chin with his weirdly human shaped (but still furred) hands. A flash of those creepy horse teeth as his lips pulled away, head tipped, and then -- ]

California, maybe? Why? Where are you from?

[ A point of a hand, before he pulled out another cigarette, followed by a match that was squirreled away in his front pocket.

Yes, he'd had one. No he had not remembered until he wanted a smoke.
]
nyx_it: (Default)

[personal profile] nyx_it 2023-01-11 07:33 am (UTC)(link)
"Brooms aren't much of a weapon at all, unless you're dust."

Despite her grumbling, she does get what he means. It's something - better than being unarmed if you got into a fight. Though when she looks down at her hands, at the talons tipping each finger, she wonders if she's ever really "unarmed".

"Here." She holds the bandana out to him again. For what blood might still be on his face. "Now we know - remembering means a nosebleed. Guess that's something."
rottencactus: (71)

[personal profile] rottencactus 2023-01-11 09:03 am (UTC)(link)
I will follow your leaaaad~

[And he will. The exit to the graveyard should be easy to see for both of them and it does not seem like a terribly far walk now. There's a nice fresh feeling once they cross the threshold]

Ah... I-I suppose it isn't very polite to frighten people. It's not what I meant to do- but. I think.... I think I would like to find a place to sing.

[He turns a little shy at the compliment, turning his head down a bit to hide under his hat.]

I feel like I'm not deserving of praise that high, but ...thank you, Oliver-san.
rottencactus: (24)

[personal profile] rottencactus 2023-01-11 09:15 am (UTC)(link)
[Mayoi falls very quiet at that, and he looks at Dimos with something of a mix of quiet confusion and uncertainty.]

[He thinks, that Dimos has said a very kind thing, but something about it makes his skin crawl. It's uncomfortable, it feels wrong. Those words shouldn't be meant for him, right? It's a disquieting feeling and it's churning a little in his gut.]


I am a filthy insect.

[The words spill out of him before he even realizes what happened. Like the thoughts sprang forth and he'd been powerless to do anything. They ring with something that feels true, and he feels even worse.]

I-I mean, [That was. strange to say, right? He shouldn't. Shouldn't turn down kind words. That's impolite...?] I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know if that's true- Should I be protected? I-I don't know, I don't know, I'm sorry. Ah-

[He grabs his glass and tries to down his words the best he can. Down it goes.]
rottencactus: <user name =__7__HR site =Twitter.com> (85)

[personal profile] rottencactus 2023-01-11 09:27 am (UTC)(link)
I don't knoooooow...

[Maybe he is! Maybe! yesHe doesn't remember!]

[Anyway, he absolutely will not. Probably. Especially since he's been just saying the stuff in his head and it comes out like this.]


I-I didn't ...mean to make it weird...? I'm sorry for being weird. I-If you could spare a moment, I'm still very dizzy...

[He's...He's asking. He's trying!]