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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.

consymsus: (somewhere only we know)

Symbiosis | Teenage Exocolonist | ota

[personal profile] consymsus 2023-02-15 08:01 am (UTC)(link)
🍄 HOTEL ARRIVAL
There is something terribly, terribly strange about the landscape. It looks... dead. Empty. And that is terribly, terribly bothersome. A few strange green shapes dot the flat plains here and there, but they, too, seem withered somehow. Too static. Everything is so very still.

Including the stranger staring out one of the hotel lobby windows. Unnaturally still, almost. Except for his hair, which seems to move in an unseen breeze. He's dressed all in black, and one slender finger taps idly against his lips. When he turns toward someone, the full bizarre look sinks in.

His eyes are glittering - literally glittering - alien things. And his skin is a pale shade of almost lavender. Everything about him is just slightly off. Save for the sudden smile he bursts into, upon seeing someone else.

"Hello!"

🍄 DANCING SHOES
... and then, later.

The entire concept of this saloon is new to him. Some people know what this is, even based on the bare minimum of memories, but not him. Not this elongated, uncanny valley weirdo who, frankly, looks lost from the moment he sets foot in the saloon. He's craning his head all around, trying to see everything at once.

Like a kid who's wandered into the dinosaur section of the museum.

But he's probably in the way. You might have to give him a nudge in a direction to get him to snap out of it.
outofsynth: (from nine to five)

HOTEL ARRIVAL

[personal profile] outofsynth 2023-02-18 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
The hair is what gets Min-Gi. Why is it moving when there's no breeze? He holds his hand up as though to try and find it, but the air feels still. There's no sign of any draft at all.

He's so distracted trying to find this non-existent breeze he doesn't immediately notice when he's about to turn. At which point there is no hiding the fact that he was staring at the guy in kind of a weird way.

"...Hello."

Maybe he didn't notice Min-Gi looking somehow. He can hope, anyway.
consymsus: (And if you have a minute)

[personal profile] consymsus 2023-02-18 06:36 am (UTC)(link)
Sym blinks. He cants his head to one side, and then, slowly, begins to copy Min-Gi. Holding his hand in the air, long fingers fluttering. Even his hands look slightly stretched, elongated.

"You are... human, are you not?"

Strangely enough, he asks the question like someone would ask 'are you a superhero'. There's no offense or embarrassment on his face. He still looks, of all things, delighted.
outofsynth: (6199965)

[personal profile] outofsynth 2023-02-18 04:13 pm (UTC)(link)
He's quick to drop his arm back down even if he doesn't look offended, but it's hard not to stare now he can see him properly. He doesn't remember much, but he somehow knows he's never seen anyone like this before.

"I'm human," he answers, almost automatically. His voice sounds distant to his own ears, and he's not quite sure what to say that probably wouldn't be rude. He can't just ask him what he is, right?

"Have you been here long?"

Yep. That seems safe. Neutral. It's unlikely he can upset him with a question like that.
consymsus: (why don't we go)

[personal profile] consymsus 2023-02-19 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
"Amazing."

And Sym steps closer, not too much - more like he's approaching a frightened animal than a person. He still looks so very delighted. Like Min-Gi has told him the best news ever. Though he shakes his head, none of that delight fades from his expression.

"No, not long. I do not remember arriving here... is this a desert?"

He has so many questions, frankly. Hopefully, this human doesn't mind answering them.
outofsynth: (there are times when)

[personal profile] outofsynth 2023-02-19 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
Not an unfair approach, honestly, considering Min-Gi does look a lot like a frightened animal. It feels very weird being looked at like that, almost like he's being studied.

"Uh... Yeah. This is a desert."

At least his questions are ones he can actually answer so far, even if they are very off-putting.
consymsus: (somewhere only we know)

[personal profile] consymsus 2023-02-19 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
"Is it meant to look like this?"

With that, he's turned back to the window, gesturing to the landscape. Sparse, dry, empty. The ground doesn't seem right. Too hard, crumbly. Is it sick? Suffering somehow?

The surge of novelty he felt on seeing the human still exists, but, the state of the landscape seems more important.
outofsynth: (so break my heart if you must)

[personal profile] outofsynth 2023-02-19 08:39 am (UTC)(link)
Min-Gi's never seen the desert as far as he knows. He doesn't remember knowing what it's supposed to look like, yet somehow... this is exactly how he expects a desert to look. Strange.

"I think so?" he replies, tentative. He feels pretty confident that it is, but there's no rational reason why he should. He daren't try and think too hard on it, though. He doesn't want to risk the headache that will come along with it.
consymsus: (somewhere only we know)

[personal profile] consymsus 2023-02-19 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
"It ... looks so empty."

Sym doesn't actually know why he knows this. It feels wrong to look at it. Like there should be more - so much more. But if this is how it's supposed to be, then, maybe this feeling is wrong.

"I don't know why I feel this way. It's very strange."
outofsynth: (we've both had our share of)

[personal profile] outofsynth 2023-02-20 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
"I think that's just the way it is."

He doesn't sound certain of that, but it feels like it's right. Though the guy seems... disappointed, maybe? Or unhappy in some way. He's not sure how to make him feel better. It's a desert. It's not like he can do much about it.

You don't like it?
consymsus: (Default)

[personal profile] consymsus 2023-02-21 07:09 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't know."

And the enthusiasm flickers. It fades to a far more neutral expression. A more thoughtful one. He should know. He should know much. But there isn't anything. As if his reset had failed. The backup died during the loading process.

Unnerving.

"I am meant to be somewhere else. More... alive."
outofsynth: (6199945)

[personal profile] outofsynth 2023-02-21 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
It's hard to know how to respond to that. He has vague memories of a place very different to this. More alive, possibly? It's hard to be certain when everything feels so distant, and trying to remember too hard isn't worth the headache.

"Sorry. I don't know how to get anywhere else."

It's a useless answer. One that doesn't help. It occurs to him he hasn't actually even tried leaving here. Should he have?

"There are other people here," he offers, though he's not sure if they can help either. "None of us know that much, but maybe someone will know something."