2.0 Test Drive Meme

[wellie]

2.0 Test Drive Meme

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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. This month, there is a strong possibility that those old west style clothes include a pair of jorts or daisy dukes.

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 May onward, and can happen concurrently with other events during May and June. This will be the only TDM for April, May, and June.

Applications are open April 26th until May 1st, and May 27th until June 1st. Invites are available for friends of current players.

All-Night Diner

Content warnings: feelings of euphoria and mild intoxication, exhaustion

There’s banner over the diner's doorway reading Welcome!, with colorful flags drooping in the heat. Inside, the waiter greets you with a wide smile and an announcement:

“Welcome to the Stardust Diner! Pie’s on the house today. Have a seat.”

During the day, the diner is just that: a diner. You can get anything on the very extensive menu, including prickly pear lemonade. The pie is free, and everything else is put on the tab for your room that will never come due, probably. It seems like a shame to eat that pie all alone! Accepting a piece of pie makes you feel like you should share this moment with someone. Luckily all the booths are plush and open, and it’s easy to plop down with a stranger to share this special moment.

At night, the mood shifts. The diner’s neon sign is a beacon against the thick darkness, beckoning you in with blinking lights and a line of text reading FORGET YOUR WORRIES. Inside, country-swing music rolls in time with throbbing red lights. The tables have been pushed aside to make room for a makeshift sticky dance floor, and the atmosphere is intoxicating.

It’s as easy as anything to be swept along with the vibes, the dancing, the intensity of it all. When you start dancing, you really do forget your worries. You forget that you don’t know how you got here and that you don’t may not even know the person beside you; you forget that you’re supposed to be anywhere else except here. Everything feels briefly perfect and beautiful, meant to be, no matter what else is happening to you.

When you stumble outside, it will be dawn, no matter how long you think you’ve been there, and you’ll be exhausted enough to simply curl up right there in the sand and fall asleep. Hope you made a friend kind enough to drag you home, or that someone wakes you up!

tl;dr:

• The diner is open and the pie is free.
• If you get a slice of pie, you feel compelled to share it with someone.
• At night, the diner transforms into essentially a nightclub. The vibes are intoxicating and you can forget all your worries and dance the night away.
• You can only leave at dawn, and your body will be exhausted. Better get help getting back to your room!

Something’s Coming

Content warnings: blood, blood-sucking, monsters

A few hours after dusk, strange creatures begin to scurry from shadow to shadow, chasing after anything that moves: chupacabras. Large ones. They’re big creatures, the size of large dogs with spikes down their spines and tails, dark and hairless with fearsome teeth. They are everywhere, and they are hungry.

They are indiscriminate in who they try to bite: the biggest among you is just as at risk as the smallest, but the bigger you are, the more of them might come for the fight. No matter where you are, there’s a risk: they seem adept at making their way into buildings. You might find one looming over your bed, resting on your chest, getting ready to bite; one might slip into the diner while you’re dancing and latch on when you’ve forgotten to be concerned.

If a chupacabra manages to bite you, it will suck your blood, and it won’t stop until you’re completely drained unless you do something about it. Having your blood sucked by one is not a pleasant experience, it’s excruciatingly painful and the creatures will do their best to keep you prone while eating their fill. The more they drink, the more exhausted you’ll get, until it’s very difficult to fight them off.

They can be killed or scared off, but the further they are into a fight or into their meal, the harder they are to get rid of. If a chupacabra has latched on to you, you’ll need help escaping!

tl;dr:

• Chupacabras strike the town at dusk.
• They want to suck your blood, and are indiscriminate in who they attack. They will try and drain you completely.
• They can be fought or scared off. It's easier to get rid of them if you have a pal.

The Walls Have Eyes

Content warnings: eyes, trypophobia

There are eyes everywhere. They peer out of cracks in walls, the floor, the grout in your shower, an open cut in your skin. There are even eyes in the craters on the moon, staring down at you unblinking.

These eyes seem familiar, even if you don’t remember them. You feel like you do. You feel a heavy weight settle over you when you look at them, guilt curdling in the pit of your gut.

The eyes belong to someone, or someones, who you’ve hurt or let down. They belong to your greatest mistake, to someone who you left behind, to someone who you regret. The same eyes over and over again, or the eyes of many who you’ve hurt, watching you, judging you, pleading for you to save them or apologize or make up for the mistakes you may not even remember making. You just know that you made them. They eyes don't lie.

The more you ignore these eyes, the more they seem to encroach on you: appearing in the walls, following you around corners, in the creases of your knuckles, the fold of your sheets. They replace the eyes of the people around you, the same eyes staring at you from everywhere you look.

Your skin itches with the constant feeling of being watched. Your head feels tight, and your own eyes feel too full, like there’s too much of you inside your skin. You’d do anything to get away from this feeling.

Soon enough, the mounting pressure explodes: you have to confront them and your guilt and your mistakes, and beg for the forgiveness they’re asking of you. Even if you don’t remember what those mistakes were, or why you should feel guilty, you have to tell someone. If you don't, the feeling will only mount, until all you can see are eyes. Eyes, just eyes.

tl;dr:

• The eyes of someone(s) who embodies your regret appear in the cracks of the world around you.
• The more you ignore the eyes, the more of them appear, and the more you feel an intense, heavy sense of guilt.
• The guilt you feel can be based on things you remember, or things you don't. If it's based on things you don't know, your head will also hurt.
• The eyes will ease if you admit your guilt, to the best of your ability. Tell someone your guilt, and the eyes will recede.
• If you don't, your whole world will become eyes.

Comments

[rustedknight]

...is that how you've been trying to leave?

[ Jaune looks aghast, positively scandalized. ]

You just? Walk? Into the desert?

[forgeabettertomorrow]

[Well, at least he managed to get his things without the building coming down on him.]

[Seeing that, Darin jumps down and lands heavily on the ground.]

Alright, fine, Hunter.

My name's Darin. And I sincerely hope you're not gonna try and shack up in another one of these abandoned buildings.

[mediaphobic]

What are we supposed to do, fly?

None of us have wings.

[forgeabettertomorrow]

OH GOOD THEN YOU'RE JUST LIKE THE REST OF US ON THAT FRONT!

[Why are they still screaming?]

[Darin does his best to help clear away whatever bark he can and finally speaks in a normal tone. Which, still, is kind of loud. He's a boisterous guy.]

Okay, so maybe we can start off with introductions? My name's Darin and I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that you weren't here yesterday.

[goldenscarred]

I'm not staying in the hotel.

[He shifts his stance, adjusting his hold on the sack of stuff and mumbles under his breath:]

I'll just pick a better one next time. Even further away.

[sighsheavily]

Ah, al, alright. [she steadies out of the spin and reaches out, setting her hand atop his. she can't help the little flutter she feels, not unlike any time Diluc's offered to hold her hand. silly, yes, but...it's still a nice feeling?]

[fellthroughtheworld]

Then you're freaking blind, and that's a you problem!

[She doesn't have time for this- He's just starting to look more freaky as more eyes form on and around him. She looks away- Eyeing the hallway and debates making a run for it. Then he says something that hits her to her core.]

That's why I'm trying to get away- So no one else does get hurt.

[forgeabettertomorrow]

[He spends a moment making sure he's on the beat and that she's ready. He starts off slow so she can keep up with his seemingly boundless energy; a quick step in to close the gap, then a step to her right to get her moving.]

[He holds out his other hand to her so that they can step to each other's side; a sort do-see-do move that ends with him holding her hand aloft so she can do another twirl in place.]

See? You're a natural, Cece!

[It's far from perfect; he's never been a dancer, but it's got form and substance nonetheless.]

I'm sure glad to have you as a partner~!

[toteninsel]

You don't look like you're doing too well.

[ Ariane is one to talk. She looks like shit, practically emaciated, with pronounced circles under her eyes. But Ariane was always too honest for her own good. It used to get her in trouble all the time. ]

Have a slice. [ Ariane pushes a second slice of apple pie forward, untouched. ] You don't have to talk to me.

[ Ariane's great at not talking. ]

[sighsheavily]

[being led seems to be far easier than just stepping out on her own, especially when the leader isn't some eerily affable stranger. the lack of innate worry about things certainly goes a long way to making her movements more confident and assured in Darin's guidance, and that proves true in how quickly she catches on to the intention to turn again. she does, far more in tune with the music and far looser than the sheepish start.

true to her nature, she scoffs at the praise, but smiles despite it. why hasn't she done this before? has she done this before? she sure hopes so.

with a bit of a laugh in her voice:] Only because I'm light enough to throw around, yes?

Darlington | Hell Bent

[more_magic]

1: Arrival

"Your definition of tourism seems markedly different from mine."

He thinks that's true, at least; it sounds true, even as it doesn't appear to faze the man behind the reception desk, beyond a brief blink and a smooth transition to We're so glad you chose to stay at the Staywell. Letting out a sigh, Darlington turns from the counter, adjusting the cuffs of his long, black duster coat. Like the rest of his clothes, the dark jeans and the plain buttondown shirt, the sturdy boots and grey kerchief knotted about his throat, it feels right and yet not, even if he wears it all easily. His eyes scan the room, confusion and interest intermingled in his expression. Nothing here is right, but compared to what came before...

Well, that, he's not as sure of as he wants to be.

"...continental breakfast is served from--" the concierge continues, and Darlington rolls his eyes and waves a hand. "Six to ten every day," he recites along with the other man. "You've said."

2: Something's Coming

The graveyard at the edge of town draws him, makes him ache with the urge to say something, even as he can't think of the words, even as trying to makes pain star his vision and brings a slow thread of blood trickling from one nostril. That, too, is distantly familiar in its way. Focused as he is on the things dancing just at the edge of his grasp, Darlington doesn't hear the snarl from a low outcropping nearby, doesn't catch the low, creeping blur of movement until almost the last moment.

And when the creature lunges, something else happens. It feels like reaching for something, flexing an unknown muscle, taking hold and saying come forth. His frame lengthens, shoulders broadening, claws sprouting from the tips of his fingers as gold-ridged horns curl back from his temples. His eyes blaze golden, too, and the opening of his mouth--to speak? to snarl? he can't be sure--reveals sharp-tipped canines lengthened to fangs. He meets the creature in midleap, seizing it in sudden fury and throwing it just as fast, dashing it towards the rocks it had lurked behind only moments prior. It lands with a crunch, a squeal, and then lies still. Darlington's left breathing hard, still blazing with light--eyes, horns, glints of it at throat and wrist, half-covered by his clothing.

"What the fuck." The profanity feels harsh, but warranted.

3: Walls Have Eyes

There aren't a lot of them, but there's enough. All of them make his head hurt, to one degree or another; the scarred, emerald cat's eye that regards him balefully from the knot in a tree is a dull twinge eased by a murmured forgive me as he passes, while the startled, almost rabbity blue one he sees amongst the tiles in the hotel's atrium causes a pain that wavers with the turn of his head, his guts cramping hard with the effort of his avoidance. The one he finds by his tub, its iris night-black and cold, nearly makes him flee his room again in agony even as something else half-compels him to stay.

The worst are the eyes that look like his. Not exactly, enough difference in them to make clear that they're not his own, but close enough to feel familiar. In the general store, he quails like a child from the aged, rheumy one that glares from the wall, the hazy, half-formed memory of a bed and a hand gripping his wrist rising up before sinking down again. It leaves him unmoored enough that he's unprepared for the others, pinned underneath their fear and horror, their shock as they see him and understand...but what?

"It wasn't me," he says, and doesn't know where the words are coming from. His head splits, an agony, the pain nearly blinding. "It was. It wasn't. I didn't..."

[[Just a note to say I'll match your formatting, whatever works for you!]]

[rustedknight]

Do anything else?

[ Literally just not walk into the desert to die of heatstroke? ]

Mounts? Vehicles? Make something that flies?

[mediaphobic]

Look around town.

What you see outside the window is what we have.

Qrow Branwen | RWBY

[bolstafir]

i. dine(r) and dash

[Are there supposed to be crows in the desert? More importantly, are you supposed to see any inside?

Well, if they're not, this particular crow has not gotten the memo. Listen, the pie might be free, but nothing else is, and a fiscally responsible bird knows better than to owe debts to potentially sketchy people, alright.

...In other words, the bird is stealing your french fries. All's fair in lunch and war.]

ii. gotta poke 'em all

[The feeling of being watched is strange. There's a wrongness to it, like it's all backward. That's supposed to be his role, isn't it? There's an image of an eye in his mind, stylized with feathers and gears, and somehow he knows its his. He's the eyes and ears at the forefront of a war that people shouldn't know about, and not being able to conceal his movements from these eyes would be irritating enough if it didn't come with this bone-deep heaviness, of accusation -- he's a burden, a nuisance, an albatross around everyone's neck. He makes people's lives more difficult at best, the eyes allege in their silence as they stare through him moreso than at.]

Who the hell are you looking at, huh?

[he finally snaps, as a particular teal pair emerge from a wall.]

Mind your own goddamn business.

[They don't go. A fit of pique overtakes him, then, and he just reaches out and pokes them. The satisfaction of watching them melt back into the wall is short-lived, though, as several more take their place. Two sets of silver eyes, this time. Pushing them back in draw out russet brown eyes, then red eyes, like his own. Purple eyes, even.

So it is that anyone walking this particular hallway will find a man aggressively playing whack-eye-mole with a wall and swearing. Anyone that lingers too long or even perhaps decides to approach will get a particularly irritated glower--]

What do you want? I'm busy.

[Poking out possibly hallucinatory eyes in the wall, obviously. Important shit he's got going on here.]

iii. something unfortunate this way comes

[Getting attacked by a bloodthirsty monster while you're minding your own business cheerfully dancing is patently unfair, Qrow thinks. Especially when he somehow knows that fighting barehanded is not the style he's most comfortable with. There's only so much in a diner-slash-improvised nightclub one can use as a weapon, though, and for the most part he's fighting an evasive battle.

Until, that is, he trips over your foot and slams into the nearest table, knocking over both an entire pitcher of beer and a couple of the votive candles for ambiance, which of course immediately ignites the alcohol now all over the floor in a wall of fire, scaring off the chupacabras that had wandered inside.]

...Well, uh. That was ... lucky?

i

[mediaphobic]

Oh, come on.

[Aizawa scoffed as the corvid swooped in with a flurry of feathers and plucked yet another fry off of his plate at the diner. There were so few foods he was halfway comfortable with that he wasn't keen on sharing the fries he did order-- especially with a bird.

Glowering at the bird, he waved a hand at it.]

Go, get out of here.

[rustedknight]

I can see just fine!

[ He even double checks, and for a moment, his irritation slips into watchfulness.

But there's still nothing there. ]

If you want people not to get hurt, be more careful. Don't run away from what you're afraid of, face it!

Let's do this

[gotaknife]

[If anyone in this diner looks like they need a piece of pie, it's this stressed out looking guy. What's he writing, anyway? Maybe it's a poem. It would be nice if it was a poem. And then the man speaks and Martin's poem theory is right out the window.

No one that paranoid is hanging out in a diner, suspicious of free pie, writing poetry.

Martin glances down at the pie, then around at the other patrons, then back to Jon.]

Why... wouldn't it be? I mean, it's just pie. Everyone else seems to be enjoying theirs. Besides, trying to... I don't know - poison your customers doesn't seem like the best way to encourage repeat business?

[gotaknife]

[Martin scrubs his hands over his face and sighs with relief. It's not just him. By some small miracle, he hasn't started hallucinating. They're familiar, somehow, but he's not sure if they're actually the eyes of someone he knows, or if it's just the way they stare at him, like they know he's done something terribly, horribly wrong.]

I don't know. I'm kind of relieved it's not just me to be honest. I've been seeing them all day and it's just getting worse.

[He closes his eyes against the building headache, and opens them again when, on the insides of his own eyelids, he can see them still staring at him.]

Do you have any theories?

[mediaphobic]

[Some people spoke openly about their problems.

Others sat with their problems in silence, acknowledging the darkness but unable to fully wrestle themselves free from it. There was a weight in the darkness that wasn't unfamiliar to Aizawa, but he was confronted with the same problem that he always was.]

...I don't know enough yet.

Many of us here had to deal with meeting a doppelganger of ourselves recently. A double, but one that embodied our worst selves.

This could be related.

[gotaknife]

[It's an odd sight, this stranger with a serving tray strapped to his arm, brandishing a wooden board like it's a sword, but Martin can't deny his effectiveness as the beast goes down. It's probably only stunned, he thinks, it looks too big and too tough to stay down for long just with a good whack on the head, and it's clear it is not just a normal coyote.

He glances past Jaune as the chupacabra attempts to rise, and whines as it falls heavily back to the ground. He turns to head for the hotel.]

Yeah. We better get moving - there's probably more of them about, even if that one's out of commission. Thanks for the help. What's your name anyway?

[rustedknight]

Then use what you have!

[ He knocks his fist against the table, then sweeps his arm wide. ]

Look at all of this. You can't seriously tell me -

[ Deep breath. Settle down, Jaune. ]

I'm sorry. It's just, if all anyone has tried so far is walking into the desert, I'm not willing to accept that we're all stuck here. You shouldn't give up on yourselves like that.

Look - I'll help. I'm happy to. We'll figure something out.

[curiouslycursed]

[The Cat turns to face the boy and studies him silently for a moment. It's not unreasonable to be suspicious of their apparently free accommodations, but they are more than confident that they can handle anything this place could possibly throw at them without much issue.]

I could, but if someone offers me a comfortable bed, then I'd feel rather disinclined to refuse. Besides, it doesn't look like there is a particularly wide range of alternatives, unless, of course, you have a particular fondness for rundown, abandoned spaces, diners, saloons, or general stores.

[mediaphobic]

You say that like free banana pie is going to walk us across the desert to civilization.

[He shook his head, willing himself to ignore the threat of a pounding headache that was imminent should this guy's ramblings continue.]

Look. The longest any of us has been at the hotel so far is three months. I don't think the efforts of a few dozen people are wasted, but I do think that we are caught in something much larger than any of us can see yet.

I already died once because of this place, and I'm not planning on dying again.

[rustedknight]

[ Jaune has avoided killing any of the chupacabras so far, following an instinct he hasn't even thought to question yet. If he did think about it, he'd say that there's no reason to kill something that's just following its nature. They don't have a choice. Jaune does. ]

Jaune.

[ No 'probably', this time. He knows who he is: the man falling easily into a protective guard of his new friend as he moves with him towards the hotel, scanning efficiently for threats all around them. Nothing is going to get by him. ]

And don't worry about thanking me. This is what I'm here for. [ He smiles. ] What's your name?

[curiouslycursed]

[Well, that's a fairly unsatisfying answer. There is surely a meaning behind a name like Eraserhead, even if he doesn't feel inclined to share, or perhaps, he doesn't know. There's a lot the Cat doesn't know right now, which is fairly disturbing, really.]

Well, I do enjoy a good puzzle. Perhaps I can help you unravel it. What have you experienced since your arrival?