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2.0 Test Drive Meme
2.0 Test Drive Meme
Premise & Arrival ֍ FAQ ֍ Apply ֍ Navigation
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:
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:
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:
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.
1
When was the last time she was called a child, in that kind way? She has no idea, but she has the strong feeling that it's been a very long time. Something in her chest feels soft, and she finds herself slipping into the booth across from her. ]
Who, me? I... yeah, I need to eat. At least, I'm pretty darn sure I do.
no subject
Want to try? I'm afraid I'm not going to finish if I start, and wasted food is a sad thing.
[Is it? She rolls the thought around in her head and fiddles with her fork, not entirely sure how it comes into play here and not really wanting to look like a fool experimenting.]
So, you're alive then?
[Hopefully that doesn't come off as alarming.]
no subject
Pretty sure I am.
[ She takes the fork, digging in to the pie. Through a bite: ]
Can't eat at all, or don't wanna waste the food eating it?
no subject
I probably can. I'm breathing and I've got a pulse, so I might have a digestive system going. Hm. Actually, let me test something.
[She lets her breath out and doesn't inhale again. Need props her elbows on the table in front of her and crosses her heavy arms, laying one over the other. She does not remember how it feels for a living person to hold her breath but has a general impression that it gets unpleasant. Waiting. Waiting.
...can't talk like this. Or, she has Mind gifts and absolutely has the capacity to talk without air, but she's forgotten so much about using those gifts that she's just shielded herself almost to null. Otherwise it'll just be a painful cacophony of voices and imagery and she won't be able to talk then either. She breathes in - it does feel vaguely good, but does that mean she has to? - and laughs at herself.]
I think I've forgot how long humans can go without breathing. Don't I look senile.
no subject
She has to gasp for air before Need does, sputtering and gasping and clapping her hand on the table. Her folk slaps against the resin top.
Gasping: ] Humans! I'm not a human, and I need to breathe. I got no idea how much air humans need.
Maybe I'm the one going senile, thinking I don't have to breathe. Seems like you didn't really need it.
[ Eda's a little mad that she does need air ]
no subject
I'm human. Or I was, a long time ago. [She shrugs like that particular nicety isn't important to her. Whether or not it is, examining it? will be painful and get her nowhere.] When I was human, I was Sister Lashan. After, I went by Need. You can use either for me, it's fine.
[It's nice to have her human name said and used. She has the sense that she'd forgotten it. But she's been Need for a lot longer.]
So what are you, if you're not a human?
no subject
[ Which is uncomfortable, to say the least. She eyes Need ]
How'd you become not a human? Spell gone wrong or something?
no subject
[Hmm. Need finds that she doesn't think malleable differences make someone not human. She'd better accept that things may be different here though.]
We've got human witches on my... where I'm from. I might be or have been one. [She frowns, making lines deepen on her seamed face.] Or, well. Magic, anyway. And I wish I knew! Probably had... something to do... with... [Circling closer on this, putting together the scraps she has, is increasingly painful. She's closed her eyes by this point, brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.] ...dying.
[She said that last word through gritted teeth and a sharp spike of pain. A drop of blood falls from her nose onto the tacky surface of the table. After a second or two, it... sort of all at once dematerializes into intangible motes of gold with a few hints of other colors, dispersing from there into nothing.]
I don't remember much either. Seems it's going around.
no subject
[ Eda watches the pain on Need's face with a soft frown. She doesn't like it, doesn't like it one bit ]
A human witch, that's... humans can't do magic. [ At least not where she's from, but saying it doesn't feel quite right, feels like she's saying something old, that she used to believe. She shakes her head. ]
Trying to remember? Yeah, it hurts. It's--can't be worth it. [ Even if being so close, yet so far, from her memories is incredibly frustrating, and she sure will try to remember, pain be damned. ]
But you know you died? That's one thing, at least. Maybe not the best thing. You look pretty alive to me.
no subject
It's impossible to keep from bumping against these things, but - no, probably not worth it to push too far. [Though she suspects this won't be her last time.]
Eh, well. Normally, once a spirit learns to take anything like solid form, they look like glowing particles in glass. Apparently I thought it was important to get complicated enough to fake flesh and bone. [Need flicks one scarred forearm with a heavy finger.] Hopefully I've done a good enough job, since I don't remember how to change it.
[Otherwise she'd probably choose to be at least a decade or two younger and more vital. Need's not heir to all the pains of old age, but she doesn't have a lot of stamina, for one.]
no subject
[ She doesn't know if she wouldn't need it at all, not being dead (she hopes), but it's got to be a good skill to have. Not that she's opposed to her six-foot-something wild-haired appearance. She rather likes how she looks. ]
Humans can do magic, can they? I... feel like there's something about that, but I can't say what. [ She taps her temple, as if that will make her brain work better. She shakes her head. ] Nah, got nothin'.
no subject
[Isn't there some downside to taking dramatically different forms? Does it apply to spirit-shaping, or just to flesh and blood? Oh, mysteries. Mysteries that shouldn't be mysterious, she thinks with irritation. She has the sense of all the things she knows or should know are immense and just past the reach of her arm.
Need herself is about six three, with hair as gray as iron. Not wild looking really - the clothing here actually rather suits her, not that either she nor Eda can really appreciate that - but also neither fey nor refined.]
Aggravating, isn't it? I think... the rules for what is and isn't possible aren't universal. So maybe humans don't usually do magic, for you.