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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.
Diner
[It was as amiable a greeting as any from the terse man that rivalled Jaune in his apparent raggedness. The only difference between the two of them was that Aizawa carried himself with more self confidence-- although he did regard Jaune with an arched brow at the question.
Silently, he wondered how obvious his prosthesis was under his jeans and boots. He also wondered if people really regarded him as someone in that dire need of assistance.
Sighing, he took a seat.]
I'm looking for coffee. Or, at least a cook that knows how to cook rice.
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[ One thing he can rule out about himself: eloquent public speaker. Jaune sighs, dropping his arm and slumping back in his chair.
The truth is, Jaune hasn't noticed Aizawa's prothesis because it's not even something he knows to look for. People come in all kinds of shapes, sizes, materials, tensile strengths, levels of water absorbency, and general flammability. Jaune's the one who needs help. ]
And do I look like a guy who knows where you can get either of those things? Because I don't. I don't even know where to find me.
I was - going to ask if you like pie.
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[He shrugged. There wasn't much else he could do for the moment, and it annoyed him.]
The closest that we have to solid information is that we're all staying in the Staywell hotel, and none of the work people seem to have much ability to change what they're doing. They say and do the same things day in and out.
Oh. Staywell was literally a wrecked pile of stone the other day. It was back to normal when we all came to.
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[ ...
...
... ]
...that's a 'no' on the pie, or...?
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You can have it, Jaune-Probably.
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It felt like I was supposed to share it?
[ Jaune drops his gaze back down to the pie, which continues to glisten innocently and appetizingly. ]
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The taste was okay, but the texture was bad.
After a ponderous moment of chewing, he swallowed.]
Okay, [He said with a distinct finality in his tone.] That's sharing.
I grant you permission with all of my authority as a teacher and whatever authority the name Eraserhead holds to keep the rest of the pie for yourself.
[Delicately, Aizawa set the fork down and passed Jaune-Probably a napkin. With the weight of the threat of impending doom on his tone, he added: ]
You'll be needing this.
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He takes the napkin with a flush hidden under his beard and the loose fall of his hair, mopping his mouth clean. The vague and terrible sense of disappointing an authority figure almost feels familiar too. ]
...it was the pie's idea, not mine.
[ He mutters, sinking lower in the booth. ]
no subject
It's a little suspect if it's the pie's idea. That makes it sound like no one should be eating it.
[The whole concept sounded like it was straight out of an Absurdist Comedy story.
-- and, knowing that he was now stuck in the game, he chopped off another bite to eat. ]
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[ Jaune scrambles back up in his seat, alarmed and wide-eyed. ]
You don't have to do that. The pie is happy with one bite!
[ Okay, he's not sure if it's happy, exactly, but the peculiar pressure he'd been feeling did dissipate when Eraserhead tried the pie. ]
And it's not suspect. You can't blame a pie for wanting to be eaten.
[ That's for the pie's sake. Mediation is hard. And also, as Jaune picks up his fork and takes a reconciliatory bite of banana creme, delicious. ]
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[Pie. Having sentience.
Welp. Somehow this didn't seem too absurd, but it was weird that the pie wanted to be eaten so badly. Grateful for the out, Aizawa set the fork down once more. ]
Very well, oh Speaker for the Pies. What else does it say?
no subject
[ Jaune says, very earnestly. It's one thing with a pie, which is already ready to eat. He'd feel weird about the cows. ]
And I'm not really a Speaker for the Pies. I'm more like a - relay guy, for this pie.
[ Who has apparently stopped sending messages...and he thinks wouldn't mind what he's about to say next as he spears another forkful. ]
I think it's saying...it's sorry that your hotel blew up. And reassembled itself. Not that it's sorry your hotel got better, but that is pretty mysterious, and mysteries can be...stressful.
no subject
It's very stressful, [he confirmed.] So is a great many other things here. But, for now we have a roof over our heads, we technically don't need to pay, for anything, and we have a mystery to occupy ourselves with now.
[A shrug. He was grateful to not have to eat more pie. ]
no subject
That's right. It could always be worse!
[ Somehow, that genuinely seems to be a source of comfort. ]
I mean, nothing's on fire, and there aren't any geese...it's a nice town you have here.
I can't stay, of course.
no subject
[Irritated now, he spears himself another piece of pie to chomp on. If he was going to be irritable, he may as well give himself a reason to be. Especially with Jaune's declaration.]
You're like the rest of us, Jaune-Probably, Speaker for the Pies.
Welcome to Staywell, where none of us can leave-- even if we die.
no subject
I can't stay.
[ He says, firmly. ]
I have to get back to my village. They need me. So if you want to stay here, that's fine, but I'm not accepting that.
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Go for a walk in the desert. You're not going to find anything. You'll die of heatstroke before you get anywhere.
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[ Jaune looks aghast, positively scandalized. ]
You just? Walk? Into the desert?
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None of us have wings.
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[ Literally just not walk into the desert to die of heatstroke? ]
Mounts? Vehicles? Make something that flies?
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What you see outside the window is what we have.
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[ 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.
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[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.
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You died?!
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