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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.
Martin Blackwood | The Magnus Archives
[It's been a weird day. Martin thinks it's probably the weirdest one he's ever had, except it's hard to confirm that when he can't remember specific days. Surely turning up in a strange hotel with no memory of how or why he was there, or much of anything really that came before, has to rank somewhere on that list, right?
Mostly, he steps into the diner to get out of the midday sun and have a little break, maybe something to drink, but when he's offered a slice of free pie, Martin settles into a booth to eat. It's actually really good. Good enough that the inclination to share is strong enough to make him gesture to someone nearby.]
Here, come and sit down. You've got to try this pie. It's really good.
2. Something's Coming
[He's on his way back from the general store at dusk when he thinks he sees something slipping silently through the shadows between two buildings, and it makes Martin go still as he watches to try to spot what it is. He isn't sure of much as he peers into the darkness, except it was big. Maybe a dog? Yeah, a dog. It's probably just a dog. Hopefully not a coyote, or if it is, hopefully not a mean, or hungry one.
Cursing himself silently, he picks up the pace for the hotel. He's learned very little about this place today, mostly that it's weird, and some of the townspeople just repeat the exact same handful of lines over and over again, and he's not the only one here who seems to be having problems remembering their lives before coming here aside from a few scattered details. He never should have been out at night. He should have known there was something dangerous lurking once the sun went down.
Something darts across the road in front of him, big, dark, with menacing looking spikes that run down the center of its back, and Martin breaks into a run. He's not much of a runner, but the hotel isn't far. Maybe he can make it. Glancing behind him as he runs past the alley the second shadow slipped down, he slams bodily into someone he hadn't noticed initially. He hasn't run far, but he already sounds out of breath.]
Sorry! Sorry! Just... there's something back there!
3. The Walls Have Eyes
[It feels like a bad dream at first, when Martin steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around himself and startles to see a pair of eyes staring at him embedded in the grain of wood in the door. He freezes, because, god, this is an embarrassing way to be spotted, and he's sure those eyes weren't there when he got in the shower. He would have noticed them, right?
He blinks, and shakes his head trying to clear them from his vision, then rubs a hand across his eyes to try to force them away.]
You're not real. You can't be real. Stop watching me.
[Best to ignore them, maybe. Forget that they look like they're judging him. That they know there's something he's done that was terribly wrong.
Except it gets worse as the day goes on. The same set of eyes appearing in cracks, on doors, on walls, even peering out at him between the grains of rice he has at dinner, and Martin has to keep looking around to see if anyone else is acting as though they see anything off as well. It's not as though he can just blurt it out to just anyone, right? What if someone thinks he's lost his mind.
He can't even bring himself to finish his meal, he just stares down at the sets of eyes blinking up at him.
He slides the plate across the table as he stands, and leaves to step outside. Some fresh air, yeah, that's all he needs.
Just outside the hotel, he leans against the wall next to the door and stares up at the sky that looks back down on him, and it's almost enough to make him want to cry. He doesn't think he can take it any more, so when he hears the door open, he doesn't even look to see who it is before speaking.]
You can see them too, right? The eyes? Tell me you can see them too.
2
Don't worry about it.
[ The words are spoken with absolute confidence. The image he strikes when he squares up in with his back to Martin, a serving tray tied to his forearm and a length of wood pried out of a tumbled building in his other hand, may not.
Then a chupacabra lunges forth out of the shadows, jaws slavering, and Jaune moves forward to meet it. His first blow is a low swing with his plank that knocks the chupacabra off course, followed by an overhead strike that knocks it reeling to the ground. Jaune pivots and wastes no time returning to Martin, nodding towards the hotel. ]
Come on. Let's get you back. Just keep moving, and I'll keep them off you.
no subject
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?
no subject
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?
no subject
From the looks of this guy who brandishes a serving tray and a wooden plank like a sword and shield, it probably won't be necessary at least.]
Martin. It's, uh... good to meet you. Circumstances could be better, mind you.
[He carries on towards the hotel with the occasional glance behind to make sure the chupacabra isn't going to come after them again. Perhaps it won't, perhaps it's learned its lesson the first time.]
Sounds like you've been here for awhile?
no subject
[ He is weirdly chipper about this, like it's the most natural thing in the world to self-appoint yourself a defender against monsters on your first nights in a strange place. ]
And I don't think the circumstances are that bad - I did show up before you got eaten. [ He glances sideways, his smile lightly touched with wry self-awareness at the lousiness of the joke. ] I'd say any day where you don't get eaten is better than the alternative.
no subject
[Jaune seems to be settling in far better than Martin so far. He's not sure if it's just the loss of most of his memory that's left him feeling off balance in this strange little town, or if there's something deeper that's just out of reach. Or maybe it's all just him.
The levity the bad jokes brings to the situation lands well with Martin, and he flashes a grin.]
Fair point. If we get eaten our first day here, we'll never figure out what's going on with this place, yeah?
no subject
[ Which is otherwise an inevitability, the way he says it.
In the meanwhile, before their inescapable future reprieve from being here, Jaune finds himself charmed by Martin's grin. It's nice to be smiled at, and for that smile to just...be a smile. ]
So you're, uh, trying to solve the mystery? With the town, and all?
1. speedrun five seasons of development challenge
Barring any real clarity, he's settled for a pen and paper.
So: Jon Sims is scrawling notes in tight, cramped handwriting across the back of a napkin, looking tense and harried. This is a very normal and calm thing for a person to do. ]
The pie?
[ He looks up, utterly skeptical at this of all interruptions, and regards Martin's food with open distrust. ]
You're certain it's safe to eat?
[ So normal. ]
Let's do this
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?
no subject
Because we have a plethora of other options, do we? [ He gestures sharply out the window, to the total absence of other eateries. ] Have they even charged you for it? Do you even have any money?
[ He certainly doesn't, personally, but it's a bit bluntly phrased. ]
no subject
[He's reaching for the pocket of his jeans when he suddenly recalls that, wait, no, actually he checked earlier, and he does not have his wallet.]
Right. Never mind that. The pie is free anyway, and they said anything else just gets charged to our rooms. Some kind of promotion, I guess. Maybe they're hoping if you get the pie, you'll get something else too.
[That makes more sense than an attempt at poisoning all the town's visitors, doesn't it?]
3
[Aizawa until that point had kept his observations to himself. No one else could see the green eyes that looked on him with shock and horror; he reasoned that he was being fucked with again, this time personally, and he didn't want to needlessly worry any of the kids that had started to look towards him as a rock in this liminal space of sand and artificial society. Drinking his coffee in the peace outside, Aizawa had learned to perfect ignoring that green gaze...
Until this stranger brought it up.
Green eyes blinked up at him from the rim of his glass, and he could almost hear the echo of keening anguish in the empty void that was supposed to hold his personal memories.
He ignored it. Instead:]
What do you make of it?
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
The doppelganger theory strikes him as strange, or the connection to that and these eyes that come out of nowhere anyway. Probably, Martin thinks, he hasn't been here long enough to really get it himself.]
Wait. Do you think it's your eyes you're seeing then?
3
He needs the answers more, but he'll take what he can get.
Hearing the question, he laughs, short and soft, a scoff of a noise as he looks over at the man slumped against the wall.]
I see them too. How many different ones has it been for you?
no subject
I, uh. Two sets, I think. I don't - I don't like the way they look at me, you know? Like I've done something horribly, horribly wrong.
[He takes a deep breath.]
How many is it for you?
no subject
[He gives the honest answer before he can think otherwise, rattled as much by the discrepancy between their torments as the short, cynical thought--only two? Lucky bastard--that crosses his mind but thankfully finds no place on his lips. He shakes his head, faintly, trying to dispel the lingering trace of it.]
I don't like the way they look at me, either. Some of them are...easier to weather than others, but none of them are exactly comfortable.
1.
When Pal comes into the diner, he isn’t expecting to be waved over, let alone by someone unfamiliar. Still, he friendly enough to offer a smile and join Martin at his table.]
It is awfully good, isn’t it? If you’re looking for recommendations, I’d suggest the milkshakes as well.
no subject
[Martin returns the smile as Pal joins him at the table.]
I'm Martin. So, uh, what kind of milkshake do you think is the best?
no subject
Palamedes. [He sits down in the booth across from Martin.] I like the strawberry ones best, though chocolate has its strong proponents.