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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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
1/2
2/2
You died?!
no subject
I could have cut my leg off to get out, but I'd have still ended up dead.
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[ Jaune is struck by terrible fear, leaning back and looking at Aizawa like - well, it's pretty obvious what he's looking at Aizawa like. ]
Is that why you didn't like the pie!?
no subject
no subject
You are a ghost!
[ Then he gasps again, eyes going even wider. ]
Ghost town...
no subject
[And ... He batted it off the table with the flattest expression he could muster. ]
no subject
[ Jaune lunges for the pie, and muscle memory he didn't know he had kicks in. His hands find the plate even as he flings himself out of the booth, fingertips assessing its weight and balance in a split-second before he catches it on the palm of one hand, his other hand coming up to shield the pie from sliding off the plate with its own momentum.
He's so startled by this that hitting the ground takes him by even greater surprise. He skids a short distance across the diner floor, pie and plate still safely level, and comes to a halt.
There's nothing for a moment except him blinking. ]
...what's wrong with you?
[ Jaune sits up, glaring at Aizawa accusingly as he brings the pie in protectively close to his chest. ]
I don't care if you're a ghost or not. You don't have the right to take it out on innocent pie.
no subject
Aizawa, who was fairly certain that people didn't ordinarily make such a fuss over pies and ghosts, stared in abject confusion when the disheveled man-- as if he had a right to judge-- went flying to the ground in what was an impressive display of reflexes. He knew then the this man would be a challenge in a fight, but that didn't stop him from choosing the more difficult option.
Sliding out of the booth, he dropped to the floor and met Jaune at the same level.]
I'm just a guy that's like everyone else here: someone who is just trying to figure out what's going on before we get reset like pieces on a game board again.
We're not dead, but we may not be alive either. We're in some sort of intermediary state, one that's not fair to anyone.
... And I don't care about pie. I do care about the little girl that's my daughter, and I want to make sure that she's okay.
Even if I'm not.
no subject
I still don't understand what you're talking about with this place, or being not dead or alive.
But... [ He sighs, shoulders rising and settling into less tension. ] I'm sorry if I made it sound like I don't think you're working hard enough to leave. The tactics could be better - but that doesn't mean you aren't trying.
[ He looks down at the pie he's all but cradling, now hopelessly jiggled out of shape, but still edible, still a friendly, cheerful pale yellow topped with deflated clouds of whipped cream. ]
There are people I'm worried about too. They don't have anyone else. They're my responsibility, and I'm not giving up until I find a way back to them. If we have to solve a mystery or beat a game to do that? I'm going to do it.
[ There's no if. There's only when. The certainty comes from a place deep inside of himself he can't quite touch. He can touch the outside edge of the plate, hand cupping a protective wall around the toppled remnants of banana pie. ]
And maybe you don't have to care about pie. You certainly don't have to like it. But it wasn't doing anything to you. You didn't like how it tasted after you tried it? Fine. But...all it wanted was to fulfill its purpose. To try to be something you might like to eat. Just because you didn't like it - because you didn't like me - that's no reason to try to ruin it.
You shouldn't destroy things because you don't like them, or because they can't defend themselves. The next time you want to get angry, knock something down? You come after me.
[ The resolution in his eye as he looks up to meet Aizawa's eye isn't a threat. It's the calm shouldering of duty. ]
I can take it.
1/?
2/3
3/3
Aizawa scooped up the muddled remains of the pie from Jaune's hands and shoved it into his mouth. ]
no subject
With speed as improbable as his lunge was in the first place, Jaune jerks back and away from Aizawa's hands, twisting to shield the pie from his reaching fingers. Jaune brings his boot up and kicks out in the direction of Aizawa's chest as he simultaneously sets the plate on the ground and sends it spinning in an arc across the diner floor that sends it safely underneath a table at the far end of the restaurant behind him.
He still doesn't know how he can do that, but he can think about it later. Right now, he's got something much more immediate to deal with. ]
Too many words? Okay.
[ He whips his head back to Aizawa, his jaw set, blue eyes coldly furious. ]
Let's try one. Don't.
no subject
Rolling back up to a crouching position, Aizawa reached for his ropes. This wasn't ideal-- this wasn't his weapon, but this could still work.]
You idiot.
[Aizawa said in a low, cold voice while he stared down the other man-- unblinking and unwavering. ]
It's a piece of pie.
no subject
[ Jaune matches Aizawa's crouch. He sees what the man is reaching for, and counter-strategies bloom in his mind. He's done this before. He's done this a hundred times before, a thousand, ten thousand. He's done this so many times it's easier than breathing. ]
If it's just a piece of pie, then back off. Trust me - I won't make the mistake of offering you baked goods twice.
no subject
[Aizawa's tone was cold, rational, and real-- he had seen this sort of absurdities before, and had gotten into more devastating conflicts... Somehow. He didn't have the details or the clarity of memory, but he trusted his instincts]
This wouldn't be the first time people have had their minds altered here. At least it's just pie, but what else is there?
no subject
[ Likely story, Mr. Eraserhead. Jaune scoffs, but - the longer they're talking, the longer they're not fighting. ]
Funny - a minute ago, you were claiming you just didn't like the taste of the pie before you tried to slap it onto the floor - after refusing to tell me if you're a ghost or not, which by the way, I still have questions about - and then, when I told you I didn't appreciate you trying to throw my food on the ground because you were annoyed about being some kind of very rude maybe ghost, you tried to attack my pie again!
I don't think I'm the one acting weird about pie, here!
no subject
It wouldn't be the first time the food here has messed someone us
Up. I met a person who was convinced he had a tail like a mermaid instead of legs because of a few too many jello shots, and they were similarly unreasonable.
[He sighed. It wasn't his habit to go full out with the discourse when someone was acting like this, but clearly he had to.]
I'm not a ghost. I don't like that particular pie. Yes, we did die. None of those are lies. You just can't stop talking about that pie while I'm trying to explain the situation you're in, so removing it from the equation seemed like the best option.
no subject
[ Jaune is moving rapidly from being irritated to being flabberghasted. ]
You weren't trying to explain anything! You were just - dropping cryptic hints and getting angry at me for not understanding them!
And I was trying to use the pie as an example about why you shouldn't break things just because you're upset! Which you clearly didn't listen to a word of!
And why would you eat my pie when you don't even like it?
[ If not for wanting to keep his eyes on Aizawa, Jaune would pinch the bridge of his nose and groan in frustration. Instead, he just pushes air through his teeth. ]
Listen - whatever 'help' you think you're giving me? I don't want it. You're a mean, strange man, and I am sure I can get an explanation about the situation from someone who isn't going to act like I'm stupid or break something every time I have a question they don't like!
no subject
[scoffing, Aizawa leaned back and folded his arms.]
Then you started accusing everyone of being ghosts after I said that wasn't the case at all.
I told you the stakes. You kept using the pie a reason to not see it.
no subject
[ There are a dozen further retorts on the tip of Jaune's tongue: the revisionism of a conversation they just had, the erratic and alarming behavior, the contradiction between this man's claimed desire to help and his thoroughly unhelpful, offputting approach, the ongoing vague hints about 'situations' and 'stakes' like Jaune is supposed to take it all at face value, accept they're just stuck.
(Trapped. Helpless. Useless.)
But there's no point. Aizawa has clearly decided he's right, and Jaune's an idiot, and that's another feeling to add to the box of the vaguely familiar sensations. It's one of his least favourite so far. ]
But fine. If that's the way you see it, that's the way you see it. I'm sorry I bothered you.
Now, I'm going to get up, slowly - go get my pie - and eat it somewhere else.
(no subject)
(no subject)