annexedmeme | Test Drive Meme #1

Entry tags:

!test drive meme

Test Drive Meme #1

Test Drive Info

⇝ Test Drive Memes usually take place in a virtual reality simulation occurring in characters' minds that tests them for 'fitness' before they enter the setting officially. However, for the first TDM, it will be set in the real world and centered around the arrival of the first crop of extra-universal "recruits."
⇝ Test Drive Meme threads may be considered game canon so long as all parties agree to it.
⇝ Test Drive Meme threads do count for Activity Check.

Welcome to the Broken World.

You can't even remember how you got here.

All you know is that one moment you were in a world you were used to, comfortable in. It might have been a regular day or the most important day of your life, in the middle of a meal or brushing your teeth or the battle to save the world or the moment of your death. Whoever took you didn't seem to care what you were doing when you were taken, and now that you're here, they still don't seem to care.

You wake up after what seems like the blink of an eye, nauseous and dizzy but otherwise unscathed, possessions taken away, barefoot and dressed only in a set of plain grey clothing, like the most bland uniform ever imagined, in an empty room with empty walls and one single door with a small barred window and a single number printed just above it. The door is locked and cannot be broken by any means, you can feel your connection with any superhuman powers you had severed, leaving them just out of reach - you can feel them there, tingling at your fingertips or in the back of your brain, but you just can't get to them. There is no one to greet you or explain what's happening. You start to lose track of time, the only sound the distant ticking of what sounds like a massive clock.

Just when things seem hopeless, when you feel like you're about to go mad, there's the sound of a commotion outside your door. The sounds of a battle, or perhaps an infiltration gone just slightly wrong. Either way, when the door opens, there is a figure there with a hand outstretched.

"Welcome to the Broken World. Come on, we'll explain everything just as soon as we get you and the others out of here."

i. The Rescue

The moment of peace and freedom doesn't last for long.

Even while you're still disoriented from everything that's happened in the past few hours, the person who's just freed you pushes a gun into your hands. If you're familiar with guns, it's simple enough to use, with a recognizable safety and trigger, a magazine of bullets attached to the bottom. If you're not familiar with guns, well...the person who just rescued you will give you a minute-long introduction to it. Press this button, click this hammer back, pull the trigger to shoot. Nothing fancy, but enough that you won't hurt yourself or anyone else you're not supposed to be hurting. Probably.

After being handed the gun, the person rescuing you looks at you not unkindly and gestures for you to follow, leads you through a maze of concrete corridors to the entrance of the building. There, you'll find something of a small warzone, a battle in progress though almost completed, in the parking and courtyard area between several small, squat concrete buildings. There, huddled in the safety of the building's entryway, the person who just rescued you will point across the courtyard toward an encroaching patch of jungle and quickly explain the situation - you've been brought to this place by the Sylphid, long-standing enemies who will "eat your soul" and replace you if they catch you, and the person rescuing you is part of a resistance army intending to overthrow them. You're to make your way across the courtyard and into the jungle, where you'll find someone named Brycen, a blue-skinned man who will get you out of here even as the battle rages on.

The courtyard is mainly open, with a few benches and trees that can be used as cover, and there is a small group of Sylphid - the enemy, the people who took you and are now shooting at you, but who look like average everyday people - who are taking potshots at whoever crosses the courtyard even as they engage with the rebels. You'll be provided with suppressive fire from those same rebels while you cross the courtyard, but other than that, you're on your own unless you want to take the run with whoever else just got rescued.

ii. Race Through The Jungle

Once you make your way across the courtyard and into the jungle, you'll find Brycen waiting for you about a 10 minute walk in. The moment he sees you, he gestures you over and leads you a few feet further into the underbrush where there are a few All-Terain Vehicles parked in a small clearing. Shooting you a little grin, Brycen spreads his arms to present the vehicles, then heads over to the closest one. What follows is a quick explanation of how to use the ATV, a small hovercraft that can seat two. Brycen points out another ATV that is driven by a member of the resistance, and tells you that this person will guide you to the Witches Camp, where you'll be living from now on. But it's on you to pilot the ATV from here to there.

Well, you and your new friend.

See, there are half as many ATVs as there are people, and each one does seat two. Brycen gestures at the nearest extra-universal arrival and tells both of you to hop on. Now, you're both bound for the Witches Camp together, for better or worse. It's a long walk, so don't piss off your pilot!

Or overturn the ATV or crash it, because the path from the clearing to the Witches Camp is rough, without many trails or paths that have been carved out of the underbrush, something the revolutionaries have done to avoid being tracked back to their home. The ride will be bumpy, hover-vehicle or not, with a lot of swerving to avoid obstacles and dodging to avoid branches. Hopefully, you won't have a run-in with any of the local jungle wildlife, which can range from small, relatively harmless animals to lizards the size of small dinosaurs and wild cats.

It's a wild ride, but eventually you make it to the Witches Camp, a sprawling maze of low-to-the-ground buildings and markets interspersed with jungle for cover, and the rebel leading you keeps doing so until you pull up in front of Central Command. This building is one of the nicer ones in the area, and houses the Witch herself as well as the seat of the revolution. This is where all of the rebel plans are made and where new arrivals are put up.

iii. Welcome Home

Once you enter Central Command, you'll find that they've prepared space for you. First, you'll be led to the residential area of the large building and given the keycard to your new apartment, a small furnished studio apartment with a main living/sleeping area, a desk, kitchenette, bathroom with shower stall, and a walk-in closet for storage. Once you've been oriented to your new apartment, you'll be taken to pick your network device from an array of devices ranging from ultra-modern tablets that can fold into the shape of a phone to an equivalent of regular modern-day cell phones to magical tablets or books that can be interacted with by characters unfamiliar with technology. They'll also offer to alter your own phone or device to access the network, if you prefer that.

After that, you will be guided to one of the big board rooms in the Central Command, where you'll find a large spread of food on the table, ready to be dug into - all the staff at Central Command have brought food from home to share with the new arrivals. You'll also find notebooks and pens to take notes, because this is the official orientation, and you'll come out of it having learned pretty much everything about the rebellion, the Sylphid, how the rebellion originated and most importantly, how you got here and how you can go home.

This is where the rebels point out that helping them is helping yourself, because the only way to send you home is to commandeer the device that brought you here in the first place, and the only way to do that is to overthrow the Sylphid overlords.

After this presentation, no matter how accepting or skeptical you are, you'll be given a small stipend and set free to explore the city, linger around and chat over the potluck leftovers, go back to your apartment, make a network entry to meet other people, or whatever else you'd like to do. Want some new clothes? They can direct you to the markets. Looking to start learning magic? They can direct you to the Mage's Sector where you can find a teacher. Looking to dance your cares away in the wake of this terrible upheaval? They can direct you to a club in The Electric Heart that sells cocktails that'll erase all your pain for the evening.

Go wild. The Witches Camp is your new home. What will you make of it?

iv. Network

Once you've settled into your apartment in the evening, you're free to browse the internet and intranet on your new network device. Care to make an entry and meet the others in your same situation?

NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eight had not known many humans, they being an extinct species from her world. However, even a complete stranger to their kind was able to identify that something was wrong with this one. His face was pallid and his expression gaunt, like the creatures that inhabited the deepsea metro. Where that was normal for such creatures, of what she had seen Viktor was a deviation that was worth closer examination.

"I was asking..." She repeated the question, slowly and clearly. "...whether you were alright and would benefit from a visit to a medic."

Ah, there it is. The inevitable. Such questions, new and infrequent as they are, still make him feel like he's been rapped across the knuckles: it barely smarts, but the awareness of it lingers like an unpleasantly warm reminder of one fleeting moment of humiliation.

So when his wary look, tentatively opening with the beginnings of curiosity for this person's uncommon appearance, claps shut for the gentle sting of it, it's only reflex.

"I'm fine." Also a reflex. He could stand to be less brusque. "Just... just tired. It's been a long day."

To make the biggest understatement possibly ever.

She took no offense to the tone, knowing even before she asked that it was none of her business. His was a way she was all too familiar with: proud, independent, stubborn. Qualities that she was encouraged to embrace too.

"It has been." She nodded in agreement. "Such experiences are seldom relaxing. Please, allow me to accompany you to your room."

And before he gets a moment to protest, she adds: "I'm not really taking no for an answer." She offered the gentle method, she had no problem with taking the stronger position.

His mouth has already taken the preliminary shape for polite refusal when that addition comes. Surprise jerks his chin back toward his neck just a tick.

"Excuse me?"

They met just seconds ago. And this person is, what, fifteen? Sixteen? But that's by a human metric, which could be completely off base. Her look doesn't really factor in beyond the relative novelty, anyway—there are all kinds in Piltover, a tentacular scalp is hardly a stretch beyond the norm—but his eyes take another pass at her regardless, flicking here and there.

"Do you... work here?"

Probably not, she's wearing the same drab grey as the rest of them, but why else—

Why else, indeed? She should have been expecting the question, but the sudden pressing seems to have deflated her tremendously. Still, that was what she wanted to say at the time, and now she has to deal with it. Just what was her reasoning again...?

"I do not." To answer his second question. "However, I have reason to believe, from the state of your countenance and insistence that you do not need help, that you have can only have suffered tremendous trauma over the most recent turn of events and that is affecting your judgement. It would be inappropriate to at the very least escort you to a place where you could get some rest." The answer started off a little wobbly but with each word her tone becomes more sure. Yes, there was no way she could let him leave unless he was absolutely sure to rebuff at least that much resistance.

Something about the way she speaks is...

not comforting, exactly. It's presumptuous in the way straightforward analysis can so often be. He doesn't dislike it—especially the way her hesitance returns to confidence in the short course of her explanation.

Relatable, maybe.

"I see." The ledge of his brow relaxes; the crease fades. "Well... you aren't wrong. These are astute observations."

She could feel the shift in tension as well, and her posture becomes less stiff. Of course, he wasn't wrong in his resistance of her either. They didn't know each other and she knows very well she should be minding her own business.

Still... there was something about him that made her want to help. Or at least try. Of course, if she were to just say that outright, that would be invalidating at best and insulting at worse.

"Of course, I'm also in no position to force you to do anything. However, won't you please permit me to do this? I can assure you that you will be rid of me as soon as you have a place to recuperate." A compromise, perhaps, and an opportunity to save face. She wasn't forcing him to do anything, she was simply being a nuisance. She was okay with that.

A slight smirk formed on her face. "And you can assure the next concerned person that you already have a pesky escort with you, should you have anyone else be insistent."

"Does that invitation extend into the future?" This sounds very like grumbling, the low and lilting way his voice carries it, and dusted with the driest of emergent humour. "An escape plan may come in handy," for the next well-meaning person who won't mind their own damn business.

Despite the unspoken addendum, there's acceptance in Viktor's body language, the way he turns, gestures for her to go ahead or come along—to start walking, in any case, as he does. He expects their natural paces will be compatible, his own stiff limp and tapping crutch offering compensation for shorter legs.

Wow, that... that wasn't what she expected. Did he... did he expect that to be a habit? There's a moment of puzzled confusion when she whispers. "I... suppose?" She mulls over the implications of that. "...does this..." happen often for this to be a problem? "mmm... nevermind..."

While she is a dainty thing, she seems to be keeping up briskly. She seems capable of going much faster, but is letting Viktor set the pace. Should he accept, she even offers an elbow extended for him to hang on to.

"I had heard that Central Command has emergency rooms. I would suspect that your condition would be appropriately considered an emergency." She gives him a quick glance once more. "Do you require anything?"

Once is enough, to be perfectly honest—

"No," he doesn't need anything, including precision strikes on his appearance, but she so clearly doesn't mean any harm that it's almost funny. That observation, the part about the emergency, that in particular inspired an urge to laugh too weak to manifest as physicality. Does he really look that bad? To a stranger, he must.

"I've already been there—to the medical facility. On my way in."

As a result, he was late for the introductory presentation, which might have bothered him on principle were it not essentially a symposium for kidnapping victims.

He did indeed. She didn't know enough of people to tell if he was some sort of strange variant, but was starting to assume the general population was the model of how humans should look. Were it not for the limp and sour disposition, he reminded her very much of the Sanitized creatures of Kamabo Co. Their skin was a sickly pallor and they were neither fully alive nor were they fully dead. "Undead" was one interpretation but so was "living marionettes." At the very least Viktor had still command of his senses...

She visually perks up at the mention of his decision not to resist the medical facility. "That is good. I am glad you have been seen." She meant it, and it came as some relief.

"I don't like the medical tent much either, personally. They always seem to smell of peroxide and bad decisions." She chuckled lightly before feeling a twinge more discomfort than she remembered, visions of operating tables, cold mechanical gauges, and specimen tubes filled with unnatural green liquid coming to her. "...hospitals are even worse..."

"Yes."

They are that.

Some subjects need no words for shared commiseration; they speak for themselves. After a few quiet strides, Viktor turns a glance down at her, checking for— well, just checking.

"The medical facilities here, they have healers. People who... who use healing magic. Conduct it through their instruments."

In a less ragged state he might come alight for the topic, but without that energy to refine and direct his enthusiasm, and the context of his situation dragging it down, it merely congeals into an unmanageable weight. It's just as well; he oughtn't gush in front of a stranger, anyway.

"It's... astonishing."

(It's what we've been looking for.)

"Magic?" There was a hint of incredulity and curiosity in equal measure. She doesn't like that there is some energy that she doesn't understand, but at the same time there's some appreciation in knowing a new power source.

The uni--no, the multiverse is much broader and grander than anything she could ever imagine.

"Does it really work?" And... er... was this how he looks after being seen? Perhaps... this is how he's supposed to look...?

"It does," he says, and his voice is soft; there's a note of reverence in it. His hand comes up, across his body, taps the front of his shoulder twice. "Good as new."

You know, for a given value thereof. The joint is still tender, among other things. But she needn't worry in the immediate; he didn't take her elbow (would never lean on any arm, scarcely ever reaches for any person for any reason) and the unique rhythm of his gait is steady enough. He's just tired.

Among other things.

"Magic is real, huh..." She'll need time to process how she feels about that. Is it just imposing one's will on reality, or is there something more to it? Why would some people's desires be more important to the universe than others...?

"I had heard a little about it, blessings, they called it. They say that some of us will learn how to do stuff like that." The chosen ones. The important ones.

"Guess it's real." There's a little flippant nonchalance. She highly doubts she'd be deemed worthy of something like that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Test Drive Meme #1

iii

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject