TEST DRIVE MEME #4

[inthenightmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME #4

Hello and welcome to the In the Night test drive meme for September! Thanks for your interest in our game! Reserves open on September 20, and applications open on September 22.

While you're here...

• Take a look at our rules and faq pages to familiarize yourself with the game.
  
• Note that we have a reserve cap of 20, and a (current) application cap of 13 apps this month for new players, as the game has a player cap of 60. An accurate count of current players will always be available on the taken page.
  
• TDM threads can become game canon if both players wish. If the situation isn't something that could happen in-game, you're free to chalk it up to some strange hallucination, a shared dream, or other mysterious circumstance.
  
• Note that this is not limited to new characters threading with characters already in-game. If current players wish to thread out the TDM prompts as canon events, they are welcome to do so. They are welcome to make posts in the main comms for TDM events as well. Please note, however, that actual plot clues or happenings will not occur in TDM prompts.
  
• If you plan to apply, please keep in mind that we do require at least one sample thread on the application to be from our TDM (though it doesn't need to be the current TDM).
  
• You're welcome to use the provided prompts or come up with something on your own, but we do ask that all threads take place in our game's setting.

Thank you again, and we hope you'll choose to join us!

log prompts

GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY

With a cloud of mourning having weighed heavy on Beacon over the last month, the Lighthouse Keeper has decided to try and rally the community with a game: a selfie scavenger hunt! With the promise of (secret) prizes for those who play along, she's provided a list of 25 different items to track down and take a picture with. And, of course, all submissions will be public for others to view and comment upon. A town forum, Instagram-style. How fun! Feel like teaming up? Finding a companion to go searching with could make the task go by faster, as there's nothing saying that you can't both submit the same pictures so long as you take them together. And what's a proper game without company?

This prompt is a mini version of this month's Gather Up event.

IT'S RAININ' SIDEWAYS

Overall, the weather has been mild lately. Since Autumn hit, the standard has been overcast darkness blotting the stars and little wind. The rumble of thunder sounds just before the downpour begins, as if a switch has been flipped up in the clouds. If you're in the Invincible, the houses in the village, or any of the other solid establishments, it isn't anything to worry about, really. Mostly, it just means hunkering down until the storm passes. However...it seems that someone opted to build themselves a structure in the square that's proven not to be able to withstand these harsher elements. Whether you're the unfortunate sap in the tent or you're merely a bystander, one way or another, you notice its roof cave in, the beams placed to support it buckling inward and trapping the inhabitant inside. It's not enough to crush someone, but it'll surely be difficult to gather oneself as the wind and the rain bears down without mercy. Call for help and maybe someone will hear you, or be the good Samaritan that runs to their aid.

network prompts

I CAN'T *PBBT* UNDERSTAND *PBBT* YOUR ACCENT

Something's wrong. The things that you type and the things that you speak are transforming themselves upon being posted to the network. Or maybe that's not quite accurate, because everything in your posts are certainly your own words...it's just that indiscernible static has descended upon the page and crept into your audio, blocking out pieces of your statements--just enough to change the overall meaning of what you were originally saying. Efforts to clarify don't seem to be improving the situation, and it's hard to say if there's any way of fixing this. Maybe it's a comfort that the problem isn't isolated on your end; after all, that effectively takes the issue out of your hands to solve. Or maybe it's just the opposite. Maybe knowing that the network is experiencing widespread failures, however mild, fills you with a sense of dread and unease. One thing's clear, at least: you'll need a bit of luck to get your point across for the time being.

THE TITLE EQUIVALENT FOR WHEN YOUR GRANDMA COMMENTS ON YOUR UNRELATED FB STATUS AS IF SHE'S WRITING YOU A PERSONAL LETTER

Sometime in the recent past you had a problem. Maybe it was a dire emergency advertised to the community at large, maybe you became overwhelmed with stress and needed the ear of a close friend, or maybe it was just something embarrassing you were sharing in confidence. Unfortunately, regardless of what the message was, it looks like it disappeared the moment you hit send, as if it had been eaten by the network itself. It's been long enough now that you've brushed it off; you've been able to solve your problem one way or another and moved on. That's when it appears, unprompted, on the network for all to see, regardless of how private it was meant to be. Well, now you might have a bit of explaining to do.

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Comments

hermione granger, hp

[syllables]

› it's raining sideways

[ rain is quite unfortunate, isn't it? wet and dreary and gloomy, a rainstorm like this one might have meant a night ensconced indoors, perhaps in the library or in the gryffindor dormitories. or more recently, inside a tent, listening to the static of the radio, trying and somehow not trying to hear the names spilled out in broadcast each night.

for herself, hermione is less concerned. she is, after all, a witch — and what else are witches good for, if not their magic? she may not be able to cast lumos (she'll be puzzling that out for weeks), but impervius works just fine to create a makeshift slicker over her head, and she manages to get into the door of the tavern without too much water splashing onto the floor.

but should someone come in who might not be so lucky, they'll earn a frown, and a short offer: ] Would you like to dry off before you soak the rest of us?

[ she doesn't have a towel in sight, nor any dry clothes. it might be easy to assume she's making light of their struggles, but she does mean it. ]

› network

[ all in all, things could be worse. it's certainly dark enough, but no one's holding her captive or inflicting pain, no one's immediately in risk of death or maiming, she isn't late with any assignments — things could definitely be worse.

after all, she has her wand and her wits and her bag. if she could get her hands on a few things, hermione might start to feel a little better about all this. but while she can't seem to find anywhere to find these things... well, isn't that what someone had told her these nifty devices were for? better now than never, right? might as well give it a go. ]

[Bad username or site: hermione @ granger]
Hello. I realise this may be a bit of a surprising inquiry, but does anyone happen to know where I might be able to find any of the following ingredients here: fresh lavender sprigs, crocodile heart, or peppermint oil?

[ a calming draught seems like the kind of thing that might be useful here, after all. ]

› wildcard

[ go wild. be free. let your heart be your guide. ]

it's raining kol

[unpredict]

[ once he steps over the threshold, kol shakes his head like a dog, proud and uncaring. it hadn't rained during his time in new orleans, leaving this to be the very first time he's felt it since his unjustly murder so many years ago. he's soaked to the bone after his long walk around the town, unable to really keep himself still. the rain was never going to stop him from stretching his legs and seeing what might come out when it rains.

hair now sticking up at all ends, it's only the rest of him that remains shiny with water. his shirt clings to him and his jeans feel bogged down—not that that is a problem for one of the strongest vampires in existence.

he looks at her with a smile. ] Sharing is caring, love. Be grateful you can still feel the rain.

[syllables]

[ honestly, she was perfectly content to be dry and indoors. did he really have to shake off like that right in front of her? ]

Even ghosts feel the sensation of water, [ is her prim retort, hands busy dabbing at her skin, sweeping off the worst of the spray before it has a chance to drip onto her trousers. ] Rain would be no different.

[ she might have offered to dry him off, but not with that attitude. he can catch his death of cold for all she cares. ]

[unpredict]

[ yes. ]

Do they?

[ kol frowns, pursing his lips. it's very clear that he doesn't believe they do—given that he was one who felt nothing and saw nothing at all. what he would've done for just a drop of it…

tilting his head to the side, he plays a little coyly, ] Do you speak on behalf all the ghosts?

[syllables]

Yes. [ retorted in the prim voice of someone whose confidence is based on practically having folio magi memorized. ] Ghosts can feel sensations of external stimuli, though they experience significantly decreased sensory awareness in comparison to living magical entities.

[ why, yes. magical entities. those are real, too. ]

I speak on behalf of all the ghosts I've encountered. If you don't believe me, you're welcome to venture back and ask them yourself.

[unpredict]

[ while she talks, kol wipes the water away from his eyes and the bridge of his nose. it's almost as if he's not listening, but he is—to her heartbeat, to tell if she's feeling rather aggravated by his mere assumptions, and to her words that are quite interesting. ]

That's all quite nice. [ crossing his arms over his chest, he grins at her. rather cheerily, especially for someone who is so afraid of death, ] I'm kind of jealous—I wish when I was a ghost twice over that I had the pleasure of feeling the sensation of a mere breeze.

[ he begins to walk, turning on his heel after he passes her so he can begin walking backwards into the invincible. ] Come on, Ghost Whisperer. I'll "buy" [ — air quotes and all — ] you a drink. You can tell me more about these things you've heard. [ without waiting, he starts on his way to the bar with rather confident footsteps. ]

[syllables]

[ she isn't quite sure how to respond to that. confusion furrows her brow, her brain rapidly trying to make sense of the simply stated twice over but ultimately failing. ghosts... are people who have died. you cannot die and come back and then become a ghost again. reincarnation isn't possible, even with the sorcerer's stone. or even with horcruxes! you still have to be alive to make use of immortality. ]

What do you mean, twice over?

[ does she follow? well, she hasn't much choice, considering the fact that there is a mystery left unsolved and the possible answer now in the distance — so yes, she does. hermione follows along, and although she isn't much happy about being manipulated into it, the short walk does give her time to pepper in a few more questions. ]

Were you dead? Before this, specifically. I realize we're all dead, supposedly, and thus likely apparitions of a sort, but before this. You've been a ghost?

text;

[tribridfreakshow]

people have definitely asked about weirder things.

well, maybe not crocodile heart. that one's up there on the stranger scale for a lot of people here. i'd think you were making lotion or something if it weren't for that.

[syllables]

[ there's a slight pause before hermione replies. on one hand, transparency might be helpful; on the other, there is the whole international statute of secrecy to contend with. but if she's dead... can she really be prosecuted? or worse, expelled? ]

I have most of the other ingredients. Are there crocodiles in the lake, do you think?

[ ever-practical, hermione reasons... if there aren't any crocodile hearts already prepared, she may just have to find them in the wild. it may be gross, it may even be terrifying, but she'll just have to figure it out. ]

[tribridfreakshow]

i wouldn't go into the water...anywhere.

there's no animals here at all. just the spirits. you can ask rastus at the bonfire for supplies and they might come in on the next boat, but that's about as good as you'll get.

[syllables]

Are they not helpful?

[ hermione may not know spirits, but she does know ghosts. the books she's read would tell you that they are much the same. besides, there are many ghosts at hogwarts, and while some of them (here's looking at you, peeves) might be a bit on the prankster side, most of them are more than happy to escort you along the right set of stairs if you get lost or point you in the direction of someone who might have been alive for whatever historical event professor binns might have you write about.

or perhaps that was just the natural side effect of hermione's near-constant habit of polite inquiry. ghosts were more likely to help those that didn't walk right through them, after all. ]

I'm not familiar with much here but I don't see why the water should be off-limits. Unless there are grindylows, of course, but you can always jinx them off.

[tribridfreakshow]

some of them are. then some of the other ones are not much smarter than animals, and others are just plain dangerous.

[A spirit runs the post office, for one. Another, the library. Then there was the one she had to fight with a few others that literally wanted to tear them apart. It's a strange place.]

it's almost impossible to see and if you get your lantern wet and the light goes out, you'll die. and that's if something in the water doesn't get you first.

okay but what the heck is a grindylow?

[syllables]

[ hermione's brain begins to whirr. she'd known, of course, about the lanterns. it was the first thing anyone told her — to guard her lantern far more than she'd apparently guarded her own life. but that shouldn't be a reason to avoid the water altogether. what would happen if navigation by boat was necessary?

she could experiment with containment charms, perhaps a tweak on the ebublio jinx? surely there was something on waterproofing charms in one of the books she'd packed. ]

Grindylows are small water demons, reminiscent of octopi with their tentacles, and coloured pale green to blend in with lake sprouts and algae. They are native to Great Britain, however, so I suppose that might be why they aren't common here.

[ or perhaps, since it is dark, no one has ever seen them. or no one has wandered into the lake to find out. ]

it's raining assholes

[spunup]

[maybe it has something to do with the fact that he's taken on more rain that he wanted, maybe it's just that he's always generally disagreeable — spoilers: it's the latter — but kovacs doesn't have time for pleasantries.

especially not for the young woman who looks like she's going to be a pain in his side from the minute she opens her mouth.

takeshi kovacs scowls, wishing for not the first time this evening that he had a cigarette, and stalks inside the tavern, letting the door slam shut behind him.]

I was just gonna stand here and drip on your shoes.

[quell's words ring in his ears. build a pack. he ignores them. quell's dead. there's nothing good that can come from going down that path.]

Don't see a towel. How do you expect me to dry off?

[syllables]

[ well, he's quite the charmer, isn't he? hermione tuts gently under her breath, but she doesn't snap back — yet. ]

Magic, obviously.

[ there's still that faint hint of smugness in her voice, as if it's ridiculous that he didn't know. as if he should have done the reading before class. ]

[spunup]

Bullshit.

[he's an envoy. he can read the room like he's known people their whole lives, but the idea that there's magic is absurd.

not only is this one smug, but clearly she's out of her damn mind.]

There's no such thing.

[syllables]

[ of course magic is real. hermione's real, isn't she? (she's already committed to the idea that this place is exempt from the international statute of secrecy, by virtue of the fact that she's apparently dead. ghosts don't have to keep secrets.) ]

Are you quite sure?

[ she doesn't need her wand for simple spells, or even to speak aloud — and so hermione simply demonstrates, tipping her head to the side and watching with wide eyes as his backpack begins to lift of his own accord, as if suddenly filled with helium. ]

Hmmm.

[spunup]

Yeah I'm... [kovacs' next words die on his tongue as the pink backpack rises up and up and up some more. he grabs it before it can go too far away, annoyed to find that it's harder to hold in place than a balloon on a breezy day.]

The fuck? How are you doing that?

[syllables]

[ it's almost comical. it reminds her, in a bittersweet way, of her parents. how wide their eyes had gotten, how surprised her father had been, with every small detail as they'd gotten to visit the wizarding world for the first time. each example of magic was a shock to his system, from self-stirring cauldrons to candies that moved of their own accord. ]

I already told you. Magic.

[ she eyes his soaking clothes for a moment. ]

Now would you like to dry off or not?

@parker — text.

[webshoots]

Surprising isn't quite the word I'd use, but sure. Let's go with that.

1. No
2. Definitely not (???)
3. Maybe the store

But I'm mostly just wondering why?

[syllables]

From what I can tell, there's a lot of trauma involved in the arrival process. A Calming Draught might be helpful for people still getting settled.

[ yes, hermione, because that's just what Normal and Regular people do in this type of scenario.

maybe she's a little more traumatized than she wants to let on. ]

@harry.potter

[whinging]

[ The appearance of her name's a punch in the gut — a good one, mostly, and only really bad if he lets himself think about it. So he puts that off, then spends slightly too long trying to think of a serious and important response before sending this one. ]

Please tell me that's not the first thing you've said to everyone

[ Except just kidding, because polite inquiries about crocodile hearts is a completely accurate first impression. ]

[syllables]

[ the notification comes through, and for a moment that stretches to feel like an eternity, hermione is torn. torn between relief — at not being alone, at having her friend here, at a familiar face and the warmth of his gently teasing response — and utter, complete heartache.

because if harry is here, harry is not in britain. harry is not defeating voldemort and saving the world. harry is not...

she can't let herself think about it, because if she thinks about it, she will go mad. ]

I thought a Calming Draught would be useful, given the circumstances.

[ not written: where are you? where have you been? are you alright? what's happened? did you manage alright? is ron alright? ginny? mr and mrs weasley? ... ]

[whinging]

Of course you did.

[ A bit of text doesn't do the statement justice, but she might feel the fondness of it anyway. No hint of sarcasm. Just of course, because that's Hermione. Helping people, fixing things.

Now that he's started messaging, the pause on this one's obvious. There's something very ominous about being swallowed up in darkness while working out replies, the entire world very literally a patch of dirt in front of the lantern and Hermione's words. Even so, avoiding the elephant in the theoretical room seems silly, after all the other elephants they've confronted. After another beat: ]

I don't actually think I'm happy you're here. No offense.

[ Sent with maybe the smallest pretense of regret, but it doesn't stick. She'll understand. More quickly, ]

Meet at the tavern?

[syllables]

[ "the erumpent in the room, if you will." she can hear ron's interjections even in his absence, his wizarding-born linguistic quirks often at odds with harry and hermione's typically muggleborn turns of phrase.

there's a reason ron jumps quite so high when hermione mutters merlin's pants, after all. ]

Alright, Harry.

[ she knows what he means. what's perhaps more important: she's never misunderstood his intentions. if this was a different scenario? if it was ron sending the message? hermione might assume differently. but with harry, she knows.

he wishes she were alive. she wishes they both were. the instinct of trading lives for each other, it seems, won't stop with death. ]

I should warn you, they don't have any butterbeer.