memesinthenight | TEST DRIVE MEME #5

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!tdm

TEST DRIVE MEME #5

Hello and welcome to the In the Night test drive meme for October! Thanks for your interest in our game! Reserves open on October 20, and applications open on October 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 10 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

MAMMA MIA

The town is quiet, the forest spirits behave business-as-usual, Rastus doesn't know what's up. Whatever's going on, you'll have to figure it out for yourself.

And you will, though the hallucinations are subtle at first: objects moving when they shouldn't, people's proportions looking just a bit off, voices in an empty room, and so on. Is it just your mind playing tricks in the darkness? Might be! As the days go on, the hallucinations are harder to ignore, no matter how much you may wish to wave them off as flukes. What's wrong with everyone's faces? When did all the howling start? Who do you hold onto when the world drops out from under you? And those hands...

While you might know it can't be real, it certainly feels real. But at least it can't last forever... Right?

This prompt is a mini version of the game's Bury a Friend event.

GIMME! GIMME! GIMME!

Although the month is already well underway, residents of Beacon will notice a brand new shipment being delivered to the general store—only this one comes via the forest, as a small legion of spirits quickly drop off crates of boxes at its doorstep before scampering back into the woods. Hopefully nobody is riding too hard on hoping for further rations or supplies, because opening them up quickly squashes any notions of a full month's restock. Instead, it looks like each crate is bursting with costumes! Coming in all shapes and sizes to fit anyone of any age or decree, there’s plenty to choose from. Something scary? Magical? Clever? Or maybe even a bit on the sultry side? Dig deep enough, and you’re sure to find something to suit your tastes, props, accessories, wigs and all!

If nothing else, surely you can find an alternate use for a bit of spare fabric in your size, but what's the harm of having a bit of fun? But, oh, be careful if you're playing dress-up while the hallucinations from the event are in play... These costumes might just have a funny effect on you. 🤔!

network prompts

S.O.S.

The morning is interrupted by an alert. The text, which helpfully converts itself to automated speech when opened, reaches every inbox across Beacon, refusing to disappear until acknowledged. The problem? The username it comes from is glitched and unreadable, and all attempts at responding directly appear fruitless. The message is simple, three words:

SOS. SEND HELP.
There's nothing that seems to be able to be done about it, but with the earnestness in which it appears, maybe it would be wise to discuss it with the other residents. Isn’t there something you can do, even to track down the source? Maybe that will help you better put it from your mind.

TAKE A CHANCE ON ME

The longer you stay in Beacon, the clearer it is that you’re here for the long haul. And, on that note, the clearer it is that this place is going to need a lot of work to meet your standards. Obviously there isn’t much that can be done about certain things, like the state of lighting, or some of your potentially missing powers, but there are a lot of things that would certainly improve your personal quality of life. And for that matter, maybe some of your ideas would be agreeable to others, as well.

Whether you’re here to call for the establishment of a club, a new business, or even some kind of monthly therapy circle, the best way to get your message across is to turn to the Network and give your pitch. Whatever skills you may be lacking in the organization of this project, there’s undoubtedly someone out there who can provide. What are you waiting for? No time like the present to start collecting signatures!

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To say that showing up here had been a shock is putting it lightly.

Ellever had always had mixed feelings about mortality. For one, nothing had ever really hurt her, and some of her... 'cousins' have lived hundreds of years, if not perhaps thousands of years in the case of Dewan. She isn't even the youngest. But none of them were named The Harbinger of the End, the catalyst of the end of the world, with no further useful notes on how she'd cause the end. The end she very much did not want to cause. More than a few times, in notebooks and scribbling on her dry erase boards, Elle had considered that perhaps her death would do it, however that happened. Was that preferable to her unknowingly setting off the end of the world? She had no idea.

And now, staring down at the crate full of colorful costumes, Elle feels empty and numb. She doesn't recall much of her death, and it's eating her up inside. Whatever had happened after, if anything, is a mystery. Reaching up, sending her rainbows-under-clouds earrings wild, Elle scratches her fingernails against her scalp, wispy blonde hair going in all directions. The color she's seeing in front of her eyes is almost jarring. Taking a deep breath, Elle reaches down and pulls up a costume that appears to be a pink princess gown.

"Is this some sort of... joke?" she wonders out loud, voice rough from dis-use. Her gaze is intense as she examines the dress, in futility, for some sort of clue.

Uh. Hi. Has anyone figured out where the SOS came from?

[ If only this were back home, where Elle has access to tracking equipment and leads and important things like that. ]

"Of what sort?"

He certainly seems less frazzled with the meaning of the shipment, sporting a cartoonish wizard hat — night blue, moon and stars, plush around the rim — for no more reason than the hat sitting first in a crate he had rummaged.

It isn't much in terms of supplies; and although clothes are important, easily salvaged for other uses, these clothes hardly seem suitable for autumn wear. Daithi is of the distinct sense he is missing something. Being wholly unfamiliar with Halloween, however... The answer is difficult to piece.

He shifts on his heels, turning to address the woman.

— smiles, a little crooked, when he notices the costume in hand. "Not your style?"

Someone speaking to her, directly, brings Ellever crashing back to reality and out of the imagined haze of questions. Oh. Right. She'd said that out loud. She blinks and turns her head, taking in the impressive hat first. It looks like something she'd wanted to wear as a child, honestly. Much more than the dress she's holding. Ezra had never let her go trick-or-treating, no matter how much she'd begged.

"...no," she answers slowly, dropping the bright pink thing back into the crate. "If I'm honest, all I ever wanted to be a princess for was the apparent dragon kidnapping."

When she was little, she'd been so used to the cryptids housed right next door that the prospect of adding a dragon to the mix had been exciting. Now it would still be exciting, but there were questions she'd need to ask first. For example, if it was large, would the bunyip try to kill it immediately or later?

"I like your hat, though." Elle squints down into the crate next to hers. "These seem to be... fairly well made, at least?"

His brow furrows: a quick succession of not recognizing the costume for any human noble he has known, nor the myth of dragons abducting princesses so much as the reports of slaughtering any foolish to stray too near, lost to the conversation continuing elsewhere.

Daithi glances as though to catch sight of his own hat.

"It is rather fetching," he jokes when his gaze returns to the woman. (He will abandon it in time, however, only occasionally taken with the spirit to abandon some form of pretense.) He shifts to peer into the same crate. "Are they, or are you being optimistic?"

That is to say, "I don't see anything in here to keep warm."

She can't quite hold back a snicker of agreement as she eyes a thin-looking flapper dress that was right next to the princess outfit. Then again, it's supposed to be that way. She thinks? Ellever isn't that great at the history of fashion, she just knows that it's called a flapper dress and that they were popular. Her history knowledge takes the shape of people going missing, series of murders, disturbances... anything related to the cryptids she looks for.

"No, you're right, they don't look warm," Elle agrees. If she notices his earlier confusion, she says nothing about it. Possibly she didn't. "They just look like the sewing is decent quality. The fabric, eh. Costumes don't usually use the best, er, stock."

This is something she's gleaned only from walking into a Spirit Halloween store as an adult, just for fun. The costumes there had looked far worse than these, unless you wanted to shell out a lot of money.

"But I've seen some people here that didn't arrive with much, and this would be an improvement for them."

Luckily, Ellever had arrived with only minorly ripped clothing and blood splatter -- now stains -- mostly on her back. And that's the first time she's ever thought of that as lucky.

"It might be."

He's a little too still. Castiel has gotten more expressive, more human with his time spent on Earth, but there's still a little something to him just a touch alien, something strange in the tilt of his head and the almost too blue shade of his eyes.

He looks at the dress, not at the woman. Frowns.

"It could be the work of a trickster."

Reeks of his brother, actually, but Gabriel is dead, and Castiel would like to think he'd not be quite as cruel. Though perhaps he would deserve just that.

It's the extremely still and serious demeanor that makes Ellever pause and glance at Castiel, taking in his attire and how he seems slightly closer to her own reality than most of the other people here. There really is an unusual collection of people here. And most of them move quickly. She drops the dress back into the crate and picks up the costume next to it, which appears to be some sort of froofy red ballgown. Rather like a southern belle might wear.

"A trickster?"

It isn't a word she hears that often, but one that she's familiar with -- in a certain context. Elle manages something approaching a smile. It's meager, but it does turn up the corners of her mouth somewhat.

"You mean like... a bunch of troubled, bored teens, or... Anansi or Coyote?"

Castiel looks at her for a moment, head tilted slightly as if she's a puzzle and he's trying to figure it out. Then his eyes drop, first to the red dress, then the crate. He reaches into it and pulls at random, frowns at the yellow and black stripes of a bumblebee costume.

Ironic.

"Demigod-like immortal creatures that thrive on creating mischief and mayhem," he states, as if he's talking about well known facts. She's thrown him a term, he now assumes she's either fast on the uptake, or knows these things herself and wouldn't consider the point of discussion strange. "So yes - the latter."

Honestly, this is the way Ellever's mind tends to shift anyway, to the usual exasperation of her fellow Zier employees, and to have someone go that way with her is pretty incredible. To suggest it first, even. Her expression brightens a bit more, as she drops the ballgown back into the crate and eyes the resulting explosion of color.

Whoever picked these costumes out likes to be colorful. She can get down with that, at least.

"I mean..." She glances around them. "I wouldn't be shocked, honestly, given... everything."

It says something that tricksters would be one of the less outlandish possibilities for where they are and the current situation they're finding themselves in. If she wasn't so distracted with the choke of her last breath, Elle would find this all very fascinating. As it is, her mind feels like it's chugging on half-empty. For now, at least.

But it's working well enough for her to wonder where the jump of logic came from.

"Do you have a lot of trickster experience?"

The question makes Castiel's nose wrinkle slightly, as if in distaste. The expression in his eyes stays very deliberately flat and distant. Still something off about his expressions. Like they don't quite work, like they're copied and learned rather than developed naturally.

"My brother posed as one, once."

His hands have not been idle, but he puts something altogether sheer and glitterly down slowly after having inspected it, as if he's both offended and very wary.

"Are you a hunter?"

"You must have some brother," she says dryly, glancing up when Castiel puts down the glittery item.

Everything in Elle's mind goes to a screeching halt for a moment. Posing as a trickster. And that kind of trickster. Her cousins could definitely have posed as tricksters. Hell, she's sure that Dewan was some kind of... well, maybe not a trickster, exactly, but something a shade darker than that.

Not for the first time, she has to wonder if Dewan is responsible for all those myths about genies.

And, for a second time, something he says makes her pause. Her mind goes right to bright orange vests and flannel, neither of which is something that she's wearing. And she doesn't have a gun, either.

"A w...? Um, no, unless there's some sort of other hunter you're talking about." Elle shrugs. "I try to eat vegetarian."

If she's going to impact the entire planet at some point in a very negative way, the least she can do now is reduce her footprint.

There's something getting lost in the words between them, and Castiel wishes not for the first time that he could go back to existing as a wavelength rather than have to interact with humans. It's frustrating at the best of times with humans he's actually friends with.

This? Talking to a stranger, and thinking that they understand one another only to suddenly feel like they're having two unrelated conversations?

Much too close to half his conversations with either Winchester, to be honest.

Castiel looks slightly exasperated as a result.

"Of the supernatural," he clarifies, and looks like he doesn't think he should have to clarify that. "Vampires. Werewolves. Tricksters, as it were."

"I, uh," is the first stuttering thing that comes out of Elle's mouth.

When Castiel clarified, she had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth, if she's honest. The supernatural is slightly different to everyone. Sometimes people Believe, and most of the time they laugh about it. Elle has a slightly different relationship with it, being only half human. For her it's not the Other, it's part of the same story as the rest of the world. But she knows that the veil is important to some people, like the Binding, and she knows that generally, you get farther in life with strangers if you don't talk about it like it really exists.

The shadows have a million, writhing goddamn hands but not everyone can see that.

So the fact that he breaks it out first is just... flabbergasting. Elle looks at him curiously, brows knit together, mouth open until she remembers to close it. Does this mean that vampires really do exist? If that's the case, she finally won an office bet.

"I don't hunt those creatures, no," she finally says, slowly. "I've only encountered werewolves from that list. But I do... look for them, research them."

Elle pauses. How much does she want to say? Perhaps it's better to keep her cards close to the chest, for now.

"I have a... vested interest in the supernatural."

"I see," he says, as if he does. Look at her, really looks. Sees... something he can't quite make sense of, not fully. 'More' is the gist he gets. Not inhuman. But his senses are... limited here. She could be a number of things. She could be something else - new places, Castiel reminds himself. Different rules apply.

"What kind of research do you conduct?"

She has is attention more than before that much is certain.

Research, however, can mean a number of things. So can a vested interest.

Castiel is not blind to the fact that they've moved from talking along the same wavelength, to carefully circling. She holds some things back, so does he.

Interest, indeed.

Her research, in general metrics, is something she doesn't mind sharing, and her face does brighten as Castiel asks about it. No one asks about her research anymore. They know, for a fact, that she'll talk about it anyway.

"Oh, well, first it's just about local legends and myths," Elle explains. "Not everything is rooted in myth, sometimes it's just stories that people blow out of proportion. But I've found a lot of time that there's something. So I research where certain things have been spotted and... anything I can about the legends. And then, when I get some time together, I try to find those locations. If I can narrow things down and prove something exists I like to try and figure out diet, range, anything."

She scratches the back of her head, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Is she talking a lot? She's talking a lot.

"Last month it was Will O' Wisps. Which do exist, as I found out."

Interesting. NOt a hunter, certainly, but she studies supernatural creature. Castiel wonders to what end. Wonders, briefly, what she'd make of him. He's already played part of his hand - his brotherposing as a trickster means she likely has him pegged as something either non-human or at the very least otherwise potentially powerful.

Right on both accounts, of course.

Castiel inclines his head.

"So you take an approach more anchored in zoology and anthropology."

Perhaps the end goal is merely to know. Castiel has found that few humans are satisfied with that, though.

"I'm familiar with Will O' Wisps, though creatures of supernatural origin can... differ among separate worlds. What are your findings on yours?"

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antiwhat - 2019-10-30 08:40 (UTC) - Expand

Matt is out of his depth here.

He can get by and do a lot without his eyes, not that he's keen to admit it. He's more than functional, despite his blindness, and yet... there are just some things super smell and super hearing can't grant him. As he sorts with a mild frown through the costumes on the pretense of looking for anything useable, he really can't tell nondescript shirt from rainbow clown pants. It's an adventure to sort through all of it, and he's mostly incapable of understanding what he's really finding.

Truthfully, he's only halfheartedly trying to be practical. He's looking for a costume, and preferably a small one... he's a sentimental dad type and wants to find one for the spirit he's been looking after.

He pauses at her wondering, turning in her direction. He frowns, because he really... has no clue, and hates to have to admit it, even though it's really not a surprise to anyone that the guy wearing sunglasses in the dark is blind. "I'm... I'm not sure. Can you describe it to me?" He pauses, feeling very stupid before he puts two and two together. "Unless you mean that there are costumes here in the first place. I don't think it is, though I couldn't tell you why the spirits thought we needed these. Or where they found them, actually."

When Matt asks her that question, Ellever turns her head to look at him slowly -- still processing everything that's happened in her brain, the gears having rusted over for the time being. And by that time, he's continuing, and she's putting two and two together with his glasses. For a person who prides herself on being an investigative type, it's shameful that her brain's having to work this hard.

In her defense, she's still preoccupied with how that brain may or may not have splattered on a wall. According to everyone here, everything she's learned, it probably did.

"The spirits brought them?"

That perks her up, both her tone and posture, as she drops the princess dress back into her crate and peers at the crates themselves. As well as she can see them, at least. As she crouches down to get a closer look -- not finding anything out of the ordinary -- a joke bubbles to the forefront of her mind.

"Are you sure they didn't get them from a Spirit Halloween store?" Then Ellever winces and shakes her head, straightening back up again. "That was bad. Sorry. I guess they seem to be relatively well made, for the people whose clothes aren't in great shape."

Her own clothes are among them, but she's resisted finding something tamer to put on -- for the moment.

"I'd assume so. It didn't come off the ferry, that's for sure." They're the usual suspect for things going slightly awry in Beacon, so Matt feels fairly confident in that educated guess. Even if he didn't exactly see them in the act... well, hear them in the act. It does seem much like the sort of strange and uncanny offering the spirits would provide, and it rather makes him wonder if the costumes can be trusted... though they'll have to go through it and wear it to know.

Matt is a sort of serious guy. One could easily assume that he doesn't have much of a sense of humor, based on that fact. It couldn't be farther from the truth, though — he laughs at most jokes. Even ones that aren't funny. Maybe a part of it is to put people at ease, Matt is constantly in the middle of projecting an unassuming, agreeable persona. Part of it, though, is he really does find even the worst jokes to be funny.

So he laughs, even at her self proclaimed bad joke. "Unless there's one hiding out in the dark, I don't think so." Nobody has found any sort of settlement, much less a store, outside of beacon... but she has a point, where did all this come from? It seems a little too well made to be handmade, especially by spirits that didn't always even have hands. "Right. We can use some of this, at the very least. Who knows, maybe there's someone out there that finds this more suitable than what the store usually has in stock." It at least offered more variety; that's the kindest way possible to put the eclectic variety of costumes, from french maid to medieval princess.

Elle reflects that this is one of the few places she's been where Spirit Halloween isn't going to spring up in a haunted mall at some point during the year. That's a weird thought, for someone who's lived in Los Angeles most of her life and gotten used to it. Halloween was a time when her weird interests were finally seen as acceptable; she loved Halloween, even if she wasn't really allowed to dress up.

She's grateful that Matt laughs, even if her joke would have made everyone at Zier Security find a pencil to toss at her. There often aren't that many people around, where she's from, and she doesn't get a lot of practice out of telling jokes. It isn't like the Moth can judge humor. He buzzes at her for treats and scritches either way.

"I mean, I've seen worse costumes. These at least don't look like they'll evaporate after a few hours," she notes, digging through and coming up with a bright pink and poodle number -- which confuses her for a second. "And... if anyone really wants a poodle skirt, we can tell them right where to go."

Maybe it'll ward off unfriendly creatures, looking at the painfully 50s face of the poodle.

"I'm Ellever, by the way," she introduces herself. "Are you looking for something specific?"

Spirit Halloween is pretty big in the city, too. There's three of the damned things in Manhattan alone. Matt isn't a huge halloween person, beyond going to Josie's with Foggy to drink beer that's been dyed green or orange or has ice shaped into eyeballs at the bottom. Not because he's too catholic for it, more that he's too old for it. And yeah, he hadn't really ever got into the swing of celebrating it, considering he was raised by nuns. He really hadn't been expecting a Halloween vibe in Beacon, so the costumes are a bit unexpected... though after all that's been going on lately, not unwelcome.

Still, with the current shortage of supplies, it'd be a waste to not take advantage of them. He hopes they don't disappear on the 31st, though that wouldn't be a shock considering past offerings from spirits. "A sock hop doesn't do it for you?" He inquires, smiling at the idea of a classic poodle skirt. He actually can picture that pretty well — he'd loved Grease when he was a kid.

"Nice to meet you. Matt." He doesn't offer his last name, but, he still has yet to tell anyone his last name. Don't take it personal, Elle. "Sort of. Trying to find things we can use that don't scream Party City Bargain Bin." And he is trying to do that, he really is. He has a pile next to him of things that feel normal. Ellever might be wise to check it for him, because feeling normal and looking normal are two different things. Still, in the midst of his practicality, he is looking for something in particular. "And a small costume. If you see one. Think child-size. I know a spirit that might like one."

"I mean, I like bright clothes and all, but this poodle looks weird," she explains. "Someone didn't take enough time on his face. More like a... possessed poodle."

Finding a small spirit a Halloween costume is a task that immediately appeals to Elle. It takes her mind further away from all of the uncertainty that's been swamping her. Nothing here has been fully able to distract her, but this comes close. It reminds her of closing down the warehouse from work and locking herself up in her office to pore over her files and books, to hopefully find a creature of legend.

Here, it seems, they offer everyone clothing.

"I'll let you know if I see a small one," Elle promises, worrying one part of her lip with her teeth as she tries to part the costumes to see if any fell down to the bottom of the crate.

There are a few things... though most of them seem to be hats... She reaches down and pulls out a surprisingly nice leather cowboy hat, and then blinks at the floral bonnet she finds stuffed inside.

"Did you make friends with a spirit?"

"A possessed poodle skirt honestly seems par for the course around here," Matt muses, only the tiniest bit bitter. He's honestly partially suspicious of these costumes because he knows the spirits are the ones to have dragged them all out and the spirits are known to cause some shenanigans. Calling their actions "shenanigans" is giving it a fun playful twist, when usually it's terrifying, soul-scarring, or both.

As far as outer appearances go, these costumes seem normal... though if there's something twisted or unusual about them, Matt wouldn't be surprised. They're not bound to know if they just ignore them on principle, and there's at least a chance nothing terrible will happen. A chance is enough to fish through them for potential practical options, and also, he just wants to dress his tree baby in a costume. Is that really so wrong?

He smiles when she agrees, short-lived but sincere. Matt's smiles can come across a bit practiced sometimes, though helping him with this particular task seems to have won Elle some genuine appreciation. "Thank you. I can figure out if things are small, though I can only guess what they're supposed to be. And probably not accurately." He doesn't enjoy running up against tasks that actually remind him of his blindness, it's only for Ivy that he's willing to face the frustration.

"I suppose you could call it that. I found it crying in the woods, and waited it out until I earned some trust. It's been with me ever since." The spirit he's been looking after is much younger presenting than any of the rest Matt has come across, so he's glad it has decided he's trustworthy. He's still plagued by the thought of how long it must have been out in the dark, terrified and alone.

At the thought of a small, crying spirit, Elle frowns. She has no idea what the spirits around here really look like, and thinks of the Will O' Wisps back home instead. Mischevious, but kindly to her; small and frail lights hiding much more within. She's heard Wisps in distress, lost in the city, and that had made her sad enough.

"Well, then I'm glad you found it," she says, with clear relief, digging through to the bottom of the crate on the other side of the massive pile of costumes. "Do they... talk or communicate? Where I'm from we have Will O' Wisps and they sort of... have musical tones they emit, and you can gauge a mood from that generally."

She makes it sound like an almost common fact, whereas she and her fellow Zier employees are probably among the few living to have seen them. And she absolutely went out of her way to find them, in the middle of the freezing winter. But the strange is Elle's life and this is just more of it, which helps the numbness that's still settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Oh, hey! I think this is a child's costume, it's..." Elle pauses and then snorts as she pulls it out. "Oh. It's a ghost costume. Little on the nose?"

Did the spirits talk? Well, not exactly. "Some can make sounds, though I've not heard any able to use any human language." Some could vocalize and make strange noises, perhaps a language in its own right, just not one he could understand. "They can gesture, or sign. Some use morse code, and others respond to music. You'll find an app on your tablet that can play songs, it can help you communicate with the spirits."

Usually simple, direct questions or statements, the music could only go so far... but still, for a newcomer it might be valuable information to have. Matt has heard of will o' wisps, though, mostly as fodder for fairytales, he's never presumed them to be real. It's interesting to think that Ellever's world was so much different than his own. He's learned a lot about multiverses since he arrived in the afterlife!

A ghost, huh? Matt laughs. "Maybe." He can only imagine how adorable the mandrake would look in a ghost costume, though. He offers a hand, adding, "It could still be worth a try if we can't find anything else."

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TEST DRIVE MEME #5

Ellever "Elle" Brandt 🙣 OC

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SORRY FOR THE WAIT!

No problem at all! 🎔

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