TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[inthenightmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME #1

Hello and welcome to the In the Night test drive meme for June! Thanks for your interest in our game! Reserves open on June 20, and applications open on June 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/application cap of 20 apps per month (this has been waived for the first month!).
  
• 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.
  
• Though threads can become canon, they cannot count toward AC.
  
• 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

YOU'RE DEAD, JIM

You haven't been in Beacon long when you find yourself in Bonfire Square, staring into the flames and thinking about how you ended up here. Maybe it was an accident, a sudden freak thing that you never saw coming until you woke up on the ferry, or maybe it's a miracle you made it as long as you did. Maybe death was a relief. Maybe it was just your time. Whatever the case, you can't help but reflect on your final moments as you linger in the firelight.

But however you died, it's behind you now, and you're here, stuck in this little town with just a few buildings and a smattering of other people. You're going to be here a while, so you may as well get to know your neighbors, but... Would it be cathartic to commiserate about your deaths? Or is your time better spent stocking up at the general store? Then again, you've got plenty of time, so why not catch a drink or two (or three) at the Invincible? Pretend you're unaffected by your death, and, well. Fake it 'til you make it, perhaps.

Point is, you have options. You're dead, you died, and this is your "life" now. Better get used to it.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

Currently, there's only one place to live (technically speaking) in Beacon: the Invincible, a tavern and inn located in Bonfire Square. Luckily, the place has working amenities (minus light), and the forest spirits don't charge anything for your stay. Unfortunately, it seems there may not be enough rooms for everyone. Guess you'll have to get cozy!

Maybe you'll try to pick a roommate from around town or in the bar downstairs, or maybe you'll just walk into the first room you see and choose that way. Want a room all to yourself? Get ready to fend off any potential intruders. And the fun doesn't end there.

The Invincible's rooms aren't all created equal. Some may have had their furniture stolen or become a dumping ground for unwanted pieces, resulting in a single bed, five dressers, and other equally distressing situations. Will someone sleep on the floor? Will you nail two beds together to form bunk beds? Maybe you just want to make this room into something more like home— potentially to your roommate's chagrin. Whatever you decide, this is where you're staying for now, so you might as well get comfortable.

network prompts

HACKER VOICE: I'M IN

In order to use the network, you have to register a username. Er, at least, that's how it's supposed to work. For some reason, new users have recently been able to bypass that requirement, allowing them to post anonymously. Time to troll strangers on the magical internet!

Eventually though, you'll need a username in order to use the tablet's other functions, like the direct messaging system. So hey, why not take advantage of the ability to source opinions, and workshop your potential usernames on the network? Share ideas, get feedback, steal ideas, critique others, and figure out what you want everyone to call you.

TURN ON YOUR LOCATION

When you wake up, you're in the woods. An iron shackle complete with a chain leashes you to a tree, and the only light you have is your lantern. You've never seen this area of the woods before. You certainly didn't go to sleep here.

Hm.

But, all is not lost. You find your phone in your pocket, as well as a scrap of paper covered back to front in cryptic scribbles. Are these clues to your location? They must be. You also spot a key dangling from a branch, though it's hanging from a tree you'll never be able to reach from here. Perhaps someone on the network will be able to lend you a hand...

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Comments

[nonscriptum]

[ It occurs to Nate, albeit belatedly, that not everyone here might have come from the same circumstances that he did. That some, if not most, of these people have been plucked from their own worlds and dropped into this one without the transitory convenience of knowing what that's like already, and his time in the city that moved itself across different planets gives him the unique edge of being far less ruffled by the whole experience.

Raylan Givens, with his jaunty hat and - upon glancing down briefly - thematically appropriate boots, is clearly in the former camp and has a death grip on his nerves. ]

Yes and no.

[ Nate says, a distinctly apologetic tone to his voice. Somewhat roughly, he mops the rest of his temple clean and with a sigh, drops the crumpled napkin on the counter. ]

That's...kind of a complicated question to answer.

[ultimatums]

[ of course it is. they're strangers, after all – raylan really needs to stop assuming that a bourbon between people is as good as a cue for them to start spilling their deepest darkest secrets. at the same time, though, they're all dead. so. hrm. ]

You don't have to answer it. Mostly I was just complainin'. [ he makes a face, half-shrugging. ] Makes me feel better. [ that said, he takes off his hat and places it on the bartop, eyeing it for a second like he's expecting it to grow legs and scuttle off. ] Can't work out yet if it's rude to ask how people ended up here. You think it's anythin' like askin' what someone's in for in prison?

[nonscriptum]

[ The complications weren't personal. Not entirely, anyway. He doesn't mind sharing the meandering details, either, but if he's going to have a talk about other dimensions and universes with somebody, they'll need to ask the bartender to leave the bottle.

At any rate, the postulation has him huffing a laugh. ]

If this were prison, everyone would be saying that they didn't do it and their lawyer fucked 'em.

[ Spoken with all the confidence of a man who has spent considerable time behind bars. Nate gestures at his own forehead with his free hand. ]

Avoided being shot. Didn't avoid falling off a cliff.

[ultimatums]

[ he's not wrong. raylan concedes to that point by lifting his glass and nodding, his lips twisted down into an if the shoe fits sort of expression, which abruptly dips into a bare wince when nate continues. ouch. ]

Now that just seems, to me, [ he puts a hand on his chest, for emphasis, ] an awful lot like overkill. You spent your whole life with luck that shitty or was that a recent development?

[nonscriptum]

[ Jesus, this might be the most he's laughed since he got here. Maybe it's the drawl that reminds him so much of the back country he sees outside of New Orleans - more Appalachia than Cajun, but charming all the same - or maybe he's just finally plateaued in terms of accepting that his body is floating downstream, on some godforsaken island off the coast of Madagascar.

Yeah, better not think about that.

He leans in, almost conspiratorial and in much better spirits with the bourbon in his belly. ]

You know, believe it or not, it wasn't the first cliff I've fallen off of? I've actually lost count.

[ultimatums]

[ now it's raylan's turn to laugh, and although it's more of a snort than anything else it makes him feel a little better, takes some of the weight cleanly off his shoulders, like the top off of a mountain. nate leans close and raylan does too, and now they're a few inches away from each other and raylan's thinking about what a terrible idea it is to be in a bar when you're in a bad mood, especially when there's someone else there who's very easily making it better. ]

You want my advice, you probably oughta stay away from cliffs in the future, [ he says, a little lower since they're both closer now. ] Seems like a real crunch point of a location. You one of those suicidal lemmings in a past life?

[nonscriptum]

[ It's nice when somebody plays along. Makes it feel normal, a little less like they're all dead and hanging around in some kind of shitty, cosmic waiting room for the next step, for the other shoe to drop. At least Raylan took the hat off; it means Nate doesn't have to duck under it with the proximity. He raises his eyebrows. ]

I've been accused of worse. They say there's a fine line between stupid and brave.

[ His smile quirks at the edges, as crooked as his career. ]

Maybe I just like heights.

[ultimatums]

[ the last time he's been up anywhere of great height, it was that scuffle with coover over the mineshaft. a lot of that had been pure adrenaline, so he doesn't remember it, but the horrible, all-consuming fear of dying at the bottom of a mineshaft is still lingering some time afterwards. even the thought of it now makes him wrinkle his nose; he forces himself to look nate in the eye, scanning over his face, reminding himself that there's nothing to fall down now. ] —lemme guess. [ it's a little abrupt, after a pause that had been long enough to maybe draw attention to itself. ] Thrill seeker. You just look like one.

[nonscriptum]

[ There's a sharp sort of scrutiny for a long moment, a noticeable, lingering silence. When Raylan finally draws a conclusion Nate tips his head in his direction. ]

Takes one to know one.

[ Kentucky's Finest over here certainly isn't advertising that he's packing heat, but neither is he hiding it. Nate doesn't doubt that just about everybody south of the Mason-Dixon line carries, but some people just wear it different. ]

You're not military, but you're not a cop, either.

[ultimatums]

[ raylan's never thought of himself as much of a thrill seeker, considering that most of the time he's dragged into these things against his will. never mind that he usually starts the things and then vaguely attempts to claim a holier-than-thou position above them, only for someone somewhere to yank him back down to the level. never mind any of that. he's not that self-aware. ]

No, I'm not. [ he could play coy for a little while longer but there are better things to hold out on. ] US Marshal.

[nonscriptum]

Oh.

[ Light and airy, the kind of delivery that suggests consummate surprise. The last time he saw any federal marshals in person was when he was being transferred to Oakdale for holding. Nate is suddenly, violently reminded of his first day in Hadriel, meeting Lance Sweets and thinking to himself that he should probably be careful sharing anything that might sound even mildly incriminating.

Two years gone and he comes to the realization that he really doesn't give a damn anymore. Sincere, with an edge of amusement: ]

I think you might be a little out of your jurisdiction.

[ultimatums]

Oh, yeah. No question of that. [ his grin lingers a second before it shifts into a grimace. he's not the type to think he's just completely useless now his badge is little more than a cheap piece of costume jewellery, but it's a significant adjustment. it's going to take him a minute to get past it. ] Expect you'll want me to Sherlock you like you just did me, but I dunno if I'm that good considerin' I mostly deal with people whose crimes have already been adjudicated in a court of law. [ still, he gives nate another once-over, taking it all in, filtering back to that fall off a cliff. ] I wanna say some kinda merc but – maybe that's just wish fulfilment on my part.

[ like, it'd be kind of hot. that flavour of wish fulfilment. ]

[nonscriptum]

[ It's not a bad estimation. Daredevil ways and a familiarity with firearms lend themselves to very specific, very niche fields of professional interest. Nate does a poor job of suppressing his closed-mouth smile, thumbing at the lip of his glass. ]

Good guess. I'm not one myself, but mercenaries have been an occupational hazard.

[ He doesn't always like to come straight out with a list of crimes, because there are too many to count, but "treasure hunter" is vague and occasionally misconstrued, hence the explanation. ]

I did a lot of complicated acquisitions, for a while. There were clients, but usually I was just researching ancient cities and looking for artifacts, that kind of thing. Like Indiana Jones without the permits. Competition gets pretty fierce so I ran into plenty of assholes with private armies. [ Nate lifts his drink in a mock toast, not entirely serious when he adds: ] But these days I'm strictly legit.

[ultimatums]

[ raylan's eyebrows crank up, adding a few extra lines to his forehead. he has a sip of his drink to cover a slightly mollified silence. like indiana jones. raylan was eleven when that movie came out; he'd gone into town three or four times to see it, eyes dinnerplate wide. if he's honest with himself, indy was a pretty formative crush.

he is not saying that out loud. to anyone. ever. ]

Shit. Well. [ he finishes his drink in lieu of finishing that thought, and then belatedly adds, ] Shit! Coulda given me and all the other monkeys infinite typewriters and we never woulda come up with that.

[nonscriptum]

[ Raylan has him on tenterhooks waiting for some kind of response that isn't stunned silence and he's surprised the guy isn't calling bullshit, because it would certainly be warranted. Nate eyes him as he slams his drink, finally offered something to which he can respond even as he waves the amorphous bartender over for a refill. ]

Sorry to ruin your wish fulfillment.

[ He chuckles, gesturing that the bottle of questionable alcohol be left behind as he tops off Raylan's glass himself. ]

It's kind of a niche business, and last time I checked, knowing medieval Latin wasn't a prerequisite for mercenaries.