TEST DRIVE MEME #8

[inthenightmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME #8

Hello and welcome to the In the Night test drive meme for January! Thanks for your interest in our game! In an effort to streamline our application process and avoid future confusion between incoming and existing players, we will no longer have a reservation period. Applications open on January 22, and will be judged on a first-come, first-served basis.

While you're here...

• Take a look at our rules and faq pages to familiarize yourself with the game.
  
• Note that we have a (current) application cap of 16 apps this month for new players, as the game has a player cap of 70. 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

CAKE BY THE OCEAN

It's a brand new year, and with it, a brand new...you? Well, you are dead, but there's still plenty of ways that you can embrace the spirit of starting fresh, especially when it seems that the forest spirits have their own traditions that they're eager to share! If you've only just arrived, you may find yourself pelted with loaves of bread and accosted with noisemakers, or if you're a seasoned Beaconite, maybe you're wearily unsurprised to find strings of onions being placed around various doorways. Just another day in the afterlife. Best to go along with it, even if some of these practices seem to be somewhat chaotic. It's never a good idea to make the spirits mad, after all, and especially not when they're trying to show you...some sort of semblance of good will, you think. For the most miserable of souls, at least you can be comforted in the knowledge that it should all be over before the day is out.

This is a miniature version of the festivities present during this month's intro log!

I CAN'T FEEL MY FACE WHEN I'M WITH YOU

Winter has made its way to Beacon. It's fortunate that plenty of snow gear has been made available at the general store, so this is a great time for those with little-to-no experience with genuine snow to get out there and draw some angels or build forts for some playful snowball fights! At least...it is, at first. Linger too long and you'll find yourself caught in the middle of a raging blizzard that seems to have swept in out of nowhere. In an instant things seem to go from cold to freezing, and the need to get back inside where there's safety from the elements is pressing. Fortunately, you aren't alone. It might not be your usual residence, but more than one of you have tumbled into the same shelter, and will probably be stuck in there until the worst of the storm passes. No time to get to know each other like the present, right? Gotta break the ice somehow (haha).

network prompts

RUN BOY RUN

The changes in the weather isn't the only thing that residents old and new need to keep weary of. While a great many of the forest spirits remain generally friendly, traveling alone comes with its risks. There's always the possibility that you may encounter a creature that's less inclined to let you pass it by unscathed. And so it goes for you as you venture out into the trees with your lantern and torch in hand. Whatever reason you had for starting out alone, and whatever got you to this point, you've had to take shelter from a very, very displeased spirit. Maybe it has a body not meant for climbing, and you've scaled high up into a tree that it won't let you down from, or maybe you've taken shelter inside of a structure that it's too big to squeeze itself into. Whatever the case, it's clear that your pursuer isn't giving up the ghost (haha), and you'll need to contact someone for some form of help to get yourself out of this.

1000 FORMS OF FEAR

It's a normal day in Beacon...which means that something inconvenient at best and terrifying at worst must be just around the corner. Whether or not you're on edge about the relative calm, it doesn't seem that anything weird is happening...until you try and post to the network. No matter how many times you try, the message you intend to write erases itself. As if someone else has hacked into your tablet, a new message re-types itself in front of your eyes. One of your greatest fears or greatest regrets announces itself for all to see, and there's no getting rid of it. All attempts at getting rid of it are fruitless, and it doesn't seem that you can back out of the new post window now that you're here. Your only option now is to hit send. But, hey, your fellow residents are a pretty understanding lot. Maybe they won't hold whatever it is against you. Maybe you can explain it away. There's always lying, too, if you want to go that method of covering your tracks.

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Comments

clark kent / superman | dc live-action (superman anthology + dctv)

[uplifters]

i can’t feel my face when i’m with you.

[ Clark isn’t used to the dark or the cold. It’s a jarring experience for someone who absorbs a considerable amount of energy from a yellow sun; he’s not scared, per se, but it’ll take some time to adjust. Though the lantern he takes with him provides an all right amount of light, it’s nothing compared to a star.

The light isn't the only thing he needs to get used to, though. It didn’t snow much in Smallville, and while Metropolis had its cold spots, Clark doesn't think he's ever experienced a blizzard before. He looks out the window, lantern held up close, and exhales softly at the sight of the flurries flying all about in the air. ]

I found blankets. [ He peers his head into the room his apparent companion here’s decided to hole up in. True enough, held in the arm opposite the one with his lantern are a few rolls of them. ]

I don’t suppose you saw a fireplace in here?

run boy run.

[ Apparently trying to make peace with the animal that looked spooked by him had been a bad idea. Clark clutches his side where the creature’s claws had slashed into him, slowing from his run and seeking shelter with his back against a tree. It’s not a good look; blood leaks between his fingers, even if he presses down firmly, and though the wound isn’t nearly as bad as it would have been for a regular human, for a man used to invincibility, it sure is something.

It occurs to him as he catches his breath that his surroundings are completely dark, and Clark takes a few moments to consider why this is something he should be concerned by when he’s already surmised this whole place is dark in general.

That’s when it hits him— ] My lantern. [ And he turns his head, looking the way he’d come, only to have the darkness greet him in turn.

That is, until he sees a light.

A light means another lantern, doesn’t it? And that must mean another person. Clark gets to his feet, still clutching his wound, and makes his way towards it. ]

Hello? [ Oh, goodness, if it’s another creature, he’s going to be toast. ] Hello, is someone out there?

1000 forms of fear. ( un: kent )

I couldn’t save them.

Strange how you can still feel so much guilt over something you thought you'd moved on from.

wildcard.

[ Hit me with whatever! Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or would like me to write a starter, etc. ]

un: gwenzelle

[gwenzelle]

"strange" is a really light way of putting it.

if it makes you feel any better ( i know it won't, but y'know ) you're not the only one getting hit with it hard here. nothing like being told you're dead to make you rethink just about everything, huh?

[uplifters]

Honestly, I'm still trying to process the fact there's an afterlife to begin with.

How long have you been here? Dead?

[gwenzelle]

an afterlife that feels just as real as being alive, yeah. like i don't even know if i would have realized, if they hadn't told me.

a few days, i think. i haven't exactly been counting.

stop boy stop

[pearlstrings]

[He isn't sure that what he's seeing is real.

That is to say, Bruce is very sure, as he hears leaves and twigs crunching underfoot- that he's listening to a chase. There's nothing sedate about the pace of the drumming and though from an outside perspective it might look as if he's lurched reflexively into motion, Bruce has chosen to follow the sound. These details, the rhythm and the direction, the way his own breath clouds in the air, this he's certain of. But when he finds a lantern on its side out here and no figure to whom it belongs- he has his doubts.

He'd found the shards of a lantern just like this after all, a month ago, and the wound is still fresh no matter how careful he is to keep it out of sight. He misses Jim Gordon but how much can it mean in a life full to the brim of missing? Of people he will never be able to say goodbye to.

The suspicion isn't unreasonable. There had been a month of constant hallucinations, of varying intensities, that plagued every resident in Beacon. There's no reason to believe it could only happen once. But fear has never been enough to convince Bruce to look the other way. He stands over the lantern for a long moment, aware of the differences in shape and size and contour and he knows that it isn't the same, that the flame inside is still burning strong, and that there's a smear of-

He grazes it with one fingertip.
Blood.

Bruce lifts the lantern and carefully brushes away loose dirt. He can conjecture at where it's owner might have gone but he can't stay still, he needs to start closing the distance. The lantern is tucked into the bend of one elbow, allowing him to keep his right hand free- but he doesn't need to search for very long. He hears it in the distance first. Hello? Then a little louder. Is someone out there?]

It's dangerous to go too far from your lantern.

[uplifters]

[ A warning is still a response, and Clark lets out a soft sigh, both his shoulders relaxing as he steps forward towards the light in the distance (it’s eerie that it only truly lights its immediate area, Clark notes). ] Is it? [ But being given such a specific warning must mean this person must have found the aforementioned lantern—and indeed, the closer the boy comes, the brighter its flame will burn, restored to its original form now that it’s been reunited with its owner.

Clark hadn’t really thought too hard about any literal tethers to the item, having grown attached to it more because of the ‘S’ shaped in the cast iron. It looked like something from home, from Krypton, and having arrived in the afterlife with it, Clark assumed it was simply something he had to care for ever since.

Dropping it had been a reflex of surprise when the claws slashed into him. Clark hadn’t even stopped to think when the superspeed kicked in and caused him to flee instead of stay and fight an innocent animal.

Still, his tone is kind when he admits a quiet, ] Thank you. [ And though he looks surprised and then sad when he really, truly gets to see who’s helped him—or, rather, how young the boy is—the expression lasts for only a moment before Clark smiles again, sheepish. ] I don’t know if I would’ve made it all alone out here.

[ The hand on his side is bloody in a way he isn’t used to, but his free one is clean save for the dirt on it, and held out for Clark to take his lantern back. ]

I guess you don’t share that problem, huh?

[pearlstrings]

[It isn't someone he recognizes. This isn't a new experience for Bruce, who has never been particularly social of his own volition, but he keeps meticulous notes. In this place a lantern is as unique as a fingerprint; as soon as the bonfire is out of sight these pinpricks become beacons in their own right, they draw the eye everywhere they go.

Bruce's head shakes, a dismissal of the question as the lantern is lifted out of his hands. He has other priorities as soon as the light shifts and he's able to see the blood for himself. Bruce's eyes flick up. He doesn't look especially pale or clammy, his pupils are round and reactive. His eyes flick back down and Bruce reaches for the man's side; there is a decision in that too. Bruce moves with deliberate slowness not because he's wary or inexperienced, but because he's learned to telegraph his movements in his time here. It gives the other a chance to pull away and by extension, offers the veneer of privacy.]

You might have surprised yourself.

[But if he is allowed to make contact, there's something almost practiced about his touch. Not clinical, just familiar. He's trying to get a look- to see the extent of the injury, the severity, and to pare his options down from there. In the process, this movement reveals his own lantern, looped with rope and secured to the belt around his waist. It means the little owl is readily hidden from view but also that both of his hands can remain free.]

May I?

un: romanoff

[ofmarble]

That's the trouble with moving on from guilt. Eventually, you have to stop moving.

[uplifters]

And being dead means there's nowhere else to carry it but with me, doesn't it?

run boy run

[paraskeptic]

[ a light does, indeed, mean another lantern, and fortunately the woman inn possession of this one has come prepared. she's not exactly keen to stitch people up out in the woods, but she can bandage them so they can make their way back to the village without leaking blood and potentially drawing more unwanted spirit attention. ]

Yes. I'm headed your way, don't move.

[uplifters]

Oh-- [ So Clark stops short, and he'd lift both his hands, but the other's far too preoccupied putting pressure on the wound. One hand ought to do for now. ] Yes, ma'am.

Ah... can you see me?

—1000 forms / @parker

[webshoots]

[ it strikes a chord, but peter's not prepared to really admit how much of a chord it hits — all of it except the "moving on" bit. the guilt doesn't sit in quite the same way it had in the days and months after they'd died (they — ben and gwen and captain stacy and charlie and—), but it still sits there.

it doesn't really lessen, peter thinks, it just changes shape. it becomes less tender and less raw, more of a—.

well, in his case, he supposes it's something of a security blanket at this point. he doesn't know who he'd be without that guilt. ]

Something I've learned: moving on doesn't mean it goes away, it just means it becomes a part of you in a slightly different way.

[uplifters]

I preferred my guilt as a memory. [ One that strengthened him, in any case, instead of making him feel the same debilitating regret it did all those years ago.

But if this truly is some place of purgatory, then Clark isn't surprised it'd push those feelings back into the forefront of his mind. That doesn't make him feel any less exhausted by it. ]

You aren't wrong, though, even if the same can be said for any experience and any feeling.

I only wish this machine made me remember something happier than what it did.

i can't feel my face

[notthatjason]

[Clark's new cabin companion and snow buddy is a tall, teenage boy with blonde hair and gold-trimmed glasses. Despite wearing layers, he's still cold since he's more accustomed to the pleasant temperatures of California and specifically the godly controlled weather of New Rome. Jason rubbed his hands together, trying to get warm enough or think warm enough thoughts to generate a warm breeze. So far he'd just done enough to spark up a little static, and that wasn't exactly warm. At least they'd found a solid shelter, which was a step in the right direction.

The room was, unfortunately, rather bare. He turned back to the door when he heard the voice. They hadn't had much of a chance to exchange words before running in here out of the dark and cold.]

Sadly, no. We didn't get that lucky...[He notices the blankets and he cheers up a bit at that, the light catching on his glasses.] but you clearly did. Score!

((ooc: Wanted to give you a heads up on Jason's canon. There are a LOT of references to superheroes, especially from this guy who is a not-so-secret nerd. Double fun is he is often compared to Superman, both for his ability to fly and his persona as a "golden boy." If that's going to be a problem I can pretend Jason's fictional "Superman" is different enough, though it has always been a dream of mine for Jason to meet Superman/Clark <3 I just didn't want to blindside your character's fourth wall. If it helps Jason wouldn't make a fuss other than to probably be a bit starry eyed.))

[uplifters]

[ Hi! I'm totally cool with Superman existing in his universe-- but maybe his alter-ego's name in Jason's comics isn't Clark Kent, just so Jason won't be able to put together that Clark is Supes? :D He can totally know his Kryptonian name is Kal-El, though-- I'd just prefer it if the Clark persona and the Superman persona weren't readily known as one and the same. Jason can find out later on when Clark's in-game AHEM AHEM ]

[ The boy's reaction earns him a smile on Clark's end, but it is decidedly difficult to see it in all this darkness. ] It's better than nothing, right? [ And he comes forward, setting his cast iron lantern down.

...or, at least, it has what might be the consistency of cast iron, but the material itself looks almost translucent, the flames of the lantern within making it glitter and shine like a rainbow. There's a big 'S' on the front, made of the same crystal-esque thing. ]

Here. [ Having gotten down on his knees on the floor, Clark hands two of his three rolled up blankets. ] I do pretty, uh, okay in the cold, so don't worry about me.

can't feel my face

[punctually]

Nope.

[ there might be a bit of a breeze moving past clark right before he peers into the room, but peter is there regardless, pushing his goggles back up as he stands with a pile of cushions at his feet. ]

But, [ there's a glance at the blankets in clark's arms once he turns around, mouth quirking up into the beginnings of a grin. ] We got enough stuff to make a fort, though. If you're into that.

[uplifters]

A fort? [ His head tilts, definitely curious, and he looks from the (dim) excited face of the young man before him back down to the blankets he's collected. ] ...like a blanket fort?

[ His son had made plenty of those, he remembers. Jason had had some uncanny knack for it.

But Jason was also gone. ]

Hmm. I don't, uh, know the design basics of it, [ which isn't a lie-- Clark was only ever the muscle, not the main architect ] but golly, I'd be happy to try if you taught me.

can't feel my face

[withsadness]

We don't need fire!

[Mary, who's climbed up onto a chair, swings her lantern around to hold it up between them. She's very adamant about this, and gives her best smile. It looks like she's not really that worried about freezing.]

It's okay! We'll make a big nest, like Rastus! Have you ever been in his house? Have you seen his nest? It's really funny and I like it!

[uplifters]

Hmm. [ Clark makes a big deal of thinking about this, and then shakes his head. ] No, I don't think so.

What did his nest look like? [ He puts the rolls of blankets down, then picks the first one up to flap it out once for straightening. ] I've never, uh, seen a big one before.

i can't feel my face when i'm with you~

[cornwallis]

[ The idea of an afterlife isn't exactly unsettling to Fitzjames - he's always believed in it, he just didn't expect it to be quiet like this. He thought it would be... well. Different. And he wonders if, maybe, he's here because he doesn't deserve to be someplace else. He's made a lot of bad choices, and he regrets all of them.

The cold and the dark, however, doesn't seem to faze him. He barely even seems to notice it, but then, he'd spent months in the Arctic Circle before this, so really, this is practically balmy in comparison. ]

Stellar. A fireplace, but no fuel - not that it matters, [ Fitzjames, thin and narrow - he died sickly, a voluntary euthanasia after a period of months - stands, his coat loose on his shoulders as he dusts his hands off. ] if we can find enough material, I can start one.

[uplifters]

"Material". [ Clark goes to set the rolls of blankets down on the nearest surface, and when he straightens (or at least straightens as much as his poor posture can allow), he pushes his glasses gently up his nose. ] Hm.

Like... um. [ He thinks about it. ] Dry things? Paper?

I don't know what we can use to, uh, maintain it, though.

i'm wildcarding you and you can't stop me

[slimjims]

[ He recognizes the shape, immediately.

He'd know the way Clark Kent stands anywhere, even after a million years and then some, because there's something so distinct about him - even from behind, even standing however many feet away.

Still, like the absolute moron he is, Jimmy lifts his camera and zooms in with the lens. He doesn't want to approach if he's wrong, doesn't want to screw it up by launching himself at a relative stranger --

But it's definitely him.

Jimmy takes off, camera thumping against his sternum, and shoves it out of the way just in time to practically tackle unsuspecting Clark Kent from behind, flinging both arms around his middle, cheek against his shoulderblade. God forbid he's wrong and he's just pitched himself at some random person he's never met before. ]

Clark!

;________;

[uplifters]

[ Is it strange to recognise something by scent despite not smelling it for over a decade?

There's a weird sense of confusion as Clark tries to discern between reality and his imagination. He's dreamed enough about Jimmy Olsen for this to be a concern (had dreamed of all of them together again, really, having dinner or drinking beers or even standing in Perry's office to be yelled at), and for a moment he just thinks it's a trick of his mind.

But the weight that thumps into his back-- he stays unmoving, of course, because there's no need to fake it for your imagination-- is solid, and the voice that hits his ears is familiar, and Clark's eyes go wide at the same time his heart stops thumping in his chest.

See, when he found out he'd died the first thing that came to mind had been everyone he'd ever lost and whether he'd find them here or not. Running across town in super-speed had shown him just how futile that was; no-one else was here, and Clark was as alone as ever.

But that's Jimmy, he realises, turning slowly to look over his shoulder and seeing a familiar mop of red hair. It's Jimmy, who smells and sounds like Jimmy, and whose arms may not be strong enough for Clark to feel the squeeze, but are still solid around him.

Funny how often you can dream a scenario and still not be ready for the real thing.

Clark's eyes are going wet. He tries to keep his voice steady. ] Jimmy...?

[ Please, please be real. ]

...you're as energetic as ever, huh, pal?

1000 forms of fear | un: scoops

[piglatins]

I think we're all pretty much doomed to hold onto our mistakes in one way or another. Not the most uplifting thought in the world, I know, but at least you're not alone? If that's any kind of comfort. Sorry. Not the best pep talk.

[uplifters]

It's a better pep talk than you give yourself credit for. "Not being alone" is as good as it gets sometimes, don't you think?

I'm sure our mistakes make up who we are as much as our successes do. It's just a little frustrating this machine made me remember one of them.