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newcombers2024-05-23 02:01 am
newcomod) wrote in newcombers2024-05-23 02:01 am
Entry tags:
May 2024 Test Drive Meme: The First of Many to Come
We will officially be opening our game June 1st at 12:01 AM EST.
Reserves will open on May 28th at 12:01 AM EST.
Applications will open on the 1st at 12:01 AM EST.
Applications will close on the 5th at 11:59 PM EST.
Please follow our Plurk
Our memes are open to current and prospective players alike.
All Test Drive memes are game canon and serve as a lead-up to the following month's event. The first prompt in each TDM will always coincide with the disastrous circumstances of Penumbra's collision.
This disaster will leave unique supplies or conditions for the following month until the reset in time occurs and a new collision invokes new circumstances.
Most characters upon initial arrival may suffer mild amnesia, fatigue, and diminished powers. Memories, energy, and powers will eventually return. Per player choice, this can be quickly or slowly.
You can use your TDM threads for writing samples on your application.
If you are applying for a new character, you can choose to keep your TDM threads canon to your character or not.
Even if our current players do not engage with the TDM, we strongly recommend they read each TDM to be aware of how Penumbra strikes Newcomb every month. We encourage characters to react to this via network or log posts in the community spaces.
Image Descriptions from left to right: First image is a red train pictured along raised tracks set against pine trees in sunlight, second image is a gif of a train explosion as people flee from the destruction, third image is of a dark sky with orange lightning.
Prompt
Once upon a time, Newcomb had its very own train station that was used by students and staff alike. Most students would arrive at campus via the train and supplies were often shipped in through the train. This very train station used to be located by Fitch End and was one of the first out-of-campus locations to be destroyed by Penumbra. This month, it seems as if the reset has brought the train back. For a moment, anyway. One may awaken from a deep slumber in one of the passenger cars, groggy and nearly jetlagged. You will be surrounded by other characters waking up, just as disoriented and confused as you are.
The train ride itself isn't so bad though. The scenery beyond the windows is filled with gorgeous sprawling woods, already tinged with the golds and reds of autumn. The smell of pine and old leather fills the train and you will find your backpack in a cubby just above your head or on the seat beside you.
There is no way to exit the train at this point, no matter how one might try. What is the point anyway? Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Something is soothing about a train ride, after all. You may even feel tempted to fall back asleep. Maybe things will make more sense when you wake up again.
You won't have peace for long. The train jolts violently as if being struck by something, and after, everything descends into chaos. Cars begin to slam together, some smashing upward, shattering glass and doors, crushing seats. Explosions burst from the front of the train, and as it pivots onto campus, it scorches the ground.
Cars break apart, sliding into their destruction here and there against buildings or trees. It feels as though it happens both slowly and rapidly, defying time itself, the sound of a ticking clock somehow overwhelming the symphony of metal scraping against metal.
Oil from the train catches fire across campus grounds. While the buildings are fireproof and resilient, the rest of the campus is not and neither are some characters who may be wandering about perchance. As the disaster comes to a screeching halt, characters will have to help each other from the wreckage and help put out the fires.
The train will remain on campus for June. It can be broken apart for metal parts and explored for small, sentimental items or important weapons that belong to a character. The train will vanish in the blink of an eye as midnight hits on the 31st. The Penumbric siren alerts the campus of the reset and the incoming meteor and its potential new disaster.
You will have to brace yourself for what happens next.
Note on Penumbric Collision Prompts: Characters do not need to arrive in this prompt. You may opt-out entirely by having your character fall through the sky or wake up incredibly disoriented randomly on campus. Arrival to Newcomb should be somewhat physically and/or mentally draining or damaging. Even characters resistant to pain or injury will be temporarily vulnerable to the arrival.
Image Descriptions from left to right: First image is a shadowy humanoid with a black and gray smudge effect concealing the face, second image is a pair of hands covered in a black goopy substance, third image has several clear vials containing a smoky, goopy black substance.
Prompt
A curious boxcar can be discovered among the wreckage of the train. This boxcar was carefully sealed off and kept at freezing temperatures. Inside were metal crates filled with test tubes and Petri dishes containing a mysterious black goo. During the fall, the boxcar's front end was ripped away. Between the raging fires from the crash and the exposure to higher temperatures, the vials and petri dishes thawed. Vials and Petri dishes began to break apart as the mysterious goo essentially "woke up" from its cryogenic state and escaped from the glass containers.
This mysterious goo seeks out living organisms and will subtly attach itself to character bodies. This can be as subtle as a dime-sized speck of mysterious goo behind a character's ear or consume half a character's body. The goo's attachment is painless. It has a tarlike odor and causes a strange prickling sensation the longer it remains attached to a character.
After some time, the goo will naturally slide off a character. Alternatively, a character can apply freezing water or ice to the goo and this will essentially "kill" the goo and slough it off in broken chunks.
While the goo is attached to characters, it will cause uncontrollable, unusual behavior. On a less severe end, symptoms may include disorientation, difficulty walking, slurred speech, confusion, and clinginess even to strangers. On a more extreme end, the goo may cause characters to act in ways contradictory to who they typically are: they may be prone to fits of violence, hysteria, flirtation, cruelty, or even for some, abundant kindness and outgoing friendliness.
The goo will automatically make characters want to interact with other characters whether positively or negatively. It uses these interactions as a way to migrate from one host to the next.
Image Descriptions from left to right: First image has a playing card and two white dice, second image has a text bubble that reads, "I'm not a Soft Gay I'm an Anger Gay. I love dogs and burning things." Third image shows a field of grass and wildflowers with a free-standing picture frame with torn canvas, the torn spot revealing a city scape image.
Prompt.
Who isn't familiar with the bizarre urge to overshare to total strangers online? It would appear that the mysterious goo has an intimate understanding of this instinct and intends to capitalize on it.In other words, the mysterious goo's influence is not limited to in-person interactions. Even characters unfamiliar with technology will have the burning desire to get out their new phone and create a public post to all Fermii users containing two truths and a lie about themselves.
These can range from embarrassing and silly to serious and incriminating. Characters will continue to feel an itch to respond transparently to those who correctly guess which is which. Even the most sophisticated and chronic liars cannot resist the force of the mysterious goo's presence.
The urge to overshare will ebb away the more truth is exposed.
Ironically, this may be a minor blessing to those unfamiliar with smartphone technology. It would seem that the mysterious goo has managed to assimilate the knowledge of how smartphones work and helpfully pass it into the mind of its host. However, the price of exposure might not be worth the shortcut to knowledge.
Tom Zane | Alan Wake 2
cws: references to immolation, memory loss, paranoia, derealization, depersonalization, substance use
The man asleep in the train car certainly doesn't look like he was prepared for travel; leaning against the window, wild, dark curls hanging loose in his face and stuck between the back of his head and the pane of glass, snoring faintly from the awkward position. He has no shoes or socks on, no shirt - only a pair of tight leather pants and a black pinstriped blazer, worn open so his chest is exposed. Costume jewelry glitters on his fingers and wrists, set against skin pale enough that he may as well not have seen the light in years.
For the most part, he hasn't.
So when he stirs awake, slitting one crystal blue eye open, the sudden change of scenery catches him off guard. He looks around with a start, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. A train? When did he get on a train?
"What-?"
Reeling, he ignores any company he may have and tries to orient himself with the basics, looking down at his own attire with a frown. He's...a diver? No, wait, he's a poet. Or both? Which is correct? They both feel correct and incorrect at the same time. His head throbs, and he pitches forward, grasping at his curls and murmuring to himself in quavering Finnish.
At least, he does until there's a greater lurching, the screech of metal scraping and tearing, and the world tumbles end over end.
The next thing he knows is the sensation of being pinned across the chest and one arm under a displaced, crumpled row of seats, coughing in the thick black smoke that is filling the cabin with alarming speed. He tries to pull free.
He can't.
"Help-" He calls out, weakly at first, confused and filled with vague memories of a burnt out subway car, of charred bodies in great piles inside. Another attempt to wriggle free. There's a backpack on the ground, just beyond his foot. He can't even reach that.
He should be able to do more than this. Shouldn't he?
"HELP!"
Act Two - The Goo:
cws: Parasitic control, derealization, depersonalization, substance use
For most people, glimpsing a black, tar-like ooze moving across the ground of its own volition would probably set off some alarm bells in one's head. Shimmering little drops of darkness, seeking, reaching out towards life nearby would probably seem like cause for concern.
Unfortunately, most people haven't spent the last few decades living in a liminal dimension under a lake where the constant drip of animate darkness was the norm.
To Tom, when he reaches down to investigate the substance and it latches onto his wrist like another bracelet, it's pretty much just a normal Tuesday.
The auteur doesn't even realize that anything is amiss, honestly. He sways and staggers as he walks, barefoot, the world spinning around and around in a great spiral until he stumbles to the ground, laying out on the dirt, staring breathlessly up into the sky. His backpack rolls a couple feet from him, but he doesn't feel concerned.
Probably just the bit of mushroom he took this morning to take the edge off of reality.
(It's not the mushroom.)
If approached, he grins, wide and mad, blue eyes glittering as he brings his fingers together like a viewfinder.
"Whaaaaat a GREAT angle! Can y - can you hold still, right there? And let me jussssssst...getmy. Camera."
But he doesn't move.
He's just staring at you.
Act Three - Two Truths and a Lie:
cw: references to death/gun violence, unreality, parasitic compulsion
un: YotonYo
Oh, this is a fun game! I want to play, too. =)
1 - I have no idea how old I am.
2 - I have been shot in the head dozens of times.
3 - I have lived for decades on a lake.
Paljon onnea!
Wildcard
((Howdy, I'm Vin! Happy to match format for any of this. Sorry in advance for this menace of a man.
I'm not really on Plurk at the moment, but please feel free to reach out via DM or on Discord at Vincira if you wanna cook something up! =D))
Act 2
Now he's just annoyed.
So, naturally, he smacks the guy's hands to "break" the camera.
"Knock it off, you creep. You're just..." He gestures vaguely with his left hand, looking the guy's body over for the thing. The- ah! He points.
"That. Your stupid brain is getting manipulated to act weird. You need to get that shit off of you." Who knew what it was doing in the long term.
no subject
Besides, everything is sort of swimming right now, and he doesn't care what kind of attention he's getting. Only that he's getting attention.
"Aren't...we all getting manipulated? To act weiiird? One way'r another?" He blinks blearily, then finally lifts his arm to look again at the substance latched onto his wrist.
"But. Do you mean...this bit of Darkness, here?"
act three
un: YotonYo
You're right, though! Good guess, man. I've lived under a lake for decades, actually.
Act Two
Eda's eyes glance over his unsecured backpack for the barest second before meeting Tom's eyes. She smirks—making sure to show of her gold fang—and strikes a bit of pose, flipping her hair dramatically.
Never mind that her arm is a cut up and her dress a bit tattered from the train wreck, but hey, it's how you rock it.
"Good eye. Apocalyptic isn't usually my style, but variety, right?"
Dear sweet lord these two feel like they'll get along like a house on fire
"You w-wear it well."
He beams, his grin much too wide, dropping his arm to the side to try to reach for his backpack while he slurs from the grass.
"I'm a celebrated auteur - I know...I knowwww what works by now. And you! You have such a look."
There's a strangeness to the way he looks, just for a moment. An artificiality to his presence, like he isn't really there. But his powers aren't working right now, so it's little more than a celluloid flicker.
He sits up, shaking debris from his curls.
"Has anyone...ever said you have a face for camera? You have PRESENCE."
They'll show that literal train wreck what a REAL train wreck looks like
Eda gives her impressive volume of hair an even more exaggerated flip as she approaches a little closer, circling over to the backpack side in the process.
"Of course I have presence! I'm the dang Owl Lady! I'm kind of a big deal where I'm from," she says with a practiced arrogance that was projected rather than felt in this very confusing circumstance. Eda kneels, on the other side the backpack, reaching for it herself.
"Why don't you lay back down and tell me what you wanted to retrieve from here?" Her tone shifts to something cheeky and humorous. "No offense, buddy, but you look like you and gravity are having a heck of an argument right now."
no subject
Unfortunately for Eda, there are few things in his peculiar life that Tom is fiercely protective of - and one of them happens to be in that backpack. Even as addled as he is, he's not about to let someone else touch it.
But he's also a schmoozer by nature, and that's being amplified by the goo, so instead of laying back down, he crawls on his hands and knees to meet the stranger halfway over the pack.
He giggles a little, his pupils more than a bit blown out up close. The substance around his wrist prickles a little. He kinda likes it.
"Thaaaaank you, sweetheart, but I'm - I'm an experienced psychonaut. Everything is copasetic. Just...just wanted to get you on camera, yeah?"
no subject
Eda might be a career scammer, but her pride and fierce individualism overpowers her greed. She sits back on her heels, blinking, then furrows her brow.
"Coincidence? How? Is someone else here claiming to be the Owl Lady?!"
Her charm evaporates. Eda suddenly leans forward, seizing Tom by the front of his shirt and pointing at his face threateningly with her other hand. "Tell me where she is so I can punch her in the face! To establish dominance, as the superior Owl Lady!"
Priorities.
no subject
But then he laughs a little, a breathless, easygoing thing, and a dopey grin spreads back across his face.
"No - no, you misunderstand me. There'ssss no oth'r Owl LADY I've known! Not here, 'r anywhere. I knew a Lamp Lady but thaaat was. Different." One hand lifts off the ground to gesture in the air. He has the urge to put his hand over hers, where she's grasping his jacket (the parasite is eager to move hosts, after all), but dammit, he has a point to make and he simply MUST talk with his hands.
"No, I just mean - owls! Ooooowls. They're real important, where 'm from. I think - I think meeting you? It's a COSMIC OMEN. You get me?"
no subject
She hums a flat noise of contemplation. "Good. Though, me and cosmic omens have about a 50/50 track record. Not sure how I feel about bein' one." Then a self-satisfied smirk breaks out on her soot-smudged face. "But I get you. Owls are pretty important."
Why was she here, again? Right. This poor shmuck's stuff. The setup for swiping valuables out of his backpack was all wrong now. Though, she might be able to palm a piece of jewelry or pickpocket something...
no subject
Never mind that one of those bracelets is moving a little bit.
"They arrrrrrrrrre. The...the mark of th' writer. I - maybeit'snot aaaaa...an accident, th- that we met, Miss......uhhhhhh.........Owl............Lady......."
act two
He's about to say something when another wave of that odd light-headedness hits him and he sits, as well. He's been having these dizzy spells off and on, for the past few hours. Things feel a bit fuzzy around the edges, and he can't quite remember why he was walking this way in the first place.
Still, the man next to him remains barefoot. But when Darling turns to say he might want to find shoes, something hits him. A feeling of deja vu.
He squints a little, taking off his glasses to clean them on the bottom of his sweater vest.
"You look familiar."
Eyyyyyyyy
Even as the parasite wound around his wrist muddies his already twice-addled mind, the artist squints back, voice thoughtful as his eyebrows knit together.
"...And you...ssssound familiar," he replies, spinning a bit with the deja vu of it all. He rolls more fully onto his side, swaying a little in place when he sits up. The goo at his wrist wants him to get closer, and it doesn't have to ask Tom twice.
"Don't I...know you f'rm somewhere, handsome?"
no subject
"You shouldn't be out here like this, you know. You should -- here," he says, and holds out the poncho he'd found earlier in his backpack. He already has on a cardigan and sweater vest, so he's perfectly comfortable. But the other man might not be.
no subject
He has no idea. He doesn't care, either, at the moment. His chest is bruised up from the crash, and if he's very honest with himself, the shock does have him feeling uncharacteristically chilly.
"Kiitos,," he slurs, haphazardly tugging the thing around his shoulders. "'M okay, though. Loooooot colder where I come from. Just got.......knocked around........on th-the train."
He rubs at a little bruise on his chin, the parasite glistening amongst his bracelets.
"But seriously, you...do I...know you?"
no subject
"Finland?" he asks, distracted. And then blinks at himself, sitting up a little straighter. "No, where did I get that from. I've never been to Finland. Have I...?"
There are odd flashes of memory floating around his brain, like television static. A distant voice on the radio, tinny due to the weak signal but so familiar. Or is it just his shaky memory making the voice seem so far away? The more he tries to pull it together, the more it fights to float away.
no subject
"...How did you know that, man?" His brows furrow, and he scoots just a little closer. "D'you knowww...the language, or something?"
The parasite prickles around his arm, responding to the closer proximity, hoping to spread. Tom is just being Tom, as far as he knows. Notoriously touchy-feely. Strangely, he feels like he has touched this man before.
But he tries to laugh it off, because his brain is muzzy.
"Dooooon't mind me, darling. I think I...I think maybe I'm just a little...high, for all this."
no subject
The comment pulls him up short, however, startling him out of his line of thought. "Well we must have met, if you know my name already."
no subject
Besides, what this man has just said is plenty distraction on its own.
"Your name is...Darling? I just meant - I meant it like. Like people...callll people darling. I think. I - wait. Wait, did I...? Did I know that...?"
Expression screwing tight with the effort of trying to recall, the artist reaches out towards the other man, oblivious to the fact that the parasite is writhing vaguely against his arm....
no subject
"I don't mean to be alarming, but one of your bracelets seems to be moving...?" Which does ring bells, in the back of his foggy mind. Black shapes, moving, writhing in a way that is deeply unnatural. Swarming over people -- bodies? So still but still moving.
Darling shakes his head to try and clear it.
no subject
The parasite settles a little when Darling leans back and away, and Tom pouts a bit at being denied the touch.
"That? Thaaaaat is just. Some Darkness. Nothing I'm not uuuused to." But if he focuses, he can feel it there. The Dark Presence doesn't normally feel like much.
He frowns, staring at it.
"...Wait. Wait, something is... something isn't right."
no subject
"Oh -- oh dear. I don't have -- " Darling sits up on his knees, digging through his pack again, not entirely sure what he's looking for but knowing somewhere in his mind that he should know how to deal with this.
"Try to get it off you. If you can."
no subject
Something about that feels right, feels familiar, but - god, it's all fuzzy, it's far away, and -
"I should?" Tom looks at the substance glistening around his wrist and frowns. Maybe IT is wrong
But his attempts to shake it off are useless, and when he tries to get ahold of it, worse still. He looks to the other man, blue eyes full of confusion.
"I - can't.
Help.
Casper?
Help?"
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