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newcombers2024-05-23 02:01 am
newcomod) wrote in newcombers2024-05-23 02:01 am
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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.
holland vosijk | shades of magic
The last thing that Holland remembers is-- dying.
He'd never thought that the trip to the afterlife would involve a train, but the vivid colors of the autumn leaves catch his eye and distract him for just long enough that he's not on guard when the violent jolt hits. Everything gets upended; metal screams as it warps, trees cracking and splintering, and the world seems to revolve around him, spinning. Something solid hits the back of his head.
He wakes on the shattered remains of a window, grass and torn soil. The cabin has fallen on its side. And for a long moment, his eyes hurt. The colors are too vivid. The red of the fire starting to rouse in one corner, the verdant grass, even the shining silver of the train walls opened up. So much more vivid than his home and its dying, withering, barely revitalizing colors. Pain hits, then. An old friend.
Holland climbs to his feet. It seems safe to assume that he's not dead. But where is he?
One thing at a time.
There's someone else nearby. Holland lifts a piece of luggage off of them, and stares downward, gaze assessing, one eye green, the other eye edge-to-edge black. Despite the visibly broken and bloody arm that hangs at his side, there's no pain on his face. Instead, he offers his other hand.
"Can you stand?" he asks, seemingly unruffled. "There's a fire starting, and I don't think I can do anything about it." He thinks he can feel it, but-- his magic should be gone. Sacrificed. "So if you don't want to die here, I suggest you move."
Backpack slung over his good shoulder, Holland takes some time to adjust once he makes his way out of the crashed train. Everything is still so vivid, like the other worlds he's traveled through, but he doesn't think this is another version of London. The air is too different, the sense of magic unknown. The other people on the train are dressed too electically.
Besides. He didn't travel here. He died. And then woke up on a train. Wherever this is, it's not anywhere he knows.
Holland has kept a wide berth from the remnants of the crashed train, especially the one with the metal crates spilling out of it. But other people are apparantly more curious -- or stupider -- than he is, and are either looking through them or just standing near.
Something's moving through the grass.
He grabs the nearest person's arm and yanks them back. The motion sends ripples of pain through his broken arm, but that's the least of his issues. And it's then that he notices the black goo climbing up the person's hand.
"You might want to do something about that." Holland's voice is perfectly neutral. Like there's not a burning train car and people with injuries and black goo crawling over this person's skin. "I have a knife if you want to hack it off."
un: londoncalling
[ ooc: also open to any wildcard prompt! holland is being taken from the end of the third book in the series (shades of magic by v.e. schwab) -- for the uninitiated, he's a magician that can do various types of blood-triggered magic and elemental control, and he's never had a good thing happen to him ever. i think he's smiled like once lmao ]
two truths & a lie
she's seen worse than the second and third in remembrance observances back home, so....]
First one's a lie, unless you have access to some really interesting exotics. You're not planning to kill anyone here, are you?
[as if any answer to that question could be trusted. it would be interesting, though, to see how he responded to it.]
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[ Thus admitting that the first one is actually truth. ]
And no, I'm not actively planning a murder spree here. Not unless someone tries to kill me first.
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Where I come from, exotics are any technology that depends on calendrical mechanics. Ordinary invariant technology just depends on regular physical laws. You can do a lot with exotics, but only under the right calendar. How does magic work for you?
If someone tries to kill you first, I'd say you had an excuse.
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[ That... actually is interesting. Holland's never heard anything like it. ]
My type of magic doesn't depend on calendrical mechanics. It is an inborn ability to effect elements such as water, fire, or bone, as well as various effects triggered by the contact of my blood. Some are born with a very small amount of magic or none at all, and others have immense power.
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[citizens absorb these lessons early in childhood, but now that she writes it out, something prods at her still-jumbled recent memories. something about mothdrive -- what could be strange about the interstellar warmoths and trademoths on which the entire economy depends? why does the thought give her an intense feeling that something is wrong, something she can't fix because they're all trapped here? she frowns and hits send anyway, filing it for later. the existence of non-calendrical ways to break physics is much more interesting right now.]
Like an individual talent in art, or mathematics, but you can influence physical properties, and the ability isn't affected by the environment? Can parents gene-select for magical power? [prebirth genetic tinkering, for anything from looks to personality profiles, has been affordable and commonplace in the hexarchate for as long as she can remember.]
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[ But he is interested. What a fascinating world, so completely different from his own. ]
Magic in my world-group is affected by the environment -- if the magic drains from a world, people are no longer born with the ability to use it, generally. And you cannot select for genetic strength. It was tried extensively, but the results were entirely random.
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this is fascinating -- it's like calendrical terrain, but not tied to the consensus mechanics of mass observances across the population. what do you do without an overwhelmingly homogenous state-sponsored culture that makes technology work?] If people move to a world that still has magic, do they have powers they couldn't channel before?
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[ As far as he knows, anyway. His world has little in the way of academics about such things. ]
I would be interested. What do you mean by official calendar? I get it in the sense of having a rigid structure of days, weeks, and months, as well as official holidays, but I get the sense you mean something different.
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first train in
"I'm... A bit stuck," he admits. He's basically pinned by a broken seat to the ceiling, which now functions as the wall.
The guy's mention of fire makes Peeta's breathing speed up, which hurts his ribs more. He tries not to inhale too deeply. He tries again to push himself out of the metal vice-grip with his free arm, and is rewarded with a wave of nauseating pain.
no subject
"Hold still. I'll figure something out," he says instead, a divot between his brows as he examines the situation. The kid's pinned, and Holland's not strong enough to bend raw metal, but they're working on a short timeline here. The fire's growing.
Shit. If only-- there's a whisper in the back of his mind, an urging, that makes him swipe his good hand over his broken arm to gather some blood, and lay his bloody palm on the broken seat. He shouldn't be able to do this. He doesn't have magic anymore. And yet, when he whispers, "As Steno," the chair breaks, crumbling under his grip into smaller and smaller pieces, metal breaking apart as easily as the cushioning.
Interesting. He'll have to ponder that later.
For now, he holds out his hand, with all the regal emphasis of a king offering a hand to a subject. "Come on. Lean on me, if you have to. We need to get out of here."
no subject
He doesn't know what just happened, but he should thank this guy. Maybe not in this very moment, though.
no subject
Holland goes tense all over as he's grabbed, but stays as still as a statue, letting himself be used for balance. The tiniest twitch of a frown at the corner of his lips is smoothed over after a moment, but luckily for his reflexes and the kid, he's a little distracted by thinking about the evident return of his magic.
...He should probably focus. There's a fire in the corner of the train car that's growing quick, and Holland doesn't want to stick around. He may or may not be able to manipulate it, and from the splitting headache in his temples after breaking the chair, he's guessing the answer is probably not.
So he shakes his good arm loose of his half-cape, and offers it to the kid. "Here. Lean on me," he offers, "we need to get out as quickly as we can."
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"You okay?" He asks the man, then looks toward the train, crumpled and aflame. Shouts come from all around them, it's chaos, people trying to pull others out of the cars, people coughing and choking on smoke.
"There's people still in there... Should we help?"
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He heals quickly enough, and he's not overly concerned with having a broken arm. At some point he'll need to set and wrap it, which he's not looking forward to, but that can easily wait until the larger emergency is dealt with.
Thankfully, the kid can move quick enough once he's free, and they get clear of the smoky cabin and encroaching flames. Holland makes sure he's a safe distance away, and it's then that he realizes there's a lot more people on the train than he thought. Holland's lips thin as he takes in the chaotic scene. There are people still in there.
But he doesn't want this kid going back in there. What if he trips and injures himself more and can't get up? What if gets stuck again? What if he gets trapped by the fire? There's a dull concern in the pit of his gut; a surprising thing, considering Holland had figured he'd long lost most of his ability to feel anything.
"You should stay here. See if you can find anybody that has medical knowledge," he suggests. "I'll do what I can to get the rest of the people out of the train."
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"Okay," he agrees, having a tendency to do as he's told in ambiguous situations like this.
"Thank you. I'd be dead without you," he says quickly, as though that's not an extremely heavy thing to tell someone. He starts to look around for anyone giving first aid, or for anything he could help with that doesn't require much strength. There are backpacks strewn around that look like they have supplies in them, so he opens one up. It's full of useful things, including an oxygen mask.
"Wait!" He calls to the other man, hoping to catch him before he gets back to the train.
"Take a backpack!"
Suddenly, as though uninjured, he throws the backpack easily to the man who saved him.
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first train in
But this stranger is more interesting than most. The irritable scowl washes over his face only briefly, one black-filled eye locking gazes with another. A flicker of surprise, and...
Hm.
Not sure how to feel about that yet, actually. He settles on a cautiously neutral expression, gaze flicking down to the hand, then back up, before completing the gesture with a gloved hand of his own. Sure, why not?
One leg takes a bit of wiggling to pull loose. He can stand, but winces after putting weight on it—and nearly ends up on the ground again before catching a broken train seat.
"Ugh. Close enough," Add grumbles in reply, voice suspiciously deep for a preteen(?). There's plenty of wreckage to use as a handrail, so he'll tug his hand free at the first opportunity. He's willing to hobble out of danger at his own leisurely pace. "Dying would be a nuisance, so I'll manage."
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The kid's leg is injured, and he's apparently determined to make it out of the train under his own steam after only briefly taking his hand for help. If Holland was at all prone to smiling in amusement, he might have done it then, amused at the sheer level of stubbornness on display. He can relate. He wouldn't rely on anybody else to help, either.
"I'll keep an eye on the fire." Holland kicks aside a piece of luggage that's in the kid's path, clearing the way. He can't do anything yet about the blood dripping from his arm -- what a waste, he has better uses for that blood -- so for now, he'll just make sure this kid gets out safely. He forges ahead, backpack slung over one shoulder and picking up another that had been near the kid, assuming it's his. "I'd pick up the pace a little. Getting burned would also be a nuisance."
Two Truths and a Lie - un: Schrödingerscat
Number one is false.
Please say it’s false.
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[ He could, y'know. Clarify that it was in self-defense. But that would mean caring about his reputation, and also having an emotional willingness to share. So. ]
But I won't be doing any killing here. Not unless someone tries to kill me first.
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That's...reassuring. Thank you. Thank you for that.
[Note: It was not actually reassuring.]
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It's not the most efficient way to kill, but it is quick.
[ He's never beating the serial killer allegations. ]
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Right.
So how did you really do it? And please don't tell me you pulled it out of your hat, along with rabbits, an endless supply of handkerchiefs, and a bouquet of fabric roses.
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[
because telling Rodney McKay that he's ignorant is going to go over real well]I'm not sure why I'd ever want to pull rabbits or roses out of hats? That wouldn't help anything. Least of all in a moment of violence.
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100000% it's gonna get bad]Without--all worlds are without magic, it's not that I'm ignorant, that's a fundamental law of the universe! Clearly you must be from a world where you greet the sun's miraculous rising every morning and sob bitterly when it dies for the night. Well, sorry to go all Plato's Allegory of the Cave on you, but what you think is magic? Is only either natural phenomenon or technology.
...I mean, I hope you wouldn't, they'd be pretty ineffective in a fight, unless it was the killer rabbit of Caerbanog...
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