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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.
richard campbell gansey iii / the raven cycle
i.
Richard Campbell Gansey III kinda hates his name, and he's certainly not going to introduce himself as more than 'Gansey'. In terms of looks, he definitely falls into the categories 'wealthy' thanks to his clothes and his watch and 'all-American boy' thanks to his crew-team physique and haircut that makes him look rakishly tousled regardless of how much he runs his hand through it. He's really annoying that way. Also annoying? He's got a blue long-sleeved button-down open over a white tee-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, coupled with black pants of a somewhat tactical/military bent and very good hiking boots, and he looks unfairly polished for how much mud is on his boot-soles. There's even rock-climbing gear strapped to his backpack, which looks recently used.
Gansey is no stranger to train travel, and he's got himself positioned comfortably, bag tucked under his raised knees and scribbling away in a leather-bound journal. Every few minutes he pauses to watch the landscape pass, staring out the window until he seems to startle like he was nodding off. Then he starts writing away again. When he looks down at his watch, he frowns like whatever time it is upsets him somehow.
If you can catch a glimpse of his watch face (it's a shiny, expensive chronometer), the hands just seem to be...spinning.
ii.
The train sure as hell did just blow up, but Gansey seems much more focused on what the everloving hell is going on behind the train.
"Oh, that's...that's not good."
It's really not good. It's kind of giving him a migraine. Maybe don't stare into the time-rip, Gansey. Don't listen to the familiar song of time made discordant by something deeply Wrong. Definitely don't look at how all times are one time are tearing into fractals of time that spin off in an infinite number of directions.
Maybe someone should pull this kid away from the Time Horror happening over there, because he's just standing there with his backpack over one shoulder looking like he's watching someone die.
Two Truths & A Lie
1. I love avocado as a pizza topping.
2. I've died before, but I got better.
3. I can speak and read Welsh.
[ hi, i'm rui! i don't plurk enough but you can find me on discord at meta.rui! if you mention the tdm in your opening message i will actually reply to it. don't feel like you need to go with any of my prompts if they're boring. i do brackets or narration, doesn't matter!
for people who have read these stupid books, gansey is from post-canon, after the roadtrip. that means he's 19-20. this means he has been spoilered and has also visited the continental 48 states. he misses his car so much right now you guys. ]
two truths & a lie
no subject
You definitely should. It's absolutely a lifestyle choice.
here we GOOO ii
He's filthy comparatively. Covered in layers of sand, filth, sweat, dust, and now, ash and blood. The Wives had regrettably softened something in him. He doesn't know this creature gaping at something Max can't tell is real or not, but he can tell at least the creature sees it the same way Max does. That must mean something. It also means that that slit of raw cosmic horror could close in on the creature and snuff out its breath. He imagined the Dag might resent him if he let that sort of thing happen so soon after he left them.
He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a good man. But he felt an odd obligation and in any case, saving people...It could be easy sometimes. He does it gracelessly. Stalks up to the creature from behind and reaches out, grabbing the-- the boy, the young man, by the backpack and just...Wrenches him clean off his feet and throws him a few yards away from the bizarre cosmic void. He walks after him, eyes bright and gleaming with distant madness. He gives a light kick, a move along gesture.)
Away. (Get away. There was no good in that void and he didn't need his sanity to recognize that much.)
MY DARLING <3
gansey isn't even aware of max until he's landing on fortunately damp and debris-free grass, his body rolling instinctively with the fall. after a moment of just breathing on his back, chest heaving like he only now remembered the mechanics of it. then he presses his palms into his eyesockets and heaves himself from laying to standing in a fairly fluid motion for someone who still looks utterly stunned. his eyes want to go back to the time-rip--no, gansey, stop that--but he fixes them on this newcomer instead. his eyes are a bit blank but also bright, a hazel that seems mostly composed of golds and greens. those eyes seem to take in the entire measure of max before lingering on his face. ]
Thank you. Are you hurt? I have a first aid kit.
[ there's too much blood on the man for him not to be hurt somewhere, which means gansey is already opening his bag. also of note to the desert-dweller: there's a nalgene-ish water bottle clipped to said backpack that's still mostly full. ]
no subject
He didn't plan for this interaction to go further than this. He's being...Thanked. That alone is enough to make his brows furrow together in confusion. No one thanked anyone in his world. Kindness didn't exist. Everything came with a price. Then again...Max hadn't expected anything from this. Nor had he with the Wives.
He ignores that and winds up more perplexed the more the mysterious creature spoke. Hurt?
Everyone was hurt. He had glass in his head and probably a fractured rib. His leg was screeching worse than usual. He had probably landed on it wrong during the explosion from the train. There's a second-degree burn, at least, on his elbow where he had caught fire and had to roll out.
But by the Wasteland standards, that's nothing.
A first aid kit? He stares blankly at Gansey, and then his eyes fall to the water. His breath catches in the pit of his chest and his whole body goes rigid. He shakes his head as if trying to clear it from a dense fog.)
Water?
no subject
Here. [ he holds out the bottle by its carabiner clip so that it swings gently in max's direction. ] If you hit your head you don't want to drink too fast though. Sit down, there's glass in your head. I'll get it out.
[ whether max recognizes the concept of a first aid kit or not, it's a well-equipped one. there's plenty in there for cleaning and bandaging minor wounds, medical tape for sprained or broken fingers, an ace bandage for wrapping an ankle or wrist, and various tubes of ointment. there's also an epipen, a small bottle of iodine, and a couple of glow-sticks. kid is nothing if not prepared. ]
no subject
The offer of water makes Max physically recoil, but only out of shock. For a second he wonders if it's poisoned or a trick but this place looks so lush and alive. He stares uncertainly at Gansey, but Splendid's face comes to mind. Her unrelenting generosity to a world that never showed her the same.
He slowly takes the water from Gansey, frowning. He doesn't thank him nor does he rush to drink the water. He sniffs at it and takes a small sip, and then it's game over. Despite the warning, he plows the water down, too desperate, too thirsty after years of severe dehydration to do anything else with it.
Only when the water is nearly gone does he move to sit. Mostly because he's feeling a bit dizzy and he needed to get off his leg. He lands with a loud huff and a graveled groan. He leans over his own legs, digging his fingers into the ruined meat of his bad knee.)
Don't bother. (Short, gruff. He still wasn't interested in holding conversations if he could help it. Searching for words was exhausting.)
no subject
Nonsense.
[ he goes down on one knee, putting the kit down before looking at his own hands - filthy. he pulls a little packet out and rips it open before wiping his hands down carefully with an alcohol wipe. then he pulls out another and uses it to clean the area around the wound on max's head. the light's not the best, being as that it's from a bloody burning train, but it's still bright enough to do some patchwork medicine. ]
no subject
Max could kill him in a million ways. The creature was soft even if he wasn't slim and delicate. He was soft in a way that itched a memory at the back of Max's mind, a memory he'd never fully have access to. A memory of a world where people exercised more for the fun and competition of it all, a world of people who were thick with muscles gained from the luxury of taking up a hobby that worked in favor of their health.
He squints an eye shut when Gansey touches him. It's not from the burn of the alcohol, but the burn from being touched. After a second, he reaches a hand out to curiously prod Gansey's side. Part of him feels like he's in a dream, so it didn't really matter what he was doing. He can feel the meat on Gansey, soft but hard, resilient but vulnerable. Not a single protective thing on Gansey. He grumbles incoherently under his breath, digging his fingers in a little deeper.)
no subject
...well. he's going to fix it once the man stops poking him. the initial touch he just ignores, but the deeper prodding makes his muscles tense under max's fingers, pushing back against the pressure. he's soft in the way that everyone gansey knows would be soft to anyone from a world as harsh as max's, but his muscles won't give unless max does more than just poke. ]
Stop that, I'm trying to clean this.
[ the words aren't harsh or even particularly scolding; they're almost absent, in the tone of someone who is used to being annoyed by people he's trying to help. ]