Welcome to Ryslig's test drive meme! If you're considering apping here, this is where you can try your characters out in the game's setting. A few things to note:
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
Sample scenarios:
SCENARIO ONE: You've just been released from the hospital in Vandare and no one really seems to know what to do with you. The locals offer polite advice but don't seem to want to spend a lot of time with you. You and the other new arrivals stick out like sore thumbs, so perhaps one will spot you wandering about town.
SCENARIO TWO: You've become hopelessly lost in Lager Woods. Paths don't seem to lead where you remember them leading, and you feel as if you're going around in circles. Childlike giggling can be heard from no direction in particular. Suddenly, you stumble upon another character, who seems to be just as lost as you! Perhaps you can find a way out together.
SCENARIO THREE: The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? NOTE: Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.
If a sound like that could possibly sound sad, this one did.
He'd been walking along minding his own business and trying to find some decent areas to sketch (his poor camera was long gone now) when he'd felt the change. It hit him like an eighteen wheeler and the sudden terrifying fireworks display of instincts drove him headlong into the nearest body of water.
It just happened to be a swamp.
Henry skulked near the bank, his eyes just above the water's surface. His brows were peaked in dismay and he muttered rapidly to himself in an attempt to calm down. His words came out as bubbles but he could understand himself so that was good enough for him.
Stay calm. Stay calm. So your legs disappeared. You've been through worse. You saw a guy set himself on fire and stabbed a ghost to death plus all the other bizarre stuff that goes on around here. Who needs legs?
...
Oh, God, I do, I need legs. Help. I've gone crazy.
Other monsters didn't count as humans. This was good - very good, in fact. Hunger gnawed at his insides, a restless burn that animal meat could only satiate for shorter and shorter periods of time. Nowadays, he was hungry even when he was eating, and going into town was a chore he was finding himself less and less capable of.
His detective instincts were sharper than ever, though, even if it was a mixed blessing. It didn't take much for him to spot the strange bubbles and, desperate for any distraction to save him from turning towards the town, crouched by the water's edge.
"Hello there," he said, his tiny child's body with a mouthful of fangs and luminous eyes probably not making the most reassuring first impression.
Henry was pulled from his thoughts. He turned and spotted the boy on the bank. The mercreature instantly submerged with an almost comical bloop sound.
Oh, God.
Being stuck in a town full of strangers who were all in the same boat more or less had polished up his social skills a little...but the whole sudden absence of legs thing had forced him to backslide. From below he could see the wobbling image of the sharp-toothed boy. Had he seen him around before? Probably...
In a fluid motion he pushed himself away from the bank with his long tail and reappeared near a cypress knee. This time he held his whole head out of the water because he doubted anybody spoke blblbl. His fins were pressed back against his hair. It wasn't a good day.
"When is it ever a good time for any of us?" Conan was still surprised that he didn't lisp around the fangs. He really needed to buck up and find a way to trace his jawbone properly and see if it was shaped differently from a human child's. But that involved going into town for supplies, and town right now was... no.
"Don't worry, I'm not a normal kid. I won't ask you to play tag with me." And boy, his self-deprecating humour had grown in leaps and bounds since arriving here. If anything could puncture his ego, it turned out that 'I'm going to eat a person eventually' was the correct method.
Henry sank a little when Conan continued. He was in the middle of a freakout here and this kid with a mouthful of steak knives was just going on like it was no big deal.
Conan chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I can see that. This is your first time, right?" Fairly obvious, all things considered, but any amount of deduction helped take his attention off his hunger.
"It gets... easier," he continued. And harder, he added mentally, but didn't say. Adding to this guy's worries wouldn't help in the slightest.
But nobody did, did they? Even though more and more familiar faces disappeared every day.
He sank a little deeper and said something--then surfaced and repeated himself. "Maybe an hour ago I was walking around...you didn't see a sketchbook anywhere around, did you?"
No matter what he is now, Lindsey is glad of one thing - whatever the leggings that they have here are made of they stretch, enough to help with the bull legs and they help fit the tail.
What doesn't help is the sudden noise coming from the direction of the swamp. It's not his land no matter what sort of feelings he might have on the subject (even if he's pretty sure he's the only thing that could get out of here alive.)
It bears investigation, which means dragging along the carcass of what he was eating (at least there are plenty of little wolves) and ambling over to investigate where the sound is coming from. Standing at about eight feet tall with horns that make him 8 and a half to nine, there's nothing left of the former attorney.
Which suits him fine. ...and the idea that it suits him fine scares him enough to stare out into the lagoon.
Henry heard the tromp tromp tromp of heavy hoofed feet before he ever saw the beast. He quickly disappeared with a slap of his tail and hovered unsteadily just below some duckweed. It was hard staying stationary. His tail was doing some kind of weird mambo and his pants were still caught around the very tip of it by one leg.
"I can hear you." For such a big monster his voice was almost melodic. Or at least it would be to most humans. One of the ears twitched and he turned toward a patch of weeds growing out of the swamp, "...But I can't smell you." His mouth isn't watering, "Which means you're not human. So let's come out now and we'll settle this."
There's a nasty tone in his voice, "What's wrong with wanting to get to know your neighbors?"
Not getting to know his neighbors had kind of landed him in trouble before, hadn't it...
Henry fretted quietly and weighed his options. One outcome could lead him to a somewhat normal conversation and help him wind down from what was slowly turning into an all-out panic attack...or he could get attacked.
He turned uneasily in place. The swamp was pretty deep. Deep enough to avoid a that thing...
A mop of brown hair and a pair of eyes that had seen way too many things they'd rather not have appeared out from the rushes.
"Um..." That was the biggest cow Henry had ever seen in his whole life. What was it holding? His earfins stood up in alarm. Eugh... "Hi."
He's still human. Or Human-ish. That makes the cow man smile a nasty smile, in the fading light there's blood on it's teeth but he'd take offense if he heard cow. He's the noble and majestic minotaur.
But he was once a man.
His nostrils flare. Instinct ran through him. He hates how the guy's hiding, having not accepted these...gifts. At least mermaids - people wanted to be mermaids. Or merman.
Hard to tell on this one. Lifting his dinner, he holds it to his mouth and takes a big bite out of it's stomach. Just to watch the fish man squirm. Welcome to your new life fella.
The merman squinted in disgust. His earfins flattened again. If his tail had been more flexible he would have tied himself in a knot. Maybe whatever that corpse used to be would be enough for the bull man for now.
"I...guess so." Henry coughed. His gills sucked in water but he still had to breathe outward to speak. That was annoying. "I don't have much of a choice."
Henry briefly entertained the mental image of a mailbox standing by the water's edge. Moving in indeed.
That is the sound of someone drastically misreading an already awkward situation. "Hang on!" Donald calls, wading through the muck towards, well, what is, as far as he knows, a drowning man. He's heard enough stories about the swamps to know that he has to get the poor man out fast. "I've got you," he says as he tries to get his arms around Henry's torso. "You're going to be okay."
"Blaaawughh!" Henry only caught on to what was happening by the time one of Donald's feet hit the water. He twisted and turned to dart away but he wasn't familiar enough with his new not-legs to do so.
So it was awkward hug time.
"Let me go!" It wasn't really a shout since volume wasn't really Henry's thing but he certainly wasn't happy. His tail flashed a deep green in the murky light.
The last time he'd done this had gone so much better.
He isn't expecting resistance, and he certainly isn't expecting to see a mermaid tail of all things. For a few moments his brain doesn't register what he's seeing, and he digs his heels in, trying to drag Henry towards dry land. The claws on his feet dig into the mud for purchase, and his wings beat furiously, tearing his shirt as they sprout from his back.
...wait, what?
He lets go with a yell, staggering back and falling over with a splash. He stares down at himself and what's left of his clothing, eyes wide and jaw agape. Then he looks up at Henry. "What just happened?" he breathes.
A small wall of water spilled over Donald as Henry squirmed away and into the murky water. The weeds and algae folded in upon one another and eventually the water stilled.
For a long beat it seemed that the mysterious swamp man had disappeared. Or had he been there at all.
However, wary and upset as he was, Henry was curious about why he wasn't being pursued. He leaned out from around a fallen log and watched the winged man on the bank. He hadn't had wings a minute ago, had he? On second look, he seemed just as surprised as Henry had been.
There was a very tiny spark of jealousy flaring up in his gills. Now how was that fair?
"Good question..." Henry felt incredibly witty for saying that.
He barely notices Henry's departure, as he's quite distracted by what's happening to him. His arms from the elbow down are covered in scales and his fingers are tipped with claws. His feet and legs have changed even more, the joints rearranging themselves to resemble the legs of a bird of prey. He tries to stand, but his new body is so unfamiliar he can do little but churn the water.
"Th-this is impossible!" he protests, as if that can undo what's just happened. "I can't...no. I'm...I'm dreaming. No. Wait. I'm not dreaming. Why isn't this a dream?" He tries standing up again, with predictable results. At least this time he manages to get his feet under him before he loses his balance. He squawks as he lands. Squawks. He clamps both hands over his mouth, eyes widening.
He'd almost forgotten Henry was there, but his voice brought him out of his panic. "Did this happen to you too? Were you...human?"
For all of poor Donald's flipflapping around, Henry stayed. He stayed with his eyes peering just above the surface. He wondered if he'd looked like that streaking through the forest trying to get his pants off.
He sure hoped there weren't any other new monsters around having a laugh at that.
He doesn't answer at first. Henry is...tired. The transformation took a lot out of him and just when he'd started adjusting to this new place too. Sure he was upset by it all but after trekking around through the twisted physical subconscious of a murderer suddenly becoming the Not So Little Mermaid wasn't that odd. He wondered where this man had been before the townsfolk fished him out of the water.
"A couple of hours ago..." The merman finally answered.
In most situations, a giant splash followed by desperate bubbling could only mean that some poor jackass fell in the water and was now drowning.
Heather liked to think that she was heading in that direction to help, but at least part of her inclination to do so was based on the hopeful-sounding voice in the back of her head that had said 'Hey, if it's struggling, that could mean ~DINNER~'
She was just gonna ignore that voice for now.
A pair of muddy brown boots appeared on the edge of the bank, just within Henry's sightline.
Heather's words made their way through the network of anxious thoughts. Henry blinked and stared at the boots in front of him. "Wh..."
Boots don't talk. He flicked his eyes upwards, let out a startled sound, and quickly disappeared beneath the murky water. He reappeared several feet away, bobbing awkwardly. Henry wrapped his arms around a tree trunk to anchor himself.
Bark and bits of moss came away on Henry's hands and he wiped it off on his shirt. He was too stressed out to look indignant.
"They disappeared...I don't think I can come out at all." He looked back to the girl. Had he seen her around before? Probably...Henry wasn't very good at people.
She leaned over to peer into the water scrutinously-- but realization dawned on her face instead when she spotted the dull glimmer of fish scales flashing through the murky water.
The look on her face told him that he didn't have to explain himself further. He let himself sink again so that only his face visible. It was sort of an awkward bobbing motion because if he wasn't hanging onto something he had to work to stay topside. His new gills worked furiously.
Henry wasn't much of a swimmer. Or an athlete in any form.
"I'd heard the stories...people disappearing but..." He spluttered. Talking and breathing through his neck at the same time were sort of counterproductive. He was quiet for a long beat and for a moment it looked like he might disappear again and dart away like a frog. Sheer nerves caused a sentence to bubble forth though.
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graveyardsmash2014-07-04 09:45 pm
Henry Townshend | Silent Hill 4: The Room | 3- Merperson
If a sound like that could possibly sound sad, this one did.
He'd been walking along minding his own business and trying to find some decent areas to sketch (his poor camera was long gone now) when he'd felt the change. It hit him like an eighteen wheeler and the sudden terrifying fireworks display of instincts drove him headlong into the nearest body of water.
It just happened to be a swamp.
Henry skulked near the bank, his eyes just above the water's surface. His brows were peaked in dismay and he muttered rapidly to himself in an attempt to calm down. His words came out as bubbles but he could understand himself so that was good enough for him.
Stay calm. Stay calm. So your legs disappeared. You've been through worse. You saw a guy set himself on fire and stabbed a ghost to death plus all the other bizarre stuff that goes on around here. Who needs legs?
...
Oh, God, I do, I need legs. Help. I've gone crazy.
It wasn't really working.
have a detective?
His detective instincts were sharper than ever, though, even if it was a mixed blessing. It didn't take much for him to spot the strange bubbles and, desperate for any distraction to save him from turning towards the town, crouched by the water's edge.
"Hello there," he said, his tiny child's body with a mouthful of fangs and luminous eyes probably not making the most reassuring first impression.
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Oh, God.
Being stuck in a town full of strangers who were all in the same boat more or less had polished up his social skills a little...but the whole sudden absence of legs thing had forced him to backslide. From below he could see the wobbling image of the sharp-toothed boy. Had he seen him around before? Probably...
In a fluid motion he pushed himself away from the bank with his long tail and reappeared near a cypress knee. This time he held his whole head out of the water because he doubted anybody spoke blblbl. His fins were pressed back against his hair. It wasn't a good day.
"It's...I'm sorry. It's not a good time."
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"Don't worry, I'm not a normal kid. I won't ask you to play tag with me." And boy, his self-deprecating humour had grown in leaps and bounds since arriving here. If anything could puncture his ego, it turned out that 'I'm going to eat a person eventually' was the correct method.
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Henry sank a little when Conan continued. He was in the middle of a freakout here and this kid with a mouthful of steak knives was just going on like it was no big deal.
...maybe it wasn't.
"I don't think I could if I wanted to."
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"It gets... easier," he continued. And harder, he added mentally, but didn't say. Adding to this guy's worries wouldn't help in the slightest.
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But nobody did, did they? Even though more and more familiar faces disappeared every day.
He sank a little deeper and said something--then surfaced and repeated himself. "Maybe an hour ago I was walking around...you didn't see a sketchbook anywhere around, did you?"
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Re: Henry Townshend | Silent Hill 4: The Room | 3- Merperson
What doesn't help is the sudden noise coming from the direction of the swamp. It's not his land no matter what sort of feelings he might have on the subject (even if he's pretty sure he's the only thing that could get out of here alive.)
It bears investigation, which means dragging along the carcass of what he was eating (at least there are plenty of little wolves) and ambling over to investigate where the sound is coming from. Standing at about eight feet tall with horns that make him 8 and a half to nine, there's nothing left of the former attorney.
Which suits him fine. ...and the idea that it suits him fine scares him enough to stare out into the lagoon.
"Who's in there?"
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Oh no, oh no...
He held his breath even though he didn't need to.
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There's a nasty tone in his voice, "What's wrong with wanting to get to know your neighbors?"
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Henry fretted quietly and weighed his options. One outcome could lead him to a somewhat normal conversation and help him wind down from what was slowly turning into an all-out panic attack...or he could get attacked.
He turned uneasily in place. The swamp was pretty deep. Deep enough to avoid a that thing...
A mop of brown hair and a pair of eyes that had seen way too many things they'd rather not have appeared out from the rushes.
"Um..." That was the biggest cow Henry had ever seen in his whole life. What was it holding? His earfins stood up in alarm. Eugh... "Hi."
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But he was once a man.
His nostrils flare. Instinct ran through him. He hates how the guy's hiding, having not accepted these...gifts. At least mermaids - people wanted to be mermaids. Or merman.
Hard to tell on this one. Lifting his dinner, he holds it to his mouth and takes a big bite out of it's stomach. Just to watch the fish man squirm. Welcome to your new life fella.
"Hi. You moving in?"
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"I...guess so." Henry coughed. His gills sucked in water but he still had to breathe outward to speak. That was annoying. "I don't have much of a choice."
Henry briefly entertained the mental image of a mailbox standing by the water's edge. Moving in indeed.
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That is the sound of someone drastically misreading an already awkward situation. "Hang on!" Donald calls, wading through the muck towards, well, what is, as far as he knows, a drowning man. He's heard enough stories about the swamps to know that he has to get the poor man out fast. "I've got you," he says as he tries to get his arms around Henry's torso. "You're going to be okay."
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So it was awkward hug time.
"Let me go!" It wasn't really a shout since volume wasn't really Henry's thing but he certainly wasn't happy. His tail flashed a deep green in the murky light.
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He isn't expecting resistance, and he certainly isn't expecting to see a mermaid tail of all things. For a few moments his brain doesn't register what he's seeing, and he digs his heels in, trying to drag Henry towards dry land. The claws on his feet dig into the mud for purchase, and his wings beat furiously, tearing his shirt as they sprout from his back.
...wait, what?
He lets go with a yell, staggering back and falling over with a splash. He stares down at himself and what's left of his clothing, eyes wide and jaw agape. Then he looks up at Henry. "What just happened?" he breathes.
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For a long beat it seemed that the mysterious swamp man had disappeared. Or had he been there at all.
However, wary and upset as he was, Henry was curious about why he wasn't being pursued. He leaned out from around a fallen log and watched the winged man on the bank. He hadn't had wings a minute ago, had he? On second look, he seemed just as surprised as Henry had been.
There was a very tiny spark of jealousy flaring up in his gills. Now how was that fair?
"Good question..." Henry felt incredibly witty for saying that.
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"Th-this is impossible!" he protests, as if that can undo what's just happened. "I can't...no. I'm...I'm dreaming. No. Wait. I'm not dreaming. Why isn't this a dream?" He tries standing up again, with predictable results. At least this time he manages to get his feet under him before he loses his balance. He squawks as he lands. Squawks. He clamps both hands over his mouth, eyes widening.
He'd almost forgotten Henry was there, but his voice brought him out of his panic. "Did this happen to you too? Were you...human?"
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He sure hoped there weren't any other new monsters around having a laugh at that.
He doesn't answer at first. Henry is...tired. The transformation took a lot out of him and just when he'd started adjusting to this new place too. Sure he was upset by it all but after trekking around through the twisted physical subconscious of a murderer suddenly becoming the Not So Little Mermaid wasn't that odd. He wondered where this man had been before the townsfolk fished him out of the water.
"A couple of hours ago..." The merman finally answered.
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Heather liked to think that she was heading in that direction to help, but at least part of her inclination to do so was based on the hopeful-sounding voice in the back of her head that had said 'Hey, if it's struggling, that could mean ~DINNER~'
She was just gonna ignore that voice for now.
A pair of muddy brown boots appeared on the edge of the bank, just within Henry's sightline.
"... Are you stuck or just floating?"
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Boots don't talk. He flicked his eyes upwards, let out a startled sound, and quickly disappeared beneath the murky water. He reappeared several feet away, bobbing awkwardly. Henry wrapped his arms around a tree trunk to anchor himself.
"I'm having...my legs...and they..." Muttermuttermumble.
It was pretty obvious.
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That voice in her head had gone silent in disappointment-- because this guy wasn't giving off any human vibes. Pity.
"You're having your legs? Having them? Like having a baby?"
THAT'S MESSED UP, MAN.
"... Do you need some help out of there?"
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"They disappeared...I don't think I can come out at all." He looked back to the girl. Had he seen her around before? Probably...Henry wasn't very good at people.
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She leaned over to peer into the water scrutinously-- but realization dawned on her face instead when she spotted the dull glimmer of fish scales flashing through the murky water.
"... Oh."
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Henry wasn't much of a swimmer. Or an athlete in any form.
"I'd heard the stories...people disappearing but..." He spluttered. Talking and breathing through his neck at the same time were sort of counterproductive. He was quiet for a long beat and for a moment it looked like he might disappear again and dart away like a frog. Sheer nerves caused a sentence to bubble forth though.
"I can't find my pants."
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