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:
Lots of people have asked good questions on the FAQ, so do take a look.
You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
NEW! Players with characters already in the game can earn up to a maximum of 3 coins by replying to potential character threads! You will need to have your normal 20 comment AC in the game. You cannot use this to go over the bonus 10 coins per month total, but you can use it if you are missing some threads to reach that coin total. Same rules as normal bonuses apply.
Sample scenarios:
SCENARIO ONE: So you've just arrived, fresh out of the hospital, and already the natives are trying to get on your good side. Offers of food, shelter and other luxuries in return for hoping you don't eat them. They even have some helpful pamphlets to share with you. "How To Deal With Changes", "Alternatives to Human Flesh", "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)" are all great pamphlets. There's even some detailing certain monsters, and the changes they go through.
Among these however, are some... not so helpful ones. "Bunnyipyips And You", "Axe Thief Axehounds," and "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout" among others.
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: You've heard about the fog, but you've never seen it before. Now, the mist surrounds you. Barely able to see before you, you need to get home - and fast. It's far too dangerous in this situation.
SCENARIO FOUR: 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.
[Shades weren't the most shadowy of Ryslig's creatures for nothing - it was difficult to detect one that didn't want to be found. That said, it was simpler for a shade to pick out another of its own kind than anyone else - after all, they knew each others' tricks.]
[Stocke hadn't seen a monster of his ilk for several months; not since the fledgling one, with the beginnings of softly glowing eyes and an aversion to light. So the response seeing another one yanked out of him was as much a surprise to him as anyone else: a slowly growing crackling hiss, a deep reverberation of angry, possessive static down through his bones. This was his part of Vandare, if only due to his position as proxy, his souls - shade instincts scraped down his spine (or maybe a certain demon was rubbing off on him? Not that that was a particularly comforting thought either...)]
[But even catching his reaction midway through, he couldn't help but respond, dark tendrils bristling. It was a second's work to glide to a skid still in front of the newer shade, float skeleton-like, with unnaturally long arms curved in front of himself.]
[Garrett froze in his tracks as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The heavy feeling that permeated the air suddenly reminded him of watching a lightning storm while up in the clock tower that he called home back in the City. The crackling energy in the sky felt close that high. That feeling struck him now and made Garrett uneasy. He stopped in a thick swath of shadow and went unnaturally still. He waited, and listened, and seriously considered turning around to go back the way he came.
When it came, the unnatural voice made him shrink into himself. His reaction was not one of fear but rather a natural instinct to duck further into the darkness. To hope the bystander thought nothing of the fleeting shadow and went back to its business. That was how he normally played this game.
But nothing was normal here. The eerie form that was now before him was a stark and painful reminder of that. Garrett remained still, seemingly frozen in place, as he took in the grim sight. And considered his options in silence.
A long moment passed this way as the crouched thief did nothing but observe the creature before him. It was quite a sight to take in. And he could easily guess what it was... knew, from his own new experiences, what it was likely capable of...]
Garrett.
[A simple answer for a simple question. The thief's voice was low and deep, but yet unaffected by the unnatural changes he was going through. He seemed content with that curt reply and merely awaited the reaction the other would have to it.]
—...not particularly helpful.— [Stocke's words jumped and sparked like an old tape, echoed as if they were being heard through a bottle. He had no mouth, stuck like this, so this was the best he could do. But despite all that, his tone'd gone slightly less monstrous-cold, slightly more human, since Garrett shrunk down instead of challenging back. Now it was dry: Stocke supposed that did answer his question.]
[Slowly, his tendrils lowered to their usual positions; with them moving slowly at his back instead of past his shoulders, he no longer seemed to take up nearly as much room. His claws were slower to retreat - relaxed instead of flexing outward like knives, but were left in front of him. Just in case.]
[A better question, then:] —What are you doing here?— [Enough emphasis on 'here' that it was obvious which part of it he cared more about.]
[As he spoke, he scanned Garrett - how many changes did they share? Unfortunately, besides the cosmetic, that was hard to guess; most shade transformations were more subtle.]
[The thief watched the creature with a keen eye, picking up on the slight movements that hinted at its more relaxed, calmer state of mind. As far as the blackhand's demeanor went, for the most part Garrett appeared easy in his crouch, comfortable even. It was a position from which, even in a relaxed state, he could easily perform over a dozen different maneuvers that would get him in or out of trouble. It was an obviously well practiced stance for him.
The thief was clearly unaffected by the dry response--or perhaps, inwardly, amused--and as for the clarifying question, Garrett simply shifted slightly and looked out at the city. Boundaries had never meant anything to him. Not even when the supernatural came out of the darkness to play.
But, he was a cautious man by nature. It had kept him alive this long, in this deadly profession he played at, so why change now. He considered the careful tone and what it meant. Maybe, even, guessed it right.]
The bow's not for hunting, if that's what you're concerned with.
[Sarcasm. The one social habit that he kept in his arsenal. The bow in question was hand-made by the thief himself, and tucked carefully out of sight beneath the black cloak that hung carelessly from his back so the metal would never glint in light. A replica of the original he had made back home. It did not seem to bother him to bring attention to it even though it probably had not been noticed. A threat? The tone did not imply one. A concession then. He was not lurking around here to ... feed. It was not on his mind. Not yet.]
[Stocke's eyes flicked to the slight bulge of the bow below Garrett's cloak. An advantage of blank, glowing eyes - it was harder to tell where they were looking. He dismissed the weapon almost immediately, though; physical damage was hardly a concern for him anymore. And of course it couldn't be for hunting, or at least Stocke took it so - shades didn't feed on flesh.]
—Well, that nicely eliminates one thing you weren't doing.— [At least, if Garrett wasn't lying.] —While leaving out everything else you could be.— [And if the previous bit about helpfulness was deadpanned, this was even more so. It almost drowned out the static.]
[Stocke himself wasn't entirely certain what answer it was he wanted. 'Hunting' had sent a quiet, crackling burst of competition through him, but that was ridiculous - there were other soul eaters that he did share this part of Vandare with, even if certain... circumstances meant they were on what could be called the same team. Besides, he'd never wanted to, still didn't want to eat souls. Yet...]
[Maybe he just didn't like a shade he wasn't acquainted with near here.]
[Illogical transformation-caused instincts aside, he was getting interested in this other shade, with his guarded crouch, concealed weaponry, careful words. It spoke to something like Stocke's once-profession, skulking shadows and infiltration; and where Stocke'd always been a touch too blunt, a touch too willing to take risks with himself, Garrett looked to be mirroring the other end of the scale. Cautious, perhaps to a fault. Or perhaps not. (What Stocke knew was this: he wouldn't have retreated into the dark like the other once noticed, even if neither would he have threatened back.)]
[One of his tendrils curled inquisitively, speaking to his curiosity. Stocke didn't see a need to hide it; he'd already been asking questions.]
[There was only a soft inflection to the words, a light sarcasm, as if to play it safe the blackhand kept most of it to himself rather than agitate the spectre before him. From his perspective, Garrett only had an inkling of what the other might have been fishing for with all the prying. He was used to being hunted by the Guard; an upfront confrontation honestly would not have bothered him. This idle chat, sticking around to be questioned, was truthfully new for him. Curiosity, perhaps. What Garrett did not understand was why it was fishing. Why not attack him and get it out of the way? Why not make demands and set up rules while it thought itself to be in control of the situation?
Though to be fair, Garrett was not all that familiar with the supernatural. Or monsters. The only ones he had become acquainted with in the recent past (back in the City, before this place) he had made sure to avoid at all costs. And since they had been blind to everything but his... ah, newly acquired 'skill' ...Garrett had easily slipped by them in his ventures. He still barely understood what had happened to create them, or his new skill, or any of the rest that had gone down.
And none of it fit into this equation anyway, so why was he dwelling?
The curious tendril got an immediate reaction out of him though; more so than anything else so far in this encounter. Garrett was quick and when the tendril threatened to come anywhere near his person, the thief immediately shifted out of its reach with deft movement.
He didn't like to be touched.
Garrett's eyes shifted back upwards to the shadowy form before him, away from the offending tendril.]
Nothing that'll get me into trouble. [If I don't get caught. And I never get caught.]
—Maybe in a book.— [Lightly. (Or once he was making progress on figuring the mystery out.)]
[Stocke's tendril paused as Garrett jerked away. Stocke hadn't intended to poke him with it - and even if he had, it would've gone straight through, though that was unnerving in its own way. But... jumpy, or leery against contact. After a moment, Stocke whipped the limb back.]
—You'll pardon me if I'm more concerned about you getting other people into trouble.— [Not that Stocke sounded at all apologetic; sardonic, rather. And with the way Garrett was dodging the question, it wasn't making him sound any less suspicious. Maybe Stocke had originally had an irrational reason to stop here, where he might not have bothered with other kinds of monsters, but it was starting to look more and more like a good decision.]
[Stocke tilted his head to the side, glowing eyes slanting.] —How about this: we stop dancing around each other and you tell me what you're up to. If it's nothing that will interfere with the other transformed near here, I've got no interest in meddling with it; if it is, I'd end up trying to chase you off eventually anyway.— [No notable improvement or decline in Garrett's state either way, besides getting rid of an obstacle right in this moment. That was, if Stocke believed him.]
[He was still curious, of course. But the peninsula wasn't all that large; most likely he'd run into the other shade again sometime.]
[Silence answered the direct method for a time as Garrett considered. But, in the end, he really had nothing to hide from the monster. He was not here to make anyone's life miserable, human or monster, and he had no intention of doing any more than stealing a few valuables that could easily be replaced.
If the shade wanted to turn him in for that, well. He would have to catch him first.]
I'm a thief.
[If the monster wanted a blunt answer, Garrett could not possibly give a more blunt one than that. To be more precise Garrett was a sneak thief. That meant he went unnoticed by anyone as he stole and no one was ever hurt in the process. At most, he knocked a few guards unconscious. But he never killed anyone if he could get away clean--and his way of doing things made sure that he always did.
He could have said as much if he truly wanted. But Garrett did not speak much more than he had to at any given time, and explaining himself did not always get the desired effect anyway. He would wait and see what happened with that.]
[Stocke's head remained tilted, eyes narrowing to slits of white, watching. He stayed that way, still but for his tendrils, for maybe half as long as it'd taken Garrett to make a decision; then, finally, he straightened, apparently accepting the thief's words at face value. Someone who wanted to lie to avoid consequences would've come up with a plausible reason that wasn't illegal.]
[He could still mean a thief of souls - but he'd implied that wasn't what he was interested in, and Stocke could share either way. Whatever the angry signals of static and 'mine' that continued to jump through him at the notion.]
—There's a bar a few streets away from here known as the Devil's Nest. Steal from there and I can't guarantee you won't attract my employer's ire.— [Besides that, though? Stocke's tendrils all swished once sharply, as if in a shrug; then he hovered back some distance, giving Garrett room to leave without it being an attempt to escape or an attack. Thievery was the least of the peninsula's problems.]
[Stocke didn't think there would be much to steal, in this area of town. But then, he admitted to himself, what did he know? His prizes had usually been information, not valuables. And Garrett could always just have been passing through to more abundant pickings.]
[There was a brief moment of a pregnant pause as the information, and the implications, were absorbed and then the thief gave one deliberate nod of acknowledgment.
When the opening was given, Garrett eyed it--not in suspicion but in consideration. He finally straightened up from his crouch, standing in a relaxed position, his head slightly tilted in curiosity this time as he examined the shade one final time. No question came, though, and the thief eventually made for the opening left for him to escape from this awkward confrontation.
However, as the blackhand made his way onto the nearest rooftop he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at the shade.]
It as shady as it sounds?
[Pun not intended. It was an honest question and though the thief did not elaborate what he was searching for was not an excuse to thieve in the neighborhood where this entity made its home. Quite the opposite, in fact. He would need a fence. Well. He didn't have to have one. But he wouldn't mind finding one anyway.]
[If Stocke had eyebrows right now, he would've raised them. Not to stereotype, but entirely legitimate places didn't often have guard dogs that ranged out to several streets away. Even on their own initiative like him.]
—You're welcome to come and decide for yourself next time you want a drink.— [Or even just ask around; the reputation of the Devil's Nest wasn't really kept a secret. Even if Stocke carefully tried to ensure that the stories this reputation was based on never progressed past rumour, nothing anyone could use against them.]
[No guarantees Stocke's employer would be interested in fencing - even if Stocke didn't know that was Garrett's aim in asking, probably wouldn't guess at it for a short while - but with the bar's clientele, shouldn't be hard to find someone.]
[Stocke's eyes followed Garrett up the side of the building, onto the roof - he'd move on himself once the thief was out of sight.]
[Call it Garrett's attempt at diplomacy to give a head's up that he might be dropping by one day. Besides, nothing here was normal enough to stereotype.]
I'll keep that in mind.
[The tone was almost friendly, or at the very least light and playful in the most subtle of ways. He had gotten out of this one without a scrape and the additional socialization--no matter how small--was quite possibly the sneak-thief's way of showing gratitude.
No one ever said he was very good at conversation. Or being friendly. Or just plain socializing in any way, shape, or form.
But with that last bit done and said, Garrett had exceeded his limit on social behavior for the day. A slight hesitation, the small shifting of his eyes almost as if shrugging away any further attempts at being social, and then the blackhand was turning his back on the shade to resume his escape from the area. He left as silently as he had come, disappearing back into the darkness where he was nothing more than a deep shadow amongst shadows.]
[[ooc: i just wanted to thank you for this lovely thread! i thoroughly enjoyed it and am seriously considering joining the game now that i've had a small glimpse at how fun it can be. and i just really appreciate someone putting up with this horribly anti-social character and bearing with the slim dialogue and etc. i just. thank you so very much!!! orz ]]
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graveyardsmash2015-03-01 12:14 am
4!
[Stocke hadn't seen a monster of his ilk for several months; not since the fledgling one, with the beginnings of softly glowing eyes and an aversion to light. So the response seeing another one yanked out of him was as much a surprise to him as anyone else: a slowly growing crackling hiss, a deep reverberation of angry, possessive static down through his bones. This was his part of Vandare, if only due to his position as proxy, his souls - shade instincts scraped down his spine (or maybe a certain demon was rubbing off on him? Not that that was a particularly comforting thought either...)]
[But even catching his reaction midway through, he couldn't help but respond, dark tendrils bristling. It was a second's work to glide to a skid still in front of the newer shade, float skeleton-like, with unnaturally long arms curved in front of himself.]
—Who are you?—
no subject
When it came, the unnatural voice made him shrink into himself. His reaction was not one of fear but rather a natural instinct to duck further into the darkness. To hope the bystander thought nothing of the fleeting shadow and went back to its business. That was how he normally played this game.
But nothing was normal here. The eerie form that was now before him was a stark and painful reminder of that. Garrett remained still, seemingly frozen in place, as he took in the grim sight. And considered his options in silence.
A long moment passed this way as the crouched thief did nothing but observe the creature before him. It was quite a sight to take in. And he could easily guess what it was... knew, from his own new experiences, what it was likely capable of...]
Garrett.
[A simple answer for a simple question. The thief's voice was low and deep, but yet unaffected by the unnatural changes he was going through. He seemed content with that curt reply and merely awaited the reaction the other would have to it.]
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[Slowly, his tendrils lowered to their usual positions; with them moving slowly at his back instead of past his shoulders, he no longer seemed to take up nearly as much room. His claws were slower to retreat - relaxed instead of flexing outward like knives, but were left in front of him. Just in case.]
[A better question, then:] —What are you doing here?— [Enough emphasis on 'here' that it was obvious which part of it he cared more about.]
[As he spoke, he scanned Garrett - how many changes did they share? Unfortunately, besides the cosmetic, that was hard to guess; most shade transformations were more subtle.]
no subject
The thief was clearly unaffected by the dry response--or perhaps, inwardly, amused--and as for the clarifying question, Garrett simply shifted slightly and looked out at the city. Boundaries had never meant anything to him. Not even when the supernatural came out of the darkness to play.
But, he was a cautious man by nature. It had kept him alive this long, in this deadly profession he played at, so why change now. He considered the careful tone and what it meant. Maybe, even, guessed it right.]
The bow's not for hunting, if that's what you're concerned with.
[Sarcasm. The one social habit that he kept in his arsenal. The bow in question was hand-made by the thief himself, and tucked carefully out of sight beneath the black cloak that hung carelessly from his back so the metal would never glint in light. A replica of the original he had made back home. It did not seem to bother him to bring attention to it even though it probably had not been noticed. A threat? The tone did not imply one. A concession then. He was not lurking around here to ... feed. It was not on his mind. Not yet.]
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—Well, that nicely eliminates one thing you weren't doing.— [At least, if Garrett wasn't lying.] —While leaving out everything else you could be.— [And if the previous bit about helpfulness was deadpanned, this was even more so. It almost drowned out the static.]
[Stocke himself wasn't entirely certain what answer it was he wanted. 'Hunting' had sent a quiet, crackling burst of competition through him, but that was ridiculous - there were other soul eaters that he did share this part of Vandare with, even if certain... circumstances meant they were on what could be called the same team. Besides, he'd never wanted to, still didn't want to eat souls. Yet...]
[Maybe he just didn't like a shade he wasn't acquainted with near here.]
[Illogical transformation-caused instincts aside, he was getting interested in this other shade, with his guarded crouch, concealed weaponry, careful words. It spoke to something like Stocke's once-profession, skulking shadows and infiltration; and where Stocke'd always been a touch too blunt, a touch too willing to take risks with himself, Garrett looked to be mirroring the other end of the scale. Cautious, perhaps to a fault. Or perhaps not. (What Stocke knew was this: he wouldn't have retreated into the dark like the other once noticed, even if neither would he have threatened back.)]
[One of his tendrils curled inquisitively, speaking to his curiosity. Stocke didn't see a need to hide it; he'd already been asking questions.]
no subject
[There was only a soft inflection to the words, a light sarcasm, as if to play it safe the blackhand kept most of it to himself rather than agitate the spectre before him. From his perspective, Garrett only had an inkling of what the other might have been fishing for with all the prying. He was used to being hunted by the Guard; an upfront confrontation honestly would not have bothered him. This idle chat, sticking around to be questioned, was truthfully new for him. Curiosity, perhaps. What Garrett did not understand was why it was fishing. Why not attack him and get it out of the way? Why not make demands and set up rules while it thought itself to be in control of the situation?
Though to be fair, Garrett was not all that familiar with the supernatural. Or monsters. The only ones he had become acquainted with in the recent past (back in the City, before this place) he had made sure to avoid at all costs. And since they had been blind to everything but his... ah, newly acquired 'skill' ...Garrett had easily slipped by them in his ventures. He still barely understood what had happened to create them, or his new skill, or any of the rest that had gone down.
And none of it fit into this equation anyway, so why was he dwelling?
The curious tendril got an immediate reaction out of him though; more so than anything else so far in this encounter. Garrett was quick and when the tendril threatened to come anywhere near his person, the thief immediately shifted out of its reach with deft movement.
He didn't like to be touched.
Garrett's eyes shifted back upwards to the shadowy form before him, away from the offending tendril.]
Nothing that'll get me into trouble. [If I don't get caught. And I never get caught.]
no subject
[Stocke's tendril paused as Garrett jerked away. Stocke hadn't intended to poke him with it - and even if he had, it would've gone straight through, though that was unnerving in its own way. But... jumpy, or leery against contact. After a moment, Stocke whipped the limb back.]
—You'll pardon me if I'm more concerned about you getting other people into trouble.— [Not that Stocke sounded at all apologetic; sardonic, rather. And with the way Garrett was dodging the question, it wasn't making him sound any less suspicious. Maybe Stocke had originally had an irrational reason to stop here, where he might not have bothered with other kinds of monsters, but it was starting to look more and more like a good decision.]
[Stocke tilted his head to the side, glowing eyes slanting.] —How about this: we stop dancing around each other and you tell me what you're up to. If it's nothing that will interfere with the other transformed near here, I've got no interest in meddling with it; if it is, I'd end up trying to chase you off eventually anyway.— [No notable improvement or decline in Garrett's state either way, besides getting rid of an obstacle right in this moment. That was, if Stocke believed him.]
[He was still curious, of course. But the peninsula wasn't all that large; most likely he'd run into the other shade again sometime.]
no subject
If the shade wanted to turn him in for that, well. He would have to catch him first.]
I'm a thief.
[If the monster wanted a blunt answer, Garrett could not possibly give a more blunt one than that. To be more precise Garrett was a sneak thief. That meant he went unnoticed by anyone as he stole and no one was ever hurt in the process. At most, he knocked a few guards unconscious. But he never killed anyone if he could get away clean--and his way of doing things made sure that he always did.
He could have said as much if he truly wanted. But Garrett did not speak much more than he had to at any given time, and explaining himself did not always get the desired effect anyway. He would wait and see what happened with that.]
no subject
[Stocke's head remained tilted, eyes narrowing to slits of white, watching. He stayed that way, still but for his tendrils, for maybe half as long as it'd taken Garrett to make a decision; then, finally, he straightened, apparently accepting the thief's words at face value. Someone who wanted to lie to avoid consequences would've come up with a plausible reason that wasn't illegal.]
[He could still mean a thief of souls - but he'd implied that wasn't what he was interested in, and Stocke could share either way. Whatever the angry signals of static and 'mine' that continued to jump through him at the notion.]
—There's a bar a few streets away from here known as the Devil's Nest. Steal from there and I can't guarantee you won't attract my employer's ire.— [Besides that, though? Stocke's tendrils all swished once sharply, as if in a shrug; then he hovered back some distance, giving Garrett room to leave without it being an attempt to escape or an attack. Thievery was the least of the peninsula's problems.]
[Stocke didn't think there would be much to steal, in this area of town. But then, he admitted to himself, what did he know? His prizes had usually been information, not valuables. And Garrett could always just have been passing through to more abundant pickings.]
no subject
When the opening was given, Garrett eyed it--not in suspicion but in consideration. He finally straightened up from his crouch, standing in a relaxed position, his head slightly tilted in curiosity this time as he examined the shade one final time. No question came, though, and the thief eventually made for the opening left for him to escape from this awkward confrontation.
However, as the blackhand made his way onto the nearest rooftop he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at the shade.]
It as shady as it sounds?
[
Pun not intended.It was an honest question and though the thief did not elaborate what he was searching for was not an excuse to thieve in the neighborhood where this entity made its home. Quite the opposite, in fact. He would need a fence. Well. He didn't have to have one. But he wouldn't mind finding one anyway.]no subject
—You're welcome to come and decide for yourself next time you want a drink.— [Or even just ask around; the reputation of the Devil's Nest wasn't really kept a secret. Even if Stocke carefully tried to ensure that the stories this reputation was based on never progressed past rumour, nothing anyone could use against them.]
[No guarantees Stocke's employer would be interested in fencing - even if Stocke didn't know that was Garrett's aim in asking, probably wouldn't guess at it for a short while - but with the bar's clientele, shouldn't be hard to find someone.]
[Stocke's eyes followed Garrett up the side of the building, onto the roof - he'd move on himself once the thief was out of sight.]
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I'll keep that in mind.
[The tone was almost friendly, or at the very least light and playful in the most subtle of ways. He had gotten out of this one without a scrape and the additional socialization--no matter how small--was quite possibly the sneak-thief's way of showing gratitude.
No one ever said he was very good at conversation. Or being friendly. Or just plain socializing in any way, shape, or form.
But with that last bit done and said, Garrett had exceeded his limit on social behavior for the day. A slight hesitation, the small shifting of his eyes almost as if shrugging away any further attempts at being social, and then the blackhand was turning his back on the shade to resume his escape from the area. He left as silently as he had come, disappearing back into the darkness where he was nothing more than a deep shadow amongst shadows.]
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