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:
You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
We now have a Quick Game Facts that simplifies the basic information about the game. Good if you want to see what the game is at a glance!
Lots of people have asked good questions on the FAQ, so do take a look.
The reserve date has been announced (it was changed to the 30th to allow a maximum number of people compared to a Friday).
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. Or maybe they want you for lunch...
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.
[The pamphlets mean nothing to him: he can't read. They're just glossy collections of images and incomprehensible markings, and he shoves them away whenever a villager tries to push one into his hands. He stumbles out of the hospital in a daze, acutely aware of two things: his greatsword was missing, and his tattoos, usually a bright, shimmering white, have turned completely black.
Fenris stands in the street, running his fingers up and down his arm. He feels no pain; no sensation at all. Whatever magic once infused these tattoos is gone.
He'd be grateful, but he's not stupid. The villagers' anxiety was palpable. Something is very wrong here.
Fenris doubles back; grabs one of the pamphlets. He accosts the first person he comes across, reaching to grab this unlucky soul by the wrist.]
You. Tell me what these say. Tell me what's happening here.
two;
[Fenris is no stranger to forests, but this is some unsettling nonsense right here. He's not sure how he ended up so turned around; he'd simply been trying to explore, get a sense of the world he's woken up to and what he can expect from it.
Nonsense, clearly.
He hears the laughter, and the sound prickles along his skin. Demons, spirits--something foul and unnatural, to be sure.
Fenris scowls as he pushes through the overgrown paths, ripping down vines with his bare hands and crushing the roots and leaf beds underfoot. He must free himself from this damned maze.
And then he hears it--not the haunting giggles, though they're still coming at odd intervals--but another set of footsteps, definite, and approaching fast.
Fenris rocks back into a defensive stance. He has no sword, but he has his fists.]
[Way to be an ass to a kid, Fenris. Whatever Rhyme was planning on doing came to a crashing halt as she was grabbed by the wrist. You should be thankful she didn't scream.
However, she's not happy and it shows.]
Let me go first. You should try using your manners if you really wanted help, you know.
[It's a battle of reflexes: his reach for her as she passes, her catching the sight of direct movement in her peripheral vision and expecting the worst. By the end of it, he's holding her wrist, and she's pressed a gun to the flat, vulnerable underside of his jaw. Gold eyes narrowed, pointed ears pinned back at the tips beneath the soft, violet glow of her antlers.
But he's asking about pamphlets, and slowly, carefully, the barrel of her gun recedes.]
Don't know. [Flat, pointed.] Don't read 'em. Got no interest in what the humans around here think we go through.
[WOW. RUDE. RUDE AF. Fenris scowls as the cold metal bites into his skin; he's never seen a weapon like hers before, but doubtless it is a weapon. His eyes dart from the gun to her horns--monster.
He's not sure which is more infuriating: the unfamiliar weapon, the antlers, or her completely unhelpful response.]
[An unfamiliar weapon Nisha moves to holster in spite of his fuss, mouth pressed into a thin, slanted line.] Depends on what you turn into. Everybody's different.
Give it a month or so, the fog'll roll in, and you'll change. Fangs, claws, wings, tentacles-- those pamphlets of yours don't even scratch the surface.
[The first person he comes across has wings like a dragon, horns like the Arishok's, purple scales creeping up her neck and down her arms, but there's a familiar streak of red across her nose and when she hears his voice the shock nearly strangles her answer in her throat.]
Fenris? [Giddiness bubbles up in her chest--this is her friend, this is Fenris, this is one of her people--but it's quickly tempered by the reminder of Anders, and the things he remembered differently from her.] Fenris, it's me--Hawke, remember? Or not. [She huffs out a breath, looks him up and down.] This is going to sound strange, but you do remember me, right?
[That's Hawke's voice, all right, and her face--sort of her face. Fenris takes a few instinctive steps back, eyes wide. They'd been separated for some time, and one supposes anything can happen, but Fenris would never have anything like this.]
Hawke? What--what are you?
[Unless this is an illusion; a nightmare. He wishes. more than ever, that he had his sword.]
[She coughs, a clawed hand reaching up to rub anxiously at a horn. They've been separated for a while, and she's missed Fenris something fierce, but she supposes she should've seen that coming--the steps back, the wide eyes, the questions. It's the wide eyes, though, that hurt her most--this is Fenris, after all, this is her friend.]
Not an abomination, surprisingly. [Bad jokes at a time like this, Hawke? Really?] As it turns out, if you want to be a dragon hard enough, someone with a particularly twisted sense of humor decides to give you exactly what you want.
[Does she know that, technically, she's a gargoyle? Well, yes, but still.]
[It's funny--or it might be funny, given any other set of circumstances. Hawke remains Fenris's first and truest friend, but it's difficult to process what's in front of him.
He doesn't keep moving backwards, but he doesn't take a step towards her yet, either.]
Better than what they're offering. [She nods to the native nearby, with an armful of pamphlets in his hands.] You'll want to sit down for it. I'd find you a bottle of wine, but I'm still banned from the nearest bar.
[There is, conveniently, a bench just nearby, and Hawke drops right into it and winces a bit when the backrest digs into her wings a bit too much, leaning forward and resting her arms on her lap instead. She's found one disadvantage to having wings: it takes a bit more effort to sit comfortably.]
[he shouldn't be able to count these kinds of run-ins on more than one hand, but here we go again. here's to hoping it's someone smart enough to get lost.
more lost.
the polite thing to do is stop or pick another direction, but Zel's pretty set on where he's going, and so continues on, barely slowing pace even as he weaves between a pair of trees and discovers the voice's owner there.
[ Vanadi has just been flipping through one of these pamphlets himself, frowning idly. Interesting points in these things, and apparently they'll be applying to him soon? He's not sure how to feel about, and opts not to feel much of anything at all. It's just unusual reading material to him for now.
He'd just begin to put it firmly from his mind when he finds his wrist suddenly snagged, and glances over with clear surprise. A smile isn't far off, when he sees the arresting someone is an attractive someone. ]
Oh, nothing much. [ He glances briefly down at the pamphlet in question. ] Why, not a language you read? You speak it well enough.
[Fenris doesn't read any language, but he's not about to tell a stranger that. He reacts to the smile with pure agitation, letting go of Vanadi just as soon as he's got him.]
Judging by the faces I've seen, I imagine it's quite a bit more than nothing much.
[ Oh, fine, be alarmist about it. Vanadi looks still none too concerned, but is about to shrug and flip through the pamphlet for him — until something catches his eye. He blinks, looking more closely over his new friend, and— ]
Why, you're not human, are you? I'd assumed, you look very similar, even more than me, but you don't quite have the tiny ears for it. [ how interesting! ] Might I ask what you are?
[Fenris's sour expression doesn't budge an inch. He's not interested in discussing what he is; he's interested in those damned pamphlets. Or just an explanation, generally.
He shifts his weight from one (bare) foot to the other.]
An elf. Get on with it.
[Vanadi isn't human, either, it's plain to see, but is Fenris going to ask about it? No. No, he is not.]
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graveyardsmash2015-05-23 05:28 pm
fenris | DA II
[The pamphlets mean nothing to him: he can't read. They're just glossy collections of images and incomprehensible markings, and he shoves them away whenever a villager tries to push one into his hands. He stumbles out of the hospital in a daze, acutely aware of two things: his greatsword was missing, and his tattoos, usually a bright, shimmering white, have turned completely black.
Fenris stands in the street, running his fingers up and down his arm. He feels no pain; no sensation at all. Whatever magic once infused these tattoos is gone.
He'd be grateful, but he's not stupid. The villagers' anxiety was palpable. Something is very wrong here.
Fenris doubles back; grabs one of the pamphlets. He accosts the first person he comes across, reaching to grab this unlucky soul by the wrist.]
You. Tell me what these say. Tell me what's happening here.
two;
[Fenris is no stranger to forests, but this is some unsettling nonsense right here. He's not sure how he ended up so turned around; he'd simply been trying to explore, get a sense of the world he's woken up to and what he can expect from it.
Nonsense, clearly.
He hears the laughter, and the sound prickles along his skin. Demons, spirits--something foul and unnatural, to be sure.
Fenris scowls as he pushes through the overgrown paths, ripping down vines with his bare hands and crushing the roots and leaf beds underfoot. He must free himself from this damned maze.
And then he hears it--not the haunting giggles, though they're still coming at odd intervals--but another set of footsteps, definite, and approaching fast.
Fenris rocks back into a defensive stance. He has no sword, but he has his fists.]
Who's there? State your name.
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However, she's not happy and it shows.]
Let me go first. You should try using your manners if you really wanted help, you know.
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Apologies. Did I hurt you?
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No, but you could have hurt yourself if my fins weren't binded. They're poisonous.
[She offers an open hand.]
If you give me the pamphlets, I can read them to you, if you still want me to.
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He feels more at a loss than ever.
Fenris folds his arms over his chest with a frown that's probably just going to deepen.]
Go on, then.
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But he's asking about pamphlets, and slowly, carefully, the barrel of her gun recedes.]
Don't know. [Flat, pointed.] Don't read 'em. Got no interest in what the humans around here think we go through.
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He's not sure which is more infuriating: the unfamiliar weapon, the antlers, or her completely unhelpful response.]
Oh? And what do we go through?
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Give it a month or so, the fog'll roll in, and you'll change. Fangs, claws, wings, tentacles-- those pamphlets of yours don't even scratch the surface.
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[He pronounces 'like you' with the same inflection one might use for 'like garbage'.]
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Nisha's brow cocks in frigid aggravation - not a note she manages to hit often.] That's the gist, genius. Gold star for you.
So maybe be less of a bitch about it.
i
Fenris? [Giddiness bubbles up in her chest--this is her friend, this is Fenris, this is one of her people--but it's quickly tempered by the reminder of Anders, and the things he remembered differently from her.] Fenris, it's me--Hawke, remember? Or not. [She huffs out a breath, looks him up and down.] This is going to sound strange, but you do remember me, right?
no subject
Hawke? What--what are you?
[Unless this is an illusion; a nightmare. He wishes. more than ever, that he had his sword.]
no subject
Not an abomination, surprisingly. [Bad jokes at a time like this, Hawke? Really?] As it turns out, if you want to be a dragon hard enough, someone with a particularly twisted sense of humor decides to give you exactly what you want.
[Does she know that, technically, she's a gargoyle? Well, yes, but still.]
Just--not the way you wanted it.
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He doesn't keep moving backwards, but he doesn't take a step towards her yet, either.]
Not an illuminating explanation.
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[There is, conveniently, a bench just nearby, and Hawke drops right into it and winces a bit when the backrest digs into her wings a bit too much, leaning forward and resting her arms on her lap instead. She's found one disadvantage to having wings: it takes a bit more effort to sit comfortably.]
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[he shouldn't be able to count these kinds of run-ins on more than one hand, but here we go again. here's to hoping it's someone smart enough to get lost.
more lost.
the polite thing to do is stop or pick another direction, but Zel's pretty set on where he's going, and so continues on, barely slowing pace even as he weaves between a pair of trees and discovers the voice's owner there.
nope. see ya.]
Not smart to be out here unarmed.
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It wasn't my choice. I woke to find my sword stolen.
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a touch drier:] That's probably just the start, then.
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[Why is everyone here so damned cryptic. Help an illiterate man out, for the Maker's sake.]
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and Zel.] Didn't any of those sad-faced citizens clue you in yet?
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1!
He'd just begin to put it firmly from his mind when he finds his wrist suddenly snagged, and glances over with clear surprise. A smile isn't far off, when he sees the arresting someone is an attractive someone. ]
Oh, nothing much. [ He glances briefly down at the pamphlet in question. ] Why, not a language you read? You speak it well enough.
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Judging by the faces I've seen, I imagine it's quite a bit more than nothing much.
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Why, you're not human, are you? I'd assumed, you look very similar, even more than me, but you don't quite have the tiny ears for it. [ how interesting! ] Might I ask what you are?
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He shifts his weight from one (bare) foot to the other.]
An elf. Get on with it.
[Vanadi isn't human, either, it's plain to see, but is Fenris going to ask about it? No. No, he is not.]
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[ And with that over with, he finally returns his glance to the pamphlet. ]
Ahh, harpies. Birds, apparently. Hoping to feel a little feathery, are you?
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