TEST DRIVE : MAY 2016 EDITIOIN

[rysligmods]

TEST DRIVE

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!
• Ryslig's FAQ is located here, so please take a look if you have questions.


• The Reserve date is MAY 20ST 12:01AM EST.
• There is an Enable Me / App this Plz to see what some people are offering or would love to play.
• Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
• Players with characters already in the game can earn up to a maximum of 6 coins by replying to potential character threads! You cannot use this to go over the bonus 20 coins per month total, but you can use it to reach that coin total. Same rules as normal bonuses apply.

Sample scenarios:

SCENARIO ONE: So you've just arrived, and already SOME 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. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.

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. Sometimes they have marks on them from previous people who had them saying they are lies, or pointing out good "jokes."

Then there's the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky. Torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.

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: 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.

SCENARIO FOUR: The claws, the fangs, the pangs of hunger - horrible as they all are, it's manageable given enough time and perseverance. Local monster hunters, though, not so much.

Maybe it started with a few wayward glances on the outskirts of town, critical stares and disapproving whispers, or just the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever it was, deserved or entirely unprovoked, you're being hunted: a handful of aggressive, well-armed humans doggedly chase your trail throughout city streets and out into the open, and if you're not careful (if you don't find help soon) you might wind up as the next trophy kill claim on one of those hunter's walls.

Comments

Jean Pierre Polnareff | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Part 5

[fivenareff]

[Scenario One - In Which Our Hero Arrives]

[Okay but so: Jean-Pierre Polnareff is, in fact, used to the strange and bizarre. Yesterday his soul had been residing in a turtle, safe and sound, and he'd been sharing beers with his fifteen year old mafioso boss, who wanted to first discuss strategy and then relationship conflicts with him. So like . . . waking up in a strange city, with people kind of weirdly overenthusiastic in their friendliness, isn't actually all that strange.

What is strange is that he does, in fact, have a body. He very much has a body, and it's the same body that had died some two months ago. The metallic legs still work, and he's down one eye again, and honestly, all of that is fine. It's weird! But it's fine.

But they hadn't given him a wheelchair.

Like, who oversaw this kidnapping, exactly? Who the hell took a guy's soul, resurrected his body, made sure it was his body sans legs, and then forgot to provide a wheelchair? Who did that? It wasn't even evil, it was just a hugely dick move. Like, be evil if you want, but at least be classy about it.

At least those overenthusiastic locals had come in handy. It's not a proper wheelchair, but it's a seat, at least, and for now that's enough. He's surrounded by pamphlets, and he's trying to read them, he really is-- but the first monster-person he sees, he calls out to.]

Come here-- yeah, you! I want to ask you some questions. I have a few names I want to ask you about . . .

[Scenario Four - In Which Our Hero Is Hunted]

[This would have turned out so different if he'd had Silver Chariot.

Four assholes with torches and swords? Psh, no problem. Chariot would have cut them to ribbons. But without Chariot, without any kind of weapon, with only the most minimal of monster changes affecting him, Polnareff had no choice but to run. He might have been able to tear open a throat or two, but he wasn't about to get himself killed (again) just because he was feeling too brave.

At least he's being clever about it. He doesn't just flee blindly-- he loses himself in Bavan's alleys, hiding behind dumpsters and in the shadows of doors, throwing his voice and tossing rocks to mislead his opponents. But they're clever, and he can't outwit them forever-- so perhaps this would be the time for someone to swoop in and save him, hm?]

[Note: tags will come from both this account and silvercrusader!]

une

[digiorno]

[The first monster he sees probably doesn't look very familiar at first glance. The first monster he sees is a mess, a Frankenstein-esque mishmash of things, dark hair and light, human and spider, skin and fur and claws and teeth. He's attempting to drown himself in a heavy black coat, but it doesn't do much anymore to hide the fact that there are too many arms under there, or that some of them are misshapen and strangely elongated.]

[The look on his face: that might be familiar. A certain haughty peevishness at being addressed so rudely, a disinclination to obey. When he turns, there's some clear intent to be scathing, just for a moment, before he recognizes Polnareff — and then his eyes go wide.]

[That look, too, Polnareff will know. That old fear, an uncertainty about what is real and what is not, the most childish look Giorno Giovanna ever wears. It looks younger, somehow, under the shock of black in his bangs.]

P— P—

[He covers his mouth with one hand, one of the more normal ones. It occurs to him too late that he's not covering the right part of himself; the mouth is the least offensive, these days. His eyes shine in the darkness, two with tears, the rest with silver.]

[Hasn't he done enough already? Hasn't he been through enough?]

[He wants to scream.]

[silvercrusader]

[It takes him just a moment too long to recognize him. Just a few seconds of mild horror at the spiderish creature before him, with too many arms and eyes, moving in a terrifying too-quick way that makes Polnareff's heart pound -- but oh. Oh, because he knows that expression. How could he not? He's lost count of how many times has that look been directed at him these past two months. So many funerals, so many little details that a fifteen year old ought not to have to deal with-- Don Giovanna is nothing but put together and precise in his rulings, but it's Polnareff who gets to see the boy underneath.]

Giorno--

[Who did this to you? But even as he thinks it, he swallows the question down-- he will not make him feel worse about his appearance. He's crying, and god, Polnareff can't blame him-- who wouldn't cry, mutilated so drastically? Polnareff reaches a hand, a silent entreaty for his boss to come closer.]

[digiorno]

[It doesn't matter that he doesn't say it. It hangs in the air between them all the same, heavy and ragged-edged, and it's not — it's not, he supposes, bad, because he is still himself even like this, but it's been months since he really thought about how wrong he looks. The coat quickly became habit, something to put newcomers at ease, and nothing they said could touch him.]

[But just the way Polnareff looks at him now, like he's been broken somehow, is agony.]

[The stupid thing is that that's not even why he's upset. Not really. He wants Polnareff to be safe, he wants everyone to be safe but Polnareff especially, and here he won't be. There's no chance. Sooner than later, Polnareff will suffer.]

Please.

[He shakes his head, his lips parted in words he can't quite figure out how to form.]

I'm — you need to go. You need to go, get out of here!

[No one can. But it's all he wants. Turn around and stay safe. Be anywhere else but here.]

[fivenareff]

[There are murmurs around them, and a few people give Giorno a bit of a dirty glance-- but they're irrelevant. Everyone is irrelevant right now, save for the boy in front of him.]

Right now I can't even get up off this bench.

[He'd asked. It had been a long journey from where he'd been deposited to where he sits now, and he'd asked all the more relevant questions on the way. How can I get home, how can I get back, there's got to be a ship leaving port, I need to get to Italy, there's someone waiting for me--]

Giorno, come here.

[digiorno]

[Right. Right, he can't . . . he can't get up. Okay. Polnareff is here. Polnareff is here, and needs his help. Polnareff is here and guiding him, that's what's happening, just like at home, just like normal. What was normal, for a little while.]

[God, it's pathetic how grateful, how relieved he is. Selfish. Disgusting. He scrubs his hands over his face and exhales sharply.]

. . . Perdonami.

[He crosses the space between them, holds out his hands, the most normal ones. There's an impossible shyness around him now, borne not of grief but shame. But if Polnareff is real, he wants to know. He wants to see for himself.]

Heh . . . buon giorno, Polnareff.

[silvercrusader]

[They'll have to speak about Giorno's mutilations. He'll have to know each one, learn them and learn Giorno's newfound weaknesses and strengths. But for now, at least, he can ignore them-- and so there's no hesitation in the way he takes Giorno's hands, nor in the way he smiles up at him.]

I have several complaints to take to the management, Giorno. You'll have to help me write them up, hm?

[digiorno]

[God. He's never — missed anyone like this. Not like this. He misses Bruno and Narancia and even Abbacchio, sometimes especially Abbacchio on the days when he's feeling least charitable, but he knows he'll never see them again. But Polnareff, he missed like suddenly gravity shot sideways and left was up. It's too much, too disorienting, to see him here again.]

[His breathing hitches in half a sob before he smothers it and manages a watery smile.]

Of course I will. Anything for you, always.

How — has anyone hurt you?

[silvercrusader]

No. --well, they tried to bury me in pamphlets, and they didn't provide a wheelchair, but. I'll live.

[He has to be bright and cheerful right now. That's his role: something bright that Giorno can focus on until he gets himself together. Polnareff will ask him a thousand questions in a few hours, and they'll plan, they'll strategize, Polnareff will learn everything about what Giorno has been up to--

But for now, he runs his thumbs over the back of Giorno's hands and smiles up at him.]

Are you running things all over the peninsula?

UNLUCKY FOUR | MISTA WARNED YOU BRO

[starmark]

[Funny he mentions people swooping in and saving him, because quite literally that's exactly what happens.

The swoop comes courtesy of the two massive leathery wings sprouting from the creature's back; the rescue comes courtesy of the taloned feet. But what's perhaps odd about this sudden and unexpected death from above is that — well, that it actually isn't death at all. On the contrary, all of the blows that rain down are wholly nonfatal ones, seemingly more targeted toward knocking the mob back and drawing their attention away from Polnareff than actually killing anyone.

One of the humans drops his torch and runs; he's the sensible one, probably. The other three decide to stand and fight, and that's when the apparition lands and folds down his wings like he thinks he's the motherfucking Batman and —

Quite curiously, makes eye contact with all of them one by one, and speaks.]

You didn't find anything here. Get the hell out.

[...And unbelievably enough, they leave. Which leaves Polnareff alone with the monster, who turns to him in the moonlight and reveals a profile in silhouette that —

...

...That's wearing a hat with the back ripped out, and a flash of gold trim and pins as the creature finishes its pivot and approaches him slowly.]

...It's fine. Nobody's going to h—

[But. Well.

Heightened night vision's a stinker, ain't it?]

...P...Pol...nareff...?

[fivenareff]

[If he hadn't spoken, Polnareff wouldn't have known.

Oh, that hat is familiar, of course, and later on he would have wondered-- but still, there were so many people here, displaced from so many different worlds. Why would Jotaro be one of them? He was lucky enough to find Giorno; Jotaro hadn't even been a thought here.

But no. He's lucky and not, all at once, because there's Jotaro: tall and imposing, talons clicking against the pavement as he makes his way over, wings stretching out behind him like he's some kind of delinquent angel. Despite himself, Polnareff's breath catches-- Jotaro is no threat to him, but god, this city's done a number on him.

(He doesn't think about how he himself looks, missing legs, an eyepatch over his eye. Jotaro knows the extent of his injuries; Jotaro was the one to bring him to the SPW Foundation).]

That's one I owe you, hm?

[Which really means: thank god you're here. And Polnareff grins hard, because his heart is hurting in the best possible way. Because it's Jotaro, and he should want him at home, safe and sound, unchanged and untouched-- but if he's not, if he has to be here, then thank god he is, because there's no one Polnareff would rather have at his side.]

Stop looming over me-- come here, let me see you.

[starmark]

[It's Polnareff, but he's wrong.

He's wrong, this isn't Polnareff. Polnareff is — he shouldn't have lost both his legs, Dio didn't even hit his legs, how could he have leapt through the air like the avenging angel he'd been if he were missing both of his legs? What about his eye? He didn't get hit in the eye (did he get hit in the eye? they took him to the hospital, they said he was fine, what happened, he can't remember) — what happened? These aren't new wounds. These are old wounds, he moves like he's had them a while. The predator would've seen that in an instant, even if Jotaro weren't looking for it himself.

Who did this? How did this happen? This isn't Polnareff, Polnareff isn't this old and this battered and this...this. How did this happen?

He's so busy staring that he can't think of anything to do but obey the request he's been given, stepping over with his wings folding up behind his back to be better out of the way. He looks like a mixture of himself and his Star Platinum, if Star were more dragon than giant: the claws that have replaced his hands and feet have thick scale like gloves and boots, and on the backs of his claws below the knuckles sits a familiar triangle pattern echoed in scale. On either side of his hat sit a pair of slim gold horns, their bases hidden nestled in his hair; down the sides of his face and neck are more scale, more violet, which is echoed in the hue of his wings and his tail.

Amid all that, there are tears in his eyes.

Who did this, he wants to ask, so that he can find them and kill them a thousand times.]

Why are you — the hell are you doing in that chair? Get up.

[Thus speaks Captain Tact, demonstrating admirably the first stage of grief.]

[silvercrusader]

[--oh, no.]

Jotaro--

[He will never, he thinks, never ever tell Jotaro what happened. Not truly. Diavolo, that's what he'll say, and he'll leave out any mention of Jotaro whatsoever. It wasn't his fault-- truly it wasn't, Diavolo cornered Polnareff, trapped him neatly and easily, had drawn Jotaro away from his companion-- but he knows there's no way to say that to Jotaro without him drawing the wrong conclusions.

So he'll never know. They'll blame it all on Diavolo, and that's fine.]

It's all right. It really is, I promise you.

[starmark]

[It's strange. All this time, all this bearing up, all this resilience and coping and determination, and nine words out of Polnareff's mouth break him in half.]

How the hell can you say something like that?! Look at you!

[And all of a sudden it's just — it's a dam broken loose in his chest, water flooding out through the fine hairline cracks in the stone he's made of his soul, the stone he becomes every day in the sun if he's not careful, it's all spilling out, water damage, emotional damage, he's damaged and he has been for a long time and it's only just now that those flaws in the gemstone he's been are starting to show.

Polnareff was there with him. Polnareff is the only person who could even remotely come close to — Polnareff lost Abdul, Polnareff had someone die for him, Polnareff tried to save him and — and he's here and he's in a chair and he's lying, he's saying it's all right, he's saying I promise and it has to be a lie because how the hell can anything be all right if Polnareff's not?

He looks away immediately, fiercely. He has to, because if he's not careful he'll scream shut up, and if their eyes make contact then Polnareff will have to do it, and he'll never never never be like Dio never be like that no one's ever going to hurt Polnareff ever again never never never but they did and he doesn't know how or why and that's never never never all right

but

he's saying that it is.]

How the fuck is anything all right if you're sitting there looking like that?!

[fivenareff]

[He doesn't say, because at least I have my body back, although it's true. He doesn't say, because at least I have you here with me, although that's also true. There's nothing to say, no words that will make this suddenly all right. There's nothing that will stop this awful mixture of grief and rage; they just have to ride it out together. He'll let Jotaro rage and cry and when it subsides, he'll be there.

They've done it before, he and Jotaro, trading places as needed, leaning on each other too heavily and too often. He knows this dance.]

A lot has happened in thirteen years, Jotaro. Not all of it is bad, no matter what I look like.

[His voice is quiet, a little rough-- and he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against Jotaro. He won't crowd him if touch isn't what he wants-- but it's an invitation.]

[starmark]

[For a second, he goes rigid.]

...Thirteen years...?

[But as the words fade away into the night air, dissipating on the fog and the breeze, the tension that had held him still as a stone gradually begins to release. Despite himself, his wings stretch and shift in a way that almost suggests nervousness, and though he flinches away from the initial brush of fingers, he returns to it not long afterward, gravitating to actively seek it out.]

So. Not "January 16, 1988". Thirteen — for you it's 2001?

[fivenareff]

June 6th, 2001.

[He watches his wings stretch out for a moment, giving Jotaro a second. Just in case he wants a moment of privacy-- but soon he gives that up, and glances at his expression instead.]

I'm thirty-three. I live in Italy, and it-- it's good, what I have there. The people I know. I'll tell you about them, if you want. I'll tell you everything, but Jotaro-- it's okay. It really is.

Four!

[deathboss]

[Well with the swooping in joke already done and in no way ever able to be cooler than a Jojo, the swoop of wings as colorful as a peacock and hooves that touch the ground can be heard for a few short seconds before someone grabs him by the...really tight outfit and tries to take off into the air again with him.

Good hearing meant he had heard exactly where the guy was compared to the humans, but that doesn't meant they are out to safety yet. Those guys are packing some serious heat.]

Hey! You alright?

[Might be a bit hard to hear from the speed he's attempting to take off again.]

[silvercrusader]

[Sweet Christ, he's being saved by a peacock.

This is not, actually, the worst way he's been saved. For the record. But it's pretty high up there, because it really ruins your street cred when people can say, hey, weren't you the guy that the peacock had to save?]

--yeah!

[Is he? Maybe. They're definitely starting to shoot at them, Polnareff can hear the bullets pinging around them, and god, what a waste it would be to die in an alley with a peacock-man after all he's been through.]

Get down--

[Because while Michel is making a truly valiant effort of it, he's also a pretty heavy guy. They've managed to get about three feet off the ground, which isn't actually worth all that much when you're being shot at.]

[deathboss]

[Yeah, it was a good idea, but his hooves probably stand a better chance than his wings at this point. The bullet sounds don't help his ears either and he attempts to fold them even as they move. A quick change of direction, and Eikichi manages to carry them to the other side of a nearby building. Unfortunately, those hunters just think of it as an opportunity to give chase and capture both instead of just one.]

Okay, let's not panic. I got this, I got this--

[That bullet sure came close to his face.]

HEY! DON'T MANGLE MY FACE! I JUST FINISHED PUTTING ON MY MAKEUP LESS THAN AN HOUR AGO! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES TO EVEN GET MY HAIR LOOKING LIKE THIS?!

[Oh he's pissed now. For all the wrong reasons. At least he can make a very nice meat shield if they continue to shoot.]

[fivenareff]

They're not going to care about shooting your face! Can you attack with those hooves?

[He himself glances around-- there's no weapons here, nothing he could use to defend himself with. He has to rely entirely on this peacock man, and god, he's going to die here.]

trying to even explain his attack makes no sense, sorry

[deathboss]

[As much as they don't care about shooting his face, he takes good care of it. His right hand forms into a fist and he moves his ears listening to their footsteps get closer. Torches, swords and guns...well there's not much time to think. He puts Jean-Pierre down and moves a little farther so that the four men can seem him better - not that he's too hard to miss.]

HEY ASSHOLES! As long as Michel's here, you'll never have your way, biatch!

[That certainly gets their attention. But perhaps not as much as when his entire body begins to glow a soft blue, energy seeping from his hooves until it violently exists behind him and reforms into a creature twice his size.]

Bloody Honeymoon!

[At Eikichi's comment, the creature raises its skull bouquet in the air and the ringing of wedding bells(????) echoes around them before skeleton brides appear from thin air and create a downpour of water that not only surprises them (if the skeleton summoning other skeletons wasn't enough), but also pushes them right into a nearby wall with a sickening thud. As everything but the peacock minotaur disappears and he moves back over to the other guy his tone urgent as he keeps looking over to them.]

Let's get out of here before they come to their senses, eh?

aw dude i play from jojo, anime stopped making sense a long time ago

[fivenareff]

[Oh. A Stand. He has a Stand, that's useful-- and entirely contrary to what Polnareff thought he knew about this place, but he's not about to question it.]

Yeah.

[A momentary glance at the fallen figures-- but they seem alive, at least, which is more than they were going to allow him, so fuck it, they'll probably be all right. Polnareff jerks his head, nodding towards a side-alley, and leads the way into it.]

--thank you. Belatedly. Michel, right? I'm Polnareff.

quattro; i'm not sure why i didn't tag you with abigail last night i just got too excited ig

[versusnurture]

[Maybe the difference is that Abigail has never had power to lose. Maybe that's why she approaches this differently, why her goal is so rarely to outwit. But that's probably not why, in the end. It's probably something totally unrelated, like really not wanting to die.]

[Either way, the end result is this: she sees an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. She's hungry; she could not be hungry. She's alone; she could make an ally.]

[So there he is, cornered in an alley, two men closing in through the alley mouth. And then, all of a sudden, out of a door that wasn't there before (or did she come from above?), there's a girl. Pretty in a plain way, weirdly magnetic, her arms folded tight against her sides as though she's uncertain. Feeling a bit unsafe.]

[The men in the alley mouth hesitate, just for a second. And that's enough — for her to reach out, revealing a flap of skin between her arms and her sides, and snap their necks, once in each slim hand.]

[They crumple to the ground, and she glances down at them with displeasure, then back at Polnareff.]

You hit?

we got excited about giorno it happens

[fivenareff]

--no.

[He's seen people die in front of him, yeah. He's even killed people. And he's seen that even the most unassuming people can have the deadliest powers. So by all rights, he ought to be completely at ease with this teenager girl so casually killing his enemies-- hell, he ought to be grateful for it, considering she just saved his life.

But there's something about her that unnerves him.

Still. It won't do to be entirely cold, not after she saved his life-- and so he wheels forward, offering her a slight smile.]

Jean-Pierre Polnareff. I owe you my life, I think, hm?