TEST DRIVE MEME

[rysligmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME

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: The State of the Game Discussion produced a lot of great suggestions and we now have a post for Plot Suggestions and Monster Questions. The NETWORK VOTE results are in and PRIVATE MESSAGING will be added some time in November. 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. Reserve and application dates have been announced. 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.

Comments

[going_my_way]

For as long as it took Jetstorm to get the hang of two feet instead of all hovering all the time, four feet sure looks easier for him.

"Yeah, yeah," and he's not sure whether he should attribute the headache brewing to whatever's incoming or the eyeball surprise that just happened. "That's only 'cause you don't know how to handle a challenge."

When in doubt, mock your best friend.

[says_say_what]

Four feet have the advantage of giving more to balance on! ...Unfortunately, better, quicker locomotion means Jetstorm has pretty much doubled his chances of pancaking himself into something. Damn you, high speed!

"Not being able to handle a challenge? Moi? Ohhhh no, multiclops, you're the one with challenge issues. All it takes to slow you down is a chance to stare broodily."

[going_my_way]

He doesn't seem to be having trouble getting them all moving in the right order, either, which is one Pit of a bonus, in Thrust's opinion.

"Don't blame you bein' confused. I know it's hard to spot somebody thinkin' when you don't do much yourself."

Thrust is starting to sound a little... sinus-y. (Still amused, still having fun, just... stuffed up. It's been kinda hard to kill his good mood for a while.)

[says_say_what]

Jetstorm snorts-both at the comment and the latest thing he's found to sniff. As they get closer to the woods, he keeps stopping to circle around, snuffling at anything that catches his nose's attention.

"You call it thinking, I call it locking up. I can do all my planning before I'm staring the target right in their squishy face, thanks."

[going_my_way]

"Worked on you." It's not like Thrust hadn't known which targets, back on Cybertron, were the 'shoot first' type and which were the 'talk first' type, even if it was just trash talk.

(Jetstorm is so the talk-first type.)

And that familiar smell is getting stronger. Thrust sniffles. It's instinctive and weird.

[says_say_what]

"For all of five kliks, before you tried to drop a building on me. Which, by the way, you're slag at, compared to the petting zoo." Jetstorm sounds amused, rather than miffed. They had their brawl, then they worked things out, and now they try to drop buildings on other people.

Or did, anyway. The architecture here seems to be far more solid and less explosion-prone than what they had on Cybertron.

The familiar scent makes Jetstorm shake his head, turning and walking back over to Thrust to sniff at him again. "Whatever you're upgrading into, it's pinging stronger now. What the frag is up with that body of yours?"

[going_my_way]

Points for Ryslig, because it's actually kind of reassuring to know nothing's gonna explode if you bump into a wall (or your friend faceplants into a billboard).

On the other hand, Thrust feels like there's something pushing at the inside of his head. "I dunno," well, no, he's got a guess, but he's not really focused on the guess right now, because, "feels like somethin's pushin' inside my face." It's making his eyes-- well, the original set-- water for some reason. "Makin' it hard to breathe."

It's in his face, not his cranium, so that means the danger of pressure to that lump of fat that works as the squishy excuse for a CPU isn't in any danger, right? Right? (Shut up, anatomy books had played a role in Thrust's research into How To Not Kill This Body.)

[says_say_what]

"Fragging squish, breaks if you look at it wrong..." Can't even get an air intake system right, what kind of engineering is that?

"Open wide," he suggested, then gapes his own jaws for emphasis. With his own upgrade, he's able to get them impressively wide before snapping them shut again. "...If I have to drag your aft to the medic because of an upgrade, I'm going to be annoyed."

Warning for blood spatter and sneezing

[going_my_way]

Organic maintenance is actually kind of scary, once you get past the basics, and Thrust knows very well that the native medics don't really appreciate immigrant patients. He has no idea what Jetstorm thinks he can do, but Thrust obediently opens wide, crouching a little and tipping his head back to give Jetstorm a good view.

Hey, shut up and let me see is downright friendly and concerned, for their faction.

If the lighting cooperates, there are two long, angry, swollen red lines streaking back along Thrust's hard palate, not unlike the way the extra eyes were coming in-- but the pink flesh covering his hard palate doesn't disguise that there's something trying to push through half as well as the darker skin of Thrust's forehead. Thrust is breathing through his mouth now, which is easier but also? It kind of stings.

And tickles.

And honestly, if his body had given him any warning (or any warning he understood), Thrust would have warned Jetstorm, or turned away, or something.

Thrust sneezes.

Hard.

But what his body is trying to eject isn't mucous buildup-- those two lines rip free and flip forward, projecting behind Thrust's much more human teeth like... well. Like fangs.

Unlike the eyes, which were a split and then done, this time, there's blood. It's not really a lot of blood, but the roof of Thrust's mouth is torn up pretty bad.

So.

A gust of wet air and blood, both mist and spatter, coming straight at his face at around a hundred miles an hour from... really probably far too close for comfort... may distract Jetstorm from 'whoops Thrust has fangs.'

But it has Thrust pulling away and swearing. "Frag-- oh, frag that tastes like rust, what the frag!"

[says_say_what]

Jetstorm yelps and jerks back, because what the frag just happened in Thrust's mouth?!

Perhaps more importantly, what the frag is on his face now?!

Jetstorm paws at his face, his hackles rising as he tries to swipe off the wet stuff off. "Did you just purge your tank in my face?" It's equal parts 'what the frag is wrong with you' 'what the frag is wrong with your mouth' and 'Primus on a pogostick, my face!'

[going_my_way]

There's blood around Thrust's mouth, and fangs (they look like pointy white drinking straws, or quills-- they're ridiculously long) folding back and forth as he speaks-- well, yells. "I got no fraggin' idea!"

It doesn't feel like a tank purge, though, but some of the pressure inside his face is relieved. Of course, it's replaced by the sting where his fangs pulled out; Thrust has never scraped the fuck out of his mouth with a pointy tortilla chip or he'd have something to compare it to.

He wipes at his chin, because it's wet, and his palm comes away red.

"... I think this is blood."

He's been really well-behaved for the last month, because he's only sort-of sure this is the stuff that keeps human bodies running. He'd bet on it, but he wouldn't bet a lot.

So, not a tank purge, but a leak.

[says_say_what]

"It smells like rust, whatever it is," Jetstorm says, his nose wrinkling as he lets out a sneeze of his own. (He doesn't feel guilty about sneezing in Thrust's direction, either.)

"So, to recap," Jetstorm says once he feels like he's recovered his dignity and can go back to being a smug jerkaft, "My upgrade: quick and definitely in my favor. Your upgrade: drawn out, disgusting, and possibly trying to kill you." He steeples his claws, his ears going to the sides. Ignoring the lack of a crest, it's actually very reminiscent how he looked back home. "I'm still winning this thing."

[going_my_way]

Oh look, more organic wet for Thrust to wipe off his face with a disgusted expression. Delightful.

He shoves Jetstorm's shoulder (because, that's why), then turns and spits, away from Jetstorm, because his mouth tastes like rust and he kind of wants that out of his mouth. A splat of red and wet hits the ground, and Thrust frowns at it.

And then frowns (or scowls. It's really more of a scowl) at Jetstorm. "Yeah, yeah, frag you, too." Is it weird that the fangs fold up on the consonants but show more, almost display more, on the vowels?

Six eyes and a nasty-looking bite, there, Thrust.

[says_say_what]

Jetstorm does an idle snap in Thrust's direction-not anywhere close enough to be an actual threat, more of a 'I have more than you' show. "Not if you keel over from fluid loss first. Think that's the end of it, or should we find someone else for you to spew on and get another opinion?"

Share the love, share the blood, whatever.

Jetstorm's muzzle wrinkles as he drops down to all fours again to snuffle at where the blood landed. "Rust and I don't know what. Familiar, but it makes this pelt itch." Sure enough, his hackles have risen again, and as he stands up again, he bares his teeth a little.

[going_my_way]

Thrust probes at the roof of his mouth with his tongue (he looks ridiculous, mouth an open O and fangs just sort of hanging there on display while he fiddles with the cuts). It doesn't feel like a critical leak...

And if Jetstorm's gonna make faces about the smell, Thrust may as well just tell him.

"I think it's-- okay, one, it's creepy you're sniffin' that," because... it pretty much was. "An' two, I think it's spider."

And if Jetstorm's gonna get snarly and snappy about it, may as well get it over with while Thrust has two legs he knows how to run on.

[says_say_what]

Jetstorm's response, actually, is to facepalm, trying to run a hand down his face. (It doesn't go as well as usual, seeing how there's now a muzzle in the way.) Then he sighs dramatically, shaking his head.

"Spider? It's official, my unfortunately now arachnid amigo: not only does the universe hate you, it also has a twisted sense of humor. And," he adds, posing with one clawed finger in the air, "If you start running around telling people to remember who they are, I promise I'll put you out of your misery."

[going_my_way]

Thrust just shoots Jetstorm a dirty look (there's still blood smeared on his chin and mouth, it's technically a very dirty look) and a rude gesture.

Thrust has figured out that the universe hates him, and that the universe likes irony, and that the universe seems inclined to throw him a bone (a Maximal that doesn't like to shoot at him, a friend saved from certain death-ish-ness) only every once in a while.

... Jetstorm being squeamish about getting blood on him might be one such bone, provided Thrust hasn't inadvertently cured him of that.

"You know whatever you go frolic with is gonna be full of this stuff," he says, holding up a blood-smeared hand.

[says_say_what]

"That's different," Jetstorm says, still holding up the claw. "One, I'm expecting them to squish in new and exciting ways. Two," he said, flicking another claw upwards, "By helping fuzzy little animals explode into balls of goo and thus taking out an organic or twelve, I'm making the world a better place, and three,-" -up flicked the third claw- "-said fuzzy little animals aren't you, and so I'm less concerned when they decide to spurt fluids everywhere."

He paused, tilting his head to the side. "Speaking of, think you're done yet?"

[going_my_way]

Thrust declares himself officially better at networking and/or intelligence gathering than Jetstorm. (He's also bewildered and flattered by an open admission of concern.)

"Maybe for the night. You steer clear of the immigrants who changed or what?"

[says_say_what]

Thrust's face exploded goo everywhere! That's one of those situations where open concern is allowed. Because nothing involving goo ever goes well for them, really.

"Haven't seen any spiders, can't compare how beasty they get." Some of the original immigrants seemed to look what Jetstorm had come to see as 'pretty normal for squishies', some had looked more like they'd been stuck in a blender with a Maximal. "Should I expect to see you looking more like the ladybug soon?"

[going_my_way]

Thrust does not want to say 'yes, yes you should.'

But he wants to list off the features he's seen even less. "Yeah, probably should," he admits. "... Probably boring colors, though." Fraggin' brown-aft planet.

He's not exactly sure why Jetstorm's change happened so fast.

"Here's what I don't get." SUBJECT CHANGE. "I hardly talk. You never shut up. How come I know more of this slag than you do?" It had all come from talking to people, at least the upgrade stuff. (Then again, Thrust didn't spend much time looking for anyone he earnestly believed was dead...)

[says_say_what]

Jetstorm shrugs. "Never came up much in my conversations. ...And I may have had some encounters with the earlier immigrants that were less about talk and more about 'you remind me of a Maximal I know'."

Translation: hurling rocks and insults at animal-people gets you less information than quietly letting them yap at you. Who knew? Also, being a jerkaft tends to mean people don't want to have informative talks with you.

"Besides, there's something to be said for learning by doing."

[going_my_way]

"You are so lucky nobody ate you."

Thrust is lucky, too, but mostly Jetstorm is lucky nobody ate him.

Jetstorm knows about the 'eating humans' requirement, right?

[says_say_what]

"Luck is my thing, not yours. Lest we forget." He lolls his tongue out again, then looks back to the woods. "Speaking of eating, what say we keep going and get back to frolicking? You'd fit right in now. Friendly neighborhood spider, swinging by to say hello."

He pauses.

"With your backup teeth."

[going_my_way]

The tongue thing looks so weird on him. Which, well, is not unreasonable, Thrust is still getting used to Jetstorm having a mouth. A physical mouth, not a loudmouth-mouth.

"Yeah, all right. We get another half-mile and somethin' else pops out of me, I'm blamin' you," he warns, mostly playfully.

He works the backup teeth a couple of times as he starts off again, trying to figure out how they work. There's something like a joint, and the points are engineered so he doesn't stab his tongue unless he really works at it (which he discovers by really working at it. Ow).

Thrust listens to people. He reads the network, when he can stand the typos. He knows there's a humanitarian requirement.

He also knows he's gonna have problems meeting it if everything tastes like rotting iron.