TEST DRIVE MEME

[ryslighelpers]

TEST DRIVE MEME: MARCH

Welcome to the Ryslig Test Drive Meme! Below are a few prompts to get you started, but you may make up any prompt you desire! Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!

SCENARIO ONE

You wake up on the beach thoroughly drenched with your mouth full of sand. The salt water causes various cuts and scrapes on your skin to sting and the sand isn't helping. The air is slightly humid, ruining any feeling of refreshment you might have gotten from your dip in the ocean. There are lights in the distance but the unfriendly scent of gunpowder fills the air. If you're lucky, you're alone. If not, you might find yourself staring up into a pair of monstrous eyes or down the barrel of a local's shotgun.

SCENARIO TWO

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 THREE

"Seek us out," the voice whispers in your head, and before you have time to question it you've found yourself in someplace entirely alien. Maybe it's the Fog God's ghostly town of Dyster, where exultant followers dance around bonfires and sing their praises to the skies above. Maybe it's the Fourth God's arcade, with small robots wheeling about amidst the lights and colors of old pinball machines. Only one thing is certain: you are not alone, in this sacred place.

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.

Comments

Hawkeye Pierce | M*A*S*H | OTA

[getmeoutofthedraft]

[1]
[This is not Hawkeye's idea of a good time. His mouth's full of sand, his eyes are full of saltwater, and his head's full of ache. Far as he can tell, the only good thing is that he wasn't conscious for any of the drowning part, because god knows he doesn't need that childhood memory resurfacing.]

[I mean, what childhood memory? He has no trauma. He has no problems. Everything is fine.]

[He groans loudly, eyes still closed against the sting of salt as he struggles to pull himself onto all fours.] Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?


[2]
[Hawkeye's pretty easy to find in all this. He's the one arguing, increasingly loudly, with the poor bastard who tried to give him a pamplet.]

Because it's anatomically impossible, that's why! How would that even work? The...

...look, no, the muscles are in the wrong place! Don't you tell me how anatomy works, buddy, I've spent my whole life up to the elbows in it!

1

[keeponstrolling]

You freakin' tell me, Little Mermaid.

[Nearby, another man is struggling to get his bearings in the same bank of sand. Completely drenched in a trenchcoat with his hair plastered to his head, he has his hand over his eyes, and he's patting down the sand with the other, seemingly searching for something.]

Listen, you really wanna help me with somethin' here? See if you can't find my shades.

[getmeoutofthedraft]

[Hawkeye snorts, squinting through half-closed eyes.]

You must have a hell of a hangover if that's priority one for you right now. Bit of medical advice for you, pal, covering your eyes isn't the best way to find stuff.

[He will help, though. He's a dick, but he's not an unhelpful dick.]

Any idea where we are? Any chance it's Hawaii?

[keeponstrolling]

Uh huh. Sure. Hangover. That's it. [His tone is... generally unconvincing.] Besides, it completes the outfit. Can't let people see me like this, great shame, yadda yadda. So shades. [He snaps his fingers twice in his general direction.] Get to it.

[He shuffles around more in the sand, but considering he still has a hand over his eyes, it's just kind of ineffective.]

It might've been one hell of a bender, but I think I'd at least remember hopping on a plane halfway 'cross the country. Hawaii's a long place from Gotham. And I'd be pissed if drunk me booked a vacation here when I have debts to pay off.

[getmeoutofthedraft]

...Wait, back up. Gotham? You got here from New York?

[Something is very wrong here. Even wronger than he thought. He laughs rather nervously.] Did you get so drunk you didn't even remember the draft board? That's gotta be a story.

[keeponstrolling]

I said Gotham, not New York. I'm a Cauldron boy, through and through. [There's a hint of pride in his voice when he says this.] Never been travelling outside it, so I dunno what the hell I'm doin' here.

[He pauses in his searching, head tilted quizzically towards him.]

Draft? The hell's this got to do with a draft?

[getmeoutofthedraft]

That's a good line. Should've tried that when they came for me.

[He snorts, and straightens up with a pair of sunglasses in one hand.]

These yours?

[keeponstrolling]

[Whatever weirdness he gets from this guy and what he's saying disappears in an instant when he hears those magic words. His expression brightens instantly, and he jogs over in the general direction to where he heard him, almost tripping over a small rock in his way.]

Yeah! Thanks, my guy. Really appreciate it.

[With one hand still covering his eyes, he holds out his other hand to receive it.]

[getmeoutofthedraft]

No problem.

[Passing the shades back, he puts his head on one side.]

...Don't take this the wrong way, but what's wrong with your eyes? You can tell me. I'm a doctor.

[keeponstrolling]

[Tommy affixes his sunglasses into place with a content sigh. It's like a piece of himself coming back to him again. If Hawkeye looks very closely, he might catch the briefest glimpse of black before the shades cover it.]

What? Nothin's wrong with my eyes. What makes you say that? [He laughs a little too loudly, brushing the sand off his knees.] Hangovers, am I right?

[getmeoutofthedraft]

[One of Hawkeye's eyebrows rises, but he's not actually going to call the guy out. Anyway, it's possible it is really a hangover, even if it's looking increasingly unlikely.]

We ought to get out of here. Find civilisation, or at least somewhere a little less open and bombable.

[keeponstrolling]

Bombable? [An eyebrow quirks over the rim of the sunglasses edge.] The hell kinda life you're livin' that makes that a concern?

[Answer: something suspiciously similar to Tommy's, he's guessing. But his concerns pipe bombs more than anything else.]

Someone after you with that kinda firepower? I mean, I'm sure I ended up here with someone tryna kill me, but probably not with a bomb.

[getmeoutofthedraft]

The kind I'd like to keep on living, given the alternative.

[He sighs, meeting the other guy's eyes, as best he can given the whole sunglasses thing.]

What, didn't you get the memo about the war? Oh, 'scuse me, police action?

[keeponstrolling]

Uhh..... no?

[Unless he means a metaphorical war. But Tommy gives him a quizzical look nonetheless.]

You talkin' about somethin' the Mob's finally kicked off or somethin'? I know it's been leadin' up to it for a while, but that kinda police action's not good for anyone, least of all me.

[getmeoutofthedraft]

I'm talking about Korea, buddy. You're not seriously telling me you haven't listened to the news in the last three years.

[keeponstrolling]

Hey! I read the newspaper every day like any good, hard working citizen. [Tommy protests, slightly defensively.] But I didn't hear jack shit 'bout Korea, or whatever the hell you're talkin' about.

[getmeoutofthedraft]

[Every alarm bell is going off in Hawkeye's head right now. This doesn't make sense. It just doesn't. Nobody in America - hell, nobody in the world - can seriously read the news and not know about the war, right? It wasn't avoidable even before he got drafted, and it's had three years to get stronger and shittier since then!]

China? The Red Menace? The jokers down in Seoul and the bigger ones back home? Bunch of kids getting shot up, pat on the back to our good ol' pal Harry Truman?

None of this ringing any bells? Really?

[keeponstrolling]

Oh ha ha. Very funny. [Tommy grumbles as he brushes the sand off his elbows too.] You're talkin' about the Korean War. Course I know 'bout that. But does this really look like th' time for a history lesson right now?

[He starts to walk off, waving a hand vaguely behind him.] If you're just gonna bring up weird, irrelevant shit at me, at least do it on the way.

[getmeoutofthedraft]

[That brings Hawkeye up short. He blinks, humour ebbing out of him for a moment - it's that much of a shock - and then jogs after the other man, his brow still furrowed.]

Hey, no, you can't just say that and then walk off! What the hell do you mean, history lesson? Listen, buddy, this time yesterday I was putting in a thirty-hour shift near Ouijongbu, and if that's your idea of history...!

[keeponstrolling]

Ha. Like I said, funny. If a war that's older than freakin' I am doesn't count as history, then what the hell am I doin' here? We all got jobs, buddy. You don't gotta be weird about it or nothin'.

[Tommy just keeps walking as Hawkeye talks, not bothering to slow down to let him catch up, just squinting into the distance.] I'll be honest - you're not makin' much sense. Sure you're not the one who needs a checkup, doc?

[getmeoutofthedraft]

I'm starting to wonder.

[He rubs both hands over his face, sighing heavily, and jogs a little to catch up. He doesn't much like this guy, but he likes the idea of being alone in wherever-this-is even less.]

Far as I can see it, there's three options. Either I'm dreaming, in which case there aren't nearly enough scantily-clad blondes, or I slept through the armistice, which might be pretty plausible given the thirty-hour shift, but if what you're saying is true, then I've aged fantastically. Or I'm a shoo-in for a Section Eight, which would only be helpful if I hadn't invented the war that I got drafted into and needed a Section Eight to get out of.

This is way too complicated for a humble meatball surgeon. We oughtta get Sidney in on this. He could write a whole monograph on me.

[keeponstrolling]

Oooor, there's a fourth option - you've just time-traveled. It's not so uncommon, y'know. What, with all the crazy shit that happens on a daily basis anyway.

[His voice is pretty unconcerned when he says this. When you've lived through the sun getting eaten and a vampire takeover, it's really not such a wild thought.]

'sides, isn't there this rule where, it's somethin' like if you think you're crazy you're not? Beats me. [Tommy shrugs.] Oh yeah, an' a fifth - I could be messing with you. There's a thought. I definitely feel you about the scantily-clad blondes though - where're they at?

[getmeoutofthedraft]

[Hawkeye scoffs.] Never where you want them, is where.

I thought of a sixth. You're crazy. It'd explain why you're talking about time travel like we're in some kinda comic book. [He seems less concerned by the idea that the other guy's crazy than he maybe should be. Everyone he knows is crazy, after all. At least, all the sane ones.]