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Test Drive Meme

TEST DRIVE MEME: SEPTEMBER

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 of the natives are trying to get on your good side with 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? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

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"A person on the street probably won't. But there's a few of us that do know. And it's...modern there. Skyscrapers, um...roombas..." He hadn't even considered multiple Chicagos. Help.

He waves away the thing about springy shoes. "Nah. But have you ever accidentally opened a way to a place that's full of fire? Or toxic gas?" Because that's extremely possible in his experience, likely even.

It'd be hard to actually do anything but swim if I couldn't. Hold on.

[And with that, he swims away, leaving his other question unanswered.

About six or seven minutes later, Liquid returns, this time walking along the beach, as fully-clothed as Liquid Snake's willing to get. Pants, boots, long coat, leaving his scarred, translucent chest exposed.]

When I first came here, I was human, like you. Or, I suppose, as human as possible, depending on your views on clones. [He says that with a bit of a sneer.]

That didn't last long. It takes about a month to start, but you'll start to see the changes soon enough. Lovely welcome, isn't it?

"T...that would be appreciated, thank you." He gives out his address, it's a place on a non-descript road in a non-descript neighborhood. A place more average than he'd like or was used to, but he wasn't making as much money here nor did he have his inhertance, either.

The painful transformation seemed to be slowing down, at least, and his tail seemed to be capping out at least twenty feet. Green scales glittered in the dark.

"No kidding, I mean, it's your brain being affected." He steps back, encouraging Mycroft to wriggle forwards a little more.

Butters closes his eyes and swallows, but he feels like Mycroft deserves an honest answer in reply.

"About half an hour after I broke down the boards I'd had nailed over my apartment door. I was standing over a woman." He closes his eyes.

"Drinking blood is bad enough. But to sustain life it's- it's better to drink a little than to take too much."

That's like, the last thing you should say in a situation like this. It's like saying "what could possibly go wrong" or all that other cliche crap that people say right before some alien jumps out and bites their faces off.

[Still, despite the ribbing, she stays close by Chloe's side. Nobody's jumped them yet, but a few people are definitely eyeballing them by now with enough focus that it's making the hairs at the back of her neck stand up.]

Maybe we should, like... find the nearest bus stop. Maybe see if we can find one that takes us out of town, because something tells me we are not welcome here.

The light flashes the image onto the paper....

[She furrows her brows, still fascinated but clearly groping for the thread of that explanation. Glancing from the picture, to the camera, to Max herself, and back again. Then, all at once, she smiles and nods: a nice, bright expression, like sunlight peeking out between clouds. Not because Lys understands, exactly, but because she's willing to trust that answer and carry on. Same as she (probably) would if the reason given had been magic, or nanomachines, or tiny worker ants armed with tiny paintbrushes.]

....neat! Wow, that's a lot faster than using paint and a canvas. [Imagine how many selfies you could take with this dinglehopper.] I guess you're like an artist, huh?

[The scales around Max's neck ruffle up a bit, but she sort of idly reaches up to smooth them down. It's always weird when people point that out... even though she, you know, applied to a special art school to become an artist and all. There's a big difference between wanting to be one and hearing someone else call you that.]

Yeah... kind of. I want to be, but I'm no big name yet.

[Gosh, but this girl seems to be pretty happy just with that explanation. Maybe she'd like it if she saw how it worked herself...?]

You wanna give it a shot? [Ha. Good one, Max.] I can show you how to do it, it won't be a big deal at all.

[Lys notices those body cues, the way those scales seem to fluff up like feathers, but she doesn't stare overlong. Even manages not to open her big fat mouth to ask a question or six about them. Because doing so might be considered rude, at this point, and as much as she could handle being snapped at, angry people had a habit of killing a conversation real quick.]

An artist-in-training, then! I mean, isn't it just like any other skill?

[And yet that's not a question that seems to require an answer: it's just more small talk, quiet and calm and easygoing, somehow so natural despite the abnormal circumstances.]

Mm, I'd like that! I've never even seen one of these....what are they called?

[Max would want to believe that a few questions wouldn't bug her at all, that after everything that happened in the chaos of the week leading up to the storm she grew up a bit somehow... but nah. She's still her same awkward self. But that's on her not her new friend here. ]

Yeah, I guess you could say that.

[She takes a step closer then, to Lys's side so she can better show how the camera works.]

It's called a camera, and it's pretty easy to get the hang of once you know what you're doing. [She holds it out and to the side a little, so she can see what she's doing while showing Lys what to do.] You just look through here- [Her thumb nudges against the viewfinder.] to size up what you want a picture of, and when you think that looks good, just press this.

[Her finger taps against the shutter, not enough to take a picture but noticeable enough that hopefully her explanation was good enough???]

[Jimmy likes to come help the newcomers every once and a while when he's in Bavan to actually do so, but he wasn't expecting things to be so...dangerous, this time around. And to Morty, he probably looks like some kind of alien- a half formed cheetah boy with bony skeleton wings that pin to his back when he spots the gun being aimed at his forehead from where he's crouched on all fours. He might have the speed to run out of the way before he's shot, but...he's not sure he could trust that.]

Woah hey- it's alright, I'm not gonna hurt you!

~~[[I love that your journal is specifically for Morty Smith Sr.]]~~

Nice work, Morty. You really stepped up to the plate there.

[Hey, he really did. If this had happened this time last year, Morty would have gotten himself killed right off the bat. He's come a long way. Rick looks over his shoulder to give Morty an encouraging smile, but it falters almost immediately. He releases a brief, exasperated sigh, pointing to the shotgun Morty's dropped into the sand.]

B---but you've got to pick up that shotgun, Morty. You've got to---I'm going to need you to cover me.

[He turns back to the corpses and pockets whatever coins the first guard had on his person before moving to the second one, searching his pockets a little more frantically. Then going through his own pockets.]

There could be more of them out there, Morty. I haven't seen any yet, but I just w---woke up behind a sand dune, so you---you never know.

[He looks down to consider his own his own outfit, then looks back up and offers the other man a shrug.]

Yeah... this is how I dress, but---Look: that's not important.

[Sure, maybe he had a point. Maybe skulking around in a cloak is just as plausible as skulking around in a labcoat. The only difference is that one looks stupid.]

I mean, wh---what do you want to know? Because so far, all I can tell you about this place is that it blows.

[Amanda moves, alright, but doesn't take her eyes off him once. She simply sidesteps a couple paces, drawing a knife with one of her other five hands just in case there really is something behind her, but as things stand, she seriously doubts his assertion. He's probably lying, looking to make her drop her guard so he can feed on her...but he can't trick her. She won't let him. No one will get the drop on her ever again, not after what Clarence did to her when she thought that fight was over.]

Be my guest.

"I don't know; maybe. I see a lot of worlds."

He frowns, gritting his teeth averting his eyes for a moment. Sure, maybe he's stumbled upon the odd plane of fire, but let's move on.

"There's infinite worlds out there, Waldo. Infinite worlds and---and some of them might be full of toxic gas or maybe---Look, don't think about it, Waldo. I'll get you to Chicago. We'll find your fish hunter friends and then we'll go out for pizza or something... Is pizza a thing in your Chicago?"

GET YOUR BEACH BODY READY

"Mlluuurrrgghhhh."

That was the sound of a man barfing up sand. Sand? Was he back in the desert again? But he'd made it to Washatog...unless he'd only dreamed that. It couldn't have been a dream. His arm sang with a dozen cuts from what he supposed was car window glass. He crawled, one pitiful movement after the other, fighting to force his knee under himself so he could sit up. And then he noticed something else.

"Whuh?" Maurice coughed and spat out a few more grains of sand before looking at his arm in wonder. His cast was gone! He flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulder. No trace of the auto accident at all! Finally, Maurice noticed a third unusual thing.

A sound. A frantic, whooshing sound in his ears. His breath caught in his throat and he lifted a hand to gingerly press just below his ear. There it was. A wooshing and a pumping against his pruny fingers.

"Ah'm uh-lave again..." His voice sounded far away even to himself. "I'm alive again!" He shouted it as though that would keep this a fact and chase away any dream-popping pins. Maurice ran his fingers--his fingers! Not his claws! He ran his fingers through his hair to dislodge the grit and bits of seaweed and laughed and coughed and laughed to himself. He didn't know if the whole being-a-vampire was a dream or if this was a dream. He didn't know anything really save how he felt and he was going to hang onto that as long as he could.

TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE

"Awwww hell, aw dang, aw shit, aw NOOO!" This was the dismayed cry that came from the stoop of the trashy little apartment that had been hosting Maurice. The sun was setting and he had been planning on darting out to grab some groceries at the corner store for the small family he was staying with but life, it seemed, had other plans.

Maurice had fallen to one knee like a would-be groom and was frantically trying to force his boot to stay on his foot. He could already feel the deep thrumming pain of his bones changing beneath his skin. The ache slithered all the way up from his toes to his hip and tears prickled the corners of his eyes as he watched the leather of the boot bulge and start to split from the sheer force of the change.

"I just bought theeeeeeeese!"

A gross popping sound issued from the limb as his new foot burst free of its prison and unfurled four enormous zygodactyl talons. Dull green feathers forced themselves up through his skin like the worst case of acne he'd ever had and crept down his arms and up his neck.

He was oblivious to the curious faces plastered to the window of his once-shelter and in his agony missed the muffled order of "Honey, get the camera!"

"Sure, not thinking about it should keep us from getting crispy." It's just a bit sarcastic, he still thinks going with Rick is the best chance he has.

"Let's do this. And yeah, pizza's a little more than a 'thing', it's almost a religion."

[She watches this demonstration closely, with bright and eager concentration. Lys wonders if a device like this would be something that Astrid might like, or want to put toward other uses. There must be quite a few.]

And you can take a picture of anything? [A dumb question, maybe, but she doesn't know any better.] ...and what's it like on the inside? Is it like a clock?

You should consider one. It'd be a bit of fun, I think. Especially if the result is totally random.

['Use this book you've obviously worked very hard on to fuck with people a bit' is what he's asking.]

Oh, of course, of course.

[He raises both hands as if to ask forgiveness.]

Nothing I do is a Red thing, either, it's just something a sorcerer does! [See? They can both make that excuse.]

The last time people showed up here, they tumbled down on rifts of lightning. Maya came in such a way and hadn't even thought to ask how others appear, really, so when others started to show up at the beach while Maya was busy diving, she'd been quite surprised! And when one such new arrival decided to be so vocal, Maya couldn't help but slither her little fish butt back onto the shore and creep up behind Maurice, curious as ever.

"You okay?" she asked, leaning over to look around him from her spot where the water still washed over her flukes. "You seem pretty hyped up!"

"I'm--" Maurice startled halfway through his reply. He wasn't alone. On his hands and knees, he turned, wiping his hair out of his face, to address who had joined him in the shallow surf.

And stared.

Now, as a man who had (supposedly) just wrapped up being a vampire and having had quite a few adventures, he was not one to dismiss anything he's seen with his own eyes. However. She looked too nice to actually be something that Happened To Him.

"Wh--uh. I'm still dreamin'..." He looked sadly down at his hands that were finally the right color again. "Man." This was all going to end any second.

Maya tilted her head, white brow-spot raised in question as she watched Maurice. Wait, was he okay? He still seemed pretty distant.

"Um, I don't think you are?" Maya asserted, looking around the shore-- it seemed as though nothing (and no one) else was with this man, so... Maybe he didn't intend to be there?

"Are you lost?"

"That ye are!"

Now that's a familiar exaltation. Bert had uttered something similar when he found himself waking in the Lager Woods, amidst the face-filled fog. Really, the beach was a far more pleasant place to wake. Even with the damned humans and their guns running about.

"And if ye'd like to stay that way, I suggest hustling elsewhere. Locals can get a titch paranoid on days like this." Some of them, at least. Enough to make a hassle for new folks just awakening on the peninsula.

Bert grinned down at the fellow, fangs clearly visible, red eye uncovered. It was still warm, so he was shirtless, his shoulders and upper chest covered in short, black fur dotted with white spots that almost look like skulls. His wing membranes were unfurled, and his denims cut at the knee and showing his backwards knees and furred, clawed feet that look more like too-long hands.

In short, he was very visibly a vampire.

A lone Manticore had been heading home from the very same grocery store that Maurice had been planning on going to, carrying a bag with a small bit of fertilizer for the plants he'd bought to put around his new house. But the sound of someone crying out in both pain and dismay catches the boy off guard, and he comes around the corner to see someone in the middle of changes.

"Woah!" he exclaims under his breath, quickly tying the bag into a bow and then shoving it up onto his shoulder so he can fall to all fours, sprinting to Maurice's side...or rather in front of him where his feet are rapidly turning into talons.

"Dude, are you alright? Have the changes stopped or are they still goin'?"

He looked back up at her and decided that now was a good time to try and stand up. When he did, his ankle twisted in the sand and he landed with an unflattering flop and hissed in pain. Sand in bite wounds. Never a good feel.

Dreams weren't supposed to hurt!

"Th' last thing I remember...I was behind a dumpster."

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Test Drive Meme

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Maurice Hutch | OC

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Beach

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