graveyardsmash | TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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 in a dark ditch, the sky cloudy overhead. Dirt cakes into your cuts and scrapes. The air is clammy and damp, and it smells like rain.

You’re in a grave. And when you sit up to inspect the tombstone marking your spot, it has your name on it. Maybe the graves next to you have the names of familiar friends, family, acquaintances. Not all of them are open like yours are. RIP.

There’s a light dancing in the distance, and you hear the jingle-jangle of heavy keys, or worse still, the gravekeeper’s massive pitchfork or shovel. If you're lucky, you can sneak out beyond his notice, and get out alone. If not - you might find yourself on the wrong end of a shovel’s swing, or worse yet, tripping headfirst in front of a pair of monstrous eyes.

SCENARIO TWO

You've stumbled your way out of the graveyard, and you're promptly besieged by the overwhelming sights and sounds of the city. Cars honk at you to get out of the street, and strangers try not to look in your direction for too long. They see your dirty clothes and scraped faces, and pretend to busy themselves with something else. Rarely, a look of pity is cast your way.

But some people try to reach out. Enterprising citizens and those that hope to curry favor with the newcomers pass out new clothes and bundles of food, asking if you have a place to stay the night, wondering about the details of the world you came from. Some are even handing out pamphlets which vary in how helpful they are--"What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster)", "Wolpertinger: Fact or Fiction?", "100% ACCURATE MONSTER QUIZ ASSESSMENT: GUARANTEED TO PREDICT YOUR MONSTER!", and "Ryslig Law In A Nutshell".

Then there are 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? Does it fit you, or does it feel incongruous with your nature? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Good shot.

The gravedigger grips it's head in agony, dropping the pitchfork in the process. Vicious lunges forward to grab the weapon, grunting with the surprising weight of the massive farming tool just as the voice in the darkness shouts out again. The callout grabs his attention, head whipping towards the sound of that unfamiliar voice.

When half a second's surveillance produces no indication of his supposed ally, he frowns, refocusing on the lumbering creature before him. It's do or die, it seems, and while he isn't usually a proponent of civilian murder, he's operating under the assumption that there's a very good chance this giant man-thing was hired to put him in the ground. Unfortunately for the undertaker, Vicious doesn't have any interest in getting back in that hole, or letting any information regarding his escape get back to it's employer.

Silently thanking his invisible helper, he waits for an opening before thrusting the pitchfork into the grave keeper's stomach, pushing it back, back, back into another open and (hopefully) empty grave. The pitchfork goes with the undertaker into the hole, nearly dragging Vicious along with it before he decides, screw it, he shouldn't need that anymore anyway.

Content with his work, he wipes his hands on his pants before pushing the hair out of his face and wiping the sweat from his brow. Turning back to face the area he'd heard the voice from moments ago, he calls into the darkness:

"Who's there?"

Good God, he actually stabbed him, Norman realizes with a distant sort of shock. The shock doesn't come from seeing the violence so much as recognizing that even as recently as yesterday, he would have probably done the same thing. Survivalism: an instinct he still has, but not quite as violently as before.

"Norman Osborn. I woke up the same way you did, not too long ago. I was trying to sneak out when I saw you get up. Y'alright?"

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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