TDM: MARCH/APRIL

[ryslighelpers]

TDM: MARCH/APRIL

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.

Comments

Otto Octavius | Spider-Man

[sciencesquid]

Warning: Spoilers for No Way Home in the prompt narratives and possibly also in replies!

[1. Graveyard]

[Otto awakens, sore and disoriented. It takes a long moment for his memories to catch up- for him to truly note what he's been through and what occurred before he fell into whatever slumber took his consciousness. The spell- did it work- home? Why does it smell like wet dirt? He sits up with difficulty, and at once, he realizes something is wrong. The way his body moves, the weight of it- or lack thereof… Breath catching in the back of his throat, he looks back over his shoulder and a sight which had become so typical is now nowhere to be seen. Both his hands feel his abdomen, but there is no harness strapped around it. He feels the back of his neck, where an artificial spine and inhibitor chip should have been. Should have, but they aren't there, and the absence feels foreign now.

Where are the actuators?

Breathing heavily from the shock of it all, he removes his dirty shades and slips them into his pocket. Then he clambers his way out of whatever hole he'd been lying in and only now does he realize where he is. As he stares at his own headstone, Sandman's words echo through his mind, so meaningless to him when they were uttered and now so very heavy. "You, Doc Ock, drowned in the river with your machine." He hadn't stood a chance after all, had he? He's been sent back and it meant nothing. Going by his injuries, Peter's put up an impressive fight. The actuators must've been removed by force once they'd pulled his body from the river, confiscated by whatever agency would claim authority with the loudest voice. Now all that’s left to indicate he ever had them at all are the gashes in his clothes; four considerable holes ripped in the back of his sweater, his vest and his coat.

Once his gaze finds the headstone next to his own, he suffers an additional blow. Rosalie Octavius. They hadn't even deemed it appropriate to let him share a grave with his wife; his beloved Rosie. They'd just tossed him into a hole of his own and several feet of dirt would forever separate the two of them, protecting her from the monster he'd become in the end. How is he standing here at all? Is it because of the spell? Had he been sent back to the wrong point in time, replacing his own corpse?

A jingling noise pulls him out of his thoughts and in the distance, he spots a bobbing light- a lantern. Someone's coming. Getting caught now would be bad for a number of reasons, and so, he hastily darts across the graveyard. If he can just get to the exit before anyone spots him, he might be able to get away with- well, with surviving. Trouble is, now that he's no longer carrying the weight of his mechanical limbs, his balance is a little off and he ends up stumbling, even slipping across the wet mud below his feet. He may just fall before he reaches the gate.]



[2. Streets]

[Otto would have thought he'd attract far less attention without the additional limbs to spook people. Unfortunately, as he strides through the streets, shades back on his face and collar of his coat popped upwards, he can just about feel the stares directed his way. Is it his various injuries? Is it the mud staining his clothes? Do they know who he is?

Where the hell even is he? This doesn't look like any part of New York he's ever seen.

Glares increase, and a small mob begins to form behind him. Are those pitchforks? They begin to shout, accusing him of being a monster. He raises both his hands in a defensive manner.]

Now… Hold on…

[The mob doesn't seem to be easing up. Help him!]


[3. Arcade]

[Just when Otto thought he was free of voices in his head telling him what to do… But he can't fight the pull- he never could. When he suddenly finds himself in the Fourth God's arcade, he can't remember how he got there, and that stirs just a bit of dread. Instinctively, he feels the back of his neck once more, confirming the absence of both the artificial spine and the chip.

He's fine. This is fine.

Still a bit stunned, he wanders into a distant corner of the arcade, watching everyone around him from the corner of his eye. What with his wet hair clinging to his scraped face and the mud still dirtying his boots, along with his clothes, it ought to be painfully obvious he's new here. And that’s to say nothing of the lingering scrapes and bruises. There’s a particularly deep gash along his cheek, no longer bleeding but fresh all the same.]


[4. Wildcard]

[Hit me up at meowzy or Meowzy#8807 on Discord to plot out something else!]

2, offers you a spider

[heyunderoos]

[Peter had been wandering Bavan a little at a loss of what to do after hauling himself out of a grave earlier in the day when he catches sight of a crowd starting to form around someone. The guy doesn't seem to be doing anything weird or suspicious. So, a full crowd with pitchforks and torches seems bizarre.

Unsurprisingly, Peter Parker interceeds. He quickly jogs over, raising his voice as he jumps between the mob and Otto. He isn't suited up, so at best he's just talking quickly to give Otto a chance to go.] Woah, woah, hey!

A teenager also covered in a layer of dirt is clearly what is needed here to help ease the mob. ]

Is this really necessary? I mean, he's just walking! Pitchforks seem like kinda overkill.

=D

[sciencesquid]

[Otto had assumed that free of the actuators, people would not direct such hostile or fearful attitudes towards him. There's a special sort of irony to be found, then, in the fact that he can't defend himself against a mob without them. Lucky for him, a hero intercedes! Even without the suit, Peter's recognized immediately. It's both a relief and a source of even more confusion. If Peter is here, then where-

The question will have to wait. The mob's getting even more riled up. "Two of them!" one guy cries out in disgust.]

What are you talking about? Two of what?

[heyunderoos]

Uh, I don't think they're really in a reasonable kind of mood. Might be a good idea to go. [Peter offers back to Otto, brows pinching together as he shifts to keep himself between the mob and older man. A few members of the mob are jockeying forward a bit aggressively.

The teenager is aware enough something feels off about himself at the moment, but the whole situation is kind of off-kilter, to begin with. The lack of spider given abilities will occur to him eventually]

[sciencesquid]

[The way the mob is now turning on Peter really doesn't sit well with Otto, and being shielded by the kid even more so. He already owes Peter too much- far more than he can ever repay. For that reason, he takes a gentle hold of Peter's arm to tug him back, just a bit.]

Let's go, then. I'm right behind you.

Re: Otto Octavius | Spider-Man

[mertondingle]

2. [Merton is every bit as grimy as Octavia’s but he’s willing to make an effort to save the guy from death by pitchfork. He walks up to Otto and claps a hand on his shoulder facing the crowd.]

Maybe it’s your attitude that was the real monster here…?

[oh no. They don’t like that.]

Hey, who wants coffee and muffins? My treat!

[sciencesquid]

[Otto was so distracted by the mob and gleam of their pitchforks, he hadn't quite taken note of the approaching friendlier face until he receives that clap on the shoulder. It jars him for a split second, only for him to realize that this man is on his side.

Too bad the mob's devolving into outrage. One person shouts "get out of here!", while another not-so-kindly advises Merton to stick those muffins where the sun doesn't shine.]

We ah... We might be best off just doing what they say and getting out of their way.

[mertondingle]

Just as well. I don’t have any money.

[enough bravery. He’ll be hiding behind Otto from now on, thanks. Too bad all exit routes look rough. Maze of small alleys? Fence?]

Run?

[sciencesquid]

[Considering how big Otto is, he does make for a pretty good human shield, it's true. Though his gaze is on the pitchforks, which are looming a bit closer, he turns his head lightly to address Merton with a low hiss of a voice.]

Running sounds ideal. Now. Right now.

[He's already whirling around on the spot, and if Merton doesn't break into a sprint fast enough on his own accord, Otto will grab him by the arm to pull him along. They can rush down the pavement and then... Perhaps take the first side street they come across.]

3

[waitingforplayer2]

[ There's a teenage girl in the back corner of the arcade, wearing some sort of school uniform. She's hunched over a pinball machine, focusing hard as the ball bounces this way and that, racking up the points. When the bedraggled man approaches, she glances his way, but doesn't stop her game. ]

Did you die, too? [ She shakes the pinball cabinet, causing the ball to roll down one pathway instead of another. ]

[sciencesquid]

[The noise of the pinball machine takes him back. He used to play a lot, back when he was still in college. It's no wonder, then, that he approaches the machine in a bit of a daze, regardless of who's currently playing. But the question catches him off guard.]

Did I...? [He'd love to say "no", because how else would he be standing here? However, images of his own headstone and the cemetery flash through his mind.] ... I suppose I did.

[waitingforplayer2]

I'm sorry. [ It's a matter-of-fact response. What else do you say? Lights and sounds go off and Nanami loses her ball. She frowns. ]

Mm... at least none of us have to be alone. That's part's nice... I think.

[sciencesquid]

[Otto's eyes watch the ball disappear down the drain. Oof, that was a shame. There's a very delayed moment as something finally clicks inside his mind.]

I'm sorry, are you saying that you... You died? [Otto had it coming, in a way. It was his fate, some might say. But a young girl like her?]

2

[sandinmyhair]

[Sometimes Bruno wanders the streets looking for stray newcomers that the townspeople like to harrass and keeping an eye out for poachers. So when they start hounding this large man Bruno stops for a moment. Dude's so big he can probably take care of himself, but... he's really bedraggled and there's eight of them and only one of him. So Bruno steps in front of them.

Sorry, no, Hernando steps in front of them.

What Otto will see is a tiny (I mean, really tiny, five-four and thin as a rail) form in some kind of voluminous South American garb and gloves, his hood pulled up over his head, step between him and the crowd and proclaim loudly:]

You wanna lynch this stranger? You gotta get past me, first, and I'm contagious!

[He waves his gloved hands in an 'oo, spooky!' gesture.]

["Yeah, right, move outta the way, shrimp!" someone yells.]

Do you really want this to happen to you?! [Bruno Hernando reaches up and removes a pair of sunglasses, letting a bright green glow show from his face. Some of the crowd hesitate for a moment. A beat.

"GET 'EM BOTH!" Someone else hollers.]

Okay, let's run! [He grabs Otto's wrist to pull him along. Clearly there are a few things Hernando's scared of....]

oh my god :')

[sciencesquid]

[Wow, that is a tiny little man who just stepped in to defend him. Otto's grateful for it, of course, but also worried. This poor fellow looks like he might fall after a single blow and that's not something Otto wants on his conscience. But then the sunglasses are removed and while the glowing eyes aren't visible from where Otto's standing, he can tell it definitely did something. The crowd wouldn't look so apprehensive, otherwise. Too bad it only lasts for about five seconds before they get even more riled up.

When his wrist is grabbed, Otto is more than happy to follow the guy's lead and sprint away from the impending danger. Even so, he has questions, which can be raised while they run.]

What was that? What did you just do?

[sandinmyhair]

I'll tell you when we're safe!

[Bruno's usual hiding places aren't going to work for someone twice his size, so he has to rethink it and quickly. The crowd are throwing things at them, now.

He darts into an alley, pulling the other with him, to run down its length and make a sharp turn in the other direction, doubling back. Angry crowds aren't well-known for their collective intelligence, so they yell into the alley for a moment before sloping off, muttering to one other.]

[Bruno pauses, catching his breath, head drooped.]

You know how they were talking about monsters? They weren't entirely lying.

[Thankfully he's standing in a shadow so he can pull his hood back and lift his head. He's not much of a monster, with his green-glowing eyes, floating hair, and dark grey skin, but he is unnatural in an eye-twisting, mind-pulling unreality. As though he just doesn't belong in this reality. Shadows seem to hug themselves near to him.]

Hola. [He waves, grinning a sheepish grin that seems out-of-place.]

[sciencesquid]

[Bless the low IQ of combined mob mentality. Though it does already take a special brand of fool to raise pitchforks against another human being, Otto would say. Regardless, once the coast is clear, he leans back against the nearby wall and attempts to catch his breath. The combination of scares and exercise isn't doing him any favors. Perhaps now he can finally rela-

Oooh no. No, he cannot, because that hood just got lowered. He's startled for a brief moment. Then his brain manages to place this image alongside guys made of sand and enormous lizard men, and some of the tension he'd been holding onto eases up again. He doesn't wave back, but at the very least, he makes an attempt to mirror Bruno's pleasant attitude.]

... Hello. What- [He shakes his head roughly. That'd be the wrong question to ask.] Who are you?

1

[certaininequities]

[a pair of hands reaches out and catches him as he slips. there's a muffled 'oof', since even without the tentacles, Otto's weight is a bit much to catch on slippery ground, but Norman manages. his skin is pale green, though in the dead of night it may just look darker somehow, and while his eyes are smiling, he's doing his best to keep the rest of his expression neutral. his voice is low, but somehow muffled. as though there's something in his mouth.]

Careful. C'mon. This way, old friend...

[sciencesquid]

[Otto hadn't expected to be caught, but then... In the chaos, he hadn't expected much of anything. His mind had been so focused on getting out of here, there were no other considerations. He hears the voice of whoever caught him before anything else, friendly and familiar.]

Norman?

[He's surprised, though at the same time, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised at all. They were in the same boat before, so why not now? It isn't until Otto stands up straight again, his hands on Norman's arms for support, that he looks up at the man's face. Something's off, but in the darkness, he can't quite put his finger on it.]

What are you doing here? Where...?

[certaininequities]

I'll tell you all that in a moment. Right now, we've got t' move. The groundskeeper doesn't take kindly t' trespassers.

[he keeps a hand on Otto's back, between his shoulders, and guides him along the thin path through the brush and undergrowth until they're in the woods surrounding the graveyard. then there's just the moonlight filtering down through the trees, and the faint lights of Bavan on the other end of the path]

Are you hurt?

[sciencesquid]

[Trespassers? He didn't ask to wake up here. Why did he wake up here? Though evidently, Norman's still alive as well, so something is up. Is this what Strange was talking about when he referred to protecting the multiverse? Confused, aching and still in a mild panic, he doesn't say a word until they've reached the forest.]

No, I... [Well, he is, but-] The actuators... They're gone... [He's not sure why he even bothered to say it. It's obvious.]

3?

[sprungtrap]

[Will's a bit more composed, but not by much - watching people come and go and trying to find a firmer footing. Nothing more familiar than an arcade.

This one's almost as bad as his son's however but he's not letting anybody get the jump on him ever again - ever again - so he may have ended up here but he's learning all the entrances and exits if he can find any but...

The guy looking shellshocked makes him raise an eyebrow and there's no better way to make oneself feel better than a smart remark right?]

Try not to look so surprised. They're all real. Bit backward tech wise.

[bravado. Nothing. Like it. Has he taken a real look? No.]

[sciencesquid]

What?

[The comment caught Otto by surprise, and it takes him a few seconds to realize this man must be talking about the arcade games. What with everything that's happened to him in the past few days, finding himself in such nostalgic surroundings is no more than a vague sidenote. He ends up shaking his head.]

Oh. Well, the classics are often the best ones, I've found.

[sprungtrap]

[William Afton's last very vivid memories were of getting his just desserts from his son - a lifetime of scientific progress thwarted by people trying to punish him for murder. It's throwing him off. This guy's more thrown off.

So the tall thin man with graying long-ish brown hair rises from examining one of the cabinets.

Don't be squirrely. Don't be weak. his father's voice has blended into his own for years now. Dressed in faded dirty purple, he gestures.]

I haven't seen space invaders or snake so far. None of what's here is familiar. Not even a good princess quest or Foxy's Voyage.

[he paid good money for games his company programmed. Sounding a bit more british he takes his hands out and holds them at his sides.]

You all right? You look a little...thrown off.

[sciencesquid]

[Space Invaders and Snake, he's familiar with. But Princess Quest and Foxy's Voyage? He's never heard of those. Context implies to him these games are meant to be on the same level as Space Invaders, though, and he wonders vaguely whether this is a multiverse-related discrepancy.

God, what is he doing, thinking about arcade games at a time like this? He feels as if he ought to be doing something more... productive, somehow. He just doesn't know what, or where. His entire life's been uprooted- Again- and there's not a single shred of guidance left. No more goals to reach. Nobody to tell him what to do.

He rubs a hand along his cheek, flinching when his fingers come into touch with the lingering cut.]

... I don't know. This place is... not where I'm meant to be.