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graveyardsmash2022-09-09 09:15 am
ryslighelpers) wrote in graveyardsmash2022-09-09 09:15 am
Entry tags:
TDM: SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER
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
(CW: Human remains)
When you awaken, you are hit with an immediate feeling of motion. A bobbing, if you will, or perhaps more of a rocking. You take a deep breath through your nose and take note of salt, along with the pungent scent of rotting wood. Creaking sounds echo all around you. Sitting up, you find yourself locking eyes with a skull.
An entire human skeleton is positioned across from you, resting limply against a pillar. Surveying the rest of your surroundings, you soon realize that you're below deck on an old, dilapidated ship. A ship that's on the move. The crew must have suffered a terrible fate, strewn as they all are across the floor. With their ripped poofy shirts, sheathed cutlasses and jaunty feathered hats, they seem to scream one word at you. "Pirates". ...Ooh, is that an abandoned bottle of rum? And a treasure chest? Surely they won't mind if you help yourself. They're dead, after all!
Once you've ascended the creaky steps, you find yourself on the deck of this vast, once proud vessel. A tattered Jolly Roger flaps overhead. Thick fog obscures most of the ocean surrounding you, but what's that straight ahead? Land ho! The ship's about to make port, and a crowd of curious onlookers has already gathered on the docks to stare up at this spooky new arrival. They appear apprehensive, perhaps even fearful, as if they haven't seen a ship come in for a long time. Will they hold you accountable for what happened to the skeleton crew? Will they praise you for 'ridding' them of pirates and allow you to keep the booty? There's no way to know just yet. Perhaps you'd best hide and find a way to disembark without being seen. Or perhaps there's someone else to be found here on this ship who suffered the same fate; someone who has a better idea of what to do.
SCENARIO TWO
You've stumbled your way into a city, and you're promptly besieged by the overwhelming sights and sounds. 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 lost expression and your clothes- so different from their own- 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. A hefty laptop may be handed to you, with words of a ‘network’ used for communication. Wonder what that’s about? Then there’s the very confusing pamphlet stuffed within: "What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster)”. They may direct you to an organisation known as the Lighthouse, their members most prominently found at the 38-8 apartments and the Lighthouse Church. Or perhaps, if you're injured, they'll refer you to the Crowe Clinic instead. Unfortunately, the directions you're given are so very complicated that you lose your way in the streets after two left turns, a right and a left at the soup kitchen.
Take care when asking for more help. 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
Now that you've found a moment of peace, you open up the mysterious device that's been handed to you. Perhaps you'll recognize it as some sort of laptop, albeit an old and clunky one. Or perhaps you'll be astounded by this curious feat of technology, which is unlike anything you've ever seen before. Regardless, the moment the lid is propped open to reveal the screen and the keyboard within, you gain your first glimpse of the network.
Perhaps you'll want to choose a username and write your very first message, posing the pressing question that's on your mind at this very moment. The lettered buttons click and clack awkwardly beneath your fingertips as you type.
However, you may instead want to respond to today's most popular message.
WELCOME TO RSDOS. PRESS F1 TO COMPOSE POST. *** TODAY’S TOP POST *** 018.07.154.55 <JUSTSOMEGUY> Let's play Two Truths, One Lie! It's real easy! You just post three statements about yourself, and the rest of us have to guess the lie. It'll be fun! And you get to be a liar liar without your pants catching fire for a bit. |
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.
no subject
Letting this woman loose on a very fragile old ship was a very bad idea.
For a second, she looks very disoriented. Then she laughs it off, making her way over to the stranger who, just a moment ago, was doing that interesting thing that humans do when they regurgitate their meals.]
Hello! I just came from the helm and there was no one there. Well, no one alive, that is. There was a skeleton holding onto it. Can human skeletons still steer a ship?
cw reference to drowning, ptsd, oblique spoiler
The idea makes his head spin.
No, no, no no no. He can't go in the water. He can't.
(He always used to be prone to fainting, when he got in further than he could wade.
Now, he knows why. Now's not the time to dwell on it. He just knows that he absolutely must dock the ship.)
Weakly, he tries to put more weight on his own feet, so maybe he'll have a chance of stumbling to the wheel, as he mutters:]
No, no--! Of course they can't! They're dead! Oogh--
[Sherlock distantly notes that it's odd to refer to them as human skeletons, and to suggest that they might steer the ship even after death. But now isn't the time to wonder about this woman's sanity. He pushes himself off the railing, and takes a few stumbling steps toward the stairs this woman just slid down. It turns into an unsteady half-run, as he tries to reach the railing in time to catch it, and not fall flat on his face. Still coughing, he does his best to make his voice a shout.]
Someone -- has got to bring this ship into port!
[And Sherlock will suffer whatever indignities he must in order to not drown.
A different woman's face flashes in front of his eyes.
Not drown.
Her face swims in his mind, indistinct, distorted.
No, no, nonononono, not now
not now! Focus, Sherlock -- get to the helm!]
no subject
She smiles in an endeared and amused manner as Sherlock begins to stumble his way across deck. Humans need time to form 'sea legs' when they go out on a ship, she remembers vaguely. Which would explain why she herself is also having some trouble staying upright. She doesn't have her gem- she's organic- she's human-
This one is really struggling, though. If it weren't for the stairway railing, he might've fallen. That's enough to wipe the smile off her face again.]
Do you need some help? You don't appear well at all. [She finally begins to follow after him at a much more leisurely trot.]
cw mild period-related sexism in meta
He hears the woman's voice, and it helps anchor him to the present. He gives another wet, irrepressible cough, as he pulls himself (mostly) upright and begins to ascend the stairs, half stepping, half pulling himself along.]
I'll be a sight more unwell if the ship crashes into the dock and sinks beneath us.
[Step, by step, by step, until he sees the skeleton still clinging to the helm. Unfortunate -- he's 20 years or so too early to draw the parallel to Dracula.
Unwilling to leave his post, even in death, Sherlock thinks.
He glances over his shoulder at his fellow unwilling passenger, pale and certainly ill-looking, but with his lips pressed tight in determination.]
I'll need your help with the sails. Are you equal to the task?
[Because, she is a woman, and so unlikely to be trained in seamanship...but she seems strong, there's muscle in her arms, and if she has a good grip, then her weight will be an advantage.
Sherlock isn't trained in seamanship, either. But already he's casting his eyes over the rigging, taking in which lines go to which sail, where the tension's too tight, where there's slack where there shouldn't be. The key points leap out at him, as though they were electrified, glowing bright gold in his mind -- but one of them will have to steer and call out instructions and one actually adjust the sails, and Sherlock knows which he's better suited to in his current state.]
no subject
The sails...?
[Rose has absolutely not been trained in seamanship. Even so, she's had some adventures on the sea in the past. She knows what sails are! Glancing over her shoulder, her gaze hones in on them immediately. If something needs to be done with them, she can help! How difficult could it be?]
Yes, certainly. I am equal.