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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
Thankfully, the Great Ayahuasca Incident is a couple of years in the past for Dee. She remembers. She definitely remembers, but she's tried to move past it. And besides, the trees would probably be disappointed if she didn't help the newcomer.
She screws up her face a little at Artemis' question, and shakes her head, still supporting the woman. A human waitress from the cafe sees them coming and stares, stony-faced. Dee doesn't care.]
Ew. God, no. He is... very unfortunate-looking. It kinda looks like someone set fire to his face and then tried to stamp it out.
[She pauses, glancing down at Artemis with a vaguely irritated look on her face.]
Don't... Don't be weird around here, okay? I've got a reputation to upkeep.
[Do you, Dee? Do you really?]
cw: mild ableism in narration
... they're not attractive on Cricket, though. What a deeply unfortunate case that guy is.]
Weird? Moi? I wouldn't dream of it, baby girl. [She's protesting far too exaggeratedly, and the tone of mischief in her voice betrays her enjoyment. What the hell kind of reputation could Dee possibly have that's worth maintaining, anyway? The lonely, sad, slutty, bitchy whoooore.] Don't worry--I'll be nothing but my usual, delightful self.
[That self is, of course, profoundly weird. Unabashedly so. There's really no point in trying to dial her back, and Artemis's reply is a playful way of making that clear to her buddy.]
no subject
[Deandra Reynolds doesn't sound the slightest bit convinced. She can make her desperate plea, but she can't make her friend act normal. Dee imagines it won't be long before Artemis starts regaling her friends with tales of bleached assholes and food kinks while trying to sell them 'remedies'.
It could be worse, she tells herself.
It could be so much worse.
For a minute, she wonders which monster Frank would be assigned. Probably goblin. Or troll. Yeah, that checks out.
They approach a table, and the waitress -- tall and pretty with red hair tied back into a braid -- walks over. Oh, god. It's you, the waitress says dryly. And you have a friend with you. Wow. Are you actually going to pay this time?
Dee just waves a hand at the woman dismissively, barely acknowledging her. Instead, she places a clawed, green hand on the chair and pulls it out.]
Okay, sit down, Artemis. My dickhead contact should be in there.
[Contact? Dee, please.
She clicks her fingers at the waitress and orders her to go find 'Mark,' which earns Dee an eye-roll. But the woman disappears inside anyway, and Dee grins triumphantly like she's won some kind of secret competition.]
God. She's a bit of a bitch, isn't she? Some people just aren't meant for customer service.
no subject
[It's about as noncommittal as a sound of agreement can be; perhaps Artemis, looking deep in rumination in the chair Dee pulled out for her, is thinking of another certain someone who is equally unsuited for the service industry. Or maybe she's just thirsty and wants the waitress back so she can order a drink on Dee's dime. Who's to say?]
You seem awfully well-connected. [Or at least well-known enough to have a reputation for the ol' dine-and-dash. Artemis arches a brow.] Where the hell are we, anyway? Jersey? I was off my tits last night.
[Then she winks, a wordless way of saying what else is new? Far, far rarer are her sober evenings.]