Welcome to Ryslig's test drive meme! If you're considering apping here, this is where you can try your characters out in the game's setting. A few things to note:
Lots of people have asked good questions on the FAQ, so do take a look.
You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
NEW! Players with characters already in the game can earn up to a maximum of 3 coins by replying to potential character threads! You will need to have your normal 20 comment AC in the game. You cannot use this to go over the bonus 10 coins per month total, but you can use it if you are missing some threads to reach that coin total. Same rules as normal bonuses apply.
Sample scenarios:
SCENARIO ONE: So you've just arrived, fresh out of the hospital, and already the natives are trying to get on your good side. 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.
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.
SCENARIO TWO: You've become hopelessly lost in Lager Woods. Paths don't seem to lead where you remember them leading, and you feel as if you're going around in circles. Childlike giggling can be heard from no direction in particular. Suddenly, you stumble upon another character, who seems to be just as lost as you! Perhaps you can find a way out together.
SCENARIO THREE: You've heard about the fog, but you've never seen it before. Now, the mist surrounds you. Barely able to see before you, you need to get home - and fast. It's far too dangerous in this situation.
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? NOTE: Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.
Theo is neither as inconspicuous nor alone as he'd like to think.
Granted, his company isn't exactly the sort Theo is probably looking for, either.
He's hardly started his staggering search for a hiding place when someone (or perhaps something?) has started to follow him--a strangely technicolor margay, hardly even half again the size of a house cat. It looks rather like someone decided to catch and dye the poor thing; its fur looks almost too vividly colored to be natural, darker and lighter shades of purple-blue covered with gold markings that fade into fiery red rosettes. It lifts its head as he stumbles past, ears twitching and huge eyes blinking at his back, whiskers quivering as it sniffs. A quick stretch and shake as it rises to its feet, and it's off; it hardly takes a minute to go from lazily sunning itself on a windowsill to chasing after him, a lithe streak of blue bounding nimbly between ledges, railings, and even narrow decorative moldings.
It hardly takes any effort at all to catch up; Carpet scampers along the side of the buildings to keep pace with Theo, watching him all the while. He offers the man a short, trilling mew, somehow managing to sound sounding wordlessly concerned--what happened? What's the matter? Is Theo alright? He smells..... scared, mostly, and upset, panicky. The way he's gasping and lurching along like he can barely stay upright look and sound like he's hurting or sick, like there's something wrong with him..... Carpet doesn't think he likes the idea of that. It means that something probably must have hurt him or made him sick, and that something might still be nearby.
That, of course, is the worse of the two options by far. The other one is much more benign; Theo might just be changing, being remade into the new shape this place wants him to have, and is caught unprepared for it. He doesn't smell quite human, after all, so the odds of that are actually pretty good if he's not just Different..... It can be hard to tell, sometimes, when he's trying to interpret the scents he's picking up. He hasn't been able to smell for very long, you see--he's only had a nose at all for a few months, and his human-nose hadn't worked quite as well as his cat-nose does now. Still, anything is better than nothing, right? That's true even if being human had been kind of inconvenient and uncomfortable, and even if he sometimes still misses his first shape; life had been much simpler as a rug, he has to admit, and flying had been so much more effortless. He hadn't needed to decide whether he wanted any particular human to be friend or food--since he hadn't needed to eat, he could be friends with them all.
Still, the fact remains that he can eat, now. He can smell, and taste, and talk. He hasn't lost anything, not really, (even if it tires him out more, he can still fly) and what he has gained is fascinating. Isn't having whole new sensesamazing?
The meow pulls Theo out of his worries for the briefest of seconds and he looks over, rubbing eyes that are unfocused and stinging as he does so. Now, he's hardly an expert, perhaps, but cats don't usually come in that colour, do they? Has someone here been breeding them that way? It makes sense, at least. Humans can be so creative with their pets.
(The other option is yet to occur to him.)
Still, he can at least tell that it's interested in him, going by the sound, and he manages the weakest of smiles. "T-this'll settle," he claims. It better had do. "Thank you for your concern, but - ah!" He hunches forward reflexively as something feels like it's creeping along his back for a moment.
It's a momentary lapse, nothing more. Sit it out. Wait it out. He's better than this, better than to let himself be weakened by what would be a trivial problem were he connected to his full strength. ...But he's not.
Humans are as creative with their pets as they are with their servants, it seems; not everyone would look at a creature like Rajah and think 'This kitten destined to grow into a massive carnivore would make a perfect pet for my precious daughter and only heir!' But then again, not everyone would think a rug would make for an ideal servant..... and Carpet likes to think he's done pretty well, all things considered, to take care of his humans while they have him. Or perhaps while he has them? Humans are terribly short-lived creatures.....
(He's wondered before, a passing idle fancy, whether being a creature now means he's going to eventually die as well. It's a strange thought, a nearly alien concept that he still can't quite connect to, the concept of his own theoretical potential mortality. He's seen plenty of humans die, and plenty of other creatures, as well..... For that matter, he's caused plenty of death himself, here in Ryslig, but it's never touched him. As an unborn thing, he's always (of course) been an undying thing, as well, a shadowy existence both animate and lifeless. Perhaps he'll turn back into himself before he needs to really be concerned with the idea. Perhaps he will die--either soon, or a long time in the future. He wonders what it might be like, if and when the time comes.)
Theo seems to have stopped for the moment, so Carpet does too, long tail lifting to curve high over his back--not barbed at the moment, but soft and fluffy, harmless. (He likes spending time like this; it's disorienting to be human-sized and shaped, and people get too scared when he doesn't want them to be. A lot of people are more comfortable with something soft and warm to pet.) His ears splay to the sides, and he offers Theo the sort of flat, utterly unimpressed look only a cat can properly muster. He's well and truly unconvinced by your assurances, sir--not when your voice is breaking and you're jumping and cringing into yourself for no visible reason.
The question is, are you going to keep living in denial--as opposed to the Nile, which Carpet thinks is actually a pretty nice place to live--, or are you going to find somewhere to rest? It's either seek out shelter or keel over on the sidewalk mid-trip.
Okay, yeah. That look says more than any number of meows really could. "Perhaps I ... should at least sit down," Theo admits, casting a glance around for a suitable spot: something out of the way, anyway. Even if this is - slightly more of a bother than he wants to acknowledge - he at least doesn't want to be a hindrance to anyone else.
The assistant shouldn't need assisting. It's the way of things. Despite his sisters' best efforts (what would they say to see him like this? Probably tell him to stop fooling around and get back to work, honestly...) he's still got his pride. It's taken him this long to acknowledge that that pride would be better served, for the moment, by not falling on his face.
As such, Theo settles behind a sheltered wall, lowering himself to the ground gingerly. Leaning against it, though, sets another wave of pain off down his back - he winces, yelps, leans back forward to rest his head in his hands.
Good boy. People should know their limits; he doesn't want to pass out in the street and get trampled, does he?
Servants and assistants maybe shouldn't need help, but the fact remained that even they did, sometimes--Genie to be freed of his enslavement to the lamp, Carpet to escape the Cave of Wonders and be restored from Jafar's cruel spells..... It might not be very dignified, but even so, the way of things wasn't immune to change. How could he explain his current state, if that isn't true? The way of things includes him as a flying rug, not a cat-bird-scorpion-thing.
Carpet takes a solid leap to land on the wall Theo chooses--or rather, on the rim of brick marking the division between stories where there's no windows to show it. He takes a moment to perch overhead, looking down at the man curiously and trying to peer down the high collar of his shirt. What's wrong with his back? Why should it hurt just touching something? There's no blood--yet, anyway--, he'd see and smell it if there was any..... He's gotten to be very familiar with that smell lately.
So he's not wounded, and that really isn't the sort of reaction that comes from being sick, either..... So he must be changing! Carpet's sure of it! His ears prick forward in eager curiosity, excited in spite of himself. What's it going to be? Lots of creatures that people change into here have things that make their backs hurt. Wings, or spines, or stones, or getting a tail, or having your lower body reshape itself, or..... all sorts of things! There's no telling what could happen!
The way of things should also include Theo back in the Velvet Room, as far as he's concerned. At the very least, it should involve him being able to do what he needs to do. Not to be here, with a body betraying him in a world that's still not something he can call home, even after all this time.
He rubs at his temples in a vain attempt to push the feelings away, blinking as he goes: blinking that seems to be disturbing something. His eyes hurt, and there's no way he can focus. A moment's glance upwards - the cat's still there. It really doesn't have to watch him go through this, does it? Well... at least it's just a cat.
A hand comes away from his face - and the one thing he can make out is that there's blood on his fingertips. The pain might have bothered him, might still be bothering him, but this? He stares, hopeless, helpless.
It's wrong. Nothing should damage him this way, this much.
What - what's he supposed to do?
Edited (Sorry about late edit but rethought a couple of things given time scales involved in this setup.) 2015-01-26 17:08 (UTC)
Oh, there's the blood smell. On his fingers, on his head..... Probably horns or antennae, then. That narrows it down a little! Not a lot, but a little. Carpet licks his lips, but he's not hungry enough to override his curiosity; unlike some newcomers, he's not especially bothered by eating when he needs to, whether that's animals or humans. Hunting can even be kind of fun, actually--if he runs fast enough, even just leaping is almost like flying!
It's easier to see the changes from up here, but Theo's probably going to be in a lot of pain soon, since it looks like it'll be a fairly quick transformation..... Relatively quick, at least, counted in minutes or hours rather than days. Changing is never a nice thing to be alone for--it hurts and it's scary, whether it's slow or fast, and even the most private of people usually want someone there for them. If people don't think--or realize he could, even--he's going to eat them, they usually still find him as comforting like this as they did when he was still a rug.....
So Carpet scamper-jumps down from his perch, padding over to rub against Theo's side. He won't climb into the man's lap--not without knowing whether he's going to get a whole new set of legs or a tail or a thorax or whatever--, but at least he's a soft and warm presence that's..... well, that's at least acting normal, relatively speaking.
There is absolutely nothing normal about this. He - he shouldn't - short of something on his family's power level, nothing should make him bleed... His best attempts at seeming his usual proud and collected self are falling away rapidly, his face a study in panic.
Get it together, Theodore! he tells himself. This is no time to... and then another drop of blood traces its way down his face from his hairline and he's reminded just how perfect a time to worry it is. He wipes it away in a hurry.
It takes him a little before he even notices that the cat's moved - he barely manages to focus on it once more. "Y-you shouldn't be seeing me like this... But - thank you," he whispers, before wincing again - something is moving, pulling at his skin. Not just whatever's happening at his head, but whatever'd been so sore at his back when he tried to rest. Never mind that the rest of his body feels tight, like a wrongly-wrapped bandage. Fingers numb, he reaches around to poke at his back - and something feels like it squashed.
...Hell. He's already sitting here bleeding, what difference is anything going to make? He achingly undoes his jacket and pushes it off, undoes his tie and shirt collar: ah, that's a slight relief at least, the pressure off. But at the same time, all it means is- Room to move, for whatever's there.
Carpet tilts his head up at Theo, mildly skeptical; who says he shouldn't see the man like this? He can see whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as long as he can get there. And it isn't as though the changes will go away, after they finish! People will see him like however he'll end up plenty, and frankly, while you're hurting and scared and injured is the best time to have friends nearby. But either Theo has no friends or family--or at least, not in Vandere--to be here for him, or he's just too proud to go to them. That's okay.....
He'll help if he can, since the friends aren't there to do it right now. Genie and Aladdin and Jasmine would want that if they were in this position, too. Carpet pads over the discarded jacket and shirt to peer around at Theo's back; whatever's growing back there should give him a very good idea of what the man's becoming, once they emerge far enough for him to see.
Theo laughs weakly at the look on the cat's face, as much as he can. Fine, fine. Cats can't judge, at least. Cats can't sneer. Cats can't say anything about what's happening to him.
A shudder runs through his body; he loosens his shirt another couple of buttons, allowing a clearer vision of what's going on. Under his skin, something vivid blue pulses, fragile structures that shift colours and shapes. Insect wings. Butterfly wings. Not quite strong enough yet to break the skin. No, it's too tender to have anything touching his back right now: to hell with it. It's with painful fingers he manages to get rid of his shirt, the fabric only good now for mopping the pouring blood from his brow. The stretching there is actually less painful, now the skin's broken: almost a relief to have the pressure gone, as softly scaled antennae sweep their way slowly back.
How long is this going to go on for? He screws his unfocused eyes up, biting his lip, clutching his shirt like a lifeline. He can endure. He's got to.
(After all, he's slowly accepting, he's hardly the first to have suffered this way. If they can survive it...)
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graveyardsmash2015-01-18 12:24 am
4
Granted, his company isn't exactly the sort Theo is probably looking for, either.
He's hardly started his staggering search for a hiding place when someone (or perhaps something?) has started to follow him--a strangely technicolor margay, hardly even half again the size of a house cat. It looks rather like someone decided to catch and dye the poor thing; its fur looks almost too vividly colored to be natural, darker and lighter shades of purple-blue covered with gold markings that fade into fiery red rosettes. It lifts its head as he stumbles past, ears twitching and huge eyes blinking at his back, whiskers quivering as it sniffs. A quick stretch and shake as it rises to its feet, and it's off; it hardly takes a minute to go from lazily sunning itself on a windowsill to chasing after him, a lithe streak of blue bounding nimbly between ledges, railings, and even narrow decorative moldings.
It hardly takes any effort at all to catch up; Carpet scampers along the side of the buildings to keep pace with Theo, watching him all the while. He offers the man a short, trilling mew, somehow managing to sound sounding wordlessly concerned--what happened? What's the matter? Is Theo alright? He smells..... scared, mostly, and upset, panicky. The way he's gasping and lurching along like he can barely stay upright look and sound like he's hurting or sick, like there's something wrong with him..... Carpet doesn't think he likes the idea of that. It means that something probably must have hurt him or made him sick, and that something might still be nearby.
That, of course, is the worse of the two options by far. The other one is much more benign; Theo might just be changing, being remade into the new shape this place wants him to have, and is caught unprepared for it. He doesn't smell quite human, after all, so the odds of that are actually pretty good if he's not just Different..... It can be hard to tell, sometimes, when he's trying to interpret the scents he's picking up. He hasn't been able to smell for very long, you see--he's only had a nose at all for a few months, and his human-nose hadn't worked quite as well as his cat-nose does now. Still, anything is better than nothing, right? That's true even if being human had been kind of inconvenient and uncomfortable, and even if he sometimes still misses his first shape; life had been much simpler as a rug, he has to admit, and flying had been so much more effortless. He hadn't needed to decide whether he wanted any particular human to be friend or food--since he hadn't needed to eat, he could be friends with them all.
Still, the fact remains that he can eat, now. He can smell, and taste, and talk. He hasn't lost anything, not really, (even if it tires him out more, he can still fly) and what he has gained is fascinating. Isn't having whole new senses amazing?
Re: 4
(The other option is yet to occur to him.)
Still, he can at least tell that it's interested in him, going by the sound, and he manages the weakest of smiles. "T-this'll settle," he claims. It better had do. "Thank you for your concern, but - ah!" He hunches forward reflexively as something feels like it's creeping along his back for a moment.
It's a momentary lapse, nothing more. Sit it out. Wait it out. He's better than this, better than to let himself be weakened by what would be a trivial problem were he connected to his full strength.
...But he's not.
no subject
(He's wondered before, a passing idle fancy, whether being a creature now means he's going to eventually die as well. It's a strange thought, a nearly alien concept that he still can't quite connect to, the concept of his own theoretical potential mortality. He's seen plenty of humans die, and plenty of other creatures, as well..... For that matter, he's caused plenty of death himself, here in Ryslig, but it's never touched him. As an unborn thing, he's always (of course) been an undying thing, as well, a shadowy existence both animate and lifeless. Perhaps he'll turn back into himself before he needs to really be concerned with the idea. Perhaps he will die--either soon, or a long time in the future. He wonders what it might be like, if and when the time comes.)
Theo seems to have stopped for the moment, so Carpet does too, long tail lifting to curve high over his back--not barbed at the moment, but soft and fluffy, harmless. (He likes spending time like this; it's disorienting to be human-sized and shaped, and people get too scared when he doesn't want them to be. A lot of people are more comfortable with something soft and warm to pet.) His ears splay to the sides, and he offers Theo the sort of flat, utterly unimpressed look only a cat can properly muster. He's well and truly unconvinced by your assurances, sir--not when your voice is breaking and you're jumping and cringing into yourself for no visible reason.
The question is, are you going to keep living in denial--as opposed to the Nile, which Carpet thinks is actually a pretty nice place to live--, or are you going to find somewhere to rest? It's either seek out shelter or keel over on the sidewalk mid-trip.
no subject
The assistant shouldn't need assisting. It's the way of things. Despite his sisters' best efforts (what would they say to see him like this? Probably tell him to stop fooling around and get back to work, honestly...) he's still got his pride.
It's taken him this long to acknowledge that that pride would be better served, for the moment, by not falling on his face.
As such, Theo settles behind a sheltered wall, lowering himself to the ground gingerly. Leaning against it, though, sets another wave of pain off down his back - he winces, yelps, leans back forward to rest his head in his hands.
"This is ... quite inconvenient."
no subject
Servants and assistants maybe shouldn't need help, but the fact remained that even they did, sometimes--Genie to be freed of his enslavement to the lamp, Carpet to escape the Cave of Wonders and be restored from Jafar's cruel spells..... It might not be very dignified, but even so, the way of things wasn't immune to change. How could he explain his current state, if that isn't true? The way of things includes him as a flying rug, not a cat-bird-scorpion-thing.
Carpet takes a solid leap to land on the wall Theo chooses--or rather, on the rim of brick marking the division between stories where there's no windows to show it. He takes a moment to perch overhead, looking down at the man curiously and trying to peer down the high collar of his shirt. What's wrong with his back? Why should it hurt just touching something? There's no blood--yet, anyway--, he'd see and smell it if there was any..... He's gotten to be very familiar with that smell lately.
So he's not wounded, and that really isn't the sort of reaction that comes from being sick, either..... So he must be changing! Carpet's sure of it! His ears prick forward in eager curiosity, excited in spite of himself. What's it going to be? Lots of creatures that people change into here have things that make their backs hurt. Wings, or spines, or stones, or getting a tail, or having your lower body reshape itself, or..... all sorts of things! There's no telling what could happen!
no subject
He rubs at his temples in a vain attempt to push the feelings away, blinking as he goes: blinking that seems to be disturbing something. His eyes hurt, and there's no way he can focus. A moment's glance upwards - the cat's still there. It really doesn't have to watch him go through this, does it? Well... at least it's just a cat.
A hand comes away from his face - and the one thing he can make out is that there's blood on his fingertips.
The pain might have bothered him, might still be bothering him, but this? He stares, hopeless, helpless.
It's wrong.
Nothing should damage him this way, this much.
What - what's he supposed to do?
no subject
It's easier to see the changes from up here, but Theo's probably going to be in a lot of pain soon, since it looks like it'll be a fairly quick transformation..... Relatively quick, at least, counted in minutes or hours rather than days. Changing is never a nice thing to be alone for--it hurts and it's scary, whether it's slow or fast, and even the most private of people usually want someone there for them. If people don't think--or realize he could, even--he's going to eat them, they usually still find him as comforting like this as they did when he was still a rug.....
So Carpet scamper-jumps down from his perch, padding over to rub against Theo's side. He won't climb into the man's lap--not without knowing whether he's going to get a whole new set of legs or a tail or a thorax or whatever--, but at least he's a soft and warm presence that's..... well, that's at least acting normal, relatively speaking.
no subject
Get it together, Theodore! he tells himself. This is no time to... and then another drop of blood traces its way down his face from his hairline and he's reminded just how perfect a time to worry it is. He wipes it away in a hurry.
It takes him a little before he even notices that the cat's moved - he barely manages to focus on it once more. "Y-you shouldn't be seeing me like this... But - thank you," he whispers, before wincing again - something is moving, pulling at his skin. Not just whatever's happening at his head, but whatever'd been so sore at his back when he tried to rest. Never mind that the rest of his body feels tight, like a wrongly-wrapped bandage. Fingers numb, he reaches around to poke at his back - and something feels like it squashed.
...Hell. He's already sitting here bleeding, what difference is anything going to make? He achingly undoes his jacket and pushes it off, undoes his tie and shirt collar: ah, that's a slight relief at least, the pressure off. But at the same time, all it means is-
Room to move, for whatever's there.
no subject
He'll help if he can, since the friends aren't there to do it right now. Genie and Aladdin and Jasmine would want that if they were in this position, too. Carpet pads over the discarded jacket and shirt to peer around at Theo's back; whatever's growing back there should give him a very good idea of what the man's becoming, once they emerge far enough for him to see.
no subject
A shudder runs through his body; he loosens his shirt another couple of buttons, allowing a clearer vision of what's going on. Under his skin, something vivid blue pulses, fragile structures that shift colours and shapes.
Insect wings. Butterfly wings. Not quite strong enough yet to break the skin.
No, it's too tender to have anything touching his back right now: to hell with it. It's with painful fingers he manages to get rid of his shirt, the fabric only good now for mopping the pouring blood from his brow. The stretching there is actually less painful, now the skin's broken: almost a relief to have the pressure gone, as softly scaled antennae sweep their way slowly back.
How long is this going to go on for? He screws his unfocused eyes up, biting his lip, clutching his shirt like a lifeline. He can endure. He's got to.
(After all, he's slowly accepting, he's hardly the first to have suffered this way. If they can survive it...)