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.
[Meet the walking epitome of tall, dark, and...well, if cybernetic facial parasites are your thing, definitely handsome. He's certainly human, for sure, but it looks like something wholly inorganic has decided to take up residence in the upper half of his face. A bright red circle is imbedded in his forehead, black void of a lens inside of it, soulless yet clearly observing the world around him. From the bottom of the circle, thick cyan lines etch across his sepia skin like circuits on a motherboard, drawing along where his eyes would be--if he had them--to his jawline, running down his neck until they become hidden underneath the collar of his dress shirt. They pulse with a dull, rhythmed light that seems to match his heartbeat.]
one;
[He hasn't really done any proper touristy trips in his life. Cloudbank pretty much provided any atmosphere you wanted, provided you voted correctly or knew where to go. Of course, he'd always pick the beach if he was ever given a choice in the matter (but not the beach he has a recent but vague recollection of, any beach but that one) but, if not, he'd probably avoid the "tourist trap" places either way.
Because this is exactly what he imagines it would be like. Honestly, they're all like pushy salesmen, but what they're trying to sell isn't very clear--even after flipping through pamphlets to garner whatever information there was to be had--yet trying to keep a very generous distance away from him.
The material in these pamphlets are grim, at best, while trying to keep an upbeat attitude about their subject matter, but when you're talking to someone that basically lived (well, died) through nothing short of the end of the world as they knew it, the message falls on deaf ears. Besides, it's nothing but an information overload for someone who wakes up in a place they didn't fall asleep in...without a hangover.
When one dares to stay longer than the others, he puts a friendly hand on their shoulder--to which they give an unsettled glance.]
Hey. You seen a woman around here with bright red hair, about yey-high, bright blue eyes, short haircut, goes by the name of Red?
[They nod wildly, oh yes, we've seen her--it becomes quickly clear that it's nothing but lip service to appeal to him and that they have no idea who he's talking about or where she is. He'd roll his eyes if he had them, but all he can really provide is a stern frown.]
Yeah. Thanks anyway.
[The brochures are thrown away unceremoniously, whether they held useful information or not.]
two;
[Oh yeah. He'd definitely take the white walls over this. He doesn't know why this unsettles him so much, either. It could be that he's never been in a forest in his life, or that mysterious giggling that seems to have no point of origin or even a direction, or that he simply isn't comfortable being alone given the recent events of his life (non-life).
Man, and all he came out here for was a convenience store.
He jolts reflexively when he comes across another person, but without sound. The "eye" in his forehead trains itself on the humanoid figure in the distance, and he spends much longer debating whether or not he should call out for far longer than he wants to.
Here goes nothin'.]
Hi?
three; Just some crazy fog I've never seen before. Nothing to worry about.
Yo, handsome. Need your help for a second, [She's at his back: tall and out of place and still half-banged up from arrival, one discarded pamphlet in hand, waved like a free pass to his undivided attention which is what she pretty much figures is the deal when it comes to getting pegged for being downwind of someone else's refuse.
But the view's not bad, and an in to getting a little one-on-one that's not superficial flattery can't hurt.] got a couple of--
[Voice cutting itself off the second he turns around, eyebrows raised high under the brim of a low hat, mouth still open without any sort of immediate response to his face. At least not until she adds, helpfully:] --woof. Hope you got a refund from whoever screwed you over on those modifications.
[When he turns--and catches her reaction--he gives her a stilted smile. He's walked by too many reflective surfaces to not know what he looks like now, albeit he hasn't invested much time into checking out the details.
He shrugs.]
Would you believe me if I said this isn't the worst I've looked?
[He seems like he's in good spirits despite the sentiment.]
[Nisha scoffs, shrugging off the idea with the brief pull of a grin; all the crazy stuff she's seen in her life means that aside from the initial shock of expectation versus reality, he's not going to have to deal with any additional gawking on her part. Heckling maybe-- depends on her mood and how long she'll wind up sticking around-- but it's something at least.]
Trying to get answers out of the locals that doesn't involve any heavy reading's like pulling teeth. Considering you just threw yours out, I figured you might be able to fill me in.
[It's quite the disheartened oh he gives as he turns his head to (presumably) look at the bin he pitched the reading material in. Did that stuff really count as "heavy reading"?
...maybe she's illiterate?
He turns back to her.]
They're only worth more questions than answers. How we got here is either this place's best-kept secret or they're just as clueless.
[At least, that's what he figures she wants to know.]
Clueless sounds about right. [Her eyes follow him as his attention drops; if the obvious pause bothers her it certainly doesn't show, given that her expression stays relatively passive. It's not a clear promise there's no going back the way they came in (however they came in) but it's not exactly hopeful news. Couple it with the rest of the obvious and well...
If you can't beat 'em.] Been here long, hotshot? Hard to tell with all the uh, everything there.
[ Finding others while lost in the forest would usually be considered a good sign... if this was anywhere except Lager Woods. But here, in this place, finding anyone else was usually an incredibly bad sign. ]
[ Especially finding the man she'd... well. The man she was supposed to never see again, ever. Funny how plans don't seem to work out how they're supposed to. So when he calls out to her, she immediately turns and... ]
That voice.
[ She's already taking steps back. They'd killed him. She'd killed him. Why was he back, why-- Her gaze locks on the bright red circle in his forehead, watching it. She knows that circle. She knows this man. But none of this makes sense. ]
He really has half a mind to just heel turn and head in the other direction, but the only thing keeping him from doing so is the fear that he might end up getting more lost than he already is. Moving forward at least gives him the (false) sense of progress. Instead, he just crosses his arms over his chest and gives her a disappointed look (as much as one can without eyes.)]
[ That.. This was too much like what she knew about him. The way he presented himself was the same, the same body language. Even without the face, it was him. Or it was mimicking him. ]
Why are you here. [ Taking slow, deliberate steps towards him. ] How are you here.
[ It was anyone's guess how she stopped being processed, how that influence that had taken and transformed her entire being had just been stripped away. But who really knew if it was gone at all? ]
No. You can't be real. [ She's still advancing. ] All I have to do is shove you away and you will disappear.
[ Because that's totally how illusions were dealt with, you know. Totally. ]
[ Her words are firm and entirely certain. Despite her regrets and uncertainties about the past, she would not stand for being referred to as a child. ]
[ Meanwhile it's fortunate that this was Lager Woods, because for once the illusions of this place were on her side. As she advances, the reality of her form becomes clear. Sorry Mr. Swordface, Sybil wasn't entirely human anymore. As she comes to a stop in front of him, she looms over him. Eight long, arachnid legs hold up the spider body that now makes up her lower half. All over the solid black body are red and white hairs, looking far too much like the colors of the Camerata. ]
[ This was something straight out of a nightmare. It was almost like a Process transformation, only it wasn't at all. Instead, it was just some horrible joke that this place was playing on both of them. She leans in closer to him, and hovers a finger close to the red circle on his forehead. ]
[It's too good to be true. Seen from the back, without his coat (the one currently draped over a chair in Red's house, since she can't wear it anymore,) the man could be anybody. The logical thing would be to keep going her way--but Red finds herself walking in his direction anyway.
She's just in time to hear him asking the local about her. Red halts in mid-stride, running that over in her head again just to be sure she heard him right. Then, trying her hardest to maintain the appearance of calm even though she's anything but, Red walks faster to catch up to him.
[All he hears is her voice and he knows, even before breaking into a smile and turning to see her.]
Thought I lost y--wuh?
[And when he sees her, yep, it's definitely Red. But she looks...different. A lot different. White and red and black--
PROCESS DETECTED: 0, the Transistor tells him. He lets out a half-breath of air that he didn't know he was holding. It's a relief to know that it isn't what immediately comes to mind, even though it's still confusing. Red--for the time being at least--doesn't seem bothered by it, so he lets it slide.
Still, his smile becomes awkwardly tilted.]
...didn't tell me we were going to a costume party.
[He doesn't mean to belittle her changes, but the inflection of his words indicate that he's quite aware that the situation is far more serious than the flippant joke would suggest. It's not like he ignored everything on those pamphlets.]
[If he thinks she looks Processed now, you should see her during the fog.]
[Her eyes widen and her breath catches at the sight of the thing on his face. He's out of the sword, but the sword isn't out of him. It jars like her first sight of the Processed Traverson Hall, the familiar made alien.]
Huh. No invitations, terrible catering, pushy salesmen? Worst party I've ever seen. Didn't even get the chance to pick our outfits.
[He thinks he's already gone through the transformation that everyone's trying to warn him about.
He's very, very wrong.
Slowly--to give her ample time to refuse the gesture--he brings a hand up, going to investigate either her gills or the fins behind her ears, it's hard to tell which exactly.]
[She gently catches his hand, guiding it up and away from her gills. He's free to touch her ear-fin, though; their pointed rays aren't as sharp as the ones on her arms. The fin flutters a little under the contact.
Red is silent, letting him process this (no pun intended) on his own.]
[Internally, he curses himself for thinking that it's...kind of cute.
(But it's Red. It'd probably take nothing short of turning into a pile of goo to make him stop being enamored with her appearance.)
He strokes it with the side of his thumb, gently, for as long as it takes for it to sink in that it's not just an accessory. It's a part of her, just like everything else...]
Hey.
[His hand sinks down to her chin--pointedly avoiding her gills, he got the gist pretty quickly--and he steps to close the gap between them, whispering.]
Are you okay?
[A vague, open-ended question, and for good reason. There's a lot to talk about, and he's not sure where to start.]
[Royce doesn't know the voice. It doesn't register in his memory, and it confuses him as he pauses in his walk through the forest, because who would want to say hello to a passing shadow?]
[He turns, narrowing his wide white eyes as he tries to find the source, and...there's a man. He doesn't recognize him either, except...]
[...It can't be.]
[He must be going mad. Seeing things. His mind has gone too far, too far, he is now seeing it, the Transistor, in the face of some person. That large red "eye", ever-staring, and he finds himself stepping nearer to the figure. He has no lungs, not anymore, but he almost feels as if his breath is caught in his throat. It's here, it's here, it's HERE.]
[He steps closer, reaching out a hand towards the figure cautiously, as if he is expecting for it to go through like it's a mirage. His dark fingers pause before theyreach their destination, though, and he lets out a wheeze, mumbling to himself:]
[He doesn't really register the figure as a shadow, from his perspective, but rather a silhouette of what is most definitely a...person? Once he catches sight of those glowing eyes does he start to reevaluate what he thinks he's seen, but with a lack of definite features, Royce is nowhere in his head's panicked attempts to figure out what he's looking at.
It's coming closer. Rapidly.
He backs up instinctively, but ends up pinned against the trunk of a tree. He lets out a half-breath as the hand approaches, finding to his horror that he has no eyes to close, despite cringing, and has no choice but to watch as that incorporeal hand comes closer.
He hears the voice, but he's currently too spooked to recognize it.]
[It seems like an eternity before he withdraws his hand back to his side, still having not quite breached the space between them. It's almost as if something pulls him back, says it isn't right, not right at all, to go out and try to see what this is through a mere touch.]
[He's confused, to say the least. He can't quite comprehend how the Transistor could show up, like this, in the face of...a man? Perhaps? He heard a voice before, but was that the forest, or...this? Could it speak? Royce stumbles through theories, guesses, hypothesizes, still staring intently at the man in front of him.]
A...Process. [He cocks his head to the side, frowning.] Hmm. Is that what you...well, is that what you are? Some sort of configuration, metamorphosis of a sort, though the semblance to the...Transistor, that, yes, that I can't quite explain...
[It--backs off? The distance allows some of the panic to subside, at least enough to be able to understand what it's saying.
Royce, please. Do you think this dark copper skin could ever belong to a Process? He scowls, going from terrified to offended in 0.4 seconds.]
I'm not a Proce--! Wait.
[No, something feels uncomfortably familiar all the sudden. It's that...stilted speech pattern. One he'll never forget, after having to listen to it drone on for hours.]
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graveyardsmash2015-03-01 12:14 am
Subject Not Found ⊙ Transistor
[Meet the walking epitome of tall, dark, and...well, if cybernetic facial parasites are your thing, definitely handsome. He's certainly human, for sure, but it looks like something wholly inorganic has decided to take up residence in the upper half of his face. A bright red circle is imbedded in his forehead, black void of a lens inside of it, soulless yet clearly observing the world around him. From the bottom of the circle, thick cyan lines etch across his sepia skin like circuits on a motherboard, drawing along where his eyes would be--if he had them--to his jawline, running down his neck until they become hidden underneath the collar of his dress shirt. They pulse with a dull, rhythmed light that seems to match his heartbeat.]
one;
[He hasn't really done any proper touristy trips in his life. Cloudbank pretty much provided any atmosphere you wanted, provided you voted correctly or knew where to go. Of course, he'd always pick the beach if he was ever given a choice in the matter (but not the beach he has a recent but vague recollection of, any beach but that one) but, if not, he'd probably avoid the "tourist trap" places either way.
Because this is exactly what he imagines it would be like. Honestly, they're all like pushy salesmen, but what they're trying to sell isn't very clear--even after flipping through pamphlets to garner whatever information there was to be had--yet trying to keep a very generous distance away from him.
The material in these pamphlets are grim, at best, while trying to keep an upbeat attitude about their subject matter, but when you're talking to someone that basically lived (well, died) through nothing short of the end of the world as they knew it, the message falls on deaf ears. Besides, it's nothing but an information overload for someone who wakes up in a place they didn't fall asleep in...without a hangover.
When one dares to stay longer than the others, he puts a friendly hand on their shoulder--to which they give an unsettled glance.]
Hey. You seen a woman around here with bright red hair, about yey-high, bright blue eyes, short haircut, goes by the name of Red?
[They nod wildly, oh yes, we've seen her--it becomes quickly clear that it's nothing but lip service to appeal to him and that they have no idea who he's talking about or where she is. He'd roll his eyes if he had them, but all he can really provide is a stern frown.]
Yeah. Thanks anyway.
[The brochures are thrown away unceremoniously, whether they held useful information or not.]
two;
[Oh yeah. He'd definitely take the white walls over this. He doesn't know why this unsettles him so much, either. It could be that he's never been in a forest in his life, or that mysterious giggling that seems to have no point of origin or even a direction, or that he simply isn't comfortable being alone given the recent events of his life (non-life).
Man, and all he came out here for was a convenience store.
He jolts reflexively when he comes across another person, but without sound. The "eye" in his forehead trains itself on the humanoid figure in the distance, and he spends much longer debating whether or not he should call out for far longer than he wants to.
Here goes nothin'.]
Hi?
three;Just some crazy fog I've never seen before. Nothing to worry about.
one;
But the view's not bad, and an in to getting a little one-on-one that's not superficial flattery can't hurt.] got a couple of--
[Voice cutting itself off the second he turns around, eyebrows raised high under the brim of a low hat, mouth still open without any sort of immediate response to his face. At least not until she adds, helpfully:] --woof. Hope you got a refund from whoever screwed you over on those modifications.
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[When he turns--and catches her reaction--he gives her a stilted smile. He's walked by too many reflective surfaces to not know what he looks like now, albeit he hasn't invested much time into checking out the details.
He shrugs.]
Would you believe me if I said this isn't the worst I've looked?
[He seems like he's in good spirits despite the sentiment.]
Said you needed help?
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Trying to get answers out of the locals that doesn't involve any heavy reading's like pulling teeth. Considering you just threw yours out, I figured you might be able to fill me in.
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[It's quite the disheartened oh he gives as he turns his head to (presumably) look at the bin he pitched the reading material in. Did that stuff really count as "heavy reading"?
...maybe she's illiterate?
He turns back to her.]
They're only worth more questions than answers. How we got here is either this place's best-kept secret or they're just as clueless.
[At least, that's what he figures she wants to know.]
'maybe she's illiterate' good god I laughed
If you can't beat 'em.] Been here long, hotshot? Hard to tell with all the uh, everything there.
YOU NEVER KNOW!!!
[He feels bad that he can only give her wishy-washy answers, but what can you do...]
hey, it's not a bad guess all things considered
[No explanations, no follow up-- that's it, that's all she's got. Just a lot of judging going on right now.]
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two;
[ Especially finding the man she'd... well. The man she was supposed to never see again, ever. Funny how plans don't seem to work out how they're supposed to. So when he calls out to her, she immediately turns and... ]
That voice.
[ She's already taking steps back. They'd killed him. She'd killed him. Why was he back, why-- Her gaze locks on the bright red circle in his forehead, watching it. She knows that circle. She knows this man. But none of this makes sense. ]
You're not real.
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He really has half a mind to just heel turn and head in the other direction, but the only thing keeping him from doing so is the fear that he might end up getting more lost than he already is. Moving forward at least gives him the (false) sense of progress. Instead, he just crosses his arms over his chest and gives her a disappointed look (as much as one can without eyes.)]
Guess that makes two of us.
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Why are you here. [ Taking slow, deliberate steps towards him. ] How are you here.
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[He'd like to know why she isn't dead or Processed out of her mind, but he's rational enough to know she wouldn't have the answers to that herself.]
Don't come any closer. We can talk just fine from this distance.
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No. You can't be real. [ She's still advancing. ] All I have to do is shove you away and you will disappear.
[ Because that's totally how illusions were dealt with, you know. Totally. ]
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[Taking a half-step backwards.]
Touch me, and you'll get to know exactly how real I am.
im so sorry
[ Her words are firm and entirely certain. Despite her regrets and uncertainties about the past, she would not stand for being referred to as a child. ]
[ Meanwhile it's fortunate that this was Lager Woods, because for once the illusions of this place were on her side. As she advances, the reality of her form becomes clear. Sorry Mr. Swordface, Sybil wasn't entirely human anymore. As she comes to a stop in front of him, she looms over him. Eight long, arachnid legs hold up the spider body that now makes up her lower half. All over the solid black body are red and white hairs, looking far too much like the colors of the Camerata. ]
[ This was something straight out of a nightmare. It was almost like a Process transformation, only it wasn't at all. Instead, it was just some horrible joke that this place was playing on both of them. She leans in closer to him, and hovers a finger close to the red circle on his forehead. ]
I'm real too.
never be
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continuity? in my tdm?
unacceptable, totally unacceptable wow
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one
She's just in time to hear him asking the local about her. Red halts in mid-stride, running that over in her head again just to be sure she heard him right. Then, trying her hardest to maintain the appearance of calm even though she's anything but, Red walks faster to catch up to him.
She reaches out to tap him on the shoulder.]
I might have seen her.
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[All he hears is her voice and he knows, even before breaking into a smile and turning to see her.]
Thought I lost y--wuh?
[And when he sees her, yep, it's definitely Red. But she looks...different. A lot different. White and red and black--
PROCESS DETECTED: 0, the Transistor tells him. He lets out a half-breath of air that he didn't know he was holding. It's a relief to know that it isn't what immediately comes to mind, even though it's still confusing. Red--for the time being at least--doesn't seem bothered by it, so he lets it slide.
Still, his smile becomes awkwardly tilted.]
...didn't tell me we were going to a costume party.
[He doesn't mean to belittle her changes, but the inflection of his words indicate that he's quite aware that the situation is far more serious than the flippant joke would suggest. It's not like he ignored everything on those pamphlets.]
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[Her eyes widen and her breath catches at the sight of the thing on his face. He's out of the sword, but the sword isn't out of him. It jars like her first sight of the Processed Traverson Hall, the familiar made alien.]
News to me, too.
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[He thinks he's already gone through the transformation that everyone's trying to warn him about.
He's very, very wrong.
Slowly--to give her ample time to refuse the gesture--he brings a hand up, going to investigate either her gills or the fins behind her ears, it's hard to tell which exactly.]
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Red is silent, letting him process this (no pun intended) on his own.]
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(But it's Red. It'd probably take nothing short of turning into a pile of goo to make him stop being enamored with her appearance.)
He strokes it with the side of his thumb, gently, for as long as it takes for it to sink in that it's not just an accessory. It's a part of her, just like everything else...]
Hey.
[His hand sinks down to her chin--pointedly avoiding her gills, he got the gist pretty quickly--and he steps to close the gap between them, whispering.]
Are you okay?
[A vague, open-ended question, and for good reason. There's a lot to talk about, and he's not sure where to start.]
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my apologies to whoever might be reading this, we're saps
we're the grossest, there's no saving us
hey look I got to tag from breaks after all
cherishes it
and I came up with a better line ten minutes later, too /wedges it in here
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two
[He turns, narrowing his wide white eyes as he tries to find the source, and...there's a man. He doesn't recognize him either, except...]
[...It can't be.]
[He must be going mad. Seeing things. His mind has gone too far, too far, he is now seeing it, the Transistor, in the face of some person. That large red "eye", ever-staring, and he finds himself stepping nearer to the figure. He has no lungs, not anymore, but he almost feels as if his breath is caught in his throat. It's here, it's here, it's HERE.]
[He steps closer, reaching out a hand towards the figure cautiously, as if he is expecting for it to go through like it's a mirage. His dark fingers pause before theyreach their destination, though, and he lets out a wheeze, mumbling to himself:]
I...I don't...is that...? The...Transistor?
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It's coming closer. Rapidly.
He backs up instinctively, but ends up pinned against the trunk of a tree. He lets out a half-breath as the hand approaches, finding to his horror that he has no eyes to close, despite cringing, and has no choice but to watch as that incorporeal hand comes closer.
He hears the voice, but he's currently too spooked to recognize it.]
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[He's confused, to say the least. He can't quite comprehend how the Transistor could show up, like this, in the face of...a man? Perhaps? He heard a voice before, but was that the forest, or...this? Could it speak? Royce stumbles through theories, guesses, hypothesizes, still staring intently at the man in front of him.]
A...Process. [He cocks his head to the side, frowning.] Hmm. Is that what you...well, is that what you are? Some sort of configuration, metamorphosis of a sort, though the semblance to the...Transistor, that, yes, that I can't quite explain...
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Royce, please. Do you think this dark copper skin could ever belong to a Process? He scowls, going from terrified to offended in 0.4 seconds.]
I'm not a Proce--! Wait.
[No, something feels uncomfortably familiar all the sudden. It's that...stilted speech pattern. One he'll never forget, after having to listen to it drone on for hours.]
...Royce? Royce Bracket?