TEST DRIVE MEME | #01

[triumvirmod]

Test-Drive-Meme #01

Welcome to our first ever TDM! This is open to all players looking to join our game or simply have some fun. Play on this TDM does not equate to intent or obligation to apply to join. Players on this TDM should follow all game rules and Characters should meet all game suitability standards per our FAQ. TDM threads are considered game canon for characters who join! The Moon Pact is in power for the full duration of this TDM, putting Sun Pact characters as in service. Moon Pact bindings are presently glittering silver and Sun Pact bindings are unpolished brass. Pact and Class can both be freely player assigned and swapped at will for the purpose of the TDM.

Overseer, Awaken and Conquer

CW: Descriptions of dubiously consensual touch, choking, hallucinations, falling.

The Hands that Grasp

Consciousness wanes. From calm oblivion reaches a pair of elegant hands. Fingertips caress, trailing physical form, mapping curves and divots. Some dark or desperate compulsion leans into the comfort of this touch. The hands dig in. Clasping tight at the neck and pull downward. Down and down, through unclear space, through unclear time. Your character awakens with a start. Where they last felt those hands grasping into them, a collar now rests. Prying does not budge the solid metal, which is either of silver or of brass. Before their eyes is a pane of stained glass. Inscribed in a language all can read are the words Overseer, Awaken and Conquer.

The Glass Coffins

Overseers awaken, contained within a coffin of ornate, metal framework and glass. For some, a light push will cause the lid to swing open. For others, the enclosure may stick or prove too heavy to budge. Breaking free is an option, though mysteriously, the glass fully repairs itself within minutes of sustaining damage. Other Overseers may be present throughout the hallways, willing and able to aid in opening stubborn coffins. That is, should their unlucky inhabitants be able to get their attention through the sound dampening barrier. Overseers continually awaken, either individually or in batches, throughout the month. This will last until the day of the upcoming solstice.

The Gilded Cradle

Innumerable rows of glass coffins line the interior of a grand cathedral tower. Somehow, the name of this stained glass spire is imprinted in the mind of all Overseers. This is known as the Gilded Cradle within Absentia. Where or what is Absentia? How did they arrive here? Why are they here? The answers to such questions remain unknown. These names are as far as the foreign memory serves Overseers. The foggy corridors spiral downward, a staircase connecting floor after floor of largely unopened coffins. Many have glass too hazy to see within. The hallways are heavy with the scent of lavender tinged magic and lightning storm ozone, made visible as a thick haze in the air. Through this fog, Overseers may notice one another or they may see phantoms running by. People familiar to them. Chasing after these figments is a foolish endeavor, they will pick up speed into the thick of the fog. There, they will disappear. This can leave unsuspecting Overseers teetering on the topmost edge of a stairwell or allow their momentum to throw them over the central railing. A fall to the Cradle's ground floor isn't enough to kill an Overseer turns out, but it will injure. Beginning your journey battered is merely an added misfortune.

The Castle Constructs

When Overseers leave the Gilded Cradle, they find they're trapped within an abandoned castle. While exploring they find no other living creatures other than fellow Overseers. Throughout the halls and rooms of the castle rest Constructs. These figures are shells of either iron or brass, with a variety of gargoyle-like appearances. They stand with their wings tucked around their bodies. Littered throughout the location, their placements can often clue in to their former duties as the Castle attendants. These Constructs remain completely inert until two Overseers of the same Pact pass by. Iron Constructs react to pairs of Moon Pact members, while Brass Constructs come alive near pairs of Sun Pact members. When awakened, they unfurl and stand to a height ranging from around three-to-six foot tall. The Constructs promptly begin to carry out butler-like duties, as if they were long ago set to a schedule of operation. When presented with a task they can no longer seem to accomplish, they merely pantomime the action before moving onward. (These NPCs can be player controlled and are non-hostile unless attacked first.)

Locked In

CW: Survival themes, food insecurity, exchanging sex for goods and services.

The Kitchen

The kitchen of Absentia is vast, meant to accommodate for a castle population in the hundreds. Long abandoned, any food reserves have turned to dust or rot. All that remains are a series of strange machines, humming with dull magic. Only operable by the castles resident Constructs, hungry Overseers would be advantaged to activate the inactive Constructs scattered nearby. Once occupying the kitchen, Constructs are more likely to provide a meager serving of food to Overseers who have used magic recently or who hold Influence. (Characters playing this TDM with no canon powers may presume they hold (1) Influence for this and subsequent prompts.)

The Hall of Overseers

To the west of the Gilded Cradle there lies a long, rectangular housing structure, framing a vast courtyard. Rain from the storm overhead patters down constantly. Rooms for Overseers line the open air hallways overlooking the nature within the central outdoor space. At this time, those of the Moon Pact enjoy the lower floors of the indoor sections, with luxurious accommodations. These include private rooms with a fireplace, claw foot baths with clean running water, a variety of furniture, and a plush bed. The upper level indoor rooms are for the Overseers presently in service, the Sun Pact. These rooms are all shared and scarcely furnished. Hammocks and bunk beds are provided to house three or four Overseers per cramped room. These upper location hallways have shared bathroom spaces and no private amenities provided. Overseer names are engraved upon the door frame of their assigned rooms. There is no access given to rooms without this engraving. Overseers need to be invited in to rooms they do not own or share. (Rooms are fully self assigned by Players and can change freely between threads. Pact is likewise self assigned, but should match the room type described above. Moon Pact characters are free to invite Sun Pact characters into their rooms, and visa-versa.)

The Hands that Feed

As Overseers settle in, they find resources are thin and accessible castle space highly limited. There is no exit from the castle at this time. Trying to fly out over the top of Hall of Overseers courtyard results in perpetually being turned around by the Storm until exhausted. Overseers who try to smash windows or break through the architecture find their magic or strength immediately drained. Teleportation leads back to where one attempted to leave from. The trap feels inescapable. This inevitably creates an air of frustration and futility within the awakened Overseer ranks. All there is to do is to make do.

➤Attentive characters will discover quickly that Constructs bring extra rations as room service to those in Power. This at first appears exclusive to the Moon Pact within the Hall of Overseers. The Constructs do this when Overseers have sex in the luxury of the lower floor rooms. However, the Constructs range of understanding is a bit impaired, so fucking in the courtyard also works to call food and drink, regardless of Pact alignment.

➤For those seeking a more direct approach to acquiring extra rations, there's always robbery. The Constructs are not highly fortified. Their routes from the kitchen to the Hall of Overseers are easy enough to intercept. They do resist Overseers who attempt to steal from them, defending the food if attacked. Overseers who damage Constructs find they simply curl back into their wings, where they become both immobile and invulnerable from further damage. They will repair themselves in time and do not... appear... to hold a grudge. The Overseers whose meals were hijacked might, though.

The Courtyard

The courtyard at the center of the Hall of Overseers is a public space with five distinct sections. At the center, there is an ornate fountain that serves as the most reliable, public spot for clean drinking water. The fountain depicts the three Classes, though all of them are partially destroyed. The Ruler has their hands broken off, the Dragon is missing its head, and the pegasus shaped Herald has a hole in its chest. Grimly, the water flows from each of these missing pieces into the pool below. This space is open and visible to all, especially from the higher rooms of the Hall. This central location serves well as a social hub and meet up point for Overseers to congregate, though it is perpetually raining here.

➤Heralds and Dragons experience their first urge to transform within the Courtyard. They are able to resist it, if their willpower is sufficiently high, but the compulsion is strong. Dragons feel a need to shed their skin, to fly and be free. There is not much room for multiple, large dragons to do either of these things. Mind your wings! Heralds begin to feel territorial, wishing to reinvigorate the long dead space. Heralds are able to terraform within the confines of garden planters as they see fit, but they may find them destroyed by Dragons or usurped by other Heralds. Miniature territory disputes may serve as practice for times ahead. Rulers can hear mysterious whispers throughout the Courtyard, but especially nearby the fountain. If they acknowledge these whispers aloud, they will get a response. Those Rulers who listen closely can hear the mocking words "you're not leaving this time."

The other four quadrants surrounding the central fountain are overgrown and wild, contrasting the initially desolate central area. These spaces are each themed to a different season; spring, summer, fall, and winter. Once Overseers enter one of the gated in spaces, the area within appears larger than the outside barrier suggests. The temperature varies wildly between each, though the Storm over head remains consistent. Each contains a singular hideaway which the Constructs will bring food to. These shield Overseers from outside view, but may turn out to be in hot demand. Mind yourselves if trying to sneak into one of these spots for privacy, they may already be taken! (Each hideaway may be customized at player discretion to suit their threads. A single piece of furniture for leisure may be present, like a lounge or hammock. Some ideas for natural spaces would be hidden behind a waterfall, beneath a canopy of trees, a frosty cave, or an alcove hidden by fallen leaves.)

Grief Hath Mates

Class Scenarios

Note: The following prompts are available for all Players, though abilities should always match up with a character's present Class! Class for characters on the TDM can change between threads, but should not change mid-thread. This fully locks down upon acceptance to the game. Characters are presently "unstable" in their Pact and Class assignments, so all threads can remain canon, even if they contradict Pact or Class assigned later on. Any changes made to shared setting environments below are temporary, so feel free to play with destructive and creation powers as specified.

RULERS

➤Rulers who attempt to speak to the Constructs will find they are reacted to in a way the Dragons and Heralds are not. Constructs do not speak back, but they are more attentive towards Rulers regardless of their Influence level. If asked where something is, Constructs will dutifully guide the Ruler to the location in question if it exists. Sometimes, Constructs will open up previously locked doors. None of these lead outside, but they offer some new clues to how the castle once operated in the past. Rulers can open up additional rooms to explore such as a drawing room, a music room, a wine cellar, and a smoking room. These rooms all have basic supplies for their given activity, including aged wine and cigars in the latter two respectively. Rulers with clever tongues or manipulative sensibilities can convince the Constructs to leave them “in charge” of a room. This grants the Ruler a key to the door they can leverage as they please. (Players can play their Ruler as if they hold exclusive control of a room, but this is not imposed TDM-wide. Multiple Rulers can each claim the same type room, no player actually holds full IC/OOC control.)

DRAGONS

➤Dragons are going to be the first to snap under such cramped conditions. Their natural urges are to spread out and fly, not be stuck within a castle. The more volatile Dragons will find their natural instinct is to go Berserk. Berserk mode can be engaged in either their humanoid or Dragon form, though Dragons can only transform at this time within the confines of the Courtyard. If Dragons are causing trouble in the Courtyard, luring or forcing them out of the Courtyard at large forces a Dragon to return to their humanoid form. Getting in fights may not be productive, but it might provide some enrichment to Overseers wishing to challenge each other or keep the peace. (Reminder: Dragons, regardless of form, are especially durable and may prove difficult to subdue! Rulers are best suited to this task, given they have a natural advantage over Dragons. Heralds can make their own attempts, it is simply more risky for them given how fragile they are.) Dragons of more even temperaments can make themselves productive by using relevant elemental magic around the castle. The castle interior is lit only by the dull glow of the sun or moon, which are often dulled by the cloud cover overhead. Providing temperature control or lighting could be a great ease to their own mental state, as well as benefit their fellow Overseers.

HERALDS

➤While cooked rice, dried meat, and pickled vegetables are largely what is being provided, there is a distinct lack of fruit or alcohol coming out of the kitchen. Heralds may find themselves especially desperate for these. Within the courtyard only, they can flex their newly found Class abilities to rapidly influence nature. Heralds may find themselves having vivid daydreams about their favorite fresh fruits from home. These fantasies manifest, growing the imagined fruits from nearby vines, bushes, and trees. This can happen deliberately or entirely by accident. However, due to the imperfect nature of both memory and imagination, these fruits are never fully accurate recreations. The taste and quality of the fruit end up heavily influenced by a Herald’s own subjective experience and are prone to exaggeration. Any fruit from any world is allowed, these simply cannot cause any magical effects. Devious Heralds which imagine poisonous fruits can injure, but not kill fellow Overseers. Such produce can be used to make alcohol by those with the knowledge and wherewithal to do so. Any manner of food is in demand and Heralds have this to provide. Replenishing energy though sex is always an option to help produce more or better resources of this kind.

OOC Info

What happens next?

On the 21st of June, the Pacts will turn over. For the IC duration of the TDM, the Moon Pact are in power. Those assigned to the Sun Pact will start the game off proper as the faction in power. Characters who are accepted into the game will be freed from the confines of the castle. The game will greet new players with a Mingle Event and Network Introduction Post, once all applications are processed. The storm will pull back at the start of July, allowing even further world exploration and Territory claims. Our first plot event will focus on discovering the threat that the Lost Souls of this world can present.

Can I reserve my character before applying?

If you want to claim a character spot in advance of applications opening, our Reserves Page opens on the 10th of June, through to the 15th. This is not required for application, but highly recommended even for original or obscure characters. Reserving provides an instant-pass through 1st month game Activity Check! It also provides Moderation with an idea of incoming player numbers!

How do I apply to join the game?

Head over to our Application Page. These open up on June 15th and close on the 20th. The game officially opens on the 21st of June, barring any unexpected delays.

Is there an OOC space I can discuss potential plans?

Take a look at our Enable-me-Please for OOC discussions and plotting!

(CODE)

Comments

[livelamentlove]

[Daan notes the flush that causes and puts his hand back in a pocket, leaning his hip into the same bit of cabinetry Ellwork is backed up against.

At the change of subject, he takes a puff to savor the cigar, looking far more relaxed than he had sitting by the door.]

A true relief to have. Your clever tongue saves the day.

[he'll just let that sound the way it sounds, but shifts the subject himself,]

Are you one of the good ol' boys of Rondon? You have the accent for it, mine sounds proper off compared to how you speak.

[dearestdarling]

[Ellwood says nothing, but his brow lifts and there's a hint of mischief in the way his lip curls into a catlike smile. He glances for a moment at the key lying on the table. Neither of them have claimed it yet, but he secured it for them, so he wonders if he could use it as a bit of leverage for... Something.]

Rondon?

[He squints, his brow briefly pinching.]

Can't say I'm familiar. I'm from East Sussex but spent a good bit of time at school in Wiltshire. Preshute. Where are you from?

[He also assumes Daan will know these places, given his accent. It must be from somewhere in the UK.]

[livelamentlove]

[Daan's brow also knits down slightly. All the names sounds just a bit off. Like his own accent, in comparison. He repeats himself, as if it might ring a bell and maybe it might,]

If you've not heard of the City of Rondon, you must not be from Europa.

[London. Europe. Just single letter changes make a big difference.]

[dearestdarling]

... Rondon in Europa?

[Ellwood laughs incredulously.]

Are you taking the piss?

[livelamentlove]

Me? Take the piss-? I'm always entirely serious.

[Clearly he is not, but... that's a curious response all the same.]

But, yes. The noble Kingdom of Rondon, [a more mockish tone follows] the center of western society. Or so we're supposed to boast, at least.

[dearestdarling]

[Clearly he is not, they were just joking earlier-- he just stares at Daan for a moment with a furrowed brow and an open mouth, like his brain needs to load his next word.]

You're certain you don't mean London in Europe?

[Maybe he has a speech impediment on top of his weird accent?]

[livelamentlove]

Is that how things are called where you're from? No wonder your accent sounds so much better than mine.

[again, hedged in his humor, but Daan looks like he's seriously considering this information.]

Such a slight difference that really is so peculiar. What year is it where you are from-? Last I knew it, 1942. The supposed end of the Great War, which is a grim joke if I ever heard one.

[dearestdarling]

What?

[Ellwood pales, and his cigar hand drops away from his face. He looks at Daan with confusion and horror. How could this man be from the future? And if he is, does this mean the war is going to go on for nearly three more decades?]

1915. The war just began last year.

[livelamentlove]

[Meanwhile Daan just, like, casually taps the ashes of his cigar into a nearby tray and asks with a devastating flippancy-]

The first war?

[Terribly thing to say to someone going to world war I. Absolutely atrocious. Daan seems to catch onto that all too late. Ah. He knows the hell of the second war himself. The fox holes, the chemical gas, the goddamn dysentery- He knows that hell all too closely. He's known men who fought in the first war, who were too old or torn up to fight in the second. His heart aches, he's such a bastard for opening his awful mouth,]

I'm sure things are different for you. Don't get scared. [he should be scared, but Daan would shield him from it if he only could,]

We're not from the same place, after all. Rondon and all that, chap.

[dearestdarling]

First?

[He's going to die. They're all going to die. He knew that already on some level, but now he's certain. He swallows against the fear and dread, trying to look and sound calmer than he is.]

It's similar enough!

[Daan's mannerisms are too familiar for him not to be English, or at least European.]

When does the first end? When does the second begin?

[livelamentlove]

What does it matter here?

[He asks sharply and his accent warbles, changes around the edges. It's so completely other. Who even knows where it's from. Daan doesn't know. He doesn't even know where he got that from-

He probably sounds like a spy to this poor, scared young man.

He sets his cigar down, runs that hand through his hair and scratches, irritated, at the base of one of those awful cat ears. It makes him feel a bit better. Then annoys him all the more.]

... sorry. I shouldn't have said anything so cruel in the first place.

CW horrors of war

[dearestdarling]

What do you mean? I've got to get back to the front, and then I don't know how long--

[How much longer he'll have to watch his men die, go mad, kill themselves, develop neurasthenia or permanent disabilities, how much longer he and Hayes will have a bet of how quickly their replacement lieutenants will last before they're replaced again due to one of the above (the average is about two weeks). He knows he will die, but he was hoping some of his friends might survive--

He huffs, trying to pull himself together. He lifts the cigar in an attempt to act casual, but his hand shakes, and the smell of it makes him sick now. He puts it out in the ashtray.]

It's fine.

[It is not.]

CW same war hat also he's crashing out

[livelamentlove]

Take comfort. I doubt we're going back there.

[Daan won't say why. He feels it's fairly obvious. They woke up here from coffins. He fully presumes he died in that backwater fucking town of Prehevil. Maybe a Bremen shell hit him. Maybe one of those monsters got back up again. Maybe the hunger got to him or he had a complete mental break and that's why he's here. None of it sounds surprising.]

We should be grateful.

[his tone says "isn't that a joke?"]

We should revel and make merry and fuck like we've been gifted a second chance at life.

[his tone says "doesn't that disgust you?"]

[dearestdarling]

But I have to, I'm an officer--

[He's cut off by Dawn's dark and resigned tone. He's silent for a moment, and when he does speak, it's much quieter.]

You... Really think we're dead? I don't remember dying.

[He was in billets, not at the front. But maybe the village was bombed somehow and he doesn't remember because he was asleep. Or maybe he's gone mad.

The prospect of not going back shouldn't make him feel as relieved as he does, but it ao stirs restless irritation. If all his friends are there, so should he.]

[livelamentlove]

I'm sorry. I don't know shit more than you might.

[they're all just rats in this cage, running on wheels of speculation. If anybody said they know better, Daan wouldn't believe them. This place is just like Prehevil in a way, it feels like it's deliberately trying to fuck with them.]

... how young are you, Ellwood? [not old, how young.]

[dearestdarling]

[He tangles his hand into his dark curls, dislodging them from their perfect waxed places. He wishes they'd broken into a room with liquor in it.]

Eighteen.

[livelamentlove]

Fuck.

[Just like Levi- no, probably not. He probably didn't get conscripted before that age. Though Daan will ask, because he's terribly and grimly curious,]

And you only just conscripted, I take it? Did you see the front-?

[He picks back up his cigar. he's taking a long drag. Though he knows it shouldn't go into his lungs, he wants it anyways and breathes it in. That's the good stuff, that burn, that's what he needs about now.]

[dearestdarling]

I signed up when I was seventeen. Been at the front for a while.

[He's seen some action, but mostly it's trenches, which are their own kind of hell.]

[livelamentlove]

I understand. It's hell out there. They had to draft me, I wasn't going unless forced to.

[he won't hide that, he has no sense of national pride. He simply had no choice, an able-bodied man with medical knowledge was in demand. Called to serve.

And somehow, things only got worse for him once it ended.

... he can't tell this young man that. He's said enough to burden him, already.]

You are lucky to be here. I know that's no comfort to the guilt of a survivor, but... I understand. That's all I mean to say.

[dearestdarling]

[Ellwood once might have judged Daan for that. He's always been patriotic, and was chomping at the bit to sign up himself. But now he sees he had just been fooled by fiction and romantic fantasies of war. There is no beauty in the real thing, no magic at all.

He doesn't know what to say. There's no part of him that feels lucky. So, he changes the subject.]

Well, I say, it's rather stuffy in here now. Should we get some fresh air?

[He forces himself to be casual and waltzes over to grab the key from the table. Selfishly, he wants Daan to have reason to speak to him again. Or maybe even fight him for this key.

He smiles at the other man.]

Perhaps we could even find a cherry tree in the courtyard.

[livelamentlove]

[Daan would argue that there is magic in it. Magic is simply an evil, corrupting, maddening force. The will of the Old Gods.

Magic holds no whimsy nor wonder to him, only terror.

It's good to change the subject.]

A walk sounds lovely about now. Tally h- Oh. Before then.

[He loots, like, as many cigars as is reasonable to stuff into his vest. He puts a thick one in his pant pocket before. Thinking better of how that looks. Maybe the moment of comedy lightens the mood some. Vest only it is!]

[dearestdarling]

[It does make Ellwood laugh a little, despite himself.]

Good god, sir, you're a chimney.

[He moves to the door and beckons with a hand.]

Come on then, you can always come back. Don't forget the lighter.

[livelamentlove]

That's one clever double entendre if I do say so.

[he would rather not appear stacked, though. Catching the lighter, he fiddles with it a bit, before it's also put away. He doesn't realize now, but it's almost out of fluid and he'll be left hunting for a light more often than not,]

Where I'm from, it's your era of boys that perfected these. Used casings in the trenches to tinker them up.

[dearestdarling]

[Ellwood snorts. He didn't intend the entendre, but it is funny.]

Oh yes, our boys are creative like that. There are few comforts at the front for us, so you learn to make the most of what you have, I suppose.

[He thinks again of Gaunt, drinking constantly and smoking in the dugout. Then he thinks of how much he'd like to stop thinking of Gaunt.]

What's your rank?

[livelamentlove]

Nothing now. I was a field medic. Nothing special.

[he's left all that behind, now. Ranks, service, he was done with it the moment they allowed him to be. He rushed home. He-

How much he'd like to stop thinking of it, indeed.]

What about you?