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raiamods ([personal profile] raiamods) wrote in [community profile] raiamemes2021-04-30 08:56 pm
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TDM 001


TEST DRIVE MEME 001 ❀
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential character nudity, violence, trypophobia (images) as well as light mentions of gore.

Please note: FOR THE FIRST 24 HOURS AFTER 'HATCHING', CHARACTERS WILL FEEL WEAK AND ANY POWERS THEY HAVE WILL NOT WORK.

Test drive meme threads can be considered game canon for players who are later accepted and wish to keep their CR. The rescue mission prompt will be a TDM-exclusive, but the other prompts that you see here will also appear on our first game log. There will, of course, be more going on that week.

Please reserve questions about consequences for altering or meaningfully investigating the setting for the first log of the game, where we will have a Mod Questions thread at the top of the log. On this test drive meme, please reserve this thread for clarification and setting questions.

On the first day of reserves (May 10th), only players who participate in the TDM will be allowed to reserve. You must link an AC-length thread from the TDM for early access. Starting on the 11th, any prospective player may submit a reserve. Our hope is that this will avoid overwhelming our reserves.

❀ HATCHING


Congrats, you've woken up in an egg. I'm sure this is exactly how you wanted to spend your Saturday, right? There's no time to get curious and check out the other egg sacs. By the time you've fought your way out of the membranous sac, spilled electric blue goop everywhere, wiped it out of your eyes and sundry other orifices to get your bearings, you have a spear (or a gun) leveled at your face, throat, or other vital organs. Even if you might be inclined to fight, you can barely lift your arms to protest being grabbed and dragged off. Before you can even get a word in edgewise, you've been thrown into a holding cell.

Characters will not have a chance to retrieve their items at the time of the first hatching, and may not even know there is anything left in the remaining eggs.

The holding cell stinks of something sour and acidic, like rotted citrus, but you are not alone. Several other detainees sit in similar squalid confusion, dressed strangely and equally gooey. Time to make nice, ask questions... figure out what the hell is going on, and maybe do something about all that slime?

Over the next few days, a few things become clear. Despite the alien greeting, your captors speak a language that you understand, and the unpleasant circumstances are revealed to be a matter of necessity, not choice. Supplies are low, but they ensure that the new arrivals' time imprisoned is as painless as can be — they offer hot communal showers of less than three minutes, some strange starchy meal-replacement, and medical treatment to those in need. You might strike up a conversation with your new best friend in the shower over a low soap dispenser or when you realize you might need to share towels.

The cost of these luxuries comes in the form of touch-and-go interrogation by the security officers keeping tabs on the cells and supervising the shower time.

A few notes:
☆ Your character may get pulled away for interrogation at some point. No torture, no drugs; just questioning.

☆ Locals will be stopping by outside the freestanding holding cells to ogle or ask questions. Are you really going to be mean to that little kid staring at you with wide eyes?

☆ Characters will be let out for bio breaks. No one has to pee in a bucket, that's just inhumane!

☆ Attempts to escape will probably get you tasered. The mods will not facilitate escape-plots/etc on test drive memes. However: if you app and are accepted you are more than welcome to chat with us about the possibility of having escaped or attempted it.

❀ EXPLORE THE BASECAMP

On the heels of a little benign interrogation, a medical inspection, and a stern talking to by Captain Childe, the survivors at Basecamp Leviathan determine one thing: you don't appear to be an active threat.

Released from the detention center after three days, you are given the run-down by the locals — you're on a planet called Ethyraia, and the people around you are survivors of the catastrophic crash of the UCSS Adamant several years prior. You, in fact, showed up on the third anniversary of the crash. Weird coincidence, huh?

You're being allowed to mingle with the others. The first order of the day is having a proper meal at the mess hall — some of the Adamant's survivors will be friendlier than others. They've been stranded here for years, remember? Some of them will be so desperate to talk to someone who has news of other places, and some will be giving you the cold shoulder.

You'll be fed the same as the rest of them. A plastic plate of crumbled protein of unidentifiable origin and gravy over rice with a single wilted stalk of broccoli and a cup of the worst coffee you've ever had. Maybe somebody bumps into you and spills said coffee, maybe you make it all the way to one of the long tables set out for communal eating.

Time to strike up a chat with your neighbor — maybe ask them to pass the salt?

(What do you mean, there's no salt!?)

After a meal — it's hard to say which one you'd call it, since the whole crew is on rotating schedules — you may decide to wander the basecamp. Folks in every department could use a hand. Those willing to help out may get friendlier reception than those who play the tourist. For more info on what else you might find, check out the LOCATIONS page.

During this time, characters will be able to return to the Central Chrysalis where they hatched. While there are no clues as to how they got there, they might find items — their own, or someone else's. Everyone is strapped for supplies, but try not to snatch up anything that isn't yours. The security officers don't look kindly on people chasing one other down the hall, trying to get back their dirty magazines.

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to help out anywhere. Every little bit of assistance you offer to the locals will raise their estimation of you. You could easily help clean dishes after the meal, help fix leaky piping or repair hammocks. You could stop by the aid station and assist with the wounded. You'll be watched closely and some of the survivors will be warier than others, but most will appreciate the opportunity to have a 'break'.

☆ If your character leaves the basecamp and wanders outside the Leviathan, they may begin to notice that what they perhaps took as a giant cave is actually an enormous dragon. Everything they see that seems 'human made' will look varying levels of worn down, patched, repaired and patched again. This is not a place of prosperity and happiness. Many people are recently injured, or have new scars or missing limbs.

☆ PCs will be warned about going beyond the shade of the dragon's wings. For the sake of the test drive mods will not be facilitating plots that deal with characters going further; we ask that players with an interest in exploring this wait until the game is fully open.

❀ RESCUE MISSION

"There's no time to waste," the woman says breathlessly as she grabs your arm. She pulls you to an augmented reality sand table and you will find yourself standing alongside some of the others you may recognize as having 'hatched' with you. There are murmurs by the Adamant's survivors as they pour over data. Maybe you remember Captain Childe from the stern interrogation she gave you a few days ago, but in any case but she's standing at the edge of the sand table looking at the distance scaled between the enormous huddle of HUD badges — the Adamant's survivors — and a tiny pocket of pulsing green some fifteen kilometers away.

"They knew better," Captain Childe says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "They should have been back hours ago."

"Fucking scientists," says a man with a faintly French accent. He is scarred and battle-worn, and looks properly pissed off. He's also sporting several fresh injuries, one of which seems to have warranted the use of a crutch. "They'd lose their heads if they weren't attached. Let them wait out the storm."

"No," the captain says. "They're too close to the Rat Nest. We don't need a repeat of —" she trails off, as if seeing you for the first time. She looks you up and down, and then: "You've been told by now that everyone here has to pitch in. If you know how to fight, be ready in ten minutes. You're our rescue squad." She turns and walks out, and there's an awkward moment where everyone present is looking at you to make a choice.

Ten minutes really isn't a lot of time to get ready to walk into danger. Or maybe you aren't a fighter. Maybe you just don't care. But either way, there are people looking to you. To see how you'll react. To see what you'll do. To see if you belong.

What'll it be, hatchling? Fight or flight? Maybe you ought to start coming up with a plan.

FIELD WORK

There's a cadre of scientists cut off by acid rain. From their last transmission, they were driven into the Rat Warrens — and you've been tasked with rescuing them. Too many members of the Security Team are themselves injured, and none of the remaining ones have experience leading a fire team. Let's hope you do — or at least that you can fake it.

Maybe you've hand-picked your team. Maybe you're just stuck with whoever else was closest. Either way, your companions are some of the people you might recognize as fellow 'hatchlings'. If you know them already — good, you've got a head start on what they might be capable of out in the field, and you can chat about the little things. You know, like the weather. Acid rain, gotta love it.

Either way. You're given few small slabs of surprisingly lightweight alloy that has a sheet of — is that hide from the Leviathan? — stretched across them, to divide up amongst your team. "Helps with the rain," Ensign Porter says, trying to sound cheerful despite the grim set to his jaw. "Just come back in one piece. I kinda feel responsible for you guys, you know?"

Before you know it, you're outfitted for the trip. Weapons (if you didn't have your own) and maybe some medical supplies, handed over with a grimace by Doc Sunya.

So then it's just you, your tiny team and a fifteen kilometer hike. Oh, and the acid rain. Luckily, the shields seem to be keeping it off, but it's hard to hear anything over the impact of the drops. Anyone want to play I never?

Or maybe you think you should make a break for it. This is your first time being outside the Leviathan unsupervised. You've got supplies, and other people with as little to lose here as you do. Maybe you should talk.

THE RAT WARREN

You've made it to the last transmitted location of the scientists. What you find doesn't bode well — one of them seemed to have an arm torn off — at least, you think it's an arm — the way it's been disintegrated by the rain makes it hard to tell.

One thing's certain, though. There are bloodstains leading into the nearby maw of a hole in the ground. There's a putrid odor wafting from it, and the sound of frantic scrabbling.

You have an idea of what might be down there. 'Giant rats with tentacles', Porter had said. Don't let the tentacles grab you, they leave chemical burns that usually result in amputation if they can't be treated immediately. But there's a chance the scientists are still alive, and you need to make your choice.

If you and your small team venture down into the darkness, what happens next is up to you. You'll be encountering hoards of these monsters. The scientists are still alive, but will they stay that way? And more importantly, can you get them back to the Leviathan in one piece?

PCs versus the local fauna, round one, FIGHT!

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to put player characters 'in charge' of the planning/logistics phase. If another PC tags into your thread, you and that player can decide which PC will be 'leading the charge'.

☆ Your character will have: a mini-railgun, a spear (if they don't have their items/weapons from home), a first-aid kit, the acid rain shields, ration bars (that are essentially condensed protein bars — they do not taste good) and one of the smartwatches, which will have a mini holographic HUD displayable on its interface. If your character is the sort to request other things, feel free to assume they received them (within reason — please remember that resource scarcity is the name of the game — feel free to be creative here!).

☆ There are fifteen kilometers to cover. If your character has an ability like superspeed/etc, please keep in mind it will work, but you also have your allies to consider. Normal walking time over this distance, given the difficulty of the environment (steep hills, acid rain, unknown territory, etc) would translate to several hours to an average person.

☆ Feel free to use the NPC scientists however you'd like. If you want your character to find some dead, you can. If you'd prefer they be rescued, that is also acceptable. These are essentially 'your' NPCs that you are using to facilitate the story at this point — the sky is the metaphoric limit!

❀ BOOZE

A week. You've been here for a week.

By now, you might have tried to venture out of Basecamp Leviathan and experienced firsthand the acid rains that the security officers warned you about. Or you might be teaching the kids at the schoolyard how to gamble. In any event, Thorkil seems to take pity on his disoriented new friends and taps his distillery for a little help.

Invitation passes by word of mouth to meet at the memorial wall. Moonshine of questionable quality is passed around in tin cups — hope no one's afraid of germs — as Thorkil explains the great relief it is to be gaining people instead of losing them. This settlement isn't big, and they aren't overburdened with hope or supplies, but there's been a lot of loss in the past three years. Some people might be willing to look at the arrival of these newcomers as a sign that things are turning around.

Bottoms up, hatchlings, and ... Happy Birthday?

A few notes:
☆ Feel free to turn this into an impromptu party. Maybe you're celebrating getting all the scientists back alive! Maybe it's something like a wake to remember them in the sad event of their passing. Either way, many of the engineers and other NPCs may join you in this moonlight drinking session, as well as whatever PCs you tag out to or are tagged by.)

❀ OBLIGATORY NETWORK


Welcome people of all kinds to Basecamp Leviathan! I'd give you a hand moving in except...

I have no hands.
Because I'm an AI.
Get it?
It's a joke.

My name is Cartagena. But anyway, this isn't about me or the Adamant for once. This is about all of you. So if you would kindly fill out the following questionnaire to get to know each other; it would also be very helpful for my systems.

NOTE: Participation is MANDATORY.

That was another joke. It's all voluntary. You people and your free will.

1. What is your name?
2. Where are you from?
3. What's your favorite smell? Please describe it as you would to a person without a nose. Because I do not have a nose.
4. If you could be any animal in any world, what would you be?
5. How old are you?
6. Did you enjoy this questionnaire?

Thank you for your participation! Please enjoy the rest of your stay here at Basecamp Leviathan.


psychometries: (106)

[personal profile] psychometries 2021-05-03 04:45 am (UTC)(link)
[ No offense to this printer, but a gaping wound seems like a higher priority right now, so Cal doesn't mind abandoning his task for the moment. It takes a second for him to disentangle himself from the machinery—thankfully, he hadn't starting taking anything inside apart yet, so he doesn't have to worry about keeping track of screws and bolts—and slip his multi-tool back into the pouch attached to his belt.

Once he's free, he comes over to do as instructed, wrapping his hands around the patient's leg to brace their knee. ]


No problem. [ He's a helpful kid who likes to make himself useful, so it really is no problem. ] You're a doctor?
medik: (‟god i'm tired.”)

[personal profile] medik 2021-05-04 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ Yakov can certainly appreciate the willingness to assist - in many ways it feels like a continuation of the atmosphere between himself and the other medics back in the trenches, a dynamic in which one's own itinerary was completely irrelevant to whatever request was being made of him. He shakes his head slightly when the boy asks about his background, the corners of chapped lips barely rising in an imitation of a wry smile. ]

Not at all. I'm a field medic. I was conscripted into the Tsar's army— I worked in a factory before the war.

[ And if I ever go back, I'll work in one until I die, so long as those people are in power, he inwardly adds, a bitter footnote to an already abysmal sentence. ]

The scissors on that pan, please.
Edited 2021-05-04 03:24 (UTC)
psychometries: (073)

[personal profile] psychometries 2021-05-05 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Cal hears conscription, army, and war, and his expression falls—it's a situation he knows well. Even if he never held official rank in the Grand Army of the Republic on account of his young age, his master was still a general, and Cal spent nearly three years of his life surrounded by soldiers and war. At the time, he'd thought the fighting was necessary, even just, but now...

He frowns as he reaches for the indicated scissors, one hand still bracing that knee, and then passes them over, handle first. ]


The... Tsar? [ That's a new one. Almost ruefully, he adds: ] We must not be from the same galaxy.
medik: (in the fields the bodies burning)

[personal profile] medik 2021-05-08 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's the only possibility that makes any sense - for someone to not know of the most despicably powerful man on Earth, they'd have to not be from Earth. That realization, too, is something that he shelves for a moment - this place is already so, so much, and he's exhausted as it is without considering the apparent possibility of alien life.

Yakov takes the proffered shears and snips the ends of the carefully knotted silk thread, doing nothing to keep the bitterness from his voice as he hands them back. ]


A despot. He lives in his gilt palaces while the people of Russia starve. He forces more and more men to fight in a pointless war when we do not even have enough boots to cover our soldiers' feet. [ He realizes, belatedly, that his voice has become a bit too loud, too forceful for such an environment⁠—without the constant sound of distant gunfire and mortars both incoming and outbound, there's no screen between his words and his patients' ears. Yakov lowers his tone to compensate after the fact, perhaps slightly more than he needs to. ] All of this country's wealth belongs to one family. "God's chosen." And the peasants and workers starve because there is not enough bread to keep them alive if they do not die in the trenches.
Edited 2021-05-08 00:39 (UTC)
psychometries: (010)

[personal profile] psychometries 2021-05-08 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ Cal winces a little at the obvious bitterness in the other man's tone, but it's out of sympathy more than anything else. Empathy, because he understands it. It sounds like a Tsar is about the same as an Emperor, and those he knows well.

Letting people struggle and starve. Destroying livelihoods and entire planets for more power and wealth. No war, but one probably wouldn't know it by all the stormtroopers around, enforcing the Emperor's will. It was a war against innocent people, in a way.

Cal's expression falls, and his voice is quiet. ]


It sounds like some things are the same. We have an Emperor, where I come from.
medik: (as the war machine keeps turning)

[personal profile] medik 2021-05-10 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Yakov's voice mirrors the hushed tone the young man takes on, perhaps without his own conscious awareness of the change. ] It's disgusting. Everywhere you go, people being exploited for the gain of a few tyrants. [ He gestures with one hand, emphatic, his long, thin fingers stiffly splayed. ] Our tsar is an emperor too.

[ Yakov reaches for the saline solution he used to irrigate the wound the first time and gives the stitches a good rinse, then dries them, patting instead of wiping as not to snag anything. The injury before him is still much uglier than the ways of sealing injuries they have now. He wonders, dimly, if this man will consider it a misfortune to have had the gash sewn shut instead. ]