Test Drive Meme #7

[spoofer]

Test Drive Meme #7

Hold me tight, it's getting cold.

INTRODUCTION ⇄ FAQ ⇄ APPLICATIONS

CRASH LANDING

Exit one dimension, enter the next. It was chaos: pressure against your ears, light bending in an impossible, unimaginable way. The very molecules of your body vibrating against one another. If you have windows, the view outside makes no sense. Even if not, your hands, your face, your feet seem like an uncertain thing. It's the feel of reality itself tearing apart, reshaping, reconnecting, thread by thread.

And suddenly, there's a beach— or ocean, whichever you land in. Smoke. Fire. Salt water churning up, fizzing around, almost at odds with the layer of thick snow over everything.


Maybe you crash, in a ship wrecking into sand. Maybe you merely stumble out of a portal, a ragged wormhole in space. Or maybe you fall off the back of an incredible steed, some creature that carried you into this place. Either way, there's pandemonium around you. Incredibly, severe injuries are far and few between— nobody's screaming about the dead. But you might have to help pull someone free of wreckage, or move quickly to salvage burning belongings from the landing craft. Maybe it's the crafts themselves, that you're trying to salvage.

Likely, you don't know them, these other strangers who arrived here^[1]. Maybe you don't trust them— you just came out of a dying world, after all. But you all have one thing in common: you're here now.

When you get a second to breathe, maybe you'll see it. The snowy forest across the sand. Beyond that, the glint of a faraway city.

The Winter Festival

Your first party in Xistentia^[2] is wild, unexpected combination of cultures celebrating the winter holidays from around the Multiverse. Some of them are of contemporary Earth-- Diwali, Christmas, and Hannukkah are all represented, along with the Lunar New Year accelerated somewhat ahead of schedule. You'll find sticky rice pudding, samosas, Henna tattoos, dreidels, chocolate coins, and lanterns in dozens of shapes and sizes. The liquor is plentiful too. All the classics, from wine to mead.

If you aren't familiar with mistletoe, you'll be happy to know that F.A.T.E.S. will prevent unexpected smooches from landing on your face unless you assent. But there is certainly a lot of it around.


However, from unfamiliar worlds, there are a number of other unusual traditions. One of those is Mutuya, a practice from a dwarven land of lightbringing. Two partners, selected at random, get two torches they must carry outside and walk around the snowy building, keeping each other lit. Upon their return, they pass their torches onto a random person— or try again, if they failed. Those who succeed to bring the light back then write a wish on a tapestry hung in the center of the room. You'll notice a lot of people are wishing to return home and save their worlds.

Interestingly, there is even a space for those who disapprove of the interfaith mingling to debate or discuss the mingling of faiths.

NETWORK

As of December 2017, Xistentia now has its own 'friending app.' You can use it to make connections with new people! But beware, your daemon may well post without your permission, and things could get pretty embarrassing.

F.A.T.E.S. thought it was a pretty good pun: Synchr. Get it? Like sinker? Hook, line, and?


TEMPLATE
Select and copy the code below, paste into your entry. (The font is tiny for ease of copying!)

<raw-code><center><div style="background: url('https://i.imgur.com/LMmsp9R.jpg'); margin: auto; width: 300px; height: 500px; padding: 30px; border-radius: 20px;"><div style="font-family: Arial Narrow, sans serif; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 28px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px; border-bottom-style: groove; border-bottom-color: #999; border-bottom-width: 1px; line-height: 16px" align="center"><i><b>synchr</b></i></div>

<div style="width: 275px; height: 275px; border: 5px solid #b7d1ae; border-radius: 170px; padding: 0px; margin: 15px auto"><div style="background: url('http://i.imgur.com/i0hSO7K.gif'); background-size: cover; width: 225px; height: 225px; border-radius: 180px; padding: 25px; background-position: center;"><div style="background: url('** YOUR PROFILE PICTURE URL HERE **'); background-size: auto 220px; border-radius: 130px; width: 223px; height: 223px; padding-top: 223px; border: 1px dotted #000"></div></div></div>
<div style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial Narrow, sans serif; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -10px; text-align: center; color: #000;"><b>NAME</b> ▐ AGE</div>

<div style="height: 120px; background: url('https://i.imgur.com/m5GzmXX.png'); overflow-y: auto; margin: 5px auto; border-radius: 6px; padding: 10px">
</raw-code>** INSERT YOUR PROFILE CODE HERE **

<raw-code></div></div>

<div style="clear: both"></div></div>
<br />
<center><table><tr><td style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#2EB82E;">✓</span> </td><td style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#CC0000;">✕</span></div></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align: center"><big><big><big><b>YES</big></big></big></b><br />
<textarea><span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#2EB82E;">✓</span></textarea></td><td style="text-align: center"><big><big><big><b>NO</big></big></big></b><br />
<textarea><span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#CC0000;">✕</span></textarea></td></tr></table></center></center></raw-code>

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

hells yeah

Footnotes

1. Some of these can be nameless, plot-device NPCs to facilitate interactions! But even in this case, please avoid gore in describing their current state of being. Anyone dead or catastrophically injured will have disappeared by the time your characters make it to Xistentia. There are no corpses or dying here.
   
   
2. If you decide to join the game, this party will lead to the world-hop in December, detailed in the announcement! Features include The Grinch and Whoville.

Comments

clark kent | dceu

[anewhope]

( 1. crash landing for superman )

[ Clark has fallen from heights before. It has become rather commonplace once he picked up flying. It is easy to get knocked out of the air, but rarely has he felt the air knocked out of him as his body hits the sandy beach with a loud thud. Disoriented, Clark blinks the sun out of his eyes, shielding his face with his hand. His ears were ringing with the ambient noises. Panic, fear, worry, shock, horror, something is wrong, something is very wrong —

Focus, his mother's voice comes to him, make it small.

His vision clears up as Clark pulls himself onto his feet. Focus. He may not fully understand what just happened, but he can still help. One thing at a time. There is sand in his hair and grit in his eyes, but his expression is clear; hopeful. He zeroes in on the person closest to him, a frantic heartbeat cutting through Clark's own concerns ]

Are you all right?

( 2. the winter festival )

[ Every kind of festival needs volunteers. Help. And Clark could use the work. Journalism isn't exactly necessary to the everyday going ons of Xistentia. He's used to making a difference, not simply working to keep himself occupied. Whether it is small or big tasks, Clark has always felt it was necessary to put himself forward. In small bars or in large oil rigs. It isn't an itch or a desire. Or even a need. It is almost subconscious, the way he automatically signs the form and hands it over with a small smile, ducking his head so no one looks at him too closely.

He can be seen all over Xistentia, in fairly nondescript clothes and a beanie, hanging up lanterns, lights and even mistletoe though he looks a little sheepish about that. ]

( wildcard your adventure )

2

[viewsource]

[ Going to the festival isn't Elliot's idea. It's Darlene's idea of course but true to Darlene fashion... she got drunk and hooked up with someone or other. So, Elliot's sitting alone in dark black skinny jeans and his black hoodie pulled up over his head off towards a bit of the middle of nowhere of the festival.

His daemon is a scrappy black dog who he's petting and who randomly seems to be trying to prod Elliot to actually join in the festivities.

He doesn't notice Clark really, minding his own business...

But flipperd takes matters into her own hands and goes to nip at the bottom of Clark's pant leg. ]

Shit.

[ Is the very great response from Elliot who doesn't even get up in reaction. ]

[anewhope]

[ Clark blinks before smiling gently. ]

Is she yours?

[viewsource]

Yeah.

[ Elliot glances at him but his eyes never seem to quite settle, a jerky nervous movement that makes it clear he's not particularly good at eye contact or talking face to face with people.

Not that he's much better virtually either but sometimes he can fake it when he has a plan.

He looks at the dog. ]

Come back here.

[ Flipperd, of course, doesn't listen. Somehow the daemon is just as bratty as the original dog. At least the daemon doesn't piss and shit in his bed, though. ]

[anewhope]

[ Clark notices, of course. He has an eye for details. But Clark doesn't stare, doesn't let his gaze linger. Carefully, no sudden movements here, he bends to pet the dog, scratching behind the ears. ]

It's all right. He's not bothering me.

[viewsource]

[ Flippered seems to be happy with the attention. ]

She. Flipper's a she.

[ Elliot doesn't know why he corrects him. ]

What's your name?

[ The question's abrupt as if Elliot's not really used to normal social niceties but he might as well practice some more. This person seems decent enough. ]

[anewhope]

[ If Clark seems alarmed by the abruptness, he doesn't show him. He seems like a core of quiet strength, even if he is tall and imposing. ]

I'm Clark Kent. I'm new around here.

[viewsource]

Elliot.

[ He's giving his real name around these parts, so that's a mark of progress for him. ]

I've been here a while, with my sister.

[ Flipperd seems satisfied that Elliot is actually interacting now and comes back over to him, settling down at his feet. ]

[anewhope]

[ He rises to his feet, straightening. There is an odd slouch to his stance, as if he tries to make himself as unintimidating as possible. ]

You're lucky. I would do anything to see my mother right now.

[viewsource]

[ Elliot doesn't know what to say to that. His hand drops and strokes over the top of Flipperd's head and his eyes dart to the side. His mother and he had a complicated relationship but she'd also been what had got him through his stint of prison -- or more the idea of her than anything she actually had ever done for him. ]

You'll be able to get back to her. If what they're saying here is true.

[anewhope]

[ Clark's smile is bittersweet. ]

Do you believe it?

[viewsource]

No.

[ Elliot says, lifting one shoulder. He doesn't believe much off anything but he and Darlene would figure something out regardless. ]

2

[shadowblends]

[Clark seems like a rather perceptive person.

So, it can be safely assumed that he'd notice a blue boy, popping back and forth with Christmas decorations, leaving smoke in his wake, or scaling the sides of buildings to pin lights in a specific sort of pattern. The latter is what he is absorbed with at the moment, tiny white bulbs strung up in the shape of a star, strobing faintly beneath his touch.]

Hmmm, [he drones in thought.] I wonder if they're supposed to do that.

[anewhope]

[ He certainly notices. But Clark is well-mannered enough not to stare, even if his smile is faint. ]

Perhaps it is part of Xistentia's charm. To do things differently.

[shadowblends]

[Kurt starts at the voice, his head whipping around in Clark's direction. A reaction that almost throws off his equilibrium, but he's better balanced than that.]

... maybe, [chimes the tailed boy.] How are you doing over there?

[anewhope]

I'm all right. Eating all my vegetables paid off.

[ Clark u nerd. ]

[shadowblends]

[He snickers, one hand immediately lifting to cup around his face in an attempt to muffle it.]

Fair enough. I'm sure it helps.

[anewhope]

I like to think so.

[ He is certainly tall and broad-shouldered as he hangs another light. ]

[shadowblends]

[Nightcrawler's lips quirk, brilliant golden eyes still watching.]

From over here, it doesn't seem like you'd have too much trouble.

1.

[contacts]

[ lois is disoriented, to say the least. one moment, she was walking into the daily planet's building. the next? fire, sand, salt and snow in the air. she blinks, blinks again, trying and failing to make sense of it all, and pushes onto all fours and then onto her feet.

she's a reporter, and a damn good one. it doesn't have to make sense yet, but she can figure it out. having a purpose helps keep the panic at bay.

what helps even more is seeing a familiar face — though the familiar face belongs to someone who is dead. still, he looks like clark and sounds like clark. he can't be. (she wants, so desperately, for it to be him.) ]

Clark? [ her voice doesn't tremble, but it's a close thing. ]

[anewhope]

[ The air stands still. Or there is a stillness in his heart that makes time yank to a shuddering halt, every sense focused on that voice, that one word. Clark turns slowly and his voice catches, cracking underneath. ]

Lois.

[contacts]

[ he stops and turns and -- it's clark. it has to be. no one else would say her name like that.

lois swallows, taking a step toward him. ]

Hi.

[ it's nonsensical. the world is a mess around them, but for a moment, he's all that exists, the entirety of her focus and perception.

she doesn't dare reach out to touch him. what if he's not really there? (he's dead. how can he be here?) ]

[anewhope]

[ Clark immediately moves to rest his hand against her cheek, feeling her warmth underneath his palm. Her heartbeat rings in his ears, smothering all other sound. Clark no longer feels he's trying to grasp something in the dark. His head bows under the weight as he presses his forehead against her, sharing air. ]

[contacts]

[ it's all so familiar, comforting and wonderful and perfect — his hand against her cheek, warm and broad, his forehead against hers. this close, there's no doubt that he's real, that he's alive.

that he's here.

for a long moment, lois lets herself soak it in, but all too soon, she has to ask: ] How are you here?

[anewhope]

[ He is no different. It is difficult to speak, as if words will shatter the illusion of all of this — her heartbeat, the steady puffs of air. ]

I don't know. I woke up and climbed out and the sky — the sky was burning. I flew up to see what it was. I fought someone or something when I was dragged through a . . . hole in the sky.