TEST DRIVE MEME #3

[spoofer]

Test Drive Meme #3

I walk around with all my violent decisions.

Prison World Prequel: Spidermarvel

D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has learned a new trick to stop characters from defying the end of the multiverse. These are prison worlds, alternative universes, where prisoners are brainwashed into native conflicts so that they will kill each other.

NEW CHARACTERS: BRAINWASH

One minute, you're escaping your dying homeworld. Perhaps through a wormhole, perhaps with some incredible leap of technology, sorcery, or on a magic steed— regardless of the how, the why was clear. Everything you once knew tearing apart at the seams, facing utter destruction at the mercy of an apocalypse no one had predicted.

The next instant, you topple into a street covered in rubble. The Battle of New York (spoilers in the link) rages around you.



Armored humanoid aliens, the Chitauri, run amok in the streets, armed with staffs that blast powerful energy bolts. A hundred times larger, fish-like "Leviathans" are gliding through the air, with fangs as tall as people, damaging skyscrapers with their massive flippers, and ejecting yet more of the Chitauri from their sides. Around you, fires burn and humans are running in every direction in panic, barely taking a second to notice anything outlandish about your appearance. In the distance, there's a blue, glowing portal hundreds of feet in the air.

Maybe you stand and fight. Perhaps you find a citizen or a fellow world-hopper bleeding and hurt and you try to help. Maybe it's the faraway portal you're going for, assuming this is just that damn apocalypse again— but that's when something feels ever so slightly wrong.

This is the sensation of your memories starting to warp, your very identity shaping to fit this world. Your powers starting to flicker, gutter, not operating quite right. Glance down, and for a split-second, it's like your hands are-- pixellated? But blink again, and it's over. Hell, there are more important things to take care of right now...

EXISTING CHARACTER: WRAITH MODE

Technology lights up in the Citadel, the defense systems coming online abruptly, dozens of screens and interfaces crawling with unrecognizable code— and special instructions. Using a visor at the Citadel, brief journeys to the prison world are possible. When you appear in the Battle of New York, the visitors appear like ghosts displaced from space and time. You are now in wraith mode, incorporeal, intangible, and invisible to most of the inhabitants of the Prison World. However, you can be seen and heard by the new prisoners, all the while retaining their personalities and identities. Simulation or transportation? It's hard to tell.

The Temple lights up too, revealing a new chamber filled with dozens of strange stone beds, dimly aglow. But the technology or magic there refuses to reveal anything else.

HEATWAVE IN THE CITY

A week after you arrive in Xistentia, you are still trying to get a grip with life in the city, your new apartment, still trying to understand exactly what's needed of you. The inhabited parts of the urban development have wide boulevards and beautiful facades, well-groomed trees on every street. The further you go from the growing colony, the more overgrown and wild the buildings look, small flocks of birds singing at you from the bridges.

Beyond the streets, the natural environment around you-- wherever you choose to explore— is supposed to be perfect; the weather in Xistentia is designed to be temperate in the city, hotter on the beach, cooler in the forest. But in recent days, the temperature has been climbing. It's a steady thing, but it's felt throughout the whole of Xistentia, and it's not long before it becomes unpleasant, humid and heavy heat that sticks your shirt to your skin.

Your daemon trills, requiring your attention. You've noticed that it now looks different now than it did back in the Prison World, no longer a simple cellphone. When you touch the hologram popup, the message reads:

F.A.T.E.S. WARNING SYSTEM
Threat Assessment: Mild
Phenomenon Type: Weather System Compromised
Predicted Duration: 72 hours

Due to massive energy discharge from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s Prison World program, a heat wave has come. Residents are advised to remain cool indoors or hydrated outside. F.A.T.E.S. requests your assistance offsetting repair power costs by temporarily increasing physical contact, including intimacy. Remember, safezone protocol will prevent combat within the city excepting sparring at gyms.

With expected assistance, the weather system will be corrected in 72 hours.

Fate is your hands. Or possibly your arms, if you're more of a hugger. As characters initiate physical intimacy within the city, they may notice the nearest lamps in the streets brightening.

NETWORK

Chances are pretty good that your daemon is not a phone or a computer or a wax-sealed piece of parchment or a Howler, nothing with a convenient camera or a keyboard; it probably isn't even a pocket sized. Likelier, it stares at you with eyes that contain the lenses-- or powers-- of a camera, and some part of its body projects a holographic keyboard into the air. For those of us who are not accustomed to manipulating intangible light prisms, it's not very intuitive to type on.

But here's your network access. Accessible to all your fellow travelers in XISTENTIA.

Misfires, typos, and blurry video footage are likely. Time to feel like a Luddite!

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

sUPER FUN!

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. But like OOCly ask permission ofc.

Comments

heatwave.

[upside]

( discomfort is a bit like an old friend to ye olde commander shepard -- like saren, maybe, unwelcome and unwanted. n7 armor has been shed for a light hoodie, and that in turn is now crossed over her waist while she stands in a gray tank top, sweat rinds around the neck watering the fabric in an unmissable darker color. ice cream sounds good. she's in the process of picking between cookie dough or chocolate brownie, when janus approaches.

she raises an eyebrow. she has know quite a few awkward people in her life, this is nothing. )

Easy, soldier. You'll have a hell of a time keeping the ladies off you with that approach. ( she nods at them regardless, smiling to a bare degree. joking. she holds out her hand, waiting for them to accept. )

[bangitybang]

I wish that was more true so the weather would be less bad, [janus answers, bluntly. and!! they're all too quick to take shepard's hand. despite the discomfort they're in at the moment, they don't suffer from especially sweaty palms or anything! the stickiness is definitely average. they also have a good handshake, probably. good grip-strength.] I think that is how this is supposed to work.

[a beat. in the background, the hum of the refrigerators grows slightly louder. f.a.t.e.s. appreciates the contribution. janus regards her face with some interest.]

You have admirable calluses.

[so many ladies. how can they possibly stay away! such charm.]

[upside]

More like -- ( she takes the care to interlace their fingers, locking them in. all things considered, they're probably on par with each other for the amount of handholding experiences they've had, so shepard feels it out all the same, ultimately deciding janus is a worthy comrade in (handholding) arms.

she raises her eyes at the mention of her calluses, looking fairly amused by the mention. she nods once in gratitude, before turning her eyes back to ice cream. )

Thanks. They don't give you a ship unless you've got a scar or two. ( she squeezes their hand once, for their attention. ) Do you have a favorite ice cream? I thought I'd buy a jar and hope it isn't melted.

[bangitybang]

[the last time a woman squeezed their hand, she was etching in a rune that would spirit janus away from their universe and everything they knew. also: it was their mom. it's a strange series of associations, but janus is too well-trained to shuffle or flinch.

but they squeeze her hand back, after a moment. in the service of air-conditioning. and also: she is offering them ice cream, which suddenly seems like an equally brilliant idea.]

I usually consume sorbet, [they say,] due to the absence of saturated fats. A little sugar is okay sometimes. [a beat.] But I will accommodate your preferences if you prefer a dairy-based dessert. I'm not a sailor, but you seem to know what you're about. [scars. that sounds like the hunter life, were it not for hunter physiology.]

[upside]

( janus seems very keen on their figure -- possibly health regime, dedication or something. they seem like they have the chops to be a very good soldier, but that's the commander in shepard talking. she's always looking for recruits, even when she doesn't have a ship.

anyway, she decides to find some sort of compromise in an orange flavored frozen yogurt, because as long as it's cold, she can't care much either way what they eat. belatedly, she listens to what they said, sailor, and furrows her brother ow. )

I'm not a sailor, either. ( delighted to find the yogurt carton still hard with ice, she picks it up and leads them down another aisle, searching for spoons. ) I'm a soldier. Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy -- she's a space ship.

( it is oddly refreshing to find people who don't know her, honestly. )

[bangitybang]

[oh no she is frowning. oh god the air from the open fridge felt so nice. ah now she is towing them down the aisle. janus bobs along like a harbor buoy on a line, peeking at the back of her red-haired head. then at the ice cream. that looks amazing. they vaguely remember other hunters making fun of them for preferring fruit to chocolate, but she seems going with it all right.]

I didn't intend to insult your space ship by mistaking it for a sea ship, [they say.] I would hope that considering her namesake, if she is referring to Earth history in 1944, she would take that well. [after all, the invasion of normandy had been an amphibious assault.

janus isn't very good at being funny.]

You're a soldier from space with an outer-atmosphere vessel named for battle, [they summarize, slowly, feeling their confidence actually grow that they will find spoons and they will not die a sticky miserable puddle on the floor.] That's impressive.

[upside]

( they are a very polite person. shepard regards them quietly, keeping her gaze drawn on necessary utensils -- this store sells individual spoons, what a blessing, xist you are so weird but good -- although it's mostly for janus' comfort. shepard is a very comfortable person to be around, after all, befriending and charming people from all different walks of life. they will find no exception. )

At ease. It wasn't insulting. Here, ( she offers the yogurt while she busies herself with spoons. ) Put that on the back of your neck.

You know your Earth history pretty well. Just ... uh, be glad her pilot didn't hear you call her a boat. ( have a wink, janus!!! shepard now sets them through the check out. the line is a little long, people with the same idea as them. ) I'm not the impressive one, it's all the Normandy. She's something else. They have space travel where you're from?

[bangitybang]

[brow furrowing slightly, janus nonetheless accepts the frozen dessert. they put it on the back of their neck, feeling a bit foolish even though they know the intent of such a maneuver, and that she doesn't seem like the type to be playing a triohhhh

oh that feels really nice. almost too much! but so good. they revel in it, all the way to the checkout, nodding at the mention of her pilot. right, spaceships like sea ships, would be 'she.' gendered. a lot of things in the world are.]

Yes and no. Nothing advanced like yours, a few space vessels voyaging to the moon and unmanned equipment sent out further. But we have non-humans with magic and other abilities that allow them to go to space very often. [shepard certainly knows what she's about. janus is warming to her! thanks to how cool she is, hyuk hyuk.] Are you implying that achieving the rank of 'Commander' is a feat of no great effort in your homeworld?

[upside]

You have non-humans? ( she pays up easy cash, breaking open whatever wrapping their spoons are in. ) Non-humans, but you haven't left Earth yet? What race are they?

( she pops her spoon in her mouth while they hover by the door, temporarily enclosed in the very weak air conditions. if she cared, she might've washed it beforehand, but commander shepard has many more woes than germs so she doesn't think twice. she offers janus theirs, offering to hold the carton while they take the first bite. )

And no, it's a pretty big honor. I worked very hard to get there. ( she vaguely gestures with her spoon. ) If you saw my ship, you'd know what I mean. And if you wanted to hear about all my accomplishments and failures, you'd have better luck asking someone else. I'm, uh -- not one for bragging. I just like to get things done.