TEST DRIVE MEME #11

[spoofer]

Test Drive Meme #11

To men that mix and meet her from many times and lands

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, reaching toward a brilliant blue sky.


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 rich, green forest across the sand. Beyond that, the glint of a faraway city.

"Chance" Encounters

Your first week in Xistentia^[2], it's obvious you arrived just after a crisis. The shield above the glinting green city is flickering erratically, shifting strange shadows across the ground. You see a few hazardous waste disposal bins here or there, and clear, glassy orbs that seem to match the bin slots.

But spirits seem high. People greet you in the streets, and you bear witness to a profoundly weird, sudden uptick of public wedding proposals that can't possibly end well? Still.

That's when your daemon starts acting funny. Whether by "GPS" routing you with wrong directions to wherever you had originally intended to go, or by physically pulling you off-course, your personal assistant seems bound to drive you right into the path of another passer-by.

You don't know them yet. But whether it's coffee spilled downy our front, an armload of groceries that goes rolling, or the fact that there's a bird visibly about to take a dump on their head&mdahs; you're about to.

NETWORK

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 comment. Please also keep in mind that this comment code is different to the entry code should you join the game! (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 prompt may be patched over into the upcoming event, which involves a welcome party that comes under attack.

Comments

tw homophobic language

[pillz]

[few things are as transparent as kavinsky. at least-- about some things in life. other things, you need a blowtorch, a diamond-edged shovel, and a few pounds of c4 to get into that.

but appreciating one fine-looking man. that's not hard. pun intended.]

Yeah? Welcome to Xistentia. We real faggot friendly here. [his face is sly as a fox. he steps closer, his vulpine chin lifting, studying the older man's face. he wonders if he's human enough to eat.] What's your name, shithead? [but also: kavinsky is rull bad at getting along. never forget.]

[scarcastically]

[ impressively bad. erik's smile doesn't drop an inch. ]

Erik Stevens. It ain't the name of someone famous.

[pillz]

You could get famous. You ever thought about modeling? That ain't a pickup line.

[it's totally a pickup line. kavinsky's smile has a gallon of grease dripping off it.]

Kavinsky. Could show you around. You're new, right? You got that look.

[erik does not have 'that' look. he has the 'i could kill you faster than you could blink and have been through the actual hell that is war' look. kavinsky just has an inaccurate vocabulary.]

[scarcastically]

[ erik's laugh is short and abrupt, but still amused. ]

I don't think I've got what it takes.

[ he's proud of his scars, but he's not anyone's display. ]

You sure? I gotta fix it up then.

[pillz]

[kavinsky lets his eyes drop. venture down the brown slope of erik's chest, where it emerges from his collarbones, the top of-- whatever clothing he's wearing.]

We could start a niche. Everybody likes a guy who's seen some shit. And you have, right?

[he raises a hand, a skinny, tattooed finger extruded. reaches out. doesn't quite touch.] Is it supposed to be like fucking dragon scales? [he likes dragons.] Or was you counting something?

[scarcastically]

[ erik's teeth flash in the light. ]

Yeah. I'm not great with numbers, so I keep a count on me.

[pillz]

[it's like looking into the skeleton of a shark. all those teeth.

except the shark still has all his muscles, and his heft, and his height. and seems -- awfully touchable, if you're the kind of creature who isn't afraid of getting punched in the head. it's credit to eudio, that kavinsky isn't being-- more inappropriate, really. there was a time he would have been an absolute horror.]

Count of what?

[but there's maybe a shade of concern there. he can guess. but it seems unbelievable. this guy smells human, after all. he can't be old enough for...]

[scarcastically]

[ sharks and wolves, all smelling blood. erik leans back, letting the glint of razorblades filter through. ]

Guess.

[pillz]

[terrifying. sexy. kavinsky doesn't need to breathe, but he feels himself stop anyway, watching the man's darkly-complected face.]

How'd you do it?

[it comes out of his mouth without him meaning it to.]

Let me guess. Guns. Bombs. Piloted a drone from real far away, thumb on a joystick.

[scarcastically]

[ erik laughs. the sound cuts through steel. ]

Bro, I don't mark myself for some lame ass video game kill. Up close and personal gets a scar, nothing less.