Test Drive Meme #5

[spoofer]

Test Drive Meme #5

You wouldn’t wake; i couldn’t sleep for years.

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.


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

THE RAIN

Here comes the rain. Trickling down the rafters and tinkling down the trees, it starts as a drizzle and steadily increases to a downpour. Maybe it catches you by surprise, chasing you indoors or to share the umbrella of a friendly stranger. There's something oddly elaborate about the gutters of Xistentia's city-- it clearly carries the water toward the temple in the East, a storm system that causes the lamps to pulsate without threatening to shut down.


You'll notice too that you're prone to nostalgia which even infiltrate your dreams, memories sad or happy. This is easily a private experience, but you might find yourself wandering the city to get away from old ghosts or feeling invincible in the glow of memories. More oddly, whether or not you're an artist, you might be inspired to draw on the windows with your finger in the condensation.

Personal symbols, detailed illustrations, these inextricably lead back to the nostalgia. Whatever it is, it might pull someone to ask.

NETWORK

By now, the city of Xistentia has a population of over 400 people. Shops line the streets of downtown, and increasingly well-trodden paths will take you into the agricultural zones nearer to the forest or even down to the beach. There are still distinctive animal presences around— careful with that— but the most common critters you'll see are birds crapping on your stuff outside and tiny winged hairless people creeping your food.

One afternoon, you are taken from whatever you’re doing - taking a walk through the city, sunning yourself on the beach, running around in the forest shoring up defenses - by a message, appearing on your Daemon’s network screen. It’s a simple line of text, that reads:

PHOTO SENT

It would appear that your daemon accidentally sent a picture, perhaps one from your photo roll or instagram, or a random shot of you or your surroundings. Wait. Was that a public network post? Wait—

IMAGE CODE TEMPLATE
<center><img src="URL HERE"></center>

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. But like OOCly ask permission ofc.

Comments

rain rain go away

[ptrprkr]

[ By this point Peter has gotten used to the constant rainfall -- it had started off as hardly anything, but was clearly intent on sticking around and gaining momentum, turning into a steady shower by the time that the teenager decides to venture out of his home.

Umbrella in hand -- and, of course, in use -- Peter weaved his way between the few others caught out in the rain. Most like himself had some sort of shelter from the rain: an umbrella, a heavy raincoat, even a few folks hurrying by in ponchos.

That is until he comes upon a girl barely keeping dry under the cover of a brightly colored jacket. If she isn't already soaked, then it's only a matter of time before she is.]

It's raining. [ Quite the observer, Peter Parker. ] I mean, [ This time with a little more tact? ]

You're getting rained on.

[ Or not. ]

come again another daaay

[poprocks]

[The sound of a male voice that's not her daemon makes her give pause, dark irises glancing this way and that. Then, she adjusts the way she is holding her coat and peers around the ivory-colored stag at Peter.]

You don't say, [she teases with a smile, giving a nod toward his umbrella.] Wouldn't happen to have a spare one of those, would you?

[No, most people don't carry around two. Jubilee isn't all that sure why she'd asked, but it had been something to carry on the conversation. (His lack of subtlety just so happens to be ridiculously cute.) Her partner, however, seems wary by the newcomer. Enough to the point that he bends his head next to her shoulder and fixes Peter with those peculiar eyes.]

[ptrprkr]

[ Peter, in fact, doesn't have a spare umbrella, but the one that he does have is big enough to cover two people fairly comfortably -- or, perhaps, one person that happened to be the size of two teenagers. -- and what kind of person would he be to leave a (very pretty) girl to suffer in the pouring rain?

Certainly, no one worthy of the self-imposed title of friendly neighborhood anything. ] I don't, no. But...

[ His eyes flit to the stag walking with her, its fixed gaze on him causing the teenager to shift a little awkwardly. ] we could both probably fit under this one. If you want. [ A beat. ] Or if you don't. [ Another beat. ] It's whatever. Up to you.

[poprocks]

Stop looking so leery, [she chides the deer, giving him another playful push.] You're making the poor guy nervous, Everest.

[After adjusting the placement of the coat to be draped across her one arm, she strides toward Peter, exuding an oddly bright amount of confidence. Once she's close enough to do so, the pyrotechnic offers her hand, regardless of the downfall.] My name's Jubilation Lee. Friends call me 'Jubilee' or 'Jubes' for short.

Wouldn't object to an entirely different nickname, either. [Just so Peter's aware, that is.] And if you're putting it out there, I'm all for sharing. As long as it won't be awkward for you or anything.

[ptrprkr]

[ Peter eyes the deer for a few moments -- and inwardly he wishes that his own daemon was something a little cooler than a Lego figurine, most everyone else he'd come across had way more interesting ones.

He offers her a wide, friendly smile and a quick handshake in return -- and those slightly sweaty palms are from the precipitation and humidity, okay? ]

I'm Peter. Parker. [ He gives a quick shake of his head at his own awkward introduction. ] Just Peter's fine. Or if you yell really loudly, that will probably get my attention, too. [ He laughs.

Once Jubilee is close enough, he moves his umbrella to cover them both. (Although, he definitely gives her more of the coverage, letting the edge of his shoulder catch some of the rainfall.) ]

I don't mind, this rain isn't supposed to let up anytime soon [ His eyes turn upward to look at the dark clouds for a moment. ] it'd suck to be stuck in it even longer without anything. Where were you headed, anyway?

[poprocks]

[Wait, that's what the little Lego thing is? Wicked!

Never fear, Peter. Jubilee notices the warmth of his hand, although she can also chalk it up to the fact that her own touch is warm-- warmer than most humans, but not ridiculously so. Sort of like she could be feverish.]

Okay, 'Just Peter.' [Clever, ain't she?] I've been known to be loud when it's necessary, so that shouldn't be a problem.

[She can see from her peripheral that he's letting his shoulder get wet. For the moment, it'll go unmentioned, but don't think she isn't plotting to subtly try and sneak her jacket over thataway.] Yeah, you can say that again.

[Her own brief upward glance, then she's peering in the other direction to make sure the stag is still following. It's hers, she knows this; that doesn't make it any easier for her to get used to.] We'd been planning to head into the city. At this point, I'll take anywhere that's dry.

[ptrprkr]

[ He snorts in laughter at the 'Just Peter' comment -- it's right up his humor alley and he appreciates someone with a similar sense of humor to his own. It's a bit of a rare find, after all. ]

Not too loud, sometimes my ears can get a little sensitive.

[ Or rather, all of his senses can, but that's a conversation for another time. ]

Oh, I'm headed that way, too! I was going to check out some of the shops there, I need a couple of things that can't wait until all this decides to let up.

[ When Jubilee gives a glance toward the stag, Peter does the same -- although, not to make sure that it's following them, but more because he's still pretty curious about it. It isn't exactly every day that a deer follows him around.

He's actually pretty sure he's never even seen a deer in the wild. There weren't exactly very many running around Queens. Or any part of New York City. ]

I can take you, if you want. I'm sure there's plenty of dry places.

[poprocks]

[Dang, cute and can understand her jokes? Sign me up! It's probably a good thing Peter's not telepathic or he'd also have problems with too loud thoughts. The grin on her face isn't all that subtle, though.]

Oh, [she starts, raising one hand to shoot a single 'fingergun' motion toward the boy, right eye closed in a wink.] I'll be sure not to fracture any eardrums.

['Shops.' He's just said the magic word.

Jubilee has no idea if any of her money made it or what sort of things they accept as currency in this world, but if she can get her hands on something a little more dry, it wouldn't go unappreciated.

The stag simply continues to trail behind, attention solely focused ahead of them, until Peter decides to look back, too. He meets his gaze, blinks once, twice, then very deliberately averts its eyes skyward to the rain. Still watching, but less diligently now.]

I'd like that. Maybe I can find something a little less wet once we're there.