TDM #2

[glencolans]

TEST DRIVE MEME #2

Welcome to Glencola Reef's second Test Drive Meme! This is a place where anyone interested in applying a character - or just curious to see how their characters might interact with the setting and others in the game - can mingle with one another. General prompts are provided below for inspiration.

TDM GUIDELINES

• Please read the rules before posting to the TDM. These still apply here and will be enforced, up to and including deleting tags/toplevels and prebanning.
• Posts from a TDM are required to apply. At least three tags across any number of threads within a TDM, posted within the last 6 months, must be provided in every application.
• TDM threads can be used for AC. Note that new characters only need to check in for their first AC cycle, but established characters can use TDM tags for their AC.
• TDMs are not considered game canon by default. This is mostly for logistics reasons - due to how characters travel on the map, it's unlikely that non-network threads that take place here will actually happen in-game. However, I won't stop anyone from working out how to make parts of threads game canon if they really want to.
• New TDMs will be posted every three months. Keep checking back into the current TDM for new toplevels!

I. ARRIVAL

You awaken on a tropical island beach, soaking wet, powerless, and without any idea how you got here. Were you carrying something important, or wearing powerful armor? How unfortunate - it looks like only the most basic clothes, items in your pockets, and simple weapons managed to make the trip with you. Are you even physically the same as you remember? If you had superhuman abilities tied to your physiology, you might be stuck in a completely different body that lacks your usual senses. You might've been whisked away from a tense battle or a near-death experience and wake up delirious, or even injured.

Thankfully, against overwhelming odds, you're not the only one to wake up on this particular stretch of beach. You and your companion have a lot of puzzling out to do.

II. NETWORK

Even if you weren't lucky enough to wake up near someone else, at least you've arrived with a military-grade radio transceiver gripped tightly in your hand (or mouth, or other vaguely opposable appendage of choice). The clunky walkie-talkie will start buzzing and crackling for every public message that starts coming your way. Answering them back is as easy as pressing the "talk" button on the side of the device and either speaking into the receiver, or using the keypad to type into the message box that appears on the screen, then pressing the button again to send. A list of ongoing conversations with responses that are less than 24 hours old can be found by scrolling through the menu, identified by the callsigns that are participating in them. It seems that you've been assigned a callsign, too - it shows up in the top right side of the screen, format AB123C. The letters and numbers picked are...probably random.

This is your easiest avenue to communicating, or coordinating with, or complaining at the other people stuck on this island; how you decide to use this tool is up to you.

III. A SAFE PLACE

Whether because someone else directed you via the transceivers, or someone found you and is leading you there, or just out of sheer luck, you have stumbled your way up the western coastline and run into an abandoned airfield. At least it used to be abandoned; there are obvious signs that the area has seen recent use, from the myriad of footprints in the sand leading up to the ocean, to the racks of drying fish lined along the shattered asphalt of a runway, to the strangely complex water stills and...who even knows what chemicals are brewing in those pots next to the largest airplane hangar? Even if you find the signs of people first, you're likely to run into the inhabitants themselves sooner rather than later, as the airfield has become a surprisingly busy hub of activity in comparison to the bleak isolation of the rest of the island. Maybe some of the more experienced inhabitants will help you figure out what's going on here, or try to rope you into exploring or cleaning out the more run-down buildings lining the runway, like the smaller hangars or the desolate traffic control tower at the far end. You likely aren't the only new person trying to find your way around, either. Hopefully the person you arrived with is more interested in helping rather than just looting the place and running off.

IV. STRANGE BOUNTIES

The weather on this island can be rather unpredictable sometimes. Just yesterday it was sunny and hot, then today, without warning, the sky opened up - literally, like the pale blue horizon was a vase smashed by a hammer and a billowing cyclone poured through the hole - and dumped at least a foot of rain on you in the span of an hour. You just barely managed to avoid getting swept out to sea, hunkering down in the relative safety of the deeper jungle, when the storm stopped as suddenly as it started. Dazed and possibly hurt, you stumble back to the beach to get a look at the sky--

--And find the beach absolutely covered in heaps of beach peas. There are so many that you can't even see the sand underfoot, and more of the pods are still washing up with the swollen tide. A flurry of very confused seagulls are already picking at the pile of legumes, but you should be quick about getting your own share - other captives are likely to show up soon, too, and they probably have much deeper pockets and appetites than the birds.

V. HOSTILE STRANGERS

As others have had the misfortune of discovering first-hand, there are entities on the island that have been here for much longer than the active group on the transceivers has been, and they aren't necessarily friendly. One in particular guards their territory fiercely from intruders - or maybe they just enjoy toying with those that wander within their reach. For those exploring the dense jungles in the northeast, this individual's motivations are probably the last things on your mind when you encounter them personally. Minding your own business, by yourself or traveling with others like you, noting the odd lack of animal calls in an otherwise vibrant jungle, suddenly there's the faint whistling noise of a crossbow bolt hissing through the air on a collision course for your vitals. You might consider yourself lucky if you stumble into one of their expertly-hidden rope traps instead and end up dangling by your ankle ten feet in the air. Hopefully, if you are currently traveling alone, someone will find you quickly enough to keep you from being killed outright by this hidden assailant.

NAVIGATION

Comments

Harley Quinn | DC

[clowngirl]

II. Network

[An obnoxious buzz and crackle comes over the radio at an obnoxious time of night followed by the obnoxious voice of someone who is having trouble sleeping.]

Hey! What'd the jungle bird say when the cat challenged him to cards?



V. Hostile Strangers

It's a lovely day for a stroll through a mystery jungle. Why not? Harley isn't equipped with a machete and a pith hat like she feels Bugs Bunny would be in such a situation, but she's pretty sure she can figure it out. The sun is shining, her clothes have dried, and it's time to mentally map out New Harley Island.

She's whistling out the intro of what she's hoping will become a kickass national anthem of this seemingly deserted place when the whizz of a crossbow bolt over her shoulder makes her suddenly rethink her self-appointed rule.

She instantly breaks into a sprint and takes cover behind a tree, the next bolt landing on the other side of it.

"Hey! Okay! I take requests!" She calls out, but receives no answer. Tough crowd. She very carefully peers out just enough to try and catch a glance of her attacker. No luck. Just the foliage enveloping everything around her. "If you're that purple lady from Gotham, I can totally explain the parole violation!"

She can't, but she is trying to gauge when to make another run for it.

network | HO125E

[trialbyliar]

[The voice that responds is young-sounding but just as obnoxious.]

Why's a bird playing card games with a cat in the first place? Wouldn't the cat just eat it?

network

[somethingintangible]

[ Have another annoying teen, Harley. Sorry. ]

...What?

[ It's only one word, but you can hear the disdainful, teenage, looking-down-her-nose attitude in her voice. ]

ii

[ichoosefight]

Wait, what?

Steph is on her way to check on one of their emergency supply stops when she hears 'purple lady from Gotham' in the distance and has to take a solid 30 seconds to process what's happening and decide the person probably isn't talking to her.

"Hello?" she calls out, a little louder than the voice she heard. She has her makeshift staff at the ready just in case, but the voice at least didn't seem hostile.

Network | KD201D

[obeir]

[ Between the worries that have been plaguing K and a growing sense of homesickness, sleep isn't coming easily for him either. Which turns into an incredible stroke of luck when he's awake to hear a familiar voice breaking the silence. ]

Harley?

[ Normally he'd play right along and set up the punchline for her, but instead she's greeted by that startled exclamation. ]

You're really here?

II. AP251C | voice

[desperate_times_right]

"I don't have hands"?

yuna | final fantasy x

[cycled]

I. ARRIVAL

( the first thing she sees is the sky. familiar enough, even as her confusion grows with the recognition of being wet, wind gentle against her bare arms as she struggles to sit up. had she taken a dip and fallen asleep afterwards...? no. she remembered -

she'd been in bed, trying to let the heavy weight of an unknowable future drag her into a fitful rest. )

A dream?

( she says more to herself, although this is nothing like any vision or dream she's had before. everything's so tangible - she grabs a fistful of sand because she can, frowning down at it until there's movement in the corner of her eye.

immediately: )

Hello!

( with no thought to a possible threat - what threat could there be now, with Sin gone? - she scrambles to her feet, sand experiment forgotten as she waves to the distant figure. )

I'm so sorry to disturb you, but would you mind telling me where we are?

II. NETWORK

( sender is evidently not used to a call or texting system: )

Talk? This - strange. I wond - doing - thing? Fun!

( a few seconds later, )

yuna yuna yuna yuna yuna
can figure this out!

i;

[1797]

[How far inland does he have to go before the river water turns from brackish to fresh? He's quick to turn from pondering laundry (yes...he is really thinking about laundry) at Yuna's voice. He drops his hands from his hips, only to cup them around his mouth so he can holler back:]

An island!

[Wow, so helpful.]

ii. VL121R | voice

[meadqueen]

You have to hold down the raised part on the side the entire time you're speaking if you wish for it to hear you.

[It had taken Randvi a while to figure it out too, though at least this person sounds like she's having more fun with it]

Is that your name? Yuna?

Clive Rosfield | Final Fantasy XVI

[rosarianoath]

I.
It’s dusk when the man unconscious in the surf is roused from his sleep. He doesn’t get up. He just lays there, the water thoroughly soaked into his dark leathers and red tunic, sand plastered to the back of his wet dark hair. He blinks sluggishly up at the sky, then closes his eyes with a long exhale. Every breath is deep, exhausted.

It’s going to be over any moment now. He will be dead, at peace.


III.
Theft is dishonorable, even for someone of his reputation, but the ache in his stomach is becoming as impossible to ignore as his own exhaustion, and the dried fish on display is almost enough to tempt him. Still, even with a persistent rumbling in his guts, caution must be exercised. These people are strange, their architecture alien, their smells and cracked stone foreboding. If he is to eat, he should ascertain the danger first.

So Clive skirts the biggest buildings, keeping to the shadows. He moves quietly despite his size, a hand open and ready to reach for a blade.

If there are people here after all, he is certain they are hostile. Who likes an intruder on their camp, no matter their need or intention?


V.
Clive swings, one ankle ensnared in the rope bearing him high above the ground, his other knee bent like the hanged man. It takes him a second to reorient himself and then he looks up at his ankle. In lighter garb, he might have slipped free of his boot entirely, but the rope is snagged between the plates of light armour. His heavy cloak hangs down like a sheet, hood ballooning behind his head, cutting his line of sight by half. He growls in frustration and sets to unclipping it, if only to spare himself the weight as the blood slowly sinks to his head. He attempts to curl himself up at the waist, but gravity is too strong, it seems.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, sagging back down, feeling very much like an antelope carcass set to bleed out.

Gav would be disappointed in him.

III.

[meadqueen]

In a place with these utilitarian metal buildings and imposing towers, it might seem a bit incongruous to run into a domestic scene, but here it is anyway. Clive spots a small, sturdily-built woman carrying a stack of folded - clean, but dingy with age - white comforters toward one of the hangars. Her upper half is mostly obscured by linens, but a bundle of strange items hang from her belt, secured by a transparent twine: a red plastic pail full of what look like pods of peas, a radio - like the one he woke up with except bright blue and emblazoned with the image of a palm tree - a blue water bottle (considering that all of her visible clothing aside from the brown leather boots is blue one can hazard a guess at colour preference) and perhaps more alarmingly, an ornate war hammer.

She hasn't noticed him yet and doesn't seem to be on her guard, so it's up to him what happens next.

V

[aluminumandash]

Rust hears it, not far off: the rustle of leaves, what might've been a snap. He backtracks a few paces and presses himself to a tree trunk, listening for groans, hisses, anything. If this is what he thinks, if it's a person, they have about ten minutes and they won't see it coming.

He lets out a whistle—a low whoop. Not a match for any particular bird, but nothing like the sheer sound of an arrow in flight.

I.

[sang_bleu]

Vanitas isn't sure how long he's been following the shoreline since he himself woke up in the surf. He assumed it would bring him to something interesting, be it a settlement, fresh water, or something else.

What he doesn't expect to find is another body cast ashore on the sand. He picks up his pace and jogs over, then stops when he sees slight movement. It's not a corpse, as he first assumed. The man is still alive. And maybe alive means able to answer questions.

He nudges Clive's upper arm with the tip of one boot, seeing if he'll wake.

"Hey."

nobara kugisaki | jujutsu kaisen

[kugisaki]

I. ARRIVAL

[ don't mind the sand on her cheek when she finally comes to, or the groan that leaves her when her eye opens— wait. no. when her eyes open. plural!

oh.

ohhhh. is she dead? surely, that is the only possible explanation!

did the afterlife wash her up on the shore of an okinawan beach with both eyes and her school uniform? not her choice of a vacation, but it's fine. it'll do. what won't do is the burning at the back of her throat, no doubt due to dehydration. it doesn't help that she's hungry on top of being thirsty. wait, isn't she dead??? these things shouldn't matter. best for her to ignore them then. 🤡

for whatever reason, she has her hammer and it appears that she's been holding onto it for dear life even in an unconscious state. so of course she's going to swing the mallet in the direction of whoever nudged her shoulder. ]

II. NETWORK

[ there's static, complete silence and then the crackling of even more static combined with a string of broken, inaudible words. one can assume whoever's on the other end of this channel is continuously pressing on the Chan button.

a few seconds later, it is the voice of a teenage girl that comes through and it is Incredibly Irritated. ]

...what the hell, does this thing even work? Stupid—

[ followed by a thudding sound. she's knocking the transceiver against the palm of her hand. maybe it'll work??? ]

III. A SAFE PLACE

[ a girl with no manners points to the nearest person by the dry racks with her hammer. where this girl got this hammer, you have no idea. she seems attached to it, though.

maybe you'll notice, maybe you won't — but in her other hand, she has a nail tucked between her index and middle fingers. ]

Oi! You there! What is this place? Is this a cult?

i;

[1797]

[Ren backs up fast, hands out in front of him—both as a ward and a clear message: no weapons. He's a mess, hair frizzier than normal and the jacket slung over one shoulder stained with salt, bruises yellowing on his face.]

Sorry. The tide— [his eyes flick towards the water for half a second] —it comes in pretty soon.

II. AP251C | voice

[desperate_times_right]

Girl, just hold down the button.

[hyakuoku]

[ What the hell is it with people threatening with weapons! First Levi and his intense paranoia and now this? OFFENSIVE. Senku looks offended. He has a knife on his belt, though it's in the back so she probably can't see it. He doesn't look at all intimidating, though, and he doesn't use that knife as a weapon anyway. ]

You think cults hang out in abandoned air fields? That's a hell of an imagination. Surely they'd hang out somewhere weirder.

[ What does he know about cults though. ]

You wake up on the beach here? We're like you. We all woke up here a couple weeks ago.

Levi - Fear & Hunger 2: Termina

[solitarysoul]

II LV464J

[He'd seen these transceiver things before, but never used one. Or even gotten that close to one. They were usually reserved for higher ups than him, but the use was basic enough that after hitting a few buttons he figured out the basics of sending a message.]

Hello?

[Wait no, this had to be something official. His voice shifts over to solider mode]

Request information on local and inhabitants.


III

Finding an airfield in this place didn't make him feel any less like this wasn't some weird military experiment. So far it'd seemed much more pleasant than any military anything he'd seen before, but Levi assumes that just means its ramping up for something horrible. The airfield seemed...deserted? though. Or, at least, he saw signs of people but no actual people. He should be more careful and look around, but instead he spots the racks of drying fish and makes a beeline towards it.
He's not certain when he ate last, especially since he's not sure how he got here, but his stomach feels empty. He grabs one than hesitates before grabbing another to awkwardly shove in a pocket. As he turns away from the rack, though, Levi realizes he's not alone. He freezes, eyes going wide and flicking between the person and anything that could be considered an escape route.

[meadqueen]

How people named Levi keep sneaking past their perimeter scouting is a question best left for later.

The woman watching him is wearing roughly made blue clothing - it was an underlayer until this island took everything else - with an array of strange items including a radio like his (except blue with a cheesy palm tree design on it), a travel water bottle, and a child’s red plastic pail containing what look like small pieces of scrap metal hanging from an intricate leather belt.

There is an ornate war hammer at her hip, and although her hand is resting on the pommel, what she says is, “I mean you no harm if you come in peace.”

III

[wingbound]

Speaking of people named Levi sneaking past Randvi's perimeter --

Just kidding. Levi hasn't been sneaking for a while now, becoming something of an established... not a member, not really, but an ally to the airfield team, pretty much, so nobody bats an eye when he's around for some reason or another.

He does, however, when he sees a person he hasn't seen before strolling across sand, and for a moment, he's alarmed, but then he sees them grabbing the fish, and well. When you see somebody stealing food, no you fucking didn't, unless it's from your personal stash in which case you shank that fucker but that's not the case here.

"Didn't see shit," he reassures the flighty looking kid, pausing in his tracks to maintain a comfortable distance just in case. His voice sounds inflectionless, almost monotonic. "And anyway, it's for everyone."

iii

[hyakuoku]

[ Senku comes out of one of the hangars, probably to check something at the clay oven where he's distilling ethanol, but stops when he sees someone he doesn't recognise. Newcomer, he figures, unless this bedraggled guy is one of the plane crash descendants…? Nah, those people don't come over here. ]

"It's fine, that fish is community property. But if you're feeling guilty, we can always use some help around here."

Vanitas | The Case Study of Vanitas

[sang_bleu]

I. ARRIVAL
For a moment, nothing registers as wrong.

It wasn’t unusual for the man who calls himself Vanitas to doze off on the roof of the Hotel Chouchou with the sun and breeze on his face. It’s one of the few places he feels peaceful, perhaps even safe. So when you first see him asleep on the sand, his expression is gentle, and with his androgynously pretty face and slight build within a voluminous coat, he might even be mistaken for younger than his eighteen years.

Of course, he sleeps so easily outside in part because he sleeps lightly enough that no one will catch him unawares. Which is why when the strangeness hits him all at once, it shoots his nervous system straight into panic mode. He scrambles to his feet, dropping the transceiver and scattering sand and seaweed all around him. As he glances around the beach, his hands go not to either of the twin daggers sheathed at his sides but to an odd rectangular holster at his back… which is currently empty, save a silver chain that now dangles loosely, nothing at its free end.

Then he reaches for his weapons, even before his eyes land on the other stranger on the beach. Any hint of childlike innocence is gone, replaced by a wall of icy steel behind his unnaturally-brilliant blue eyes.

One knife is in his hand with a flick of his wrist, and he points it at you accusingly.

“The book. Where is it.”


II. NETWORK
When accusing strangers on the beach doesn’t work to find his missing property, Vanitas turns to threatening text messages instead:

Return my book, or I will find you and take it back.


III. AIRFIELD
Having gotten himself as cleaned up as he could manage with seawater alone, Vanitas strides into the pocket of “civilization” with an air of carefree confidence, despite still looking like a mess. The salt has rendered his asymmetric haircut into something that treads the line between “handsome rogue” and “bedraggled wet cat.” And because his heavy coat is also taking forever to dry, it's now slung over one arm to reveal the neatly tailored vaguely-Victorian garb (and securely sheathed daggers) underneath.

He greets the first person he sees with a little wave, a tilt of his head, and a bright, cheerful smile that seems entirely put-on.

“Hello! I just washed up on the beach and I am trying to get my bearings. Is there somewhere around here I can get something to eat?”

III.

[desperate_times_right]

Speaking of bedraggled wet cats, the first person he encounters is a woman in a red t-shirt that has seen better days, torn haphazardly across the waist and jeans with the right knee torn out, stained from the knee down with something dark and crusty that could be mud or old blood. She’s leaning on a crutch made from a tree branch and her right foot is wrapped in what look like men’s shirtsleeves.

Despite that, she's moving around surprisingly quickly, and grins when he approaches.

“Oh, hey! Look what the elephant dropped in. People here’ve got a bunch of fish jerky in the far hangar if you want some.”

I

[sharktrash]

They're always so touchy upon waking up, aren't they?

Which, honestly, is pretty much a pot and kettle situation, considering how successful Squalo had been at keeping his temper in check when he ended up here, but why acknowledge that when you could be playing with your food instead?

He stands right where he was before when the other man had come to, not backing off and not coming closer either, wearing easy confidence and an expression of lazy amusement along with a grin -- and, oh. He's also got an axe resting on his shoulder, and in his other hand he throws and catches a knife once, as if mimicking the other's quick draw but flashier. What an asshole.

"How the fuck should I know?" he asks, just a tad too cheerily considering the circumstances. It probably does nothing to convince anybody that he didn't take it, either. "Sounds like you should keep a better track of your belongings."

Creed Bratton | The Office (US)

[creedthoughtsdotgov]

(CW: Creed is first and foremost a comedy relief character, so it's unlikely that he will be violent towards or be an active physical threat to other characters. However, there will likely be mention of comedy violence against NPCs, theft, drugs, and other criminal activity.

Also, while Creed is unlikely to try to actively attempt to hurt other PCs, he will likely attempt to (non-violently) steal from them if they have something he wants and he thinks he spies an opening. The good news is that Creed's grip on reality is tenuous at the best of times, so he's easily foiled, and I will always word any potential theft attempts in such a way so that other characters can stop him/get away if they don't want him to be successful.)

A. ARRIVAL
[ You awaken on a beach to find a bald, elderly Caucasian man standing over you, poking you with a stick. When you wake up, he startles and jumps back. Then he peers at you. ]

Hey, listen. I was going to cut you up and harvest your organs, but since you're awake now, I'll cut you a deal. I've been up and down this beach all day. There's people washing up here like crazy. No way all of them survived the plane crash.

What do you say we go look for one that's not breathing and take out the kidneys? We can sell it on the black market and split it, 30/70. I'll take 70 percent, you take 30 percent. What do you say?

B. NETWORK | CALLSIGN: WC570S
Good morning, internet. What's everyone's favorite type of drug?

Mine is synthetic opioids, especially fentanyl, because they give you the highest chance of dying from an overdose. :)

C. A SAFE PLACE
[ Hopefully the person you arrived with is more interested in helping rather than just looting the place and running off.

Not if that person is Creed, who is interested in nothing BUT looting the place and running off. Whether you are a newcomer or an experienced denizen of the island, you will find one Creed Bratton, stuffing handfuls of dried fish into his suit pants. When he sees you, he just grins and continues on with what he's doing. ]

Check it out! Some bozo just left all these fish here. Grab some!

[ If you're angry or upset, he doesn't appear to realize, and just continues shoving fish into his pants. When he's taken all the fish his heart desires, he may attempt to waddle off or he may approach you and try to hand you a fish. From his pants. ]

Want some?

D. HOSTILE STRANGERS
[ POV: you are hanging upside down in a trap when a man suddenly emerges from the nearby underbrush. He stares at you, as if he wasn't expecting you to be there. ]

Oh. Hello.

[ He is basically naked, except for a loincloth, and he has used red paint he found somehow... at least we hope it's paint... to paint markings underneath his eyes.

He will then go over to his new hanging friend, and start patting them down to see if they have any valuables on their person.

For the record, Creed has now been on the island for seven hours. ]

C

[solitarysoul]

[Levi just watches Creed shove fish into his pockets for a few moments, baffled. That couldn't be the best way to carry them and, well...]

You, um, you don't have to do that. They leave food here for everybody, no one's going to take it from you.