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pedalbike2020-08-29 10:30 am
upcyclingmod) wrote in pedalbike2020-08-29 10:30 am
Entry tags:
First TDM: Sterile Blues
Welcome to the Test Drive Meme.
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Not all characters (known as Wickie, singular or Wickies, plural) arrive at the same time, surprisingly enough! That’s life for you. Some Wickies find their way to the island at a pivotal (or very mundane) point in their life, or even after or during their death.
Wickies who were standing or walking often find themselves entering the town South Sister, located on Lighthouse Isle, through an open doorway. Those that were laying down, or sleeping, tend to be found lying prone in beds, bathtubs, showers, couches, and similar places within the cottages on Cottage Row. There’s no rhyme or reason to it all! To Wickies familiar with the era, they will realize that everything looks as if it’s come from the ‘90s.
The house which a Wickie finds themselves within could already be occupied. This includes walking into a fellow Wicke, waking up in the same location, or accidentally scaring a room full of people with their sudden appearance.
Oops.
After arriving, Wickes will find that food and water are easy enough to come by, as they can be readily found in the various houses which populate Lighthouse Isle. Medical supplies, on the other hand, are not so easily acquired. Bandaids and other simple trappings can be pilfered from the odd medical cabinet, but otherwise you’re on your own.
Thankfully, if a Wickie or their friend are in need of medicine or a pair of trauma shears, while you won’t find a full-fledged hospital on the island, there is a clinic. The clinic, named Sister’s Helpers, is like the rest of the buildings in town. Its appearance is well kept, and the doors are unlocked. Whether the Wickie goes in through the windows (because they can), or through the front door like most would, they’ll find that the clinic’s interior is crisp, clean, and orderly. There are plastic chairs, a desk where a receptionist would sit, white walls, but then—
There’s a sound. It could be mistaken for a breeze, at first. But as the sound goes on, it becomes more obvious that the ‘breeze’ is an exhale, prolonged and forced. At the end, there’s a murmur, professional and assuring.
“That’s good. Breathe.”
And with that, the clinic becomes awash in shades of blue. Sister’s Helpers itself hasn’t become warped in any way. There is only monochromatic coloring which, upon further realization, is not truly in the building, but a problem with their vision. Leaving without investigating further will mean having blue vision for the next twenty-four hours.
But for Wickies who choose to stay and explore, there is a chance at clearing their vision. This is is especially difficult for those who have a history of not taking care of their injuries. Gradually, it becomes more difficult to walk, as if there are weights on their feet. For Wickies are especially guilty of not tending to their wounds, their movements will become even more sluggish, and weight will settle on their arms and chest, forcing the worst of offenders into a crawl as they explore from room to room.
Laying on the patient beds will alleviate the situation for a short amount of time. The cure, however, will come from characters taking the supplies which they need for themselves and not for others.
If the Wickie fails this, over the course of an hour they will be crushed to death, and will eventually wake up outside of the clinic. Their vision stuck in shades of red with a weakness in their limbs for the next twenty four hours.
The Wickie’s only cure for that is either taking medical supplies for themselves or by doing some form of self care.
It’s the middle of the night when all the Wickies are jarred awake from sleep by the blare of a broken siren. Wailing into the dark, the siren functions as a foghorn might, warning of hazardous conditions to come. Beneath Wickies feet, the ground trembles, pulsating once. Twice. Three times. And again, and again until—
The world changes, and it is no longer the foggy island the Wickies knew.
Ash falls steadily from above, blanketing the ground, and at first glance it can be mistaken for snow. Whether by scent, by touch, or even by taste (an option for the brave, the bold, the few), the truth of the ‘snowfall’ can be easily revealed. It is strange, though, that there are no signs of fire in the vicinity. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything at all. There’s still no sign of the mainland. There are no buildings in this desolate place, either.
Lighting in this new landscape is hazy and sullen, but still conducive to exploring despite it being the dead of night just moments ago. But while Wickies walk, there’s a growing feeling of foreboding. There’s something… something else with them.
And it conceals itself in the ash.
It attacks by lashing out to grab at the ankles and the calves, attempting to drag the unsuspecting victim down, to somewhere far deeper and hidden by billowing piles of ash. It’s easy to save a Wickie from the pull, so long as they’re quickly freed from their assailants grasp. Retrieving someone out of the ash itself is nigh impossible, though.
Grabbed Wickies who lived to tell the tale, may find themselves bitten. The stalkers in the ash sink their teeth into the foot or calf of their prey, leveraging the force of their bite to take down their target. And once there’s blood, more of these creatures will be attracted to the smell.
If a Wickie is clever or strong enough to draw the stalkers out of the ash, they will find that the attackers are shark-like people. Most of their head consists of oversized jaws housing an impossible amount of teeth, and lacking any eyes. Their bodies are covered in ashen chitin and bone, with elongated feet and thin, taloned fingers. These Ash Sharks do not like being exposed, and will respond accordingly.
Ash Sharks cannot be reasoned with. Trapping one in ropes, magic, or other means will elicit angry shrieks which will attract other Ash Sharks, either to eat the trapper, or trapped, or both if they can. Being dragged completely under the ash will start a feeding frenzy, and the Ash Shark will proceed to rip and tear chunks out of its prey.
In dying, Wickies will reset to a random location within the ash filled fields, completely intact but for a purpling bruise where the initial bite took place.
Good luck.
There’s a beeping alert on all Wickie’s smartphones that refuses to stop until a particular notification is read. The notification is for something called the Heart Game (which, yes, looks annoying, overly bright, and cheesy). And surprise! The game opens up automatically with a loud ping!
The game begins (and ends!) with a question, one which will not go away even if you try to close out of it or shut off your smartphone. It reads:
It’s time for everyone's favorite game! Confession! Heeeeere is today’s question which you must confess!
What is… the scariest thing you’ve experienced? It can be anything!
no subject
The streets were really clean, right? I thought that was weird.
[At least, that's what she thought it was. But...Connor had a good question. Pity she didn't have an answer. Instead, she grimaced, and shook her head slightly.]
I've no idea. It's too vague. And perfection is...
[Sokie pushed her hair away from her face, grimacing.]
Does that mean anything to you? Perfection? Because it doesn't really mean anything to me.
no subject
[He feels like the definition of perfection would vary from person to person, anyway.]
It could have implied that someone- or something- is going to try to forcibly change us, though. We should be careful.
[Maybe that's just the lingering sense of doom he got from that city talking, but it's better to be safe than sorry.]
no subject
Mm, right. Though I'm not sure how we could do that. Just about anything could happen.
Not to be pessimistic or anything but...we can't be on alert all the time. That's a lot of energy we'd be using.
no subject
We can't afford to relax here either, though.
[He still remembers how he felt in that city. It's left him uneasy.]
We don't know where we are or how we got here, and more importantly, we don't know how to leave.
no subject
[It really isn't. That voice had been...unsettling. And she was rarely disturbed by much these days.]
But in order to achieve our goals, we need to information gather and pool together all of our resources. One person may not be able to gather much, but two can gather even more.
You understand what I'm saying, right?
no subject
[And there will be more chance of actually finding out something useful.]
Did you come here with anything useful? I arrived with my pistol, but nothing else that could be considered helpful.
no subject
[Connor can look for Connor things, Sokie can look for Sokie things. It's perfect.]
Well, I have my collapsible baton, and my magic seems to be working.
My original magic, which is something.
no subject
[Magic in general gets a tilt of the head from Connor.]
I've never met anyone who can use magic before...
[In other words, he's having trouble believing it.]
no subject
[She cocked her eyebrow. She sees you Connor...]
I can give you a small demonstration, if you'd like.
no subject
I'd like to see what you can do.
[Despite himself, there's a hint of anticipation in the way he looks at her, because even if there's never been any kind of proof that magic exists... wouldn't it be fascinating?]
no subject
[And with that, she offers her coffee mug.]
First, taste this. You don't have to swallow- just verify that this is what you think it is, and it's not some slight of hand trick.
[...it's really just black coffee.]
no subject
...Yes, it's just coffee.
[He promptly runs the cleaning process in his mouth to get rid of the taste.]
no subject
Black coffee. Forgot to mention that.
Now, what kind of things would you rather taste? Something sweeter, more savory...?
no subject
[Look, nobody has ever asked him to analyse the taste of something before, in terms of how sweet or bitter it is.]
What do sweet things taste like? Can you show me?
[He gestures with the mug. That seems like a good place to start.]
no subject
[She makes a motion, swirls her mug, and offers it. The liquid turned from brown to orange. It's orange juice, but she's not going to tell him that. That'd be leading him along.]
Here. You don't have to stick your finger in. You can...just stick your tongue in, if you don't want to swallow.
[This is going to be a disaster isn't it.]
no subject
...Orange juice?
[Is orange juice sweet? Is this what sweet is? It's... not bad, but he doesn't get why humans enjoy it so much if that's it. Then again, humans enjoy coffee, don't they? Strange. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve apologetically.]
no subject
Oh-let me get a napkin. You can't swallow, right?
[Whoops. That was a slip, but hey, she's turning around to get a napkin so he can wipe off his mouth and sleeve.]
no subject
[This has probably taken a turn towards "Connor tries many drinks", but there's an important question he has to ask, too.]
How did you turn it from black coffee to orange juice?
no subject
[She offers Connor a quick smile, even as she offers the napkin, and moves to put her mug away, in the sink. She's gonna have to wash that. If she was feeling less paranoid, she would have drunk it, but who knows what Connor has been touching.]
Simply, I used a source of energy only I have access to to change the chemical composition. Much like cooking an egg, but a little more complicated.
no subject
When you said "magic", I was expecting something a little more... fantastical, I suppose. It still doesn't make sense, but you clearly have access to this source of energy.
[Basically, he believes her now. He analysed both the coffee and the juice and found they were both very different, and there's no way she could have tricked him.]
no subject
[Not that she can't do that. Well. The slight of hand part at least.]
There's no real rhythm or reason as to why I was born with this- though there are some people who have it run in their family. It's just a different way that we have interacting with the world.
Who knows? You might have some abilities you've never been aware of, yourself.
no subject
[It would honestly depend on what she did.]
Maybe I do... but I'm sure I can't turn coffee into orange juice.
[He does wonder what he could be capable of, if anything, though.]
no subject
[She laughs, but it's quiet, not mocking.]
Most people can't. But all people- humans are not- are capable of their own...something.
[She tapped on her temple, indicating Connor's LED.]
You'll just have to find it.
no subject
I hope I can find it.
[Now that he has his freedom, even if he's in this strange place... he has time to figure out who he is, and what he can do. He just... wishes he was doing that alongside Hank. He hasn't been able to find him since he arrived here.]
You haven't happened to see a man of 53 with grey hair and a beard, somewhat overweight and probably swearing to himself? His name is Hank.
no subject
[It's the best advice she can give really. She has no idea what he'll do, given the situation, which is...rather worse then what she met the previous version of him in.
Still, she snorts as she turns, searching the cupboard for a fresh mug.]
Sadly no. I've seen too many children around here instead.
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