pedalbike | Third TDM: Don't Turn Around

Welcome to the Test Drive Meme.
| Premise | FAQ | Full Navigation | Rules | Reserves |

Arrival

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.

Braving the Trail

A new trail has opened up in the woods today! Funny, that there’s never been a real path before, but this one promises a spectacular view for all Wickies who brave it.

However, the view has to be earned with one stipulation: until the Wickie reaches the trail’s end, they are forbidden to turn around. At all. There’s no mention of what may happen if the Wickie does glance back, but the scripted text on the sign marking the trail hints that the consequences just might be dire.

The hike itself is fairly easy. It even feels peaceful with the sounds of bird calls echoing in the distance. But for Wickies who are known for past procrastination, the walk will prove to be difficult. These individuals will experience an itching urge to turn around and leave the trail, and the itch worsens with every pause of their footsteps.

If a Wickie does turn around, they will find themselves staring up at a blank masked figure, slightly taller than themselves. And as wisps of fog cover the packed-dirt path, the figure hisses out a sigh, their voice barely audible as they issue their reprimand:

“I’m disappointed.”

Why, it’s not clear at all.

But with those words, the Wickie will find their body locked into place, unable to scream as their limbs become paralyzed, their eyes remaining fixed upon the masked figure. Somehow, the figure moves without walking, inching closer and closer until their mask and the Wickie’s face are close enough to touch.

The only way to become unlocked from this position is to have someone come and cover the Wickie’s eyes before leading them back to the trail’s start, somehow breaking their vision of the masked figure, or by speaking of a past regret outloud.

Otherwise, the Wickie has a good chance of dying from exposure.

Currently residing

It’s been nearly three months since the first arrivals started off on the island. It’s had its ups and downs, but with the previous quiet month, it’s been easy to relax in the cottages and houses, and even feel safe.

But not everything stays as it should. Whether a Wickie is just scoping the houses out, or returning to sleep in one of those comfy beds during the night, they will find that things are just a little..off. It’s as if someone has moved everything just a little, by no more than an inch or two. Sometimes, it even looks as if someone hurried away from the middle of a task. For example, mugs left in the sink will be washed; unslept in beds have been stripped, and their sheets are found in the laundry.

It’s only after sitting down with a fellow Wickie, that what’s going on will slowly become apparent.

People, looking more like blue tinted holographic designs, appear within the house. Slowly they become more visible, going through the motions of daily life. People with their significant others, children playing, even pets can be seen, playing with their owners or doing things that pets do.

These residentials don’t seem to notice the newcomers in their surroundings. But they do notice objects are moved, particularly if it’s furnishings. They frown, confused, before talking to one another and seeing the items returned to where they believe it should be. And curious too, that while the residentials appear to speak to one another, there’s not a sound that’s uttered when their mouths move.

It’s not possible to interact with them, unless the Wickie has the spiritual power to speak with spirits. Even then they’re quite confused, and do not believe themselves dead- it’s as if they think the Wickie is the ghost instead.

It is possible to deter the residentials manifesting by lighting a candlek. Upon the candle being lit, they recoil, some of them violently, and with great upset, before fading.

But they weren’t causing any harm.

Are they?

It Arrives

The pumpkins have vanished (finally!) there’s no more costumes in the various drawers in town; the apple bobbing is done, and there’s no more bonfires. Pity that means the food is gone too.

But something else has arrived. Something...small, white, and with webbed feet.

You’ll know it by its sound. It’s unknown what has brought this particular goose to the island; it might have been a laden desire, or it had flown here over miles. Or who knows, maybe the Admin has set this goose out as some kind of petty revenge.

All that is known as that this goose likes to wreak havoc. It likes going into the flower and vegetable gardens, looking for seeds, vegetables, and flowers to pull up; it likes to grab keys and toss them just out of reach.

It’s also clever enough that it figured out how to get into Fruits Basket, into homes, and even...sometimes...onto roofs.

Thankfully, while the goose likes to startle people, its mischief is rather harmless, and even, at times, enjoyable to watch. Just be sure not to leave anything electrical it can throw into a body of water by accident- or any bells it can keep in its temporary home by the woods.

For those who are curious, yes it will accept all sorts of snacks, and it is a wild, ordinary goose. (So yes, it is as harmless as a normal goose and yes it is edible).

Confession network

Yet again, the phone goes off. Doesn’t look like it’s anybody in town, but it’s that weird, cheesy app called The Heart Game. And it’s persistent, too: it doesn’t want to be ignored, making a series of beeps and chirps, much like a pet that wants attention.

The message that pops up is as follows:

We’re back! It’s the time for everyone's favorite game- Confession! So beloved users, our question is:

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? Why? Tell us everything!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Really, there was nothing more unnerving to Xavier than... Anything else, but Marshall speaks to him and earns a blink, his attention shifting from phone to individual.

He is taller than Xavier, he notes, dressed -- oddly, but it isn't his place to judge.]

I am sorry. I will attempt again to silence the phone's notifications. I am not adept at interfacing with this type of cellular device.

[Deft fingers turn the phone again, and his orange gaze flickers back to it. This... Is slow going, at least until he stumbles on the touch screen itself. Hopefully Marshall can deal with the minutes of clumsy action, because Xavier... Isn't in an exceptional hurry. He'll figure this out!! But it's gonna take some time.]

It's fine, it's fine...

[It wasn't, but he could deal with this. Looking away while the stranger worked on the... 'phone', Marshall stuck around just in case another set of eyes was needed. Sometimes two heads made a problem easier to solve... and he was well out of his depth with most of this town.]

I'm not any good with these either, [He said, feeling like his nerves were ragged from the noise.] Any of this.

I am designed to be adept at any use most humans might require, [He doesn't look up from his work, and there's a soft, triumphant chime as the game gets what it wants, finally returning to blissful silence. The prompt is of, but he types a query reply anyway.] once that information is logged in my databases.

If you require assistance in any way, I shall attempt to provide. [With his task completed, Xavier returns his full attention to the man near him.] This place is an unknown location to you, as well?

Seems that way to everyone--

[It was then that the stranger's words finally made sense, and Marshall cut himself off to offer up a confused look.]

'Designed' to help 'humans'?

Friend. You don't look any different from the humans I left in New York.

[Friend? Xavier's head tilts, wondering if he should register that as--oh.]

Correct. I am DoLL model FH-76854-XVY. I am an Artificial Intelligence unit designed for the assistance of humans, although I am currently in a state of repair.

[Xavier, baby. That's so much unnecessary information...]

[Marshall lifted up his hat and cast the stranger a perplexed look. That was...

A whole lot of words that meant nothing to him.]

...So are ya sayin' your name's Dolly?

... Negative. I am sorry, I am unsure that I understand. I do not currently possess a name.

I am FH-76854-XVY. If you would like to call me Dolly, I will register this in my database, as I do not have an owner from whom to receive a finalised name.

Friend, you look like a person to me. An' people don't need owners.

[Shaking his head, Marshall explained.]

Look. It wasn't so long ago that people in my home have forgotten what it was like fighting a war over whether or not certain people could have ownership of themselves, so I'm not comfortable with the idea of... picking a name for you like you were a stray dog.

...But what you've got is a mouthful.

Is there anything shorter that you like?

Correct. We are intended to be largely indistinguishable from humans, in order to perform our functions.

[He doesn't understand. Not really. But he's programmed to the convenience of humans above all else, so.]

I comprehend. I am not allowed to receive a finalised name from anyone other than my registered owner in any case, but I am allowed to respond to the designation given to me by any individual.

My model type is often given the short-name XAVIER in catalogs, if that is easier to remember.

[He let out a huff of relief at that.]

It's much easier. I wasn't sure how I was gonna pronounce your name otherwise!

[Oh, good. The man seems much more relaxed... for what value of relaxed Xavier understands, anyway.]

I am pleased to assist, Mister--

[His pause is such an unnatural break, and he blinks once and again.]

... I am sorry. I do not have a designation listed for you.

Marshall.

Just Marshall.

[He chuffed, amused by this guy's strange manner. For once, he didn't feel like the oddest man in the room.]

'Mister' was my father. I don't feel like it fits me.

I apologise. I will refrain from appending mister to your title, Marshall. It is a pleasure to meet you.

[Oh, Marshall. At least they're getting into a... normal-ish conversation setting, now.]

Why would it not fit you, may I ask? Do you identify otherwise?

Identify--?

[That got a laugh. Marshall tipped his hat up, forgetting about his headache and frustrations with the surroundings for the moment.]

That's the first I've heard conversation like that. I'd ask why-- but, I think I get it.

[Anita.]

Nah. I ain't someone who belonged in the Old States like my father. An odd stick like me can't compare to people like him.

I am sorry if it is confusing. I will happily address you in any way you prefer, regardless.

[Rest assured, Xavier doesn't get it.]

I do not comprehend. A person is a person, no matter their pedigree, are they not?

... I also do not have a frame of reference for the Old States.

Third TDM: Don't Turn Around

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject