upcyclingmod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
upcyclingmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pedalbike2020-11-24 06:53 pm
upcyclingmod) wrote in pedalbike2020-11-24 06:53 pm
Entry tags:
Fourth TDM: Winter's breath
Welcome to the Test Drive Meme.
| Premise | FAQ | Full Navigation | Rules | Reserves |
As a quick note: This will be the last TDM and Application Round of the year! Have fun everyone!
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.
Start of Winter
Thankfully things have more or less dried out, for the seasons are already changing. Or at least, the weather is, and with it...comes snow.
The grass on the island is covered, various trees lose the last of their leaves, the sand becomes crunchy, and even a portion of the ocean water becomes frozen solid. (Take THAT, water!). And with it, Wickies wake up at their feet (or suddenly in their hands if they don’t sleep) warm clothing and various ways to keep warm- or at least keep the cold from messing with their joints!
And with it, there are snow shovels and boots that are set out neatly by the door. It seems more snowk is expected, and foot protection is more important than ever. While it is possible for some (those who are not infected by the Silence at least) to use the teleporter to get from town to their homes, there are pathways that need to be cleared for everyone.
It might be a good time to offer a helping hand! Especially with some Wickies who are snowed into their homes.
Or it could be a good time to use the shovels to gather snow for snow ball fights, snow forts, and similar winter activities. The nice thing about the winter shovels is that they’ll have them for a few months.
Too bad the ground is nearly frozen solid, and these particular shovels are not good for digging into the ground.
Frosty Protections
While there may be the snow and the quiet that’s coming in, there are other things that are coming into the island too. There are tables that linger day or night, which have tangyuan. Some in the shape of various animals, and some of them that are simply balls of colored dough. They are edible, and thankfully they don’t have a negative consequence to eating them (unlike the mooncakes from before) but there are written instructions, which also proclaim outloud to a Wickie if they linger for awhile:
“For the use of protective talismans! Stick it on your chair, your door, your window!”
Interestingly enough, they do seem to work. Wickies who are Silence infected are repelled by them, feeling uneasy and nauseous around them and touching the tangyuan even with covered hands will cause a burning sensation.
Infected Wickies who eat the treats...they’re in for a rough time. Really rough.
There are also little tables with various drinks, some being fruit juice, sparkling fruit juice, champagne and of similar ilk- but not ever with water. That’s just bad luck after everything.
The inscription for this table, which is again read out loud, “Toast to others health”
Picking up the cups, they will be unable to drop it, and the fluid will refill in the Wickie’s cup until they find someone to toast to- whether it’s in humor or in earnestness.
For the next twelve hours after the toast is made, even if the drink is not drunk after, the Wickie toasted will find they will have better luck in that subject, whether it is in health, love, or friendship, or just in general.
The same applies if Wickies toast together to a group of people as well.
Of hooves and horns
The strangest thing of all isn't the sweet rice balls, nor is it the smell of evergreens heavy in the air. Instead, it's the masks set to everyone, and the ruckus music that thrums through the air, deep into the night.
The masks are of a haggard old woman, well worn and aged, and that of a man with horns and facial hair similar to a goat.
There are different effects when it comes to the masks, both happening at night with the music starts.
Wickies wearing the devilish mask find themselves wearing a ragged fur suit, prancing in the streets, ready to whip other Wickies whose behavior has been suspect or bad as of late. Finding the wicked and punishing them is an impulse, neigh impossible to ignore. And, too, there is a sense of wicked glee when they do punish someone with their reeds and whips. Krampus masked Wickies thankfully can be pacified with rum or brandy. They'll need the help of another to pull of the mask. But once it's off, the costume vanishes, and the chagrin of what happened ( or the satisfaction) follows.
Wickies wearing the woman’s mask will find that they’re not trying to scare people, but instead, they find themselves loping in and out of the crowds, searching, scanning, for certain people, all the while wearing ragged clothing, and often a scarf on their now ratty, graying hair.
It’s with a sickening horror that Wickies will realize there is something in the mask that is watching through the mask itself, and is nodding to itself far away and writing their names on a list.
And it’s not Santa Claus.
The Wickie’s wearing the old woman’s mask can be distracted by scattering seeds or threads in front of them- one inducing a true distraction to count and pick up the seeds, and a rage that comes over that of wasted thread.
Seeds make it easier to pull off the mask, and thankfully popcorn counts as a seed! But thread...well, it is a distraction too, but one that can lead to violent consequences. It might mean some rounds of bait and switching until the mask is taken off.
And that’s when the Wickie who had been wearing the mask realizing the list is of ‘bad’ Wickies, But…
how bad could they be?
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:
What do you love about winter? Is it the nip on your nose? The hot drinks? Playing in the snow? Tell us!
Winter's Start
Of course, there's a few differences between the android he's observing and most of the domestic or labor models Connor's used to. Most notable: the weapon in this machine's grasp.
A few paces back along the road, Connor #313 248 317-60 pauses, head slanting in examination. The voice that drawls towards EDI is only slightly mocking.
"I'd recommend a shovel."
no subject
"Your suggestion has merit," She told him, finally, and glanced away, back down the sight of her pistol, "I will take it under advisement."
The gun's holographic interface glowed red, to indicate its readiness. EDI fired, twice, and the snowdrift went up in a cloud of steam and water, swiftly re-freezing. Better than projected.
"We have not met. Have you been here long?"
no subject
"Eighty-five days. Possibly more, if you believe our keepers." The skeleton had said he was newer than most, but that didn't preclude previous cycles. "And you?"
no subject
"Twenty-one hours," she told him crisply, though it was imprecise. The flash of light at his temple caught her attention; a synthetic? Odd, that he had not queried her directly, but gratifying to engage in a verbal conversation. Manners did matter, and speaking of which.
"I am the Enhanced Defense Intelligence. I prefer to be called 'EDI'. Do you have a name?"
Not all synthetics did, after all. But any designation would do.
no subject
And his eyes are narrowing, just slightly, at her own preference for address. Preference, of course, was suspect enough in its own way, but... the acronym doesn't sound like an android's name. Even one designed for combat.
At this point, his scan shifts from the gun to her.
"What model are you?"
His own, of course, is listed on his jacket.
no subject
Well, general combat use. But then, that was warfare; EDI herself had begun as a war-training AI, and she saw only limited difficulty in the deliberate creation of unshackled machines for similar purposes.
"Are you part of a production run? It is highly unusual for synthetics to resemble organic species so closely in construction. I'm told told most organics consider it to be," And here come the air-quotes, "Creepy."
no subject
"I'm a prototype."
And so, apparently, is she. Though if he had any lingering expectations about her being from his world, she would have just dispelled them. "But most CyberLife products are designed with a human appearance."
And Connor's appearance is very human. Breathing. Blinking. Little tics of motion, to match the creases and freckles dotted across his face. His synthetic skin even looks like it has pores. CyberLife products have evidently passed right through the uncanny valley and come out the other side. It makes a strange contrast with the mass of product labels literally glowing off his outfit.
"Your construction seems unusually durable." And it had a gun. "You're designed for combat?"
no subject
A strange contrast, indeed.
"This platform is designed for infiltration purposes," EDI told him, though she is sure he can see the immediate problem with the practicality of such an assertion, "But I have modified it; it is now suitable for combat."
He seems unaware that her mobile platform is merely that; an appendage, rather than her actual self. She sees no real necessity in enlightening Connor. If it comes up, then it will suffice to tell him then.
"And you... Are not. Curious," She's fascinated by the idea, EDI decides. An AI, shackled or otherwise, was a military asset almost by default. And yet... here was a machine that seemed wholly tailored to other purposes. To look human, to walk among them as one of their own, without arousing suspicion. To be spoken to without fear, "In my experience, a synthetic of your specific calibre would be entirely unlawful. I'm grateful to make your acquaintance, Connor."
no subject
Connor, of course, isn't a military model. Still, his stare lingers, flat and not-quite-placid as she judges him... unsuitable for combat.
Then, pleasantries. "...The same, I'm sure." More importantly: "What are you programmed for?"
She's evaded the question twice now, albeit from a less direct approach.
no subject
There is a pause, brief but significant.
"...That was a joke."