cursedcontent | TEST DRIVE MEME #1

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TEST DRIVE MEME #1

A Blood Offering

You wake up cozy in bed at the Saturn Motel. As you observe the room you may realize that it looks a little dated. Or, perhaps from your point of view the lamp and TV are wildly futuristic. Or, like Goldilocks, it may seem just right: close to the world you just left behind. Either way, you just had a very strange dream (see the arrival scenario) and now you're here. And you're not alone: there's a bed next to yours and someone else is waking up just like you are.

You can chat for a while if you like, but if you try to leave you'll find the door is firmly locked and no amount of kicking, punching, or hitting it with an object will do you any good. Instead, there's a letter on the nightstand which reads:

"Good morning and welcome to your new home!

You may be wondering why you're trapped in this room. Fear not, the door will open easily if you offer a bit of blood. More than a few drops but not enough to be a serious wound. A handprint's worth will do, let's say, and it only needs to come from one of you.

I'll let you sort that out yourselves. See you on the other side.

Sincerely,
The Mayor"

And indeed, a handprint's worth of blood pressed against the door will unlock it and let you out into the world. Do you volunteer your own blood? Do you take it from the other person by force? It's up to you! But there's no food in here, so you better figure it out eventually.

Roller Rink

As a celebration of your new lives here (and an apology for the whole blood offering thing - they were just testing something out, really) the Mayor has invited everyone to the Crazy Eight Roller Rink for a private, after-hours party.

Attendance isn't mandatory, but it is heavily encouraged so that you can meet your fellow Cursed and know who's in on the whole secret. It'll help you down the line at some point if your Curse gets out of control and you need someone to wrangle you.

As a reward, everyone who shows up and completes at least one lap around the roller rink (you must be wearing skates, but you can crawl the lap if you can't get the hang of them) will receive a free walkman with a mystery tape inside. The color, style, and mystery tape your character gets are up to you.

Mallrats

Everyone loves the mall! Right? Right! And this group of newcomers is lucky enough to be here for the White Pines Mall Grand Opening celebration! Feel free to walk around the mall and partake in sales galore, check out the attractions, or just get to know the layout of the place.

The Mayor has given everyone a gift card for $100 that can be used anywhere in the mall as long as they attend the Grand Opening.

They also strongly suggest that you familiarize yourself with the mall and its layout, just in case you ever get stuck there for a while and have to compete with others for food and resources. But that probably won't happen.

Extra Info

The test drive meme and the IC intro log will have the same prompts, and threads between two accepted characters can count as game canon.

The first prompt is flexible: technically you're supposed to be with one other person, but if you want to do larger groups that's fine.

Rooms at the Saturn Motel initially contain two beds for the prompt, but upon leaving and returning characters will find that they all have their own rooms with one bed. If you want a roommate, someone better be ready to sleep on the floor or snuggle up! The room doesn't have to look exactly like the reference image as long as it's not too fancy and suitably dated.

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[ Steve rolls his eyes. He’s not even sure why he’s still talking to Billy. He’s definitely not sure why Billy’s still talking to him. If this were anywhere else, Steve’s sure they would have seen each other and kept their distance. ]

Yeah. I know. [ Thanks to Billy and some Russians, Steve’s brain might be a little scrambled, but he’s not that stupid that he can’t remember the humility of Scopps Ahoy. ] Then that thing destroyed the mall and now I work at Family Video.

[ But he guesses Billy has no reason to know that. Another prickle of something twists in Steve’s stomach. ]

You’ve been dead for almost a year, man.

[ Stede hovers in the valiant mental algebra timeline trying to figure out why he wouldn't have intact limbs. It wasn't even sharp in there. His shopping buddy is so dramatic, no wait never mind apparently this is a "toaster."

Like a thing for toasting.

He doesn't need to pretend to understand how it works or how it's practical for toasting to be built like this to do that bit of math, at least. So maybe... he shouldn't stick his hands into stuff after all.

Not that he'll admit to taking that lesson in. ]

Don't be ridiculous, my eyes don't factor in at all. But I'd expect it to match the vibe I'm looking for, if I'm paying for it. You could make or break a room with a piece like this! Disrupt the entire flow.

[ Local man considers buying a toaster just to look at it in the event that he comes into more money in the future. ]

[ So, Billy’s still a little shell-shocked. From the hive-mind monster, to dying, to mayoral decrees, to sitting here in purgatory with Steve Harrington, who could just be a figment of his imagination. He doesn’t know all that much yet, but he knows there’s some scifi bullshit afoot, folks complaining about the lack of technology or confused about the existence of lamps. But, when he saw Harrington, he figured… they’d be swiped at the same time. That makes sense.

He’s still skating backwards, his foot doing a little side to side to keep him moving. And then it — slips. And he crashes backwards onto his ass. ]

Fuck.

[ The cigarette also hits the ground, but he plucks it back up because he’s gross and not about to let it go to waste. There’s a vague embarrassed flush on his face, because his body remembers he cares about appearances and looking cool, but his brain is whirling as he pushes himself back up into a stand. ]

Fuck. Really? That sounds like bullshit. [ He guesses Steve does look different, now that the possibility is there in his brain. Hair styled just a touch differently, a little older. Steve was always older than him, but now he's even older than him, and the thought makes him —

Makes him laugh. A little unhinged in the middle of the rink. Nothing to see here, folks. ]

[Look, you never know. You wouldn't have expected her to know, either.

She kneels before the lock, looking at it, frowning deeply. Then, she sets to work.

He asks a question and damn if she doesn't want to shrug it off, tell him that she tumbled down a rather icy hill before she got here, but what comes out is this instead:] Yeah. My husband tried to murder me. [She pauses, looks down.] I think he might have succeeded.

[It would explain the pounding headache, and why she woke up here. Some version of heaven or hell. The latter was more likely.]

It's the least I can do. I don't want it to get infected and gangrenous. I've seen boys lose a hand, easy as that.

[She looks at the drab sheets, and wastes no time in tearing off a strip of cotton for him. She can wrap it when they're out of this place. And out of clear danger.]

Alright. Be careful, sir. [She readies herself. For what exactly, she's not sure, but she looks at the door with wide eyes.]

It's been a long time since she's felt a woman hug her. She stands stock still as the woman does just that, speaking as though she knows her. It's a trick Nancy herself has used before.

"That's not my name. My wounds are superficial now. And I don't know what OK is." So many questions. So many answers Nancy has literally no control over.

She takes a step back from the woman. "I'm sorry, but I'm not the girl you're looking for."

[Hey now, where she comes from she's been a woman grown for quite a few years.]

You sure? [She raises a hand to her head, feels how messy her hair has gotten, how tender it is.] Because I think I was murdered. Or beaten very, very badly.

What does okay mean?

( The resounding BANG! explodes into Jesse's consciousness like a gunshot. Curled up on his side, face mashed into the pillow with low mouth-breathing snores, the sound ricochets a violent jolt through his body, frightening him awake. He flings onto his back, gangly limbs flailing, and he gapes wild confusion at the guy. That's one grimy, scary looking guy. Looks like a biker. A hobo biker. The kind of grungy asshole Jesse would sling meth to down at the Crystal Palace. Shit, oh shit ohhhh shit, the guy is coming towards him. Jesse's hands scramble for purchase on the creaky bed as he shoves himself up, scooting hurriedly backwards until his back thumps against the cheap pine bedhead. )

Um-- ( What the hell's happening, yo? Where the hell is he? Who the fuck is this greasy asshole? --Oh fuck, this greasy asshole's got a knife. He's got a fucking knife. Jesse's eyes widen, and he begins stuttering, frantically protesting as he squirms back into the bed's headboard, a hand thrown out at the guy in shielding defense, ) Whoa-whoa-whoa, yo! Whoa, man, whoa, back up, yo!

[ There’s a moment where Steve thinks that this is his opportunity to get back at Billy for a few of his own humiliating moments. He thinks about how easy it would be to call Billy something awful and leave him there, maybe try and skate over the cigarette before it can be picked up. It’s how Steve would have reacted years ago, when he had Tommy and Carol goading him on. He’s not that much of a dick anymore (he thinks), so he shakes it off.

He does wonder what the hell is wrong with Billy, though. That stupid laugh is unsettling. ]

It doesn’t really matter much right now anyway, does it?

[ Steve extends a vague olive branch by holding out his hand to help Billy up. ]

[And she thought she stood out.

Fukawa had entered the mall feeling rather self conscious. If she wanted to blend in with all the gloss and middle class ease, she had to replace her raggedy old school clothes with something that didn't scream "I'm living in a nightmare". On top of being torn to near shreds and smelling of eau du catastrophe, she was too old be wearing it. She was nineteen, not fifteen, and it was time to look the part.

Then she came across this guy. Mud-caked, hardbitten, and gulping back pizza like he'd unhinged his jaw. She flinches back at the sight, lip curling. He looked like he'd crawled out of his own grave.

Not a townie, that's for sure. Maybe someone from her neck of the woods. It wouldn't surprise her.]

Are you t-trying to choke yourself? [It's blurted out before she can help it. Can anyone blame her? Someone needs to say something.] St-stop gobbling it whole like a wild animal. You're making everyone sick.

[ Eddie stares at the hand that's offered to him for a few solid seconds before he realizes the person is trying to help him up. In his defense, people don't look like this where he comes from. Tattoos are a rarity in themselves, but ones this intricate and this visible? And his nails are painted? ]

Whoa.

I mean - yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, man.

[ Grabbing the stranger's hand, Eddie struggles to his feet, nearly losing his balance again a few times. When he's fully upright and stable again he lets go of his hand in favor of the railing again, offering him a smile. ]

Sick ink, by the way. I'm Eddie. You must be here for the Walkman too, right? I can't wait to listen to something that isn't this poppy bullshit.

BLOOD OFFERING

Alec is the first to wake up. He considers that lucky, because he spends what turns out to be a very undignified few minutes trying to get literally any of his runes to work. Even the ones in his weapons—a massive bow, a quiver of arrows, and a sword, which honestly look ridiculous on him considering his otherwise very 21st century clothes—are completely inactive. Not a whisper of light or power from any of them. They're essentially just a smattering of nonsensical looking black tattoos across his skin.

That's... worrisome.

But what about this situation isn't worrisome? Getting himself back under control and glancing around does not really clear things up, but Alec eventually makes his way around the bed he woke up in to kick at one leg of the other bed, trying to jostle its occupant awake without being directly in flailing range if they're the swing first, ask questions later kind of morning person. (Alec knows a few of those.) Or just to end the ruse if they're pretending to be asleep, it's possible.

But inconvenient for him, so: "Get up," he says by way of greeting, bossy. What a way to start the day. When he's satisfied he's not going to catch any hands, he ventures close enough to pick up the letter on the nightstand between their beds, and reads up to a handprint's worth out loud. Putting blood on the door absolutely screams of activating some ward or spell, but Alec has no idea what type. If only Magnus were here to consult...

Trying not to think too hard about that, Alec scoffs and tosses the letter back down onto table. "Yeah, we're not doing that," he has apparently decided this for everyone in the room, sorry. Eventually he will figure out that he's not actually in charge here.

MALL RAT

Alec looks (and feels) very out of place in the mall. For however much his life has actually been harrowing, violent and dangerous, whatever amount of hard living he's done it has not been done without deep, deep pockets and a lot of old money. He can budget for an institute with something resembling restraint, but even the plain black shirt and pants he came into town wearing were probably made in a pointlessly fancy Italian boutique and cost a completely stupid sum of money.

(He took one look at the Paridiso logo on every article of clothing they sold and immediately left the mall's fanciest store without even considering that his $100 gift card would be next to useless there. Listen. The Aesthetic is Important.)

Which is what finds him smack in the middle of the food court, looking admittedly a bit snooty about the choices on offer around him (Hot Doggy's and Chicken Wingz both draw particularly dubious looks.) It's not like he's never had cheap food—the institute's cafeteria food is not particularly fancy—it's just that this is definitely (and visibly) not his scene. But even without the staring that he's doing he'd probably stand out, being a fairly towering figure at 6'3" with broad shoulders and a stark black tattoo across the side of his neck that makes it clear he's never had to worry about interviewing for a day job in his life. He's dressed in black from head to toe (black boots, black jeans, black t-shirt and black leather jacket), which would be downright normal if it weren't for the recurve bow slung across his back. Because of course he keeps that with him, even when going shopping.

Turns out you can take the man out of the genre schlock tv, but you can't take the genre schlock out of the man. Or maybe he's just getting a snack before an extremely half-assed LARPing session, who knows?

He's not, but still. "Is there anything good here?" Please help him. Clearly, he needs it.

[ Oh! A same temporal hat situation? In this weird world? Or at least vaguely similar. He can't pretend he knows what's in high fashion everywhere back home, and he can't say that this dress style looks too in line with what he last noted. Still, god knows it's the closest aesthetic to familiar that he's seen since he got here.

Maybe that shouldn't be a relief what with his social success track record, but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. There is a bit of relief to it.

She's awfully young to be stuck here, though. So many of these people are. ]

I haven't! Not a lot of ice in my region, I'm afraid. [ Might have been a fun way to pass some time. ] Roller skates must be pretty popular these days though, right? If they've got a whole business built on it.

[ The financial security of a roller rink... it must be something. ]

"Oh, right, Jane.</> Sorry." Joyce's eyes were shining with what might have been tears of happiness. She'd found one of her family, and that was something to be thankful for. Assuming they were here anyway. She might be more thankful for them not being here as long as they were ok.

But the girl went on, and she had never heard Eleven put on any accent like that, nor was her hair that long. Ever.

"Are you really not her? You look just like her." Her brow furrowed, but Joyce released her and eased back, hands out flat to ease the girl.

Apparently so!

[She laughs lightly, keeping a hand on the wall still.]

And everyone seems so good at it. Must come here quite often.

[She sees people spinning, skating backward, it's quite shocking, and fun to look at.] I don't suppose you know what this walkman we're supposed to get is, do you?

Oh dear. This woman was terribly confused. And about to get emotional. Which, truly, if she was really missing this El or Jane person, made a lot of sense. Or she was a very good actress.

"Really, lady." She says it as an honorific, the way you might call someone Sir or Doctor. "My name is Nancy Sikes." She gives an uneasy smile toward the other woman. "I haven't seen anyone that looks like me about, I'm sorry to tell you. But if you give me your name, I can keep a look out for her, let her know who's looking for her?"

[ This whole experience has been...just completely overwhelming, to be honest. Completely and utterly baffling, like one long extended nightmare or a bad drug trip.

She's assuming. Chrissy never got the chance to do any drugs, after all.

But when she was offered a pair of rollerskates, when she was told that the prize would be a Walkman with cassette, she couldn't help but grin. It feels like it's been a hundred years since she got to listen to any music — since Eddie drove her to his trailer and nearly leapt out of his skin when his radio blared to life with a scream of guitar, fumbling in his efforts to turn it down so as not to startle her — and maybe she doesn't know what the cassette would be, but she knows she's going to win one.

Hawkins doesn't have a roller rink, but the next down over does, and Chrissy grew up on a cul-de-sac that was quiet enough that she could skate around and around on the street and not worry about getting run over. She circles the rink in no time at all, collects her new pastel yellow Walkman, and then starts to skate around again, just for the fun of it all. It's been so long since she's done anything for fun.

It's hard to miss both the flailing and the heavy thump of a body hitting the floor, but Chrissy can't help the double-take she does when she finally puts together just who she watched wipe the fuck out. ]

Eddie? [ She immediately skates over, flow of traffic be damned, and skids to a stop in front of him. ] Eddie, it's you! [ Two hands are immediately thrust into his line of sight, her fingers wiggling at him until he lifts his hands and takes hers so she can help pull him to his feet. ]

— A BLOOD OFFERING

[ Ciri turned her face against the humming glow of the table lamp into a pillow that smelled of dust and something astringent that tickled the back of her nose. Palms flat on the mattress, she pushed herself up with a groan as chainmail rattled against the sword still strapped to her back. If she must confess, this wasn't the worst place she had woken up in or even the worst nightmare. The bed wasn't stuffed with straw, and there was no scrambling of rats under the furniture or in the walls. Her skin wasn't even crawling from being a late-night meal for mites. So aside from the kidnapping and the abiding awareness that something was terribly, horribly wrong, she was rather comfortable.

Which only left the letter and that pesky feeling nagging at the back of her mind. Anyone in the room who had woken up around the same time as Ciri would see the young woman start moving around the room. Cursing under her breath about other worlds and their 'new sciences' before making for the door. ]

Alright. [ Ciri announced, facing the door with the stubborn vigor of something catching its second wind before drawing the longsword strapped to her back. The metal sang as it slid from the sheath and glinted in the room's sickly yellow light. ] Any volunteers?

— ROLLER RINK

[ Trading blades for four little plastic wheels on each shoe was not the seamless transition Ciri had hoped it would have been. Years of honing her ice skating to a proficient art wintering on the isles of Skellige should have made this instinctively easy. Apparently not. Ciri had been hugging the rink wall for the first ten minutes with a newborn fawn's gracelessness.

Eventually, with a lot of swearing and knees that were going to be black and blue by the next morning, Ciri found her footing. Not content to simply do the lap around the rink, Ciri quickly picked up the pace. She pivoted and pirouetted with a dancer's flair around the others and weaved the last stretch backward with a self-satisfied smile playing on her face.

When she received her prize, Ciri turned the walkman over in her hands a few times — before shrugging and tossing it on a nearby bench without a second thought. That might have been important, but she had no blessed clue what was being foisted on her. ]

— MALL RATS

Is there really money in this thing? [ Ciri asked the nearest person that didn't strike her as a local. Consonants slid messily over her tongue as she spoke around mouthfuls of a comically large soft pretzel in one hand while holding up her gift card in the other. Just moments ago, she had been clearly mystified watching the cashier swipe her card, and it magically satisfied the barter for the salty monstrosity she was still wolfing down. ]

[Alec has enough siblings that the goading feels downright homey. Being annoyed by someone who has no reason to be as smug as they clearly are about watching him fumble something? Why, it's warm and familiar territory. He scoffs, hanging onto the other side of the same low wall, which he'd just used to haul himself back up after a messy little spill that he's absolutely not going to acknowledge even happened, thank you.

What he wouldn't give to actually be able to activate his equilibrium rune right now.

Dryly:] Thanks, you're very helpful. [Then, unable to not complain:] I can't believe m— uh, people do this for fun. [Alec is decidedly not having fun, by contrast. And not just because he's accustomed to being much better at things on his first try than this. (Although, mostly that, yeah.)]

[ Eddie sucks in another breath and nods as he squeezes his hand into a fist, letting the blood pool in his hand until it starts to drip down his wrist. First thing he's going to need to do when they get out of here is find something to clean this up with. ]

This better work. Or I'm gonna bleed all over the carpet just to spite them.

[ Unfolding his hand, Eddie stares at his bloodied palm as he strides toward the door again, clenching his jaw. He reaches out to press it against the wooden surface, closing his eyes and waiting. For what, he's not sure. A latch to click, a deadbolt to unlock, maybe. But he doesn't hear anything, so he tries the door.

It opens as though it were never locked at all. ]

What the hell is this place?

[ Chrissy is freaking out and Steve is just busy staring at her. After a moment, his brain kicks back into gear, and he goes over to her. They were never exactly friends, per se. Steve was a year ahead and they both had different friends, but they shared school popularity and he’d been on the basketball team while she cheered. He figures it’s enough familiarity, so he puts his hands on her shoulders lightly to draw her back from the door. ]

Chrissy, no one’s opening the door for us.

[ Of that, he’s certain. He still thinks it’s a sick joke, but, whatever. So he cuts his hand and plays along and they get out of here. That’s more preferable to him than watch Chrissy panic. ]

I’ll do it. It’s fine.

Alec, on the other hand, is much more restless. He's already made a circuit around the tiny room like he's securing the world's least impressive perimeter, trying to stop himself from catastrophizing about the situation by being productive.

But it's awfully difficult to be productive when trapped in a tiny room like this.

As soon as Sam finishes with the letter and speaks, Alec regards him like he's seeing him for the first time. He isn't, obviously, but he'd been a little busy freaking out internally there. "You think that's a good idea?" As a rule, Alec tries not to mess with any magic that isn't Nephilim magic. Better to hire someone who knows what they're doing, and not go smearing anybody's blood all over unfamiliar wards or spells, if he can help it. Especially if they're able to render all of Alec's Enochian runes totally useless: he's never encountered anything like it and it makes him a touch nervous. "Wait, do you know what kind of spell this is?" Since it wouldn't be his first time, he'd said.

[ He didn't hit his head on the way down, did he? Because he's heard that voice before - in person, not nearly enough as he would've liked to, and in his nightmares, far more often than he cares for.

Eddie looks up to see the smiling face of Chrissy Cunningham, and he can't help but laugh. The last time he'd seen her alive, she was levitating toward his ceiling, her limbs snapping, her eyes -- ]

Chrissy - holy shit, Chrissy, you're -- you're here!

[ He hesitates to say alive, because he's pretty sure neither of them are. How could they be, after what they went through? But she's here, and she's smiling, and she's not mutilated and contorted or anything. Her smile is infectious, too, and Eddie can't help beaming as he takes her hands and shakily rises to his feet. ]

Thank god. I thought I was gonna have to crawl the whole lap.

[ It's his first instinct to joke, but he can't just leave it at that, can he? ]

It's really good to see you again.

if your hands start shaking uncontrollably, you'll know where to find me

[ about that caffeine addiction. because she could push on that it's complicated, but &mdahs;she'd hate it if their positions were reversed. so, not touching that one. ]

Watch it.

[ He snaps, not recognizing Chrissy on voice alone. Billy himself is barreling through with little regard for anyone's safety, but when someone hits him he has to be an ass about it anyway, even though she's small enough that the impact barely budges him. ]

Hang on - [ He slows down a little, taking a closer look at her. This is one of the cheerleaders, not one he knows particularly well but still someone from home. ] - you're Cunningham, right?

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Page 15 of 31

TEST DRIVE MEME #1

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blood offering

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mallrats

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Alec Lightwood | Shadowhunters (TV)

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2

cirilla fiona elen riannon aka ciri | the witcher

002!

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blood offering;

Arrival!

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roller rink