TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[cursedmods]

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.

Comments

[driving]

[ He looks up at the neon sign and shrugs. ] They plug it in.

[ Not exactly the comprehensive, scientific answer, but Billy's not one for figuring out the intricacies of neon lights. Ask him about cars and he'll have a better answer.

He laughs out loud when she asks for a cigarette, and takes one out of his pocket. It's not healthy to start 'em this young but it is hilarious and Billy didn't have two fucks to give about being a good role model. ]

Knock yourself out, kid. [ He offers her the cigarette. ] You need a light?

[driving]

Yeah, yeah, we've all seen the anti-smoking PSAs.

[ And in Billy's case, they only made him want to smoke even more. He's young and dumb and, like many teenagers, thought he was immortal, so being told not to do something just emboldened him.

It still emboldens him now. ]

I'm already dead, man. [ He nods in the direction of Vasiliy's cigarette. ] What's your excuse?

[driving]

Beanie Babies? Is that really what they're called?

[ He shakes his head and takes another puff of his cigarette. He wouldn't be caught dead with a Beanie Baby. ]

[driving]

[ You're dead. Those words make him tense up, inhaling sharply. Of course he's dead, but he doesn't feel dead right now and the last damn thing he wants to think about is how fucking dead he is. ]

Christ. You two'd starve to death trying to pussy out of this if you were here alone.

[ Billy shrugs, hands in his pockets, almost relaxed. Until a split second later when he's winding up a swift punch aimed square at Eddie's face. Billy's a berserker, unpredictable, one second he's calm and the next he's laying into you. The punch is nothing that'd knock him out, just enough to hopefully make him bite his tongue or get a nosebleed.

Pain's not so bad, he thinks, if it's in the heat of the moment and you just get it over with. It's the anticipation that's killer. He's doing Munson a favor by getting it out of the way, if anything, because if a fight breaks out between the three of them he's the clear loser. ]

[maritorious]

Plug... it in? [She raises an eyebrow. That makes no sense to her, but then again, most of this place doesn't. Cigarettes, at least, do, and she happily takes one from him.]

A light? Oh! Yes, please. I don't have any flint on me. [That's how you light fires.]

But I'm hardly a kid. Back at home, I dare say there are some who consider me their mum.

[astrologics]

I don't, actually. Unless you want me to walk the length and breadth of the motel, knocking on each and every door and asking for a 'Chapel'.

But between you and me, I think there are easier ways.

[corrodedcoffin]

[ The relief that hits him when he realizes Steve is on his side is short-lived. Though they very well may be friends now, that doesn't rid them of the raging bull in the room. Eddie's about to protest again, because not wanting to get his face smashed to a pulp doesn't make him a pussy, okay - but Billy's fist beats him to it, hitting him in the nose and knocking him back onto the bed. ]

Ow -- what the fuck, dude?

[ Eddie cups his face with both hands as he sits up again, his head spinning from the impact. Sure enough, he can feel blood dripping from his nose, down his lips and chin. Surely it'll be enough to make a hell of a mess, or in this case, a hand print. ]

Does it say where to put it? Do I just touch the door? Fuck, you didn't have to hit me that hard!

[ His words come out a little congested, but he's not in a position to care. He whips his head around to try and spot a tissue box, something, anything to keep him from just bleeding all over the room in the process. There's nothing, so he keeps his hand cupped under his chin as he gets up to approach the door, catching the blood as it continues to fall. Then, he switches hands, pressing the bloodier one against the center of the door. ]

Here goes nothin'. Steve - can you get me - toilet paper or - something? Jesus.

[stevieboy]

[ Steve catches on to what’s about to happen a second too late to stop Billy’s fist from connecting with Eddie’s face. He can’t help the wince. He knows what that feels like, and, really, Eddie’s lucky Billy seems to just end it at one hit. ]

What the hell is wrong with you?

[ Steve shoves Billy out of the way, even though he wants to deck him in his stupid face. He could probably hold his own a little better now than he did back then, but it doesn’t mean he’s angling for a rematch.

Behind him, Eddie’s fumbling around and bleeding everywhere. It’s the only reason he steps away from Billy, already going to get toilet paper when Eddie asks for it. He comes back with the whole roll, some of it already wadded up for Eddie to use, and if Steve puts himself between Eddie and Billy then he’s not actively aware of it.

He’s too focused on Eddie’s handprint on the door. His stomach turns a bit, thinking about how Eddie must have looked after the bats got him, and he distracts himself by reaching for the doorknob. ]

Do you think we just … Turn it?

victor "vice" bleeket | oc

[outputs]

1 / blood offering

[ After the dream he's just had, Vice feels like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. He's never called it a curse, but there are some nasty unknown forces he's been using and abusing and that must be why he's here. He wants to tell the mayor that it's cool, that maybe the world should just stop turning when he's well and done with it, but he doubts that'll convince them.

He sits up and takes in his surroundings. This wouldn't be the worst motel he's ever passed out in, cheap as it looks. Maybe it was all just some fever dream. Even the stranger in the other bed doesn't clock him as unusual.

The letter does, though. And the fact that the door seems locked beyond anyone's ability to pick it makes it even worse. ]

Well, damn. [ He sits back down on the lumpy bed, looking over at his new companion. ] Seems like we're in quite the situation here.

[ If it comes down to it, he'll bleed to get out. But he wants to have a little fun first and see if he can't convince the other person to bleed for him instead. ]

2 / mallrats

[ The first thing he does is head straight for La Pointe and start flipping through the records. He's got no desire to spend the $100 right now (hell, he's got half a mind to spit in the mayor's face for offering him such a pittance) but he does want to know what the music scene is like here.

And, more importantly, if they've got any of his stuff in stock.

There are bands he recognizes, something he initially takes as a good sign until he flips straight from The Cars to Cheap Trick with nothing in between. Not even a fucking card with his band's name written on it to show that there's at least a section for it even if it's sold out. ]

Come on, come on. [ He flips through records frantically, hoping someone here just sucks at alphabetizing, but no dice. ] Fucking bullshit.

[ He mumbles his curses under his breath out of frustration, but doesn't really care who's around to hear. The fact that fucking Lynyrd Skynyrd is a universal constant but he's not seems deeply, deeply unfair. ]

wildcard

[ ooc: I don't have his info written up in detail yet but thought I'd give him a go here. the tl;dr of it is he's an analog horror-flavored rock star from the 1970s who literally feeds off his fanbase, can imbue recordings of his music with harmful and addictive properties, and is just a huge diva to boot.

feel free to hit me up at dandymott for plotting! ]

[elnett]

[ She's trying not to think about what it might mean that Eddie's here too. She woke up here after feeling her limbs snap like a pencil, after her jaw was ripped out of its socket, after she felt her eyes squish like grapes right in her skull. Agonizing, unbearable, searing pain completely consumed her from head to toe, and then...

Here she is, in a roller rink lit with neon lights and a disco ball, skates strapped to her feet, helping Eddie Munson clamber back up to standing.

Did Vecna get him too? ]

I can't believe it! [ Once he's more or less standing, she lets go of his hands so she can skate into him and wrap her arms around his middle with absolutely no hesitation, tucking herself up against his chest and squeezing far tighter than anyone looking at her might expect. ] I'm so glad you're here.

[labwork]

[ now there's an amusing mental image ]

such as?

[astrologics]

You telling me where you are?

( "bruh." )

Or else I'm telling you right now that any hint of caffeine withdrawal, and I'm finding the closest d'ast thing I can in this place and drinking it.

( sike! he'll be doing that anyway. )

[labwork]

i see how it is
fine, i'll make it easy for you

[ and so she sends a room number, whatever it is ]

if your stomach lining get eaten away, i'm not sure how much i can do for you

[labwork]

I wish I knew. [ about the (alleged) curse, about this place, this earth, how in the exact hell she's time travelled, somehow. how any of this is possible. whether she should be hoping for rescue, trying to escape, or advocating for everyone to stay put because quarantine is actually necessary.

she hates the uncertainty, the feeling of the floor being pulled from her. so she's trying hard not to think about it too much just yet. ]

Christine Chapel, hi. [ a beat, while she shakes his hand. ] So, what kind of doctor? [ it's obviously not medical. ]

[astrologics]

( that was easy, and despite the fact that peter's not currently suffering from anything remotely approaching caffeine withdrawal, there's a not unsizeable part of him that considers making the journey down the hall anyway.

(what? he likes company.) )

That's a very generous assumption of my living standards to date.

[labwork]

[ true story: she likes company, too. ]

i'd say don't tell me
but now i'm actually curious

blood offering

[stonemage]

The first thing she notices upon waking up is that it feels like she's breathing through one lung - She's taken the fact that she can feel stones wherever they were granted she realizes in a panic. Now it's like part of her is missing. The second she realizes is that she is not alone and this is not their caravan out of Gyongxe - and after her treatment at the hands of the Emperor of Yanjing it sets every instinct to survive, fight or flight, on edge.

She's out of bed in moments, grabbing at her sleeves where the knives are hidden. She doesn't have as many as Briar's eleven and she knows against any Emperor soldier without her pwoers she's as weak as a kitten, but - She'll fight them tooth and nail if she has to.

Except the voice that hails her isn't an obviously Emperor soldier. The room they're in doesn't even look like it's something out of anywhere she's been. And while it doesn't make her anymore aggressive, she hunches back on her feet with brown eyes cold. "How should I know?" She demands, sounding far rougher than she should.

[labwork]

[ for what it's worth: christine would also prefer it doesn't turn into a game of cluedo. and what's more: she's working quickly and efficiently, hands certain, cleaning out the wound after she's removed the bloody napkin before moving to wrap it more securely.

meanwhile: ] I'm not so interested in death. More in life, I guess. How bodies work, how to keep them working.

[ she thinks about mentioning the epigenetics project, but —somehow, she's not so sure that wouldn't get misinterpreted.

instead, she flashes a quick grin. ] The human body is just a fleshy sack of goop and guts and yet somehow, we're managing to walk and talk and build things and go places. I think that's pretty great.

[astrologics]

I'm just saying, I didn't get to where I am today through clean living.

( it's all relative, but objectively speaking, he definitely eats like shit — macros? what are those?, drinks too much, gets nowhere near enough sleep, and is damn near allergic to anything that resembles routine.

he will occasionally drink a protein shake though, so like, success?

BUT ANYWAY, surprise!

it takes peter all of five minutes to decide he's bored and tired of being alone in his motel room. the 80s were amazing the first time round, but that was mostly because he'd been a kid, and ever since leaving earth, he's looked back on the era with rose-tinted glasses.

and that was mostly because he'd had his mom.

and whilst this may not be earth, not in any true sense (jury's still out on that), it's close enough to feel weird. close enough for peter to take a trip to the mall and feel remarkably out-of-place, that despite everything, despite earth being home, it's not home.

and he hates it.

he hates, too, not having anyone to talk to. no-one he can just hit up with a phone call (no, wait, not a phone call, because anything he has that resembles charm immediately dissipates whenever he speaks into a phone), but the point remains.

(and he'd got the impression that matt murdock hadn't exactly been thrilled to hear his voice.)

so he walks one way down the hallways of the motel before realising, abruptly, he'd gone the wrong flarking way, and heads back the way he'd come. he checks the room number he'd been given, looks at the brass number decorating the door, and knocks. )

v's response is literally cursed content

[bodyoftheseus]

It was clear by the way they responded that V should know exactly who the band Queen was and who these people - he assumed band members - were. It was clear from the way his face didn't change and spark with recognition that they may as well have been speaking Chinese to him. He gave an unhelpful little shrug with a slight shake of his head to confirm he had no clue what they were talking about.

V followed them over to the listening station (he knew he'd eventually get used to all of this but he was really starting to miss his agent) and took the headphones (and his audio suite, at this point) so that he could listen. There was no denying that the song was definitely a bop but V wasn't sure he'd classify it a banger, and it showed.

"Not bad, definitely an improvement to some of the shit I've heard since getting here," he started as he pulled the headphones off. "Sound pretty corporate though." While that likely wasn't an issue for most, it was clear by the way he said it that he was one of those types that preferred music to feel like it had soul to it.

[labwork]

[ christine's no saint herself, which she debates telling him, but —she's having fun with this conversation, even if it's shooting the shit more than anything else at least on her end. banter, if you will.

it's a solid distraction and she isn't actually worried his stomach lining will dissolve in the next ten minutes from drinking shitty motel coffee. ]

so you won't be sharing recipes for kale smoothies with me? that's disappointing

[ are kale smoothies a thing? she vaguely remembers they were a thing at some point; she'd read about them in an old journal, but she can't for the life of her remember what period the text was from, and now she no longer has access to it.

maybe she should see if she can get her hands on medical journals here, make this a research stay with a focus on archeological medicine. that could be something. but before she's considered the thought more seriously, there's a knock on the door.

she assumes it'll be her current conversation partner, but assumptions aren't certainty and so her gaze is alert when she opens the door. not mistrustful, just —ready. ]

Hi.

[labwork]

it's an exploratory and scientific organisation of the united federation of planets

apparently, it's been a couple centuries for me

[labwork]

[ it's a good thing that christine is many things, but insecure in her physical abilities isn't really on the list. so her grin doesn't dim when he mentions the wobble. there absolutely was a wobble; admitting it doesn't hurt her pride. it wouldn't even if he was more judgmental about it, but that he's not is nice.

as is the way he hovers helpfully. ]

Forward's a bit easier than backwards, but I'll get the hang of it. [ she shrugs. glances at his walkman, glances at him, decides to ask, ] Are you staying in the Motel, too.

[ "staying", like anyone's given them a choice. but if he's a local, well. a large reason why christine's with starfleet at the moment is to help starfleet develop better tools for not interfering in local populations of planets that have not yet discovered space travel.

probably best to apply that same caution here as well. ]

honestly i'm canon blind so i'm just going off icons here

[astrologics]

( peter's as equally unworried about his stomach lining as she is — he figures that if he's managed to survive this long on a diet that is classed predominately as "questionable", he thinks he'll be okay.

and realistically speaking, he should be dead by now anyway, so it's a moot point. but for the grace of a guy with a powerful goatee and a penchant for alliteration.

she answers the door and he's not sure if she's quite what he was expecting. he thinks that she is, for as much as appearances mean anything: a careful, poised appearance that manages to align with almost every military personnel he's had the (mis)fortune of meeting.

he's less dishevelled than he had been when he'd first woken up, although his shirt and his pants are both clearly well-worn and well-loved, and his hair, whilst still in need of a cut, has been brushed.

hashtag winning. )

Oh my god, ( he says by way of greeting. no 'hi', no 'hello, this is peter quill', no 'what was this about my stomach lining?' ) The last time I was on Earth, they'd decided kale was trendy. Something about the Hulk and green and smashing? ( a beat. ) I guess Popeye and spinach aren't cool anymore.

( this will be very embarrassing, he thinks, if this isn't ms. uss enterprise-chapel. )

i don't know the comics so i'm 50% canonblind in return

[labwork]

[ she's no longer in uniform, having exchanged the white jumpsuit for something that'll blend in a bit better and she's not technically starfleet personnel —a civilian exchange from the stanford epigenetics programme helping with starfleet's desire to observe non-spacefaring worlds without interfering or risk of discovery. "making disguises", la'an had called christine's research. it's a gross oversimplification, but it's not, at its core, inaccurate.

(she's not technically starfleet personnel, but if it acts like a starfleet officer, talks like a starfleet officer and is treated like a starfleet officer, it really isn't much more than a technicality.)

he launches into a bit of a rant about kale and christine relaxes almost immediately, readiness dissipating for something more mischievous, if no less keen-eyed. ]

You lost me at Hulk.