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cursedcontent2022-08-20 11:49 am
cursedmods) wrote in cursedcontent2022-08-20 11:49 am
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TEST DRIVE MEME #1
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.Roller Rink
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.
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.Mallrats
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.
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.Extra Info
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.
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.
blood offering, or: zdarsky vs zdarsky
He's not even a waking person, because time is not really a concept he pays particular attention to in space.
Current Peter is cosy and comfortable and he doesn't particularly want to move. Sure, he's just had the weirdest dream — like, not the weirdest dream of his life, that was definitely the one with the Master of the Sun or whoever — but it was still up there. He thinks that if he just stays very still and keeps his eyes closed, he can go back to sleep, back into warm, comforting embrace of the blankets he's currently buried beneath.
There's a part of him that says this is not right. He feels well-rested for the first time in — well, a long time, he doesn't even know. He has no headache, no hangover, which frankly surprises even him. He thinks he remembers, faintly, Groot yelling something at him about the end of the galaxy, or just the galaxy in general. He'd ignored it because he'd felt like death, told Groot he was dead, and now—.
Ugh, fine.
This isn't right. His bed is not this comfortable, his blanket is not this thick. His ship is not this quiet.
He opens his eyes and stares at the not-quite darkness of his duvet-cocoon. Somewhere in the outside world, there's a bang, a slow rattle of china against wood, then a dull thud and the sound of something cracking.
Peter groans and sits up, squinting in the sudden daylight of the motel room. His stomach churns, a mixture of dread and panic pulling at his insides tightly as he takes in the room, before it settles into sharp, sudden confusion.
There's a broken lamp on the carpet between the two (two?) beds, and there's Matthew-flarking-Murdock stood next to the lamp.
The last time Peter had been on Earth — like, actually on Earth in an extended-stay kind of way, in what amounted to the galaxy's shittiest vacation, he'd ended up in court.
Now that it's all in the past, he can acknowledge that Murdock is, presumably, a really good lawyer, but it doesn't mean he's not still slightly salty about the "probably colourful outfit" jab (blue and grey is not colourful, mister-flarking-fancy-suits), or the "it shoots fire so it's a firearm", are you fucking kidding him? God, his lawyer had really sucked.
He runs a hand through his hair, and stays quiet for one second, then two, then—
"Either I'm having the weirdest flarking dream or I'm still drunk."
He's not either of those things, he knows that, but consider this: what the fuck.
ahhh yes, chip4chip, chum
He doesn't have to do his best vaudeville impression when the lamp teeters and crashes to the floor; Matt really is taken aback by his own disorientation in space. It totally negates any sense of comfort or calm that might've lingered from one of the most restful sleeps of his life. He's pretty sure he's already developing a migraine. Given the choice, he'd rather be stabbed in the gut and pitched through the glass of Fisk's penthouse apartment than have his brain scrambled. Again.
The shards of shattered china crunch underfoot as he reaches for the edge of the bed and lowers himself back down to the mattress, but another sound is just a little bit louder. The sound of sheets being pushed back, and then:
"Peter Quill?"
Well, Matt does have a way of remembering voices. But it helps that his interaction with the man didn't end in that chaotic courtroom or with the Guardian celebrating his hundred hours of community service like he'd just been named the leader of his own dog-and-pony show. No, Matt's a lot more familiar than that.
But what kind of criminal has unresolved issues with a man who patrols a few city blocks of Manhattan's West Side and a man who trolls... the entire galaxy?
no subject
He's not really sure why he's answered Matt's question as if he's not quite sure of the answer, because he is quite sure that he's Peter Jason Quill, it's just—
—this is a bit weird, you know?
It's not categorically The WeirdestTM situation he's ever found himself in, or thinks he's likely to find himself in, but in the grand scheme of things, if future Peter visited past Peter and said 'hey, you're going to find yourself in a motel in the 80s with Matthew Murdock, have fun with that', he'd have not believed himself.
Well, like, doubted himself a bit, because okay, yes, that does sound like his life, but can someone tell him why that sounds like his life?
His attention flickers over to the letter that sits on the bedside table that occupies the space between the two beds. Peter doesn't need to ask if Matt's read the letter, the answer's obvious and it's not like they've been provided with a braille option.
From where Peter's currently sat, he can only pick out the odd word: something about blood, something about a mayor, something something fear, wound. He pauses. Glances back at Matt, then shuffles towards the letter and picks it up in his right hand.
Door. Blood. Handprint. Open.
Cool, sounds about right. He pointedly keeps the contents of the letter to himself and places it down on his bed, before turning his attention back to Matt.
"—Are you okay?" He asks, somewhat belatedly. "That sounded like it hurt." Privately, he's glad that Murdock is from New York and that this whole thing isn't going to be coming completely out of left-field, it'd just be a little easier if Matt wasn't, you know, a lawyer. If he had superpowers, or something.