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tdms

JANUARY 2019 TEST DRIVE

JANUARY 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to January’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: NEW YEAR'S.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Mind alteration, alcohol, options for self-harm, knife violence.

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

YOU BETTER GET THIS PARTY STARTED

It's party night at the Grady Hotel and the hosts are pulling out all the stops. Champagne, funny hats, pictures, great music, and a wonderful countdown clock that let's everyone know just how much closer they're getting to the end of what has probably been a pretty crazy year for everyone. The glasses never seem to empty themselves and the citizens serving them out to people seem to be making extra sure that everyone has one for themselves. Regardless of whether or not you usually like champagne, anyone with a glass in their hands will eventually be tempted to take a sip, especially the closer it gets to midnight - the bubbles make you giggly, friendly, talkative in a way that you may never have been before. It lifts up just about anyone's spirits, no matter how rough of a time they've had before (or during their time in) Deerington. It doesn't seem to get you drunk, no matter how much you drink, but it definitely makes you more euphoric. Enough so that you might start to think you can do anything; tell someone how you really feel about them, compliment whoever you've had your eye on all night and see if they want to spend more time together, make up with someone you've been fighting with lately, do a magic trick you never were able to master, or even something as drastic as fly when you know you can't. Hopefully you start off trying to jump from a chair, but there is definitely roof access for those who are a little more daring - maybe someone a little more sober will have the wherewithal to stop you before it's too late.

There is also plenty of entertainment happening in various parts of the room. A table with beer pong for the adults who never outgrew their college days, a dart board, card games in the back, and a game called Guess the Candy for those who want to test their sweet tooth. Anyone who wins a round of any game will get rewarded with a small gift from home (no bigger than a toaster). Unfortunately will disappear once you leave the party, so make sure to enjoy it while you can.

The dance floor is also lively, the music upbeat and easy to move to no matter what your personal tastes might be. If you want a random dancing partner, take a dance card! Each one has a random, glowing number on it and it's your goal to find the person who matches. Once you do, no matter who it is, you'll find yourself literally stuck together (hopefully just by your hands, but it can be any body part) and will have to go through an entire dance (or maybe even two) with them before you come unstuck.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Everyone starts to gather around the countdown clock as it nears midnight, and when it's down to ten seconds, obviously you've got to start counting too! Everyone seems to be having such a good time as they shout out each number (10! 9! 8!) and you might not even notice the way some of the people around you have started to get a little... twitchy? (7! 6! 5!) Or the way some are starting to get more handsy, pushing themselves up close to whomever is beside them. (4! 3! 2!) And it isn't until they all shout 1! in unison that the room seems to shift in two very different moods.

If you're lucky, the person next to you will just have the urge to kiss you - and you might even have the urge to kiss them back! After all, sharing a kiss at midnight is supposed to bring you good luck for the rest of the year. And with the way everyone else is starting to act, you might need it. For some, the urge to kiss might be stronger than just a chaste peck. For those who find themselves wanting to get a little more intense, it might be best to try to sneak out the back and head back to your place. The moment you step outside into the cold air, though, the urges seem to disappear - unless, of course, you were in the mood all on your own.

If you're unlucky, there's a murderous rage that runs through you, and there seems to be a table of weapons near by to help encourage a messy time. Various knives, swords, machetes, and other blades are laid out, enough for almost everyone. You might find yourself driven to plunge your weapon into the closest person, or maybe someone you've hated for a long time, and even more - maybe someone you've loved. Whoever it is, the image of their face will be burned into your mind and you'll do everything you can to try and make them bleed. Hopefully they can fight for their life - or at least evade your attacks until they can trick you into going outside. Like the desire for love, the desire for murder will also disappear the moment that someone steps outside, regardless of whether or not they did so on purpose or just to try and hurt whoever they're after.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

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here lies the abyss a decade too soon (arrival);

[ Alistair isn't dreaming.

Yes, he knows the letter says he is but he's been ensconced in the welcoming arms of Fade Trickery before and this isn't it. For one, he's fairly sure he wouldn't be doubting it -- rather, he'd be in the middle of a delightful tea party with Duncan and his parents right now, sharing a laugh over scones. Not wandering a strange town clutching a basket.

All that said, he figures he should still keep his guard up -- you know, just in case -- so when he finally encounters another person he doesn't drop to his knees and thank the maker that he isn't alone in this generally not-too-terrible-so-far-really hellscape. Instead, he shouts at them. ]

You there!

[ To his credit, he does initially paint a pretty flawless picture of your standard Fantasy Hero save for the basket-clutching. He even seems for a moment like he might have an incredibly impressive follow-up until his eyes narrow into slits, almost theatrically suspicious. ]

I'll give you one chance: say something a demon definitely wouldn't.

[ Ah, perhaps he should have gone with the classic "Fade demons say what?". Missed opportunities. ]

[Daredevil just stops and appears to stare blankly at him.]

It's Daredevil, not Daredemon.

[The guy's clanking and doesn't seem to be accompanied by the telltale hum of electronics so it's likely just plate armour weighing him down and nothing like Iron Man.]

[ ............Okay, that's a fair argument, although Alistair isn't sure what it means exactly. ]

Okay. Right. Daredevil is catchier, I'll give you that.

[ P a u s e. ]

Is that you?

( from here-ish. )

[ Neria and Alistair suddenly go all Benjamin Button and transform from weary, carsick puppies to bright-eyed, hopeful ones. Also they're definitely not talking about physically entering the Fade or anything related and never were.

They are, however, still attempting to eat fruit preserves with a stabby knife while pondering the mysteries of how they found themselves here on this bench. ]

You want to know what I think? [ Alistair asks in lieu of answering questions about Fades he has yet to fall into. A blob of preserves slides off the knife and plops unceremoniously onto the bench as he speaks. ] If it's not magic and it's not demons, we've clearly just gone mad together. It's pretty romantic when you think about it. People will write songs about us.

[ Some of these puppies are also suddenly brunette, but we're all adaptable people, it'll be okay.

Anyway, despite her magic going all higglety pigglety and a general lack of things being predictably terrible (i.e. you will absolutely have to undertake a fetch quest of epic proportions before you can meet your goal) and instead, again, all higglety pigglety in their terribleness, Alistair's carefully cultivated blend of cheerful pessimism, cheerful flippancy, and jam spillage does make things better. Just like it did since they were carsick puppies, if they ever had been. She appears a clean cloth from somewhere and just ....scoops up the jam; as a warden not only do you steal everything not nailed down, you definitely don't waste perfectly good jam just because it might now contain faint notes of bench.

So, while she eats this with her fingers: ]

Why Alistair, that's positively Orlesian of you. Folie à deux, I think they call it.

[ Her Orlesian is like, passable, or at least it's a pretty good mimic of Leliana's accent; as one can imagine they did not teach oui baguettte hon hon hon in a Ferelden circle. ]

A madness shared by two. [ She explains, helpfully ] . If that's the case I'm very put out I seem to have hamstrung my own magic in my own madness. Unless that's your fault.

[ Every single one of those italics was vital. ]

Edited 2018-12-31 05:33 (UTC)

Well, I suppose that's the nature of madness, isn't it?

[ Things not working as they should, he means. ]

I haven't tried using my sword yet. Who knows, I could pick it up and it does exactly the opposite of what a sword should. I try to lop off someone's head and it — oh, I don't know — showers them in flower petals instead.

[ But now that he mentions it... ]

Though if that's the case then I can finally achieve my dream of vanquishing our foes with floral arrangements.

[ Haha get it? Because he'd talked about that once. Ah, inside jokes are fun.

Also, this entire time he's still been working very hard to adequately spread jam on a biscuit. ]

Edited 2019-01-02 22:50 (UTC)

[ His best efforts are very endearing, even if it doesn't seem like the biscuit is cooperating. Maybe it's magic as well? Curse you, strange place!! ]

I see all the dire circumstances in the world can't dilute his majesty's state of perpetual thorniness.

[ The only thing more fun than an inside joke is carrying it on to the point of absurdity, obviously! Meanwhile, if it turns out his majesty isn't king of anything other than, say, a small tent, that's just a fond nickname regarding the time he almost became king and then totally didn't. ...actually it's probably that even if he did become king, but the point remains we don't yet know where the TDM will take us! Neria can't actually sit cross legged by virtue of wearing armor, but rest assured she would be if she could, so it's probably a thinky aspect Alistair can recognize. ]

All kidding aside --

[ Just kidding, that's as perpetual as Alistair's thorniness ]

I don't sense any foes for you to vanquish, florally or otherwise. That's somehow less comforting than it ought to be, no?

"Alistair the Perpetually Thorny." Now there's a name for ages.

[ As he ponders how exactly this moniker might look scrawled across the pages of Fereldan history books, he clatters his stabby knife around in the jam jar in his continued pursuit to craft the Perfect Jam-Covered Biscuit. Stabby knife continues to be inept at its new job. You know how it is.

He does pause when the subject of the strange lack of foes in need of vanquishing arises. It's a strange feature of this place apparently. No wandering bandits, no wolves, no demons popping up from the ground. And Neria's right — it's far more unsettling than one might expect.]

It's creepy, isn't it? Nary a darkspawn in sight. [ Disturbing given the recent Awakening happenings which I suppose are either in the beginning stages, the midst of, or recently concluded. ] I did meet a very prickly Tevinter mage, however. Let's just say he and I didn't start off on the right foot. Apparently prickly and thorny don't mesh.

Would you prefer Alistair the Perpetually Celibate?

[ ... that’s not the threat it sounds like, promise! If it were she would look more threatening about it, instead of like, giggly. ]

Perpetually Pious, perhaps. Or Perpetually Preoccupied with Jam.

[ She’s just. Going to take this jar away from him, on that note. And as per(petually) previous mention then using her fingers, since they’re equally spready and less stabby. Waltzing quickly away from how pornographic this is starting to sound, she offers Alistair a now adequately bejammed biscuit. ]

From Tevinter, you say? I do hope he’s not in the market for a slave.

[ Since like, look, the only people Neria has ever encountered from Tevinter, including other elves, have been all OOH, into the crate you go! It’s not exactly encouraging in terms of assuming they aren’t uniformly terrible. ]

[At least the one figure he approaches actually seems to recognize the armor, and the baffled look or the narrow-eyed suspicious stare he gets in return. Dorian is wearing some of his typical robes and will probably be easily identified as a Mage...specifically from Tevinter, because everyone seems to always just know that about him. And that may or may not hurt him in this instance.

In fact that's initially what he expects from that glare he gets, not the question about being a demon.]

What? But a demon would say just about anything to convince you they aren't a demon.

[You know, he's kind of put-off by this assumption too.]

You may not know who I am, but I can tell you that I am entirely too talented and too pretty to allow myself to be possessed. [How dare you ser.]

You would think that, wouldn't you?

[ Demons were known for their wily, wily ways and yet — ]

I can say with utmost certainty that if you were a demon you'd be telling me I'm the one too pretty and talented to be possessed.

[ ~~AND IT'D BE TRUE~~. I mean. Uh. Where were we?

Oh right. So, Dorian's robes don't immediately strike Alistair as anything out of the ordinary since he's been traveling with a band of merry misfits, each of whom would happily dig Tevinter robes out of a shit-filled garbage pail and wear them if they provided enough stat boosts and what have you. It's Dorian's general everything else that catches Alistair's eye before the robes ever do. ]

But, er. Should I? Know who you are, I mean.

You're right, if I were a demon I would try to lie to you. [Obviously he's trying to imply you're not that attractive Alistair. Though he is rather handsome... pretty wouldn't be a word he'd use.]

Well... I suppose that depends? [ On a lot of things, now that he thinks of it. People come from all over, different worlds, different times. He supposes it could be possible even from his worlds past or future. He's done some time traveling himself after all.]

I'm used to most people at least being able to pick out what I am and where I hail from. [Way of speech, way of dress, it's not hard to pick out a mage from Tevinter, but at least he dresses better than his Venatori brothers. And to be fair, Dorian doesn't have a telltale staff at the moment. But looking over Alistair his armor and weapons at least... LOOK familiar, even if they look sort of shoddy. He doesn't have much of an accent so...]

For instance your quick assumption to the idea I could be a demon, your armor and weaponry tells me we are likely to hail from the same world. You are a warrior, perhaps a Templar? From Ferelden, no doubt. [Certain not from Orlais that's for sure, and where else WOULD a templar be from. To be fair though, the Grey Wardens are missing in action, there are rumors of course.]

I only just joined our Inquisition so, my name itself may not yet be ringing in many ears, even if I've heard enough rumors and hearsay about my arrival or my apparent ulterior motives.

[Sorry Alistair he likes to hear himself talk]

Edited 2019-01-02 00:46 (UTC)

[ That's a whole lot of information and Alistair isn't immediately sure what to do with all of it.

He knows he was called ugly for no discernible reason (rude!!!) and uh. That there's apparently an Inquisition going on, which makes absolutely no sense. Surely the Wardens would have heard of it, even if it's just A Tevinter Thing. The only Inquisition he knows of is the one he'd read about in Templar training — the very, very old one that had eventually split into the Seekers of Truth and the Templar Order. ]

Okay. First of all, I was voted prettiest in Ferelden, I'll have you know.

[ That's 1000% not true. Probably. ]

Second, I don't like making assumptions on where people are from but I take it you hail from the Land of Very Long Monologues?

[Dorian can see it in Alistair's face, the way his eyes sort of glaze over and the look of someone who's clearly tuned out. Not that that stops the mages from hearing himself talk and getting his whole flowery explanation out. But it seems he didn't lose the young man entirely as he finally comes back from his short circuit to speak.

To which Dorian just crosses his arms over his chest and looks skeptical.]

It's Ferelden, I'm not sure you should be proud of that achievement. [As in, they set the bar low for attractiveness.]

As long as you practice in good hygiene I'm certain that's plenty to put you into the upper ranks of the Attractive Lads of Ferelden. [Like it was some band of merry men or something.]

Yes, Tevinter, you've got it. [Look he can take shots at his countrymen too. They all like to grandstand and monologue, it's true. You learn the basics in school. He's pretty sure he had to do a presentation once where he stood in front of the class and talked about himself and was graded on it. But the Narrative digresses.]

And what are your thoughts on Mages from Tevinter. [Not good, he imagines. And it's not that he actually CARES about his opinion, but he's so used to getting peoples negative views of him and his people that he may as well nip that bit in the bud.]

You know us Fereldans. A good roll in the mud is all we really need to feel clean.

[ Alistair is pretty perplexed as to what he's done to merit such rudeness but he's generally pretty good at letting stuff like that roll off his back. It's certainly a useful trait for a king to have, but the narrative has yet to decide whether he's a king or not in this particular instance and will be back with a definitive answer next tag.

That said! His good-natured diplomacy only extends so far and he's about to delve into the sarcasm reserves possessed by every Bioware character. ]

Anyway I can't say I've had many dealings with Tevinter mages but if this is how they all speak to perfect strangers I can't imagine how they must treat their slaves.

[ There isn't really any hostility in his tone -- just a dry humor for a subject he doesn't actually find humorous at all. ]

[A soft sigh that has some note of amusement to it.]

Ah yes, there it is. [No doubt about it his assumptions about the man were accurate. Definitely from Ferelden and definitely from his world, but he's not entirely sure WHEN in their timeline he's from.]

We generally treat our slaves very well thank you, at least when compared to any of the Alienages or slums. Our slaves are allowed to have lives and make a profit from their services. I can't speak for all families, and I have never personally owned anyone, but our slaves were always treated kindly.

[He clears his throat.]

To be fair, ser, you first introduced yourself by accusing me of being possessed by a demon. If we were back home and if I were any other mage, that might've been grounds to get yourself killed.

Edited 2019-01-05 00:18 (UTC)

I did no such thing. I woke up in a strange place without knowing how I got here and I tried to determine whether or not demons are involved. Anyone would have done the same.

[ The last time he'd woken up in a strange place, demons had been involved and he'd been gulled right into thinking it was real. He doesn't actually believe that's the case here since he is so aware of how really real (and yet not right) this all feels but it never hurts to (jokingly) ask. Except apparently in this case it hurts a lot. Still, he hadn't thrown around any accusations of abominations because he didn't think possessed mages were any more involved in this than he thinks demons are.

Also, the narrative has finally reached a decision, and Alistair has too — he realizes he ought to reveal who he is. It's not very kingly to go on acting like your average village idiot when you're the actual royal idiot (or so he would say — he's not really as dumb as he likes to act), after all. ]

And yes, you're right. The state of Ferelden's alienages is inexcusable but that's something I hope to address as king. [ Pause. ] At least, I think that's what the crown was for — I suppose it may have just been my prize as prettiest.

By walking straight up to me, a mage and asking to prove I'm not one? Sounds like an accusation to me.

[At least, it would be, coming from just about anyone. He sighs, clearly this isn't getting them anywhere. He's about to say something else when the other mentions something about being King. That derails everything.]

...You're going to be King? Of What?? [And by the maker he hopes the man is not serious about not remembering what the crown is for. But wait a minute...]

I'm sorry, what is your name again? [And boy when he finds out... because Default World State = Alistair is King atm where he's from.]

Edited (omg sorry for all the edits) 2019-01-08 02:31 (UTC)

[ Alistair makes a terribly frustrated noise and prepares to explain that he wasn't accusing anyone of being an abomination but... then he stops. A long time ago Duncan had scolded him for sassing a different grumpy mage and he imagines that if Duncan were here now he'd be telling him that a king must be mindful of how he conducts himself at all times. Even in bizarre situations such as this.

So he doesn't say anything more about demons or abominations.

He doesn't mention he has actual Templar training and therefore does actually know a lot about these things.

He doesn't ask Dorian's name so he can name his second grumpiest child after him (first grumpiest is still reserved for that og mage grouch).

No. Instead he sighs and decides to let it go. ]

I'm Alistair, King of Ferelden.

[ A P P A R E N T L Y his reputation does not precede him but he's honestly not too bothered by that. ]

Also known as Alistair the Incredibly Pretty.

[ He ain't letting the ugly thing go though. Also, y'know. It's what the crown's for, after all. ]

Edited 2019-01-08 07:11 (UTC)

[There's a longish pause after the other properly introduces himself. One filled with disbelief as he takes a step back and looks the other over with new eyes and realizes fairly quickly that he KNOWS him. He didn't exactly recognize him at first, not dressed in armor that he would expect a commoner to wear, not a little less clean shaven and more battle worn. Last they met he was in some expensive looking attire, one more befitting a King of Ferelden. But now that he's looking, REALLY looking at the younger face, he sees it and he doesn't know how he DIDN'T see it. He doesn't age or change much in a decade or so, if this is indeed a younger version of the King. But he's kicking himself none the less.]

Oh, Maker take me. [Dorian mutters to himself after he's realized his mistake. He's not one to stand on ceremony but he would've responded a LOT differently if he'd have realized sooner... Well he wouldn't have outright called the King ugly to his face. Especially when it's not entirely true.

Even if he's not ever going to refer to you as Alistair the Incredibly Pretty, nice try. That's not what they call you in the future Alistair.

Honestly Dorian wouldn't mind if the ground just swallowed him up right here and he's glad the King isn't here with a handful of guards to kick him in the teeth for insulting the man. Though, leave it to him to sass the King of Ferelden.

He sighs, trying to think of how to recover his pride. He doesn't LIKE to have to apologize but he's made a tit of himself in front of a King, despite how new he might be new to the throne.]

Apologies, my lord. [And look, he's giving a small, half-bow. He knows how he should conduct himself with royalty.]

I... didn't recognize you from when we met briefly in Redcliffe. [And it was brief and at a fair distance, before Alistair and his wife kicked them all out leaving the Inquisition to take in the refugee mages off their hands. And besides his age, considering that moment, he wouldn't be surprised if the King didn't know him from any of the others. Only the Inquisitor or perhaps the Seeker Cassandra would've even caught his attention.]

Though I have an inkling you don't remember that as I think it probably hasn't happened yet. Which also means... depending on when you are from, you also do not realize how the Mages and Templars are quite hostile towards one another.

[Which is what he initially assumed of Alistair, thus the prickly attitude towards being assumed he MIGHT be an abomination that brought him here.]

Actually I've heard the Templars have been quite hostile towards the Inquisition in general. Though I did not witness it myself.

Edited 2019-01-08 13:41 (UTC)

[ Alistair doesn't bother pointing out that Mage/Templar relations have always been tense as, so far, any type of discussion has been akin to arguing with a brick wall. He does wrack his brain for any times he might have encountered this man in Redcliffe but he doesn't recall. It seems like news of a Tevinter mage's presence in the village would have gotten around pretty fast and even if not, he's positive he'd remember this guy if they'd ever met before.

Anyway, he focuses his attention on the Inquisition thing instead since that's the second time it's been brought up and, coincidentally, the second time it doesn't ring any bells apart from the bells associated with historical events. ]

You're using that word again. Inquisition. Last I'd heard it had ended a really long time ago.

[ And by "last he'd heard" he means "last he'd read in a dang history book."

So now Dorian must decide: is this fresh-faced baby an Alistair of the past? Or is he the original Alistair's great-great-great-great-grandson from the distant future? ]

Right, it's 9:41 Dragon where I'm from. Perhaps that might clear things up a bit?

[Because he's pretty sure this isn't just some descendant of Alistair from the future, the weaponry and armor looks a bit older compared to some of the styles he's used to.]

The Inquisition has been reborn in our age because an Ancient Darkspawn Magister seeks to make himself a new God, among other things.

If by "clear things up" you mean 'make this situation all the more inscrutable" then... yes. Thanks for that.

[ Alistair certainly hadn't even considered time travel along with whatever it was that had brought him here in the first place and this revelation only serves in complicating the situation even further rather than making it easier to comprehend. ]

Alright. Let's start over, shall we? Clearly you know more about this place than I so first things first: where are we? Deerington, yes, I know, but that name means nothing to me.

(no subject)

nottevintersoldier - 2019-01-13 21:37 (UTC) - Expand

[ Hunk is just as lost as the next person when it comes to this place, having been wandering around for a short while and finding all sorts of things that are interesting enough.

Yet none of those things have topped the sight of a person who looks like they walked out from a game of Monsters & Mana. The basket is recognisable enough and the question catches Hunk off guard enough that thinking of a simple thing suddenly becomes an event.]

Uh, I'm not a demon though? I mean a demon would probably say that but I'm actually not a demon. Wait, are you one?

[ Alistair sighs. ]

No. I don't think either of us are, unfortunately. It would be far easier if we were.

[ Stabbing your way out of demon-induced reverie? Easy-peasy.

Figuring out how, when, and why you're in a place like this without demonic influence? That's slightly more challenging.

He gives this guy a real, proper look for the first time and notes that he doesn't look particularly Fereldan. Or ... Thedosian, in general — not that the idea of there being worlds beyond Thedas even begins to occur to Alistair. He's curious, though. Maybe it's just another piece in this massive puzzle. ]

So... forgive me for saying so but that's an interesting outfit you're wearing. Orlesian? Tevinter, perhaps?

[ He knows it's neither of those things. ]

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