TEST DRIVE MEME

[eluviomods]

// TEST DRIVE_ Welcome to Eluvio's first Test Drive Meme! Whether you'd like to try out a character in the setting, get some samples for your application, or just mess around and have fun, this is the place to do it. If you're getting samples together, remember that you need at least four comments made by you in the thread for it to count. Test drive threads can be used as game canon if both parties agree and the thread fits with what's going on currently in the game. Pick any of the scenarios below or make up any of your own. This is space! There are infinite worlds and possibilities. If you'd like to thread out hijacking a ship, it might not be eligible for becoming game canon but it would still count as a sample. The most important thing is to have fun! ➣ SCENARIO 001. It's a normal day aboard the Eluvio. Maybe you're on your way to work. Maybe you're hanging out with friends. You can even be up to nefarious misdeeds. Whatever the case, you're having a relatively uneventful day. And then you see it. From a distance, it looks like a ball of fur. Up close, it looks like a ball of fur. If you touch it, it will chitter at you. It will vibrate and purr. Where this is coming from is anyone's guess because even if you turn it over, there's nothing to see but more fur. It's pretty harmless, though. Leave it there. Take it with you. The choice is yours. As you continue about your day, you'll begin to notice more of these little furballs. On the ground. Sitting on tables. Here and there at random intervals. By the end of the day, they're fucking everywhere. Good luck! If you get overwhelmed, maybe go talk to that bald starship captain who showed up last week. He might know something about the furry invaders. ➣ SCENARIO 002. Congratulations! You've been selected to be part of the team being sent down to the planet around which the fleet is currently orbiting. Initial scans of the surface show that oxygen is in abundance, temperatures support carbon-based life-forms, and there aren't any large quantities of poisonous gases that might pose problems. Your mission is to secure a landing site, set up a camp, and locate edible flora and fauna. Stores aboard ship are running a bit low on food and it's projected to be another three weeks before the fleet reaches a station large enough to replenish supplies. Once identified, larger parties will be sent to the surface to help hunt and gather. The good news is, scans show fruits, vegetables, and animals are plentiful. The bad news is that once your ship lands on the planet, everything goes sideways. An unexpected ion storm sweeps through the solar system, shorting out communications between the fleet and the team. It wreaks havoc with the electronics planet-side too, temporarily shorting out the smaller craft's navigational array. Until it passes, about six standard days, you're stuck down there. And the bountiful harvest isn't without its dangers. Even the most docile looking animal will attack. Sampling the fruits and vegetables will cause temporary paralysis, hallucinations, and psychosis. Inhaling pollen will bring out a person's baser instincts. The planet itself is predatory, you see. Everything on it has evolved to entice visitors from nearby systems and kill them. And the fleet's unwittingly taken the bait. ➣ SCENARIO 003. It's been a rough day. Everything's going wrong. Machines are breaking down everywhere. The owner of your favorite business wasn't there today and the store was closed when you stopped by to pick something up. A coworker didn't show up for work, leaving you with an interested workload. And now it feels like you're being watched. It started about ten minutes ago, but whenever you turn to look, there's no one there. The feeling doesn't go away, though. No matter where you are, it feels like eyes are watching. Did you hear something? A quiet, scuffling scratching sound just for a second? Maybe you did. Maybe you didn't. But it came from the misshapen monstrosity that just punched a hole through the bulkhead right beside you. The creature makes a low, wet gargling noises and darts toward you: six to seven feet tall, vaguely humanoid, and covered in strange growths over which is stretched bubbling grayish-brown skin. Maybe you notice tatters of familiar clothing hanging off of it. Or there's enough left of its eyes to recognize the shape and color. Or maybe something about the noises it's making sound familiar. It's your missing coworker and it looks like the unfortunate soul ran afoul of that weird slimy creature the science team brought back from that jungle planet a month ago. The good news: you can kill it. The bad news: it can kill you. It's fast, it's hungry, and it reproduces at an alarming rate. A single bite can transfer the parasites in its bloodstream to you. Then you'll be just like your buddy. And that shop owner you like so much. And all of the people on Level 12. And... ➣ SCENARIO 004. You're welcomed and encouraged to make up your own scenarios. As you can see, there will be a wide variety of the types of things your character will encounter in this game. So feel free to make your starters as horrific, sexy, lighthearted, action-packed, or slice of life as you'd like. Make up a planet, make up a location on the Eluvio, make up a ship in the fleet, fight off a zombie alien invasion, NPC Captain Picard, there's no limit to what you can do on the TDM.

PLEASE USE OUR NEW TDM HERE!

Comments

1

[sixth]

[ He shouldn't laugh. It isn't funny. Except it seems like no matter how many times he tells himself that it isn't funny the less convinced he gets. Because it is funny to see Maine covered in the little furry creatures.

But he tries. He tries so hard to keep it together. Until the rumbling warning seems to serve as a beacon to the things.

Unable to contain it any more, Wash laughs. It's quiet, at least, and relatively quick, but the grin stays on his face and reflects in his eyes. ]

Maybe you're speaking their language. [ Picking up one of the things, Wash turns it over, looking for a face or a butt or anything that suggests which is the front and which is the back. There's nothing. ] They're cute though. Sort of.

[ His fingers absently stroke along the furry... back? Belly? Side? ]

What do you think they are?

[rumbling]

[ No, it's not funny. At all!!! Their only saving grace is that they didn't try to eat his food—of which there's not even a crumb left. Then again, he's not entirely sure they even have mouths. Nothing's bitten him yet. Just a lot of purring and jittering. Annoying, but he's dealt with worse.

Wash laughing draws him out of his self-imposed thought exile—a plan to get out of this fur mountain with extreme prejudice—and his attention snaps in that direction. It's been a long time since he heard that sound and he's half convinced it's his mind playing a trick on him. But, it's not. Wash is there. Laughing at him.

Maine scowls just a bit, his expression darkening a slight degree. He makes an unhappy sound that likely equals shut up. Half a second later, he's hurling one of the things right at Wash's head.

Are they cute now???? ]

[sixth]

[ In all honesty, it's been a long time since Wash has laughed so freely. Without the weight of responsibility for the Reds and Blues or the disaster on Chorus looming over his head, he's been able to relax a little. And learning one of his oldest, best friends is both alive and saner than he was when last they met has taken years' worth of regret and grief away from him. He's hardly a new man, but he feels a little more like himself than he's felt since joining Freelancer.

He reads the sentiment of that noise loud and clear, though that doesn't prompt him to stop grinning. Instead, he smirks wider. A little teasing won't hurt anyone.

Except maybe the furball. Wash makes a noise, not quite a squawk, and drops his own creature to catch the one shooting for his head. The purring chitter doesn't abate, which he assumes means... He doesn't fucking know. ]

Hey! [ Mock severity that's terribly transparent. ] Don't throw your hairballs at me!

[ Gently, he tosses it back at him ]

[rumbling]

[ Admittedly, Maine feels a little saner. He's got more control over his faculties now, he's less angry now, he's less controlled now. But, he still has dreams, still holds the weight of everything that happened. He's not going to martyr himself or anything. War brings out the worst in people and it's not his fault he turned out the way he did. Can't hold on to this shit forever. Trying to live his life as Maine and not the Meta is all he's trying to do.

It's not easy. But shit never is.

Daily life is a strange struggle he's trying to live with. Cope with, really. These furball are providing something new and less mundane than alleged civilian life. So, he can't hate them completely.

Doesn't stop him from batting that flying one out of the way, though. It connects with his hand and arcs several tables away, bounces a few times before rolling to a stop on the floor eventually.

Moments later it rolls right back to the chittering mass around Maine. He grumbles a sound that roughly translates to what the fuck. This is ridiculous. He pushes up from his seat and they drop off of him, still making noise and vibrating. Another series of noises comes from Maine: Don't know. To what they are. Trouble.

Probably not.

Except they are tumbling along after Maine. Maybe he should stop vocalizing.  ]

[sixth]

[ Shaking his head, Wash pushes up from the table, carefully sidestepping the outliers of Maine's furry fanclub. The little things seem harmless, so he doesn't quite believe that they're going to be trouble, but he can see how a species that multiplies so quickly might pose a problem to an enclosed environment.

Still, at the moment, they're providing Maine with—in Wash's opinion—some well-needed levity. ]

They like you! [ It takes some maneuvering to get around the things to reach Maine's side without stepping on any of them, but Wash manages. Outside the armor, he's even more agile. ] That's not a bad thing. Some people just attract animals.

[ He glances dubiously down at the creatures. Are they animals? Maybe they're not. It's a sobering thought. Wash glances sideways at Maine, not wanting to take his eyes off the mass of fur for too long. ]

Unless they're a legitimate race. Maybe they think you can understand them.

[rumbling]

[ This is not the kind of fanclub he wanted. Or needs. It's hard to walk with the lump sum of them roiling around by his feet. So, he just starts stepping on them if they get in the way. Maybe he should care, but they're not leaving him alone, so.

So.

He grunts in response, not a clear answer one way or the other. Anything that travels in this large of a pack is an infestation. It's trouble.

In all his life he's never attracted animals. Then again he's never really been around them. Never been endearing to aliens before, either. Whatever. He just gives Wash a sour look before walking off, leaving the food court. Once out in the open he sees more of the fuzzy balls bopping around like they own the joint. A trail of them still follows behind, chittering happily. Maine gives a gesture toward a row of them sitting on a bannister, a look of pure I TOLD YOU SO, DUDE on his face.

Trouble.     ]

[sixth]

[ Wash is tempted to protest the willful treading upon of alien life, but he knows how to pick his battles—for the most part—and this isn't one that's worth the bother. Besides, the things have got to have some self-preservation, right?

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Wash follows along, bemused and mostly unconcerned about the fluffballs. Until they get out of the food court and he sees how many of them are out here too. ]

Uhhh...

[ Wash looks around a bit helplessly, feeling a little like someone's playing a joke on them. He rakes his fingers through his hair, wishing he could rub his head into producing an explanation for all this. ]

Space rats? [ He looks toward Maine with eyebrows raised, at a loss and not hiding it. ] I don't know, man. I've got nothing.

[rumbling]

[ Look. If they're not going to move and get underfoot, there's nothing that Maine can do. He's not going to suddenly become a gymnast just to not tread all over these things. Besides. It's not like he's murdering them in cold feet. They don't seem to be dying and after shaking themselves off, they shake-rattle-roll their way back into the nearest bunch.

He watches Wash's reaction, brows slightly raised as if he's going to supply an answer to this stupid quandary. He's not. Of course he's not. Wash is smart, but this is well above and beyond both of their paygrades.

A huff of a breath leaves him then, possible it's close to something resembling a laugh ( probably??? ) but it's also mostly just a audible ??? kind of thing. Maine stands there silently contemplative—as in glaring at those things that are seemingly populating the ship more than the people are—and wondering if they should take the situation into their own hands or not. The corners of his mouth twitch down before he makes another grumbly-growling sort of noise.

Think we should kill 'em?

Just as his noise abates, he feels something fall and land squarely on his head. He doesn't need to reach up to know he's suddenly wearing one of these pieces of shit as a very terrible toupée. Now he's just furious and wondering if squeezing them hard enough will kill them. ]

[sixth]

[ Maybe they should kill them. If the furball population grows too large too fast, they could be in for some serious trouble. At the same time, it's really hard to look at the things, so harmless and fuzzy, and imagine killing them. Maybe it's that the purr reminds him too much of a cat. Maybe it's because they seem a little like the furball version of Caboose. Whatever it is, Wash has a hard time drumming up the enthusiasm to go on a murder spree.

And killing things isn't something he usually has a problem doing.

Reaching up, he relieves Maine of his stupid looking furry toupee. The thing chitters and purrs and buzzes a little. Absently, he starts to pet it. ]

Maybe we ought to ask the crew? They might know what they are. If they're a threat, I don't know. I'd expect alarms or something. [ He gestures toward the noticeable lack of panic infesting the ship. ] Nobody else seems to care.