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Deer Country Mod ([personal profile] reddosmod) wrote in [community profile] countryclub2022-10-25 08:52 pm
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October Test Drive Meme!

OCTOBER 2022 TDM
Another month, another test drive meme! Our test drive memes are open to anyone interested - regardless of whether or not you join our game!

All Test Drive Memes are game canon. Players can choose to keep their TDM threads canon or not. TDM threads can be used for AC and can be used as your writing sample for your application.

Our TDMs serve as a way to build into the actual lore and worldbuilding of Deer Country and we strongly encourage everyone to enjoy and participate! Current players are always welcome to pull prompts from the TDM to reference on the Network or bring into logs as well as tag out to new characters top-leveling on the TDM itself.

Characters will always be able to actively die during TDMs as this is an extremely dangerous world. You can still have this be game canon! Check out how character death in Deer Country works here.

If you have any questions about the TDM, please ask down below!

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE

Prompt One
[Image One: A snowy, rocky beach in winter. ]
[Image Two: Bowls of mushroom soup and bread. ]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Dali painting of the moon as a city]
[Image Two: Twisted, warped cityscape]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Monster choking a sleeping person to death]
[Image Two: Death hovering over a sleeping person]

BONUS PROMPT
[Image One: Liminal Space image of a nondescript room with strange ledges]
[Image Two: Cenobite woman with borg-like attachments to her face]

STANDARD ARRIVAL
WHEN: First Week of NOvember
WHERE: The Farther Shores/The Boardwalk, Koz's Orphanage
CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A


You're one of the lucky ones. Your journey is smooth sailing and you wind up exactly where you're supposed to: on the Farther Shores. You grow out of your squid body without a hitch, either with the help of another Sleeper or one of the Wakers, and you get to discover this new world. All new Sleepers might take some time to find their bearings. It might be tricky to remember how to use your body parts the way you're supposed to. You might stumble around the beach or forget how to talk - but don't worry! It'll come back to you sooner or later.

Hopefully, you've found something to wear, either in your Welcoming Bag or otherwise, and can start familiarizing yourself with your surroundings. Maybe you help some other squids out on the beach. Waking up sucks! You feel for the little guys. And hey, maybe you're hoping one of those squids is a good friend...Stranger things have happened.

SEASONAL DETAILS ON THE BOARDWALK

This is not the greatest month to wash up on the Farther Shores. It's November and you'll pretty much immediately hate it! The waters are frigid but not quite frozen yet, but that won't make your arrival any less uncomfortable. Thankfully the Boardwalk seems well-stocked with heavy blankets and furs to give to newly awakened Sleepers. Barrels of hot chocolate and hot alcoholic cider are readily available to warm people up. There are several stalls selling hearty soups willed with mushrooms, potatoes, beans, and other filling components.

Fresh baked bread and pastries are sold on wax paper. Enjoy a steaming cinnamon roll or croissant or just your standard bread and butter. Many bakers have set up temporary stoves and seem to invite teaching Sleepers how to cook and prepare bread and pastries. Maybe knead some dough, learn some tricks of the trade. If you help out ab baker, they might even thank you with a sack of flour or other ingredients for bread!

Like last year, as the Moon shifts to Bone, whispers and hushed talk begins anew among the Trenchies about The Tower. There are whispers that something feels wrong. "You know Trench is his body, right?" one might say. "But look at what's been happening. Is everything alright?" There is nervousness, agitation. Trenchies can't seem to put a finger on it. One of the old fishermen mutters under his or her breath if overheard in this time. "Long time since we tried to leave the Tower's shield. Hope didn't bring anything back from out there. World's a strange place."

None of them seem to have anything specific to add. They just seem nervous for some reason.

IMAGE OF THE SELF
WHEN: Halloween through all November
WHERE: All of Trench
CONTENT WARNINGS: Distorted Reality, horrifying cityscape images, mounting paranoia, displacement


"They say that Trench is the body of the Tower." It is a saying so often repeated during the Bone Moon season that it becomes more of a mantra. Whether or not it is actually true remains a hotly contested debate between Arcane Scholars and Disciples, one of the few times that neither side fully agrees even with themselves. Yet, if it is true, what happens if the person whose body serves as a city begins to have an identity crisis of sorts? That certainly seems to be the case this month.

At random times, it just happens. You're walking from one place to another with your friend. You just stepped out of a lantern network teleportation circle. You open a door. Suddenly, everything is just wrong. It feels like you are in a surrealist's nightmare. Walls appear to be bleeding concrete in all directions. Stairwells twist impossibly, as if M. C. Escher himself were the architect. The pathway to where you intended to go warps and transforms itself into a perilous, twisted monstrosity that you have to navigate. Worse? The way you got here is just gone behind you, leaving you only the path forward.

Navigating this isn't impossible, but you will definitely need help. It might be that one has to stand on another's shoulders to get over an obstacle and then help them up. Maybe someone very small has to crawl into an opening to reach the door handle so the way through can be found. It varies, and the effect lasts only as long as it takes to get where you're going, but while you're here the reality continues to shift and some of these twistings could easily crush you! Don't tarry too long!

NOTE: The physical danger here is from environmental hazards. Feel free to choose any you like, but they will all return to normal when your character reaches their intended destination. Trenchies know nothing about this, though if one asks one of the former wastes, they will ward themselves as if against evil. They know something, but they dare not speak and will whisper hurriedly that the sleeper had best not talk too openly about this. "Best not to draw attention right now."

A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP
WHEN: Last Week of October through the first week of November
WHERE: At Home, in your bed
CONTENT WARNINGS: Severe Insomnia, Sleep Deprivation, Deprivation induced hallucinations and mood swings


Something is clawing at your mind from the moment that the first signs of the cold coming. You can't put your finger on it, but even as you see the people of Trench preparing for the next month's arrival of sleepers, you can see they feel it too. Something claws at the mind and for a few people in Trench, this becomes a very literal problem. The thoughts are so overwhelming that you can't manage to find a good night's sleep. This problem is especially prominent for new Sleepers, who seem prone to arriving with terrible bouts of unexplainable insomnia.

That sounds simple enough to deal with, right? Perhaps some sort of sleep aid, or working oneself to exhaustion, and you can power through it, right? No. Nothing seems to work at first. Searches for a monster are futile. Warding and incense seem utterly ineffective, and no matter how hard you try, night after night you cannot sleep. You are terrified of falling asleep. If you fall asleep, you may never wake up! Even characters who do not fear a mortal death feel themselves compelled by this, and the longer that they do not sleep the more corruption risks them at its door. A night or two missed is one thing, but eventually irascibility sets in. Hallucinations may eventually start to crop up. The body needs REM sleep. It needs dreams, yet the horror that threatens the person will not allow them to sleep, for fear that it will come for them while they sleep. What 'it' is, they do not know.

There is only one solution. For those who already spend time with others? This is a simple thing, but they must still agree to do it. You can solve this curse only if you do not sleep alone. Another must stay awake for the vigil through the whole night. Simple enough given their insomnia, but they will be assailed by their own horrific lack of slumber. Only, after you have had a good night's sleep, be sure to care for the other who was so kind to you. Why? Because anyone so unkind as to not help their erstwhile companion sleep after they have finally gotten rest will find out that those fears were not unfounded and the next time they sleep, they really do not wake up!

Death, in this rare case, comes in the form of a heart attack. Its source is unknown, and all that the sleeper will remember is the worst nightmare of their life as they lay in bed, dying in soundless screams. So, be sure to take care of each other, sleepers!

THE VEINS OF THE TOWER
WHEN: November 1st (And only November 1st)
WHERE: Beginning anywhere, ending in A Nightmarish Place
CONTENT WARNINGS: Liminal Space, Disorientation, Hints of horrible monsters, Possible Death, Insane Zealotry, Mutilated Bodies


Rumors have lingered since the first encounters two months ago of a 'space between spaces' that people could accidentally fall into that this occurrence has not been entirely limited to the month it first happened in. Every once in a while, on unusual days, it has happened since that time. There appears to be little rhyme or reason to it, but it has happened again. Maybe you took an accidental step backwards. Or maybe you were crazy enough to have identified some spot you disappeared before and you were actually experimenting with the effect every day to see when it happened. You know, to chronicle the dates it happen, to keep a record, to understand it better, all of those sorts of things that cause some sleepers to poke things that are Better Left Alone because that's what some sleepers do with their free time, and then they touch the spot with something and suddenly they and everything around them are sucked in. How you got there is not important. You're here now, wherever here is.

Only this time its different. You're not in the spot you were last time, and in the distance you can hear shuffling of feet. Dread enters your heart, as you know that you do not have the means to fight whatever it is. You have an overwhelming urge to run, to flee at top speed. You and whoever is "lucky" enough to be with you must run as fast as you can, around corners, a roaring, inhuman scream echoing through the hallways, slamming into walls. You can't quite see it, not unless you want a swift, awful death at least. But around a corner there is salvation, an elevator shaft and the door is open. Frantic scrambling, running and jabbing buttons will cause the doors to close, just as something black like a giant hand grabs the far wall. You hear the rush, the scream. The elevator shudders three times as something pounds on it, but you're safe. Or, are you?

Instead of the usual moldy hallways, you see what looks like a hospital hallway. Anyone who lived through the nightmare may have awful flashbacks, but nothing is chasing you this time. The impossibly stretching hallway seems ceaselessly unchanging, each door locked, at least until you happen to notice a grate on one of the overhead air conditioners open wide. If you are curious enough to crawl up and into it, you're treated to a long scramble through the passageway, right up until you hear voices, menacing ones in the distance. Crawl quietly!

A grate emanating ugly, light is up ahead. As you and your companion work your way over, you're hopefully not heard. Through the grate, you see something awful. Two mutilated and disfigured figures speak while a third, calm and ordered looking woman listens. She seems to have mutilated her throat such that she should not be able to speak, and the other two appear have performed torturous experiments on their own flesh, their twisted visages that of the 'Zealots' that the Sleepers sometimes whisper about in fear. "It is almost time for the harvest. We made the quotas last cycle but only barely. The need is greater. Sacrifices must be made," one hisses. The other nods vigorously. "Yes. The situation is decaying. We have to move to stop this before it gets out of hand."

Before they can say more, however, the third woman looks up, directly at the grate. She smiles once, and a voice echoes from her throat as what appears to be a mouth inside of it moves, her own lips unmoving. "Continue this discussion later. It seems the problem has worsened. We will need to step up security in the meantime." She reaches out a hand and wrenches. The air shimmers around them and suddenly the duct you are traveling in collapses and breaks beneath you. Instead of falling into the farm, however, you find yourself falling through darkness for what seems an eternity, until you collapse hard to the pavement, in front of the entrance to the Gate, your breath coming back to you slowly, shakily.

NOTES: Death is possible should a sleeper assault the first creature. It is a being of impossible angles and blackness, is itself unkillable and will rend its victims to oblivion through brute force. Fighting the Zealots is not possible through this prompt. The grate cannot be opened in time to exit into the Sleeper Farm and engage them. However, the astute will be certain that there was for a moment an actual entry through and into the Sleeper Farm, somehow. Those familiar with these locations will recognize them as being Floor 1, the Stalls

CODING
fanfavors: (nhs07)

[personal profile] fanfavors 2022-11-08 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
Let the record show that Nie Huaisang, hottest person in the grocery store a man with a general awareness of good-looking men and how they occasionally look at him, is not... oblivious, here, to Fitz looking at him like it's the first time he's seen hair. Like the moment of gentle crying, it's not as if he's going to start elbow-jabbing and eyebrow-wiggling about it because he isn't sixteen anymore, but - well. It's nice to be appreciated, or something like that.

He works his fingers the rest of the way through his last braid and gathers the lot of his hair over his shoulder, and look, he's not not aware of how this is a Thing, but he was going to do this anyway, in his defense. He just has to finger-comb the whole of it into a coherent mass and not just a bunch of separate un-plaits, see. Look at the ceiling again, if needs must.

"Not the exact same," he says, wrinkling his nose. They won't serve old bread, will they? What do they do in bread-and-cheese inns? Ah, and then without thinking he's leaning towards Fitz that much more, to peer past him and over at Nighteyes on the other bed, and if his hand lands on top of Fitz's folded ones for balance, that just is what it is. Nighteyes needs to know this important thing, which is, "I know how to catch birds! And rabbits! Ah- not as quickly as Night-gege, I'm sure."

This still isn't sleeping, and just the chance to share his talent at small animal catching has given him a kick of energy that will undoubtedly fade in minutes, but!! Nighteyes, please be proud of him for this. The idea of going for a nice breakfast in the morning will get him through any strange surprises the night has left yet to spring on them; maybe he can learn what brunch is and beg Fitz to sit down for a whole one.

Speaking of Fitz, Huaisang looks- down at him now, before settling back onto his side. Is this the arguing about first watch he'd asked for a heads up about, before? Hm! "If I say no, are you going to do it anyway?" They've just met, but he's been getting that vibe.
listenyouidiot: (squint)

[personal profile] listenyouidiot 2022-11-08 05:01 am (UTC)(link)
Needs do indeed must. Fitz looks back up at the ceiling.

Or at least he is attempting to look back up at the ceiling. And then suddenly what he is looking at instead is a curtain of black hair as it falls across his face (and it smells really nice, actually), because Huaisang is leaning across his chest to excitedly share his hunting prowess with Nighteyes. There is a steadying hand resting on top of his folded ones now, and Fitz makes sure not to move about too much lest he accidentally dislodge and knock Huaisang over from his perch. (His cheeks do feel a bit warm. Is it warm in here?)

Nighteyes' ears perk upward with immediate interest, because message received, he can sense when a hunt is imminent. Tomorrow, Hummingbird, we will hunt all the game we can catch. His tail gives a lazy sweep across the mess of bedding he's claimed for himself, and it seems his understanding that he has been called night brother pleases him tremendously, if the sudden warmth that suffuses their connection is any indication.

It pleases Fitz, too, because that warmth and knowledge washes into his own heart and reminds him, keenly, of how rare it has been for both of them to share such camaraderie with others. It has only ever been the two of them in their thoughts, with the sterling exception of the Fool whose mind Nighteyes had been able to touch and understand only once. This feels--not exactly like that, of course, because Huaisang is not the Fool, however much Fitz aches over his friend's absence and draws comfort from the unexpected similarities between them. But it is a relief, somehow, to know that he and Nighteyes are not so old and set in their ways that they can't forge new connections with new friends.

yes, these are definitely only feelings of friendship that Fitz is experiencing, nothing else is happening here.

He very nearly said 'what' again when Huaisang directs that cross look at him, because he's obviously asked a question again, and so Fitz walks his mind back to find it. Ah. Well, that one is easy enough to answer.

"Probably," he replies and cracks a lopsided little smile.
fanfavors: (RgNkJ5N)

[personal profile] fanfavors 2022-11-09 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
That settles that for the morning's events, then; a hunt, wow, if only everyone Huaisang knows could see him right at this moment— contemplating the hunt and nothing else that any of them might make interesting new faces over. The hunt and then breakfast somewhere they serve more than bread and cheese, and it's something to look forward to, here in the dwindling minutes before sleep finally comes calling. The warmth from Nighteyes is as novel a sensation as the rest of them, and it relieves Huaisang somewhat to simply - know. To just know another's feelings, without having to ask or to guess - how luxuriously Fitz and Nighteyes have it.

So: he is content, and arranges his hair one last time to stay out of his face when he finally puts head to pillow. Fitz's crooked smile settles warmly in his chest, soft like the chuckle it ekes out of him in turn. Wow, points for honesty? But come now, sir.

Huaisang drums his fingers on the mattress for a moment too brief to really pass as "thinking it over," before he reaches for Fitz's hands again and nudges them apart, wiggling his own in between. He gives one hand a short squeeze, like a decisive little punctuation mark; this is how it's going, now. It's a stay-with-me-please-thank-you grip if ever there were any, more tentatively affectionate than afraid of the peripheral monsters.

"As long as you leave the lights and the locks alone," he says, and adds as he pointedly shuts his eyes, an eyebrow quirked anyway, "I'll know."
listenyouidiot: (windswept!!)

[personal profile] listenyouidiot 2022-11-09 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
Fitz's hands are warm, and callused both from the axe he carries and from years spent maintaining his rural homestead. There are ink stains on his fingertips that have, apparently, followed him from the Six Duchies through the Pthumerian Ocean and into Trench, because long before he was the Fool's catalyst, before he was Chade Fallstar's apprentice and King Shrewd's assassin, before he understood what it meant to be Chivalry's bastard son, he was also a little boy with a gift for letters and a steady hand. Master Fedwren has so nurtured that gift in him that, even now, separating himself from ink and the desire to commit his thoughts to parchment is evidently as counter to his own nature as separating himself from his Wit magic, from the Skill, and from Nighteyes.

He wants to write down many things, about this night, this city, and the person who is resting next to him. Later, once the danger has passed, and they have slept.

"I know you'll know." A quiet huff of a chuckle, and it's the most natural thing in the world to squeeze Huaisang's hand and leave their fingers loosely interlocked. He looks down at him briefly, then turns his eyes back to the doors, the windows and settles in for his watch. "I'm not going anywhere."