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tramitem_meme2020-01-23 08:34 pm
tramitem) wrote in tramitem_meme2020-01-23 08:34 pm
Entry tags:
Test Drive Meme #1
✦ TEST DRIVE MEME ✦ |
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... And when my good dream came to an end, I woke up more than ready to bend ... Game Navigation |
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A few rules for the TDM: 2. Comment with your thread start, with your character name and fandom in the subject line. 3. Tag into other's threads. 4. Have fun! 5. And what happens on the TDM stays on the TDM (it's not taken in game). **If you have questions, ask the MODS This may not be the first time it has happened. You really wouldn’t have any way of knowing, would you? You’ve just been living your life as a citizen of the city you live in New York, the city, they say, that never sleeps. It’s a place you always wanted to live in, hearing about it as a child, and it sounded exciting to you. Or maybe it was the place you wanted to get to in order to become something more, something interesting, something that would bring you up in the world. You wanted to be there more than anything. But anyway, right now it sure seems like the first time it’s ever happened. You experienced a sudden flash, a rending of unreality from reality, the way a person would rend a piece of cloth in two, but this is the world, and you don’t know what to think at first. Because this isn’t your life. Except it totally is. You know it is, like you’ve never known anything. This is your memory and when you come out of it you know that was your life you were witnessing. This is known as the Event, and it will change everything for you. Those around you notice one thing about you during the time you’re experiencing this memory—you’re frozen, as if you’re frozen in time. And it’s catching. Life before the Event and after are a study in contrast. Before, you thought you knew who you were and what you were doing here. Now, all of that is in turmoil. Especially after your encounter with the man from the Bureau. Now, you don’t really know whether to trust the man from the organization that came to talk to you. Something about him seemed...off. Something that was enough to, perhaps, even make you feel suspicious. But now you know...you are one of the Different. You feel like it, too. Members of the Different, the man from the Bureau told you, have their own special Network to communicate on. Will you post to it? Will you relate your memories to the others among the Different—or will you come up with something completely different to say? There’s a generic spread of food on a table off to one side of the room: donuts and muffins, coffee and lemonade. Maybe you’re hungry enough to try it—it’s free after all. Or maybe you can’t stomach anything, given the event you’re attending. The space is a local rec center, reserved for the evening. The beige-painted cinder block walls and the fluorescent lighting are a terrible combination. The meeting was interesting—who knew there were so many people like you, receiving memories of a past life? The group was led by someone from The Bureau—the Department of Medical Services. Some people are staying in their chairs and chatting—they must know each other from previous meetings. Some of them are gravitating towards the food. How do you feel about tonight? Has it helped you come to terms with the dream of memories you’re having? Maybe it’s time to talk to others, get an understanding of their experience. New York City has grown increasingly more safe over the last decade or two—statistics bear that out, as well as the experiences of the people who live here. But something seems to have suddenly broken in the hearts and minds of your fellow-citizens here in the last day, ever since the sun has come up. People are being incredibly opportunistic about carrying out their wildest dreams, or at least, as long as their wildest dreams include attacking people around them to try rob them or to kill them. The longer the day goes on, the more and more people seem unable to resist giving into their bases desires. Bank robberies are happening right and left. The strangest part of it all, though, is that anyone who is defied by their victim seems to snap out of some reverie they couldn’t control. That’s right, this whole crime wave seems to be some kind of brain sickness. Maybe this means the people around you need to be cured by having someone fight back. Or maybe it means you catch the sickness yourself, before you know it. ...Maybe it’s time to hide and ride the whole crime wave out somewhere where you won’t become collateral damage. (Third person log or First person Network response are both encouraged.) One week ago you were living an average life. You were trying to make New York City work for you, a place to call home. Were you in a rough patch? Were things just starting to pick up? Or was life swimming along as you expected? Today, you are running down the street with a lumbering hoard of the Undead ambling after you. They have caught the scent of your living brain and it is a tasty snack to them. You have a weapon in hand - a pipe? a crowbar? a bat? but there are too many behind you to take them all out before they get you. You’re only option is to run, find help. (Power mode – along with your memories you’ve started getting back powers, what if you tried them out against the zombies?) When you were told that different universes bleed over into this one, did you believe it? Do you believe it now? What are you doing around NYC? | |
... What dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause ... |
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Eleven- Dragon Quest XI
What am I going to tell my mom?
[Support Group]
For all the unease eating away at his gut, the point of being there was something like bonding over shared experiences, if he understood it right. So he should probably at least try to talk to someone.
"Hi, I'm Eleven." He was always great at making friends in school, so this couldn't be too much harder, right? "Do you really think it's true? Memories of past lives and other worlds."
[Zombies]
[Eleven runs, the growls and rancid breaths of the undead hot on his heels. He's managed to surprise even himself with the effectiveness of the metal poker against one of them, but there's just too many now.
He can't seem to lose them. It's as if there's something about their senses that goes far beyond just visual because he's taken every sharp turn possible in an effort to shake them. ..Or maybe he has lost some of them and just can't tell the difference between the others that might have picked up his trail in the dark.
Eleven emerges from an alley and onto the street, head whipping about for somewhere to go, then sprints in the direction headed by the most light. A pale comfort, but it's better than nothing.
..Or it would be, if not for the other people he's accidentally just led a group of zombies to]
H-hey! Run! They're right behind me- go!
[A smattering of bewildered looks. A few heed his warning and hurry off, but the rest.. It's too late for them. He turns back toward his pursuers and clutches his weapon in both hands.]
..Sorry, Mom.
Network
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How do I tell her I might have been from another world?
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There is also the fact that it seems as if you are not alone in this phenomenon.
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She's going to be so worried.
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I'm certain she just wants you to be safe. I know I would want that for my own child.
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...She absently moves to curl a lock of hair around a finger, and finds she's getting her hair wet with what is probably instant lemonade, her expression souring. "Ew."
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Eleven distracts himself with a brief pat-down of his clothes, then turns and swipes a napkin from a table to offer her.
"Do you think you'll be all right?"
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"But anyway..." She pauses again, a little of the cheer draining out as she looks into her lemonade again. Will she? "Yeah, I'll be fine, probably. Maybe mine's not like everyone else's, but it's not. Dangerous, or anything? Just weird. I'm a little more worried about what it means for being myself, but I don't think I'm gonna dwell on that right now."
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"Do you think it could be something like.. well, rebirth?" he grimaces because it sounds stupid now as he's saying it aloud. "Or.. reincarnation?"
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No, it wouldn't, a small portion of her mind rebels, but she shoves it aside for now. Maybe this leads somewhere interesting?