January 2024 Test Drive Meme: Our First!

[sweetmod]

Welcome to the Simulation: Our First Test Drive

Taken | Reserves | Application | Activity | TDM Questions | Premise | FAQ | Calendar Full Navigation Reserves open 01/27/2024 @ 12:00 AM EST Reserves close 01/31/2024 @ 11:59 PM EST Welcome to our Test Drive Meme! Our Test Drive Memes are considered game canon and are open to current players and prospective new players alike! It is completely optional to keep your TDM threads as canon to your character's experience in the game, so feel free to play around and enjoy the flexibility before applying! All TDM threads can be used for samples for your application and activity proofs. All TDMs come with an additional greeting message from Daisy in addition to her typical Welcome Message. This is her message for newbies for this month: "Hi there, Sweet Subjects! Congratulations on being the Very First Batch! That also means you're the first friends I've made for this whole project! Isn't that exciting? Unfortunately, I have to already apologize to you. You see, I wasn't expecting you quite so soon! My math was a little off and well...There are a few kinks in the system I'm working out. But don't worry! I'll take care of everything. You can trust me. After all, we are friends, and it would be very rude to not trust your friends! Why don't you just stay inside this little house while I fix things up? You'll be safe! P̴̥̾̉r̸̢̋́̓̀̏ó̵̧͖̈́̏̋͊̅̋̕͘b̵̛̺̞̦̳̙͒͘͜ä̸͓̗̯̺̰́̿̆͘͠b̶̭͔̯̆̒̐l̵̨̬̬̱̱̙͔̻̊̾́͠͝y̶̰̺̲̝͙͈̝͙̟̖͑̆̾̀̀͒͝!̶̱͚͙͉̠̓̒́̌̽̌̚͝ Remember: Don't open the door to strangers. Anyway! In the meantime, get to know your fellow Sweet Subjects! After all, you're going to be spending a lot of time together! Thank you for understanding! Good luck! Prompt One | Prompt Two

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Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Optional light alcohol, isolation, bad weather via thunderstorms, feeling of being watched and taunted, false information, mental manipulation, memory manipulation, memories or depictions of murder and torture 🌼 Characters wake up in an unfamiliar house during a thunderstorm. They hear Daisy's broadcast on the TV. There is a persistent knocking at the door, but you know you shouldn't open it. 🌼 Another character (or more) is in the house with you. Pictures of you both begin to take up the walls. Of memories you either really experienced or false memories. They increasingly become more violent. 🌼 A radio broadcast warns Sweet Acres residents about an escaped criminal. Paranoia grows between characters. Violence out of deluded "self-defense" may occur. 🌼 The true escape from this prompt is to just open the door. Outside, all is well and you realize the house was one giant mind fuck...Or hopefully, you realize. Your memories might be a little scrambled now. There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. It has been a long, long, long day, hasn't it? You don't even remember sitting on the couch and you certainly don't remember dozing off. But that strange broadcast certainly woke you up and now...You are here. In an unfamiliar house with outdated wallpaper and dirty carpet. The weather outside seems frightful. Torrential downpours with clashing thunder and flashes of lightning chase even the most persistent shadows in the house. Was the lady on the TV serious? Did you just have to wait in this lousy place for the storm to blow over? Or, wait, how did she word it? Wait while things finish configuration. Damn, your head is hurting and you could use a drink. Hopefully, the tacky yellow kitchen has a stocked fridge. Luckily for you, it's filled with fresh food and some fresh booze. There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. Unluckily for you, there is another person in this house with you. They might have woken up on the same couch as you or are bumping around upstairs. Either way, the freak in the polka-dot dress wasn't wrong: You're not alone here. When you and whoever else in this house finally join up, you will notice that the house seems to become a bit more lively. The pictures on the wall change to feature you or your companion. Some of the pictures are genuine from back in your homeworld, but others...Not so much. Others look like false memories of you with families you don't even remember or at a school you never attended, but they are all so real you can't help but think maybe Daisy is telling the truth after all. There is a heavier knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. There is a radio in the house that suddenly begins to declare an emergency announcement: "At this time, we urge all residents of Sweet Acres to seek shelter immediately. The wind is picking up and we anticipate this storm to last the rest of the night - Oh? This just in: a convict has managed to break into Sweet Acres. We are told that they were last seen in...Oh, oh my...Whatever you do, make sure your doors and windows are locked. And remember: don't answer the door. And remember: don't trust strangers." A heavy booming knock lands three times at the front door. Let. Me. In. The pictures around the house begin to change. Now it shows you and whoever you're sharing the house with doing some...terrible things. Maybe some of it is true. Some of it may be completely false. Will it matter when the pictures seem so terrifyingly real? What happens when the TV glitches on and starts to play sketchy home videos of one of you doing something terrible? What happens when the radio starts to play terrifying audio of you confessing to an atrocious crime? What happens when the person you're stuck in the house with might just be the stranger the radio warned you about? Or will you have the sense to realize that something is very wrong here and that you're both being played a fool? The knocking at the door is only getting louder. So loud it cracks the door. The storm worsens. What should you do? The madness will only worsen the longer you stay. You may even be driven to defend yourself from each other, you may come to develop false memories of crimes you didn't commit. You may just... Decide to open that damn door already. It turns out, that's what you needed to do the entire time. Because the moment you do? You open the door and see a beautiful, sunny day outside. No rain. Not a single gray cloud. Certainly no horrifying stranger either. But now you're left with whatever you did or thought from the house. For some people, the terror may slip away as easily as the rain, but for some of you, you might be stuck with paranoia and suspicion. Welcome to Sweet Acres. back to top ⤴

[ The Bot Problem ]

Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Forced sexuality, optional sex, aphrodisiac style computer virus, dubious consent, hunted by machines, use of bombs, guns, and shrapnel. Possible character death or maiming 🌼 Sex Bots are spreading a virus to those that touch them that will cause player characters to go around flirting with others. They can either get rid of the "virus" by having sex or meeting someone who can hack it out of their system by asking grounding questions (or any other creative means a player may have). 🌼 Characters are hunted down by violent little metal boxes known as metal dogs. The metal dogs are extremely resilient but can be destroyed by extreme measures. These metal dogs are intent on killing and maiming characters and plants. You will notice that there are still some errors in the system as you go out and about exploring your new town. There will be an occasional glitch that opens up a screaming void of bottomless darkness before it blinks out of existence. Those are unsettling enough, but at least they don't seem harmless. The bots, on the other hand, are a different story. They glitch into the town, cracking through this carefully structured reality like breaking through a window. It seems like Daisy has a lot of work to do on the external firewalls of Sweet Acres! In the meantime, you're going to have to deal with her incompetence. The Sex Bots A lot of the bots can easily be mistaken for other residents in town. These are model-gorgeous women and men who almost seemed like caricatures of stereotypical beauty conventions. Big lips, huge hips, large muscles, chiseled jaws, perfect hair, pearly white teeth. These beauties flounce about and no matter who or what you are, if they look your way, they are immediately approaching you. "Hey, sexy. I'm single, horny, and lonely. I just turned 18 and I've got my daddy's credit card." "I've never seen a person more beautiful than you. I'm the CEO of at least three different six-figure income businesses. How about I take you on a night out in my Ferrari?" There isn't a single thought behind those eyes or in those smiles. If you have the thought to rely on your Daze, you can just block the Sex Bots and they will blink out of existence. Alternatively, you could probably just smash them out of existence with a good punch or the swing of a weapon...They will just vanish into a cloud of corrupt coding. But if you're a bit more gullible and still catching up on the strangeness of this place or can't figure out Daze, you might make the mistake of responding to one of these bots. The Bot will immediately scan you for all of your information and warp its features into something that you actually would find to be the ideal beauty. "This is better, right?" It's hard to deny...They even sound like the ideal beauty in your mind. A gentle hand on your arm and then they are leading you away. Except they aren't leading you anywhere. You watch helplessly as coding goes up your arm and begins to consume your body. You can't feel anything but a prickling sensation. The Bot vanishes, but you are left rewired. Now it is you with the dramatic features emphasizing your most attractive parts. Regardless of your personality, you suddenly feel the urge to walk up to just about anyone anywhere and flirt with them. Whether stupidly or sincerely. It's hard to remember yourself with the bot's virus wreaking havoc on your Daze. Worst case scenario? You wind up sleeping with someone because of this bizarre virus, but you will also ironically get it out of your system this way and feel completely normal after. Alternatively, you can find someone who is a bit more tech-savvy with the Daze and who might have an idea of how to hack into your system and get rid of the virus for you. This might involve some personal line of questioning, but hey, at least you're not walking around asking for sex from total strangers anymore! The Metal Dogs The Sex Bots are a dream compared to the other virus attacking the system of Sweet Acres. One will begin to see small metal robots trotting about, no bigger than a backpack, with lethal determination. These metal dogs scour their surroundings for anything organic or anything that doesn't belong in the space. This means they are actively ripping up plants and destroying trees, which is tragic enough, but just be glad they haven't seen you yet because it turns out that Daisy's Sweet Subjects are the metal dog's top priority. The moment they notice you, they will begin a neverending chase. These robots can catch up to a speeding car and resist an enormous amount of damage. They are waterproof and run on their own network completely disconnected from the Daze, so good luck trying to hack into them- it won't work. They can see just as well in the dark as the light and have sensors that allow them to pick up on body temperature as well as any vibrations you might make. They are not gentle creatures: their goal is to terminate all organic beings and Sweet Subjects in the area. If they catch you, they will immediately attempt to blow your head off with a small gun they can form. Alternatively, they will expel a shrapnel bomb if you catch them off guard. They also have paralyzing fog bombs. Metal dogs can be destroyed, however. With large explosions, armor-piercing weaponry, people with extreme super strength. Or you can get creative! Maybe you know a spell that can turn them into a stuffed animal or melt the metal. Maybe you have control over metal beings. There are ways to destroy these things. But don't worry. If worse comes to worse, Daisy is going around to destroy them for you. But do you really want to owe her your life? back to top ⤴

Comments

[snakesona]

Me? I'm hardly that esteemed. Certainly not a knight or a lord of any kind.

[ his green eyes glint, serpentine. ]

I am merely Olrox.

[clipon]

I'm still in the gangly baby deer stages of having a body, give me a fucking break, bro.

[ it's got to be uncanny as hell: on top of looking almost exactly like dirk (but a robot), his voice sounds like dirk's, just slightly metallic. weird. ]

It's efficient is what it is. [ he pauses then, considering his answer carefully. ] It depends on what you mean. I could touch you right now, but if we're both in the same sim, that doesn't mean anything. I thought I was dreaming at first, but it doesn't fit the profile. And before you say anything, yes I dream. Second, no, I'm not going to tell you what I dream about.

[fullgauntlet]

[He has no idea why it's such a rush of relief when Katsuki's fist grabs his shirt and he gets yanked forward. It somehow makes him feel alive and confused at the same time. His brain is a hazy mix of memories and reality and something else. But the action of Katsuki doing that one thing is just- it feels right and normal. Katsuki's alright. He can breathe.]

I'm not! I'm not hurt...! But you- [He frowns slightly his hand coming up to nearly touch Katsuki's face because wasn't it ... damaged? No. Of course, it wasn't. Izuku doesn't touch and instead grabs Katsuki's wrist that's holding him.] Sorry... I didn't think I was late? But where...? Where are we?

[What is this strange room they're trapped in... And why can't they open the door?]

[givehead]

No? (Dirk's skeptical, glancing the guy over, though the gesture is hidden behind his shades.)

Well, merely Olrox, I'm Dirk. Dirk Strider. If it makes you feel better, pretty sure those bots are just talented at tapping into that part of our subconscious. Attraction is fairly base level shit.

[snakesona]

[ olrox smiles, congenial. ]

Is that so? Do you feel attraction often then?

[kobes]

[Koby would protest that he doesn't have a praise kink (like a liar)) -- but he finds himself holding his breath instead, in advance of Mihawk's answer. He knows it's extremely likely that the warlord will simply laugh and disregard him without another thought -- why would he want to waste any more time on some scrawny Marine cadet?

But there's something in Mihawk's expression, a stormy fury at what's been done to them. Koby sees it, feels like he knows it -- they have nothing in common, except for how hard they'd fought to make their own decisions. To be their own people, albeit on two wildly different paths. And now this place is threatening that.

So even when Mihawk leans in, huge and looming and deadly, Koby just feels relieved, hearing him agree to team up, even temporarily. There's that smile again, quick and bright, all Koby's emotions immediately readable -- eager, hopeful, almost happy.] Deal. It's a deal.

[Then, almost as quickly, he's scowling, lifting his blood-splattered chin to meet Mihawk's eyes.] But I'm not a pet.

[swordlord]

(A fair enough reaction and one that would have occurred all the same back in his own world. Granted, most people back there recognized his face as well.)

I'm used to a far less...dignified crowd. (He rolls his eyes though there is a touch of fondness in his voice, disgustingly enough.

Vampires though.)

Oh? (His eyes drift from the man's eyes to his ears, and then down to his fangs.)

A vampire then? I wish I could say I was the same. My name is merely an homage, though. I've never met such a being.

[snakesona]

[ hm. olrox swirls the wine in his glass. none of this comes incredibly natural to him. his posture, his movements are all honed over the years. to ingratiate himself among predators.

he is a predator now, but prey never forgets. ]

So you have heard of him. Dracula.

[givehead]

(It's the kind of smile that's difficult to ignore. Dirk smirks mildly, shrugging.)

Guilty as charged. I have a deep- (A pause. He tips his head and this time he moves his head as he looks Olrox over before looking back up toward his face.) Deep appreciation for men. Can't help it when ya'll walk around lookin' like dreams come true.

[kobes]

She...did her best. [Koby keeps one hand on top of the face-down photo, like he's afraid it'll spring up and bite him.] I wouldn't have -- done something like that to her. I never --

[But he had. In that instance, scissors in hand, twelve years old with his entire being aching with how horrible he felt every second of every day, Koby had wanted to lash out. Maybe not that violently, but still.

Eyes very wide and not a little damp, Koby turns towards the stranger with a stricken, heartbroken expression.] Who would -- do something like that? Show us such...horrible things?

[swordlord]

Merely in stories. (He's watching Olrox intently, but then again, he watches everyone intently. His sword was close and his reflexes were as sharp as they ever were, but he didn't feel threatened by this man. Just aware.)

Is he prominent in your world?

[snakesona]

[ oh, that prompts a dry chuckle, silver to the ears. ]

I had no idea we had a poet in our midst.

[kobes]

[Up close, the similarities are even more noticeable -- Koby looks down at his hands, callused from scrubbing decks, then at Danny's, which look identical but feel different. Their voices are subtly dissimilar too -- Danny's is softer, less accented.

The flick to the tie gets a ferocious scowl, an adjustment of those huge glasses. Why does Koby have to be the clone with the bad vision?] My uniform? What's wrong with it?

[snakesona]

[ olrox hums softly. his eye seems to glow in the dim light. ]

He was, once. A titan in his legend.

But what are legends, but dust in the future?

[swordlord]

(...This one was odd. Smiling up at Mihawk like that. It's enough to make Mihawk's brow furrow. No one smiled like that around him and it should be annoying. It is. He can see that youthful hopefulness and eagerness, that desire to do right. He had seen a similar earnestness in other young faces recently, and in some strange way, it gave him a sore sense of hope.

Perhaps the newer generation wasn't as hopeless and shackled to the past as his own had been. A cadet willingly working at his side and smiling despite it all. It reminds him of that boy Shanks had sacrificed his arm for. Of that ridiculous idiot swordsman who might be worth his weight in talent.)

Deal. (It only felt right to repeat it. Mihawk's alliances were tentatively formed throughout his years and always with layers of caveats and the ever-present possibility that he merely fucked off whenever he wanted. He realizes he probably can't do that with this cadet. If he did, he might just wind up getting killed, and then what would Mihawk's word be worth? Hell, if he can't even keep a shrimp like this alive...)

Oh? (That makes Mihawk's mouth crack open in a rare smile.)

How sad. You would make a lovely pet. I bet you come immediately when your name is called and everything. Isn't the whole purpose of a cadet to take your orders like a good boy? Sit when you're told, bark when you're told...

(He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking.)

No, I think 'pet' is rather perfect for you.

[dead_tongue]

Well. Intent counts for something.

[Oh. Those eyes. Iggy holds his arms out immediately.]

Oh, sweetie. C'mere.

And I don't know. It seems so cruel. I suppose... I suppose it has to be someone who wants to hurt us. To get a reaction.

[givehead]

(Well shit. He smiles a bit more genuinely. Please do not give him positive attention, Olrox.)

Aw shit, now you're just being mean. I ain't a poet. I'm just a lonely bastard in front of an absolute babe.

[snakesona]

Is that not what a poet is?

kromer | limbus company

[gripper]

( please wait )
content warnings: general prompt warnings, canto three and four spoilers, possible future references to genocide

( ah, she's alive. that's the first thing kromer thinks when she finds herself on the couch, drowsy from the nap(?) she seems to have taken. she squints at the television, slowly pushing herself up. the house almost, almost reminds her of the one she used to live in: a little outdated, a little dirty, definitely lonely.

first thing's first: investigation, which she sets off to do. the kitchen, bathroom, upstairs--she gives a careful look around all of them, only pausing in the bathroom to undress a little and check for any hints of her last battle. most of the cuts seemed to have been healed by the power of that bough, but there's a scar from her hip to her shoulder she recognizes must be from... she redresses and pauses, listening.

seems like she really isn't the only one here!

kromer peeks around the hallway corner and laughs, raising a hand. by her head is a picture that seems to shift in the shadows, twisting into a school photograph of her and her class. this one is real. this one is, at least. )

Hey there! Did you just wake up too? I've been checking around--seems pretty normal. ( the incessant knocking aside, something that makes the back of her neck prickle. her smile remains perfectly curved though, unflappable. reassuring in its confidence, maybe, or perhaps a little off-putting considering the situation. the line is precarious. ) The house does, anyway. The situation... Well, not so much. Maybe a Corporation's getting real experimental with its ideas.

( a beat, and she steps out more, hand settling on the pommel of her sword in an easy-going manner. )

Ahaha... Or maybe that's all nonsense. The name's Kromer. You?

( the televisions startles back to life, talking about an escaped convict. )

( bot problem )
content warnings: general prompt warnings, gratuitous violence against robots

( it's strange.

these things are difficult to kill--not impossible, certainly, but difficult--yet ... their remains are scattered across the road here, and a little further down. there's shrapnel from bombs too, and someone's giggling just around the corner--

it's kromer. of course it is, as she thrusts her nail-like sword through a barely moving dog; she seems experienced in dealing with this type of foe going by the deliberate marks on the dog's metal coating until she'd managed to bend it enough to get through. her sword, notably, also has little wear to it: it, too, is meant for this type of work.

she takes the armored fist of her left hand to pound against the pommel until the sword finally goes all the way through it, the dog twitching once before stalling, and she laughs. )

Hahaha! To think even this place would have scum like this hanging around... ( ...ahaha? she looks up--she isn't completely unharmed, going by the scratches on her face and the bloody tears in her white uniform--but, well, she's standing. she straightens up, placing both her hands on her sword and yanking it unceremoniously out of the metal dog before she kicks it roughly to the side, clanging against one of the buildings.

haha. ) Been harassed recently, stranger? I've been trying to hunt as many of these mutt mimics as possible, but I'm sure I haven't managed to get them all...

( a wide smile. friendly. confident. her silver eyes glimmer with a little bit of manic energy, or maybe that's just the way the light falls on them. )

If you need a little help, I don't mind lending a hand. Actually... I'd be more than happy to get rid of these ugly affronts.

[blondshell]

(Katsuki...Should be hurt. He doesn't remember why, but he knew he should be hurt. And he knew he shouldn't be feeling as good as he does right now. He's scouring Izuku for any injuries, but then his eyes are fixated on that hand coming toward his face. He doesn't make any move to jerk away. Instead, he just winds up fixating on the scars of Izuku's palm that somehow felt like the most familiar thing in this room.

Then Izuku grabs his wrist, and that's okay too. He's still staring at Izuku's hand, trying to think of why the hell...

He looks back up at Izuku, looks to the TV he had decimated, and then around the foreign room.)

I have no idea. (Honestly. He curls his shoulders inward, bracing his body, shifting closer to Izuku without even thinking about it.)

Do you remember that clown bitch? I think she - she brought us here. (At first Katsuki sounds uncertain, but then by the end of it, he's positive.)

Dunno how. But she did. She said she gave us memories, right? About lives we never lived. (But Izuku felt familiar. His brows stitch together and he looks down at Izuku's hand again.)

And that we agreed to be here. I sure as hell don't feel like you're a fake memory though.

[givehead]

Okay, you got me there, but I think most poets are a lot more classy.

[clipon]

I'm not a mortal. [ a beat as he tries to decide how to word the rest of it because this guy does not seem like the type to be super tech-savvy. so he settles on: ] I'm a constructed intelligence. My creator made me in his image. I'll keep existing forever unless I'm explicitly destroyed.

[ god, isn't that ironic. he kind of loves sounding like a goddamn bible story because of just how stupid it is. he doesn't like thinking about being destroyed, though. what a mood killer. that wasn't a great time in his life.

but he considers the question before shrugging. ]

I was created from a thirteen-year-old mind, but I've been around a little while. If you grant me aging even though I'm eternal, I'd be about eighteen. If you go by how long I've existed, I'm five.

[snakesona]

[ how charming. unusual and probably worth a rebuke. one should not dally with a vampire casually. but charming all the same. ]

The paid ones who lounge in courts and simp to royalty? Yes, I suppose they possess a certain level of class. One that shines their bootheels and licks them clean.

[clipon]

"Thanks. My creator was a dick about it." Not to throw Dirk under the bus or anything, but he's gonna throw Dirk under the bus.

As for the photos he hums (it sounds a bit like a computer fan warming up) and points one out. "I'm eating a corn dog in this one. I can't eat, even now I'm made of metal." A beat passes. "Actually, I don't know if I can eat, I've never tried. I'll have to run an experiment later. But the point is that this is all a load of horseshit, dude. Be happy with your pacifist self, because this is, as one might say, bogus."

[givehead]

(Thank god Dirk never did anything casually.)

Sorry. I got hung up on you saying the word 'lick.' (And because Dirk sometimes has absolutely no self-control when it came to being ridiculous with guys:)

For the record, I'd lick your boots for free. Gladly. And let you step on me.

(Dirk, no. Stop.)