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]

I've had a lot of time to develop it. And a lot of enemies to contend with.

[givehead]

Dirk gives her a mild shrug because yeah, that's just how it be.

"Humans have an entire fetish for people with some animal features. It probably has to do with..." He's about to go on an entire Wikipedia article-length speech about the whole thing, but seeing her covering up her ears like that is a clear enough indication that she might not want to hear about the unique history of human sexuality.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. Point is, if a human can fuck it, there is probably at least one human who actually wants to try. And yeah, they are weird. But a lot of that shit has to do with cultural norms and the concept of shame." It builds up a lot of lust in the most unexpected ways. But again, wrong audience.

"What are you then?"

Okay, so she really didn't know much.

"A bot is short for 'robot' which is a type of technology usually made out of metal or a type of language, or magic I guess if that's more familiar, known as coding. People make bots for all sorts of reasons." This one being one of the lamer reasons.

"Yeah, probably. Given your reaction, it seems to have worked."

He snorts at that. "A lot of people like tits for some reason. And a lot of people with tits think everyone is obsessed with their tits so they get it in their head that they can just touch up on people whenever they want because they figure it's appreciated. But if that shit happens again, just fuckin' punch em, okay?"

[givehead]

How long is a lot of time? (The enemies thing he gets, at least.)

[snakesona]

250 years.

Give or take.

[kobes]

[Koby makes a soft, gently startled sound, like a cat woken out of a nap.] What's -- that for?

[There's definite anxiety in Koby's expression, like he's waiting for the questions -- or the accusations. Some sort of pointing and shouting and accusation. He's not expecting the joke, or the kindness, the reassurance. He trails along after the man -- Iggy, apparently.]

Um, Koby. Why -- would you be in a dress? Dresses are terrible. [That much about Koby is stereotypical -- he haaaates dresses.]

[swordlord]

(Just like Koby hadn't been touched in a long time, Mihawk similarly hadn't touched anyone in a long time either. And similarly, he absently is fascinated by how warm Koby is. His mind wanders briefly, shamefully, to Shanks, before he's focusing back on hair that is too pale and a body that is too slim. There was nothing similar at all between them except the mere fact that both men could now say that they had experienced a gentle touch by none other than Dracule Mihawk.

How embarrassing.

He tears the shirt easily before lightly swatting Koby's arm just beneath the wound.)

Unfold your arms, cadet. Let me wrap this up before you decide to sulk.

(Even without any antiseptic, he wanted to get some pressure on that wound. Koby wasn't about to bleed out, but bleeding never worked in anyone's favor.)

My, Marines truly are spoiled, aren't they? A first aid kit. Very well then. We can always look about and try to find you something more satisfying than good liquor. (Brats are so ungrateful these days!)

loading screen

[kobes]

[Koby's in the middle of yanking down his own photos, but he sees the ones of the stranger -- a series of horrific, stomach-turning images, one after the other, each one horrific enough to be seared into his mind forever. He frowns as the girl (/cat?) begins breathing heavier, as she bolts towards the door.

The door that someone is banging on, threatening and menacing.

Gasping, Koby bolts over, slams into the door, pressing his back against it and holding out his hands.] H-Hold on, hold on, don't -- don't jump to conclusions, we don't know what's going on here --

[givehead]

Huh. (He doesn't seem too phased by this.) So, are you biologically immortal, conditionally immortal, or completely immortal? Or do you just have an unusually long lifespan?

please wait...

[kobes]

No! [It comes out too quickly, Koby halfway off the couch he'd been huddled on before he can stop himself. He swallows hard, cringing in on himself as the banging on the door repeats, over and over.] We're not -- we can't. We aren't supposed to.

[When in doubt, he falls back on what the rules are, every time. That's how you stay alive, right?]

[snakesona]

Immortal is a strong word to use.

I'm a vampire.

[kobes]

Koby holds up both hands, an automatic, instinctive gesture of placation. He knows damn well what anxiety looks like -- he's basically the walking definition of it, after all. But trying to be the calm one gives him something to focus on that isn't oh god we're all going to die, so.

"Um. Hi. I'm not -- I'm as lost as you are. My name's Koby. I'm not going to hurt you." Right, because she's obviously deeply concerned about that. Koby's about as intimidating as a bean sprout.

Then, jumping about a mile when the knocking sounds: "Yeah. Yeah, I can hear it."

cw: suicide via decapitation / hanging (non descriptive)

[givehead]

Oh.

(He almost seems disappointed.)

That's cool. I've never met a vampire before.

(He rolls his head to the side and tips his head back just a little. The simple purpose to show the rather graphic scar that wrapped around his entire neck.)

I'm unfortunately immortal myself.

[kobes]

[Koby's turning, shoulders scrunched up towards his ears, about to argue more -- because of course he is -- when Mihawk tears the shirt. A soft, stricken sound escapes him, embarrassing in how genuine the stab of grief is. It's just a shirt. There are more important things. He could've been killed, would've been if not for Mihawk, and if he doesn't wrap up his wounds, they could get infected. That's just basic first aid.

But still -- the uniform still means something to Koby, even with all he's learned, all the disillusionment of the past few months. He swallows tightly, gritting his teeth against the repeated, humiliating urge to cry. Later, maybe. Later, when he's alone.

The injured arm uncrosses, but the other stays firmly across Koby's chest. He's still too thin, he knows, collarbone sharp, the curve of his ribs easily visible through the thin fabric of the undershirt.] I don't think preferring real bandages to a bottle of wine poured over an injury makes us spoiled.

...except you'd probably never waste wine, would you? [He'd cleaned up after Garp's post-Mihawk temper tantrum. There had been multiple shattered wine glasses -- which was par for the course. Mihawk would prefer wine to something more plebian, like beer.]

[dead_tongue]

Uh, because you were upset? Are you okay? I'm sorry, I thought you were cool with it.

[Iggy walks to the living room and flops onto the indeed very ugly couch - floral, looking very grandma-y. The television in front of them is silent and dark.]

Uh, because I look super cute? Plus I feel like wedding dresses can be extra in a way suits can't. God, if I ever get married it's going to be insane.

[kobes]

No, no, I'll take it over trying to beat them to death with a mop. Please and thank you. [Koby's more of a puncher anyways, but he worries he'll break a knuckle or something. Or his fists will pass right through. There's a serious nod at the mention of the metal dogs -- and then a frown.]

You tried. Just now? Or...how did you try? [Listen, you're very tall and capable, like most men he knows, but Koby is going to need a bit more proof.]

[addickted]

Awww, why not? [Another flash of those pointed teeth, one of them gold-capped, a sure sign of ownership by the Vees. Except -- no, this guy, Dirk, he doesn't recognize Angel. He doesn't know who the Vees are, doesn't understand the consequences of messing around with Valentino's things. There's a giddy, addictive thrill to that, made even better by all of Dirk's lean, broad, tempting bod, right there for the admiring.] You a bad boy, Dirk? That whatcha tellin' me?

[Another puff of smoke, this one forming a loose, almost abstract heart that swirls and loops around Dirk's pointed exhalation, like ivy on a tree.] I don't mind a little bit'a bad, sugar. Vanilla's for cakes, yaknow.

[Then Angel laughs, straightening up to his full seven-foot-something height and sauntering over.] What a coincidence, phallic's my favorite shape. And color and flavor and sight and all that jazz. [One of those spidery arms drapes over Dirk's shoulders, gloved hands plucking and smoothing at his clothes.] Am I flatterin' you enough yet, or should I keep goin'?

[dead_tongue]

"That's shitty."

Iggy nods, hoping that Hal's correct - he really doesn't like the idea of his whole life having been fake.

He watches as Hal computes the odds, looking hopeful. He's not good at math, but he knows that that's pretty low.

"Yeah. Yeah, it kinda is. But why--"

That's when the television clicks on.

Iggy turns and heads toward the living room, curious. The television, still of the tube variety, shows static for a moment before it rolls in a line as grainy footage jumps into view. Onscreen, Iggy can be seen standing in a playground. In front of him is the body of a little girl, her head cocked at an unnatural angle.

The real Iggy stares with unfeigned horror.

"...wait. No. I didn't do it."

[dead_tongue]

Iggy gives Ed quite the look. "Satisfying," he repeats. Okay. This guy's a little weird, clearly.

"I've never heard of it either," he admits. "But when we got here, the creepy clown girl said we were in a simulation, right? Like, before we got here, but also here. So I just figured... you know. Treat em like I would online."

He sighs. "I hate bots. Makes life harder for us honest working boys. Uhm. I'm Iggy."

[dead_tongue]

Well. That's something he's never seen before.

Feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland or something, Iggy approaches the bench with caution.

"Hello," he says politely. "Are you not living?" Because he's never seen a ghost that looked like that.

[whatam_i]

"I'm Edward. Nygma."

A pause.

"What do you mean by working boy?"

[givehead]

Sounds weird but try to just think very specifically at them. Imagine some sort of blockade, but try to manifest it sincerely. (Punching wasn't a bad alternative, but the blocking saved time and energy for everyone.)

Dunno. Just tried flying off. Then I hit some sort of force field. Tried breaking it. It didn't budge. Kinda fucked my head up though.

(He proceeds to float up into the air by a few inches. Then, because he has absolutely zero tact, he scoops Koby up into his arms and proceeds to just...Throw him up into the air. It's not a playful little throw either. He literally throws him like a projectile.

Before Koby can come to any real damage or harm though, Dirk's appears out of thin air and catches Koby effortlessly.)

I'm technically a god. This shit is usually a cakewalk for me. But if I can't bust this shit down, no one can. You catch my drift, babe?

[dead_tongue]

"Is the pause necessary?" Not sarcasm - he's actually asking.

Iggy raises his eyebrows and grins. "I do cam work. Well. I did. I... don't really know what we're expected to do, here." He frowns. "I mean... if where we were was a simulation and we had jobs, wouldn't we here? Except now we're aware, so..." He shakes his head.

"I'm too dumb for this Matrix shit."

[whatam_i]

"I like to annunciate."

Ed's brows furrow slightly, "Cam work?"

[givehead]

(Oh...Dirk filed away the fact that he could add spider boys to his ever-growing list of fetishes. Not that it took much to get on that list.)

Being a bad boy is more about the aesthetic and casual disregard for the law. I'm more of a...(He rolls his shoulders in a languid shrug.)

Obsessive megalomaniac with an omnipresent ability to destroy souls.

(Dirk, don't be so dark when a hot spider dude is trying to flirt with you. He winds up tipping his head back, and okay, that's extra hot. At 6'3 or so, Dirk was used to being the one to hover over most of the people he knew. He could appreciate a lean, tall drink of water. Or poison. Whatever.

He doesn't push Angel away, but there is a slight tension in his shoulders. He's not used to casual touch whatsoever, or touch in general. He never really knows what to do with it.)

Man, I hate to break the news to you, but I feel like you'd be wasting potential on me. You seem like the kinda guy who should get railed by someone emotionally available, or something. (DOES HE, DIRK...)

cw: sex work

[dead_tongue]

"...I dunno what that means."

Iggy bites back a silent laugh. "Uh, yeah. People pay to see me do shit on camera? You know. Naked stuff."