Test Drive Meme #1 (cw vehicular crash, moderate injury)

[spoofer]

Test Drive Meme #1

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

You don't need an invite to test
but please remember we're currently invite-only

CRASH LANDING

Exit one dimension, enter the next. It was chaos: pressure against your ears, light bending in an impossible, unimaginable way. The very molecules of your body vibrating against one another. If you have windows, the view outside makes no sense. Even if not, your hands, your face, your feet seem like an uncertain thing. It's the feel of reality itself tearing apart, reshaping, reconnecting, thread by thread.

And suddenly, there's a beach— or ocean, whichever you land in. Smoke. Fire. Salt water churning up, fizzing around.

Maybe you crash, in a ship wrecking into sand. Maybe you merely stumble out of a portal, a ragged wormhole in space. Or maybe you fall off the back of an incredible steed, some creature that carried you into this place. Either way, there's pandemonium around you. Incredibly, severe injuries are far and few between— nobody's screaming about the dead. But you might have to help pull someone free of wreckage, or move quickly to salvage burning belongings from the landing craft. Maybe it's the crafts themselves, that you're trying to salvage.

Likely, you don't know them, these other strangers who arrived here^[1]. Maybe you don't trust them— you just came out of a dying world, after all. But you all have one thing in common: you're here now.

When you get a second to breathe, maybe you'll see it. The brilliant green forest across the sand. Beyond that, the glint of a faraway city.

INTO THE WOODS

Your first night at Xistentia does not feature five-star accommodations, but as the sun begins to set, the forest offers everything you need to survive. By now, you may even have met your daemon, who'll help guide you through this. There is fallen wood to make fires for warmth and cooking, any number of rabbits, deer, and fish if that's what you're into eating. Those very same animals also provide guidance as to what vegetation is edible, including a variety of vine mushrooms, fruits, and flowers. If you're the kind of creature that mostly eats other sentient creatures, well. Technically, there are a lot of those hanging out too^[2]! Now and then, you'll see tiny, winged humanoid creatures the height of a finger dart in and out of view.

A resourceful group, the multiversal refugees have determined ways to create shelters, using wreckage, supplies, and basic survival knowhow. There aren't enough blankets to go around, but the weather is mild and the fires seem to keep out any aggressive creatures.


Things get quiet. This could be a good time to meet the others under less fraught circumstances. Maybe you'll see some familiar faces and reunite with others who fled from your dying world; maybe you'll meet someone new.

Try not to seek out and fight any Rock Trolls. It's still early.

ENTER THE CITY

The city is beautiful, even with the vines covering everything, the streams running down half the streets, the massive white deer leaping off under the highway overpasses. The architecture of the skyscrapers is incredible to look at, modern and sweeping. It's clear that terraced gardens were part of the building design, and some of the greenery that lines the street had been part of the original city plan. This is a city of great potential.

And it knows you're here. As you walk by, beacons like streetlamps begin to emit a gentle glow, registering your presence. No doors are locked, though you might find yourself chasing out nests of silver-winged birds and bug-eyed rabbits.

Here, you can claim empty shops or the clothing and other sales items inside of them. Apartment complexes aren't difficult to find in a range of sizes; nor are standalone homes, brownstones, loft studios. Penthouses may not feel like penthouses when there's a thin layer of dust growing on everything and a flower growing out of the sink, but you know what? Maybe that little bud is gonna be your first roommate.

It's the strangest thing. After a few days, the lights begin to work and the water begins to run, fully operational within the unseen sewer system. At some point, the keys to your house or residence are going to turn up. Your daemon will help you find what you need. F.A.TE.S. welcomes you.

NETWORK

By now you've settled in. You have some time to explore the city, the woods, and your new kit.

Chances are pretty good that your daemon is not a phone or a computer or a wax-sealed piece of parchment or a Howler, nothing with a convenient camera or a keyboard; it probably isn't even a pocket sized. Likelier, it stares at you with eyes that contain the lenses-- or powers-- of a camera, and some part of its body projects a holographic keyboard into the air. For those of us who are not accustomed to manipulating intangible light prisms, it's about as intuitive to type on as shaping a cloud with your fingers.

But here's your network access. Accessible to all your fellow travelers in XISTENTIA.

Misfires, typos, and blurry video footage are likely. Time to feel like a Luddite!

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

hells yeah

Footnotes

1. Some of these can be nameless, plot-device NPCs to facilitate interactions! But even in this case, please avoid gore in describing their current state of being. Anyone dead or catastrophically injured will have disappeared by the time your characters make it to Xistentia. There are no corpses or dying here.
   
   
2. But like OOCly ask permission ofc.

Comments

John Murphy | The 100 (Eudio CR AU)

[rekt]

A] landing;

[ john murphy, a screaming boy with too many tattoos, and a full grown husky, come crashing down into the beach sand, astride one of those huge, white elk with the crazy amount of antlers. the first ten or so minutes spent on the sand involves a lot more screaming, some bandaging, and some other too serious looking dude on a too serious looking horse. apparently serious dude and screaming dude have some kind of Thing going on, so once no one's bleeding out anymore and there's less screaming, murphy excuses himself, letting the two do whatever weird make out ritual kavinsky and people he has actual feelings for get up to.

but murphy? he's more about surviving. eudio had been a pleasant little several month long vacation, but he knew it would all come crashing down eventually. while the area he can see doesn't look like the ruined earth he called home, he's not expecting it to be any better. now, they're stranded, out in the open, and night will start falling eventually. they'll need shelter, food, fresh water, and weapons, and there's no telling how intact kavinsky's powers are here. ]

That's a least a day's walk, maybe more. That's not even saying if they'll welcome us in the city. [ Murphy speaks up, as he paces over to someone else staring at the far away city. that'll likely be the best place for resources, but again, if this is anything like the Ground, they're more likely to get a spear through the chest than open arms. ] You know, the whole natives vs invaders thing, with torture and plague blankets. Yeah, this'll be fun.

B] into the woods;

[ nature living isn't anything new to murphy, and maybe he's better off than the others in that he's spent a good time stranded on a mostly desolate planet before. he sets traps, starts to build shelters out of branches and tree leaves, brings up any kind of salvage from the wrecks they might be able to use.

the boy is oddly silent, compared to how he'd been in eudio, but he's trying to focus on the strategies they'd used to survive after the drop ship. what worked, what didn't. with some kind of animal roasting over a fire, murphy's seated on a log, shuffling through a mixed pile of stones, looking for ones with pointed edges, which he then takes and wedged into a slit on a pole like branch, binding it to make a spear. much of the camp night will be spent that way - working. ]

C] enter the city;

You all know this is a terrible idea, right? Just walking through the front door?

[ Murphy's chiming in, as they near the city and no one's yet tried to scout or investigate or at least take cover and watch for activity. If a city exists, there has to have been people who built it, and even overgrown, that's far from being uninhabited. The Ground taught him that too. ]

Whatever, have fun getting arrows through the face. [ A mutter, as he adjusts his back pack, pulls his knife free, and starts to split from the group, moving around the perimeter rather than straight in. He spent long enough surviving Earth by having the sense not to assume things will be okay, he isn't letting go of that just because Eudio just made him feel too safe for too long. But, feel free to follow him, as he takes a stealthier route in. You'll still get to the same place, just slower. ]

D] network;

[ his network post is a short, simple thing, the video taken as his elk-daemon, fondly named Bellamid, paces behind while murphy attempts to unearth the door to a clothing store. it would be nice to not be soaked. ]

Anyone actually buying this bullshit about computer programs? Guess I wouldn't know if I was one, but I'm feeling pretty alive right now.

[ not the WHAT EXCITED FUN kind of alive, more the 'everything is misery and my legs hurt and i hate this but am now forced to live with it' kind of alive. it's not a good time. ]

All that crap aside, we need to start getting food. Hunting, preserving, storing. Figure out how to gather clean water.

[ a beat, and he glances back to the elk, thinking again over his namesake. nah. ]

Or do it the easy way and say keep your own damn self alive.

Whatever the hell you want.

E] wildcard;

[ idk hit me ]

c!

[incomparabilis]

[ he's not the only one that's being cautious. when he gets a fair distance away from the main group, a tall, slim figure in a black bodysuit steps deliberately out of the trees. there's a moment of animal-like stillness, then a tail flicks behind them, and they jerk their chin toward the city in apparent question.

fausta keeps to themself, but anyone feeling a little more cautious about their arrival here is someone to perhaps acquaint themself with.

after another moment, they flip the knife in their hand, sheathing it pointedly. if push comes to shove, their claws are weapon enough, anyway. ]

Sign of inhabitants yet?

[rekt]

[ for murphy's credit, he just manages not to jump out of his skin when a cat person in an almost zentai suit showed up out of the brush. until they speak, he's watching them with tense stillness, hand on his knife gripping a bit harder, but thankfully, it's just mutual concern, and not someone about to spear him for invading their city.

letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, murphy shakes his head, and keeps on. ]

Nothing yet. Not necessarily a good sign.

[ either there's no one, or they've realized they're here and they're hiding out, waiting. ]

d

[skaikru]

( you know what tends to leave a sour taste in the mouth? dropping out of the sky and crash landing on an apocalyptic earth twice in under a year. the insult to injury had been choking on a mouthful of seawater, crawling up to dry sand, and looking up to realize — of all those people scrambling, clawing their way upright, and disappearing into the tree line? none of them had been hers.

but that was just the sort of poetic, life-screwing narrative the world seemed intent on throwing at them lately. there's no surviving the ground without adapting, and quickly. so clarke had dragged herself off the beach, picked her way through the forest, and stalked into the city all by her wary lonesome. survival could be a one person job, but it was...taxing that way. left stretches of silence empty for troublesome thoughts; if i'm here, where is everyone else? are they hurt, are they dead? the flame-turned-daemon in her pocket doesn't offer answers to those particular questions.

that's why, murphy's face on a screen? not as unwelcome a sight as it could have been. though her expression is a little tight, pinched around the edges and appropriately skeptical of that rallying cry. )

Whatever the hell you want?

( really? )

[rekt]

[ what.

clarke griffin has both the worst and best timing, never anything in between, and murphy stuck trying to decide which one this is. what comes out, in the mean time, is a vague mutter, while he stares at the screen dumbfounded. ]

I wasn't expecting anyone to get that joke.

[ because everyone who would have, he'd thought, was dead. hence naming his weird, huge ass, noble looking but stupid elk daemon 'bellamid'. he's going to have to rethink that one if said namesake actually made it here, because that's an awkward conversation he isn't interested in touching with a ten foot pole. but, eudio crashed down around them, the network going down almost immediately, and all he'd had near him was kavinsky. they'd only just had time to get out themselves, and once they'd hit the beach, while there were plenty of k's friends that made it out, murphy hadn't found any sign of the other skaikru kids that'd been in the city with him anywhere.

assumed dead. here murphy thought he was the only one allowed to pull that prank. ]

How'd you get out of Eudio? Where's Bellamy?

[skaikru]

( the correct answer is the best timing — showing up at exactly the right moment to low key judge him in his sorry attempt at humor. )

It wasn't exactly funny.

( remember last time, murphy? remember how many people died, were half-hung, or shot in the back? whatever the hell we want was a rallying cry that has been retired for the better. but now doesn't seem to be the time to dwell on the past, not when a hundred problems and defining moments stood between the dropship and this strange new world. on the screen, clarke's face is tight with confusion; pinched brows, thin lips. her head even cocks slightly to the side because — )

What are you talking about?

( maybe more specifically where. the ground outside of the tower of polis had been cracking, caving in on itself and threatening to take the buildings with it. still, a swarm of microchipped soldiers had taken to scaling the walls, and she'd sat in the commander's chair. murphy had been at her side, bellamy too, even as they all silently doubted destroying alie would save their people anymore. it stung a little that, of all the people gathered in that council room, fate (f.a.t.e.s., her daemon reminds her in that ominous, dozen-voice whisper it has) had decided to lump the two of them together here. )

[rekt]

[ he still had jokes right after harris blow up all over his person in land mine desert hell, so, it's really too late for anyone to be surprised by his bad humor now. but the topic of his lack of any kind of decent personality traits isn't what's concerning him at the moment, in fact, he breezes right over it, and goes directly for that confusing look she's giving him. freaking eff, can we not? ]

...Eudio? Big magic cuddle city?

[ not this again. when he'd showed up at the city, months ahead of the others in time back home, they'd done this confusion song and dance, and it was awkward and tense and frustrating, and ended with murphy begrudgingly promising to keep his bad future to himself. eudio itself isn't even bad, but apparently she won't be getting that bit either.

sighing, he turns his head up to the sky, letting out a deflating puff of air. awesome. ]

Fantastic. Okay, try this one - what's the last thing you remember, before crashing down here?

[skaikru]

( that absolute confusion on her face only intensifies at his completely lacking answer to her question. clarke has to take a moment, wrap her head around the phrase big magic cuddle city whilst simultaneously trying to decide if he's messing with her or if he'd been concussed in their rather spectacular crash landings on the beach. the verdict is undecided, but at least she has a somewhat decent response for what he asked. )

Polis. The tower falling apart under my feet.

( sorry murphy. this clarke is not your clarke, has not been softened and made comfortable by a weeks, months, years of not having to deal with the world ending. this clarke is still wound tight as a bow string, running on fumes, full of self sacrificial ideas, and probably in desperate need of a few hugs and the absolution of her constant guilt. )

You were there. You put the Flame in my head.

( he gets to bear witness to a quiet aside: flamed, her daemon insists, and clarke hisses back a somewhat aggressive i wasn't talking to you. )

e;

[pillz]

[this penthouse complex is fuckin' sweet. check it. there's a wall in the lobby that obviously used to have an indoor waterfall going down, and the elevator is as big as a fucking bedroom even though it doesn't work.

it doesn't seem worth it to climb that many stairs, so murphy and kavinsky only make it up to the third floor before deciding to settle in and pillage, but even then— the third floor unit is beautiful, a mixture of industrial rebar and vintage wooden paneling (you can tell it's vintage even without the layer of dust and arbitrary dandelions poking out of shit), red furniture, a wide bed underneath a slanted window that takes up the whole wall. the aerial swoop of stairs coming down.

also there's a cake in the fridge. half chocolate, half vanilla. it tastes like there are two thin layers of ice cream inside of it, which is amazing, and slightly incongruous with the fact they have to run the tap for 2 minutes before the water stops being brown and they can rinse some forks. but the cake is worth the wait, and soon kavinsky is flying a mouthful of cake into the other boy's face. making puttering propeller sounds. he's been in a chronically shitty mood over the past few days, since the crash landing, since !!camping!! in the abominable woods. but he's better now.] This is eagle two, [he says.] Coming in for a landing.

Air control, do you copy?

[rekt]

[ murphy has already jumped on the bed, plastered his face to the windows, found the booze, and took a piss in the master bathroom to claim it as his own. by the time they find the cake, he's well and good hyped up, bouncing on the heels of his socked feet as the dig into some cake, fucking cake, in the apocalypse. he's already loving this apocalypse so much more than his one from home.

he'd been about ready to throttle k on the way into the city for all the whining he was doing, and all the blank staring aric was up to, it's honestly amazing john murphy isn't, for once, being the most obnoxious one in the group, wishing k would talk less and aric would talk more, and some how stuck in the middle of the spectrum. but now, acting like a kid with this idiot boy who'd become his closest real friend here, maybe this place will actually be livable. maybe less of the hell that earth was. is.

sputtering a laugh as he chokes on the last piece of cake he's trying to swallow, murphy gets it down with a gulp, before he can clear his throat enough to say - ] Copy, if you really want me to eat you that bad.

[ k's gross bad jokes have grown on him, apparently, but he opens up to let him zoom zoom the spoon into his mouth with only slight eye rolling. ]

[pillz]

[neeer dooshhhh. the spoon of food makes its landing, smooth as you like. smooth as ice cream as a matter of fact, thick and creamy and sweet and now chinatown would really love some ice cream. maybe in time for a the 100 viewing party. but the fact of the matter is, that the dumb game that kavinsky plays doesn't end in any idiot offense. not trying to gag the other boy with the silverware down his throat, or jab around in his mouth to make like, penis bulges out of his cheeks. he just rubs it around on murphy's spoon, then fishes the handle downward, sliding it slowly out of his mouth again. ensuring that every last bit of milky sugar is smoothed off on his tongue.

cake improves most things. why not the urge to throttle someone, too?]

One day I will teach you to eat ass, [kavinsky says.] But until then-- [and then he closes the space between them, elbows skidding on marble. it's nice-- a nice change from the whiny little fuck who'd bitched for five minutes about the stone in his shoe and then spent the next fifteen trying to kick other ones all over the abandoned strip of warehouse district as they went along, slowing them down on their way into the residential area and anything remotely inhabitable. nice, the chill of kavinsky's mouth when he latches onto murphy's with it, his tongue as cold as dessert toppings prying at murphy's jaws.]

[rekt]

[ it's possible that the moan murphy makes while the spoon slides smooth off his tongue is more pornographic than at least half of the sounds he's made it bed. kavinsky may feel jealous of the ice cream. but to his credit, the urge to throttle has rapidly evaporated with this treatment, and murphy's ready to go all jelloy and pliable, so tired after the landing, the trek and the camping, body missing the simple pleasures and thrills eudio made so easily available.

like kavinsky, and his smirky lips, and his profane mouth, and his demanding tongue. ]

M'gonna remember that. [ murphy muffles into kavinsky's lips, trying to talk with a tongue sucked between his lips. he wants those ass eating lessons, he wants to get to do to kavinsky what he seems to love doing to him. but until then, he's going to suck face, and maybe other more offensive things later, snickering into the seal of their lips, as he licks all along kavinsky's teeth, trying to soak in the sugary dessert taste clinging to him. this cake is going to melt if they ignore it too long, though, and murphy's hand fumbles around, one sitting comfortably against the side of kavinsky's neck and the other picking up the spoon, murphy trying to tilt his head and peek opening an eye just enough to get another spoon full, before he pulls back, though his body stays close. ] Okay, forget coming in for landing. Eagle Two is screwed 'cause Godzilla's attacking the airport. Open wide, lizard king.

powerpose, lmk if not ok (cw c-word)

[pillz]

[the things that kavinsky loves include the fact that one john murphy, intrepid spaceboy, now knows what godzilla is. it makes him laugh when the spoon suddenly sticks in his mouth, and hits the roof of his mouth and he almost gags on it. still smiling though, like a fucking idiot, his jaws pried open but his too-big lips bent wildly up into a jack-o'-lantern grin.

several events occur at once. he gets brain freeze. he gets his mouth off the spoon, swallows anyway. feels the cold burning its way down his throat, as he stoops into the friendly concave of murphy's body, sticks an arm through murphy's legs and wraps it around his leg, puts his own shoulder into murphy's gut and hoists. his head is screaming murder at him, vibrating with a very special dessert agony, but he ignores it, guffawing, sticky sweet dairy running out of his mouth. when murphy flails, his foot accidentally hits the round dish tray thing holding the ice cream cake, but luckily it just jumps an inch then lands again. plenty left to melt.]

Hrraaorrgh, [kavinsky exclaims to the empty apartment. which isn't entirely empty, to be fair. any number of weevils and small flowering plants say hello. but you know the funny thing, the carpet looks less mossy already, and the couch is entirely free of dust when kavinsky hurls his prey down into it.] I'm 2014 Godzilla-- taste my Atomic Breath, li'l baby cunt--

[uncomfortably, this means kavinsky pinching murphy's nipples through his shirt, leaning his weight down on his chest with the heels of his hands, and trying to drip ice cream saliva on his face.]

[rekt]

Son of a bit-- [ murphy shrieks as he's suddenly lifted up onto kavinsky's shoulders, not a whole lot of people willing to manhandle him around like this, but k seems ever entitled to it. not that murphy's ever made a complaint about it. and flail he does, even at the possible expense of the cake, legs scrambling, body squirming, and hands shoving at this stupid, gorgeous, infuriating, hilarious jackass right here.

the shrieking is half made up of mad laughter, so the protests and fighting aren't that convincing, but that hardly means murphy's going to stop. he lands on the couch with an omph, and doesn't have much time to catch his breath before some douchebag starts tweaking his nipples like he's trying to tune a radio. another snickering screech echoes off the walls gradually losing it's creeping ivy, and murphy struggles against him, hands shoving, and feet kicking at kavinsky's hips, shoulders trying to cave together to wiggle his chest away from this undignified assault!!

and, wow, kavinsky's going to freaking drool on him. this is the grossest shit, why does he like this dumbass so much? (for crap exactly like this, honestly) ]

Ah, nasty! [ his hands move from shoving at kavinsky's arms and chest to pushing at his jaw, trying to angle his icky drooly face away from dripping onto his person. it doesn't help that laughing like a loon hyperventilates him some, his toothy half-grin half-grimace making his eyes narrow. ] Motherfucker, don't you dare!

CHANGED MY MIND OOPSSSsssss

[maserati]

( he's wearing aaron's shirt. this, to someone who knows the varied differences between the two twins, might seem unusual for the worse of the two, andrew, provided that he generally keeps a very noticeable distance between them. sharing clothes is not pro quo, but today is not a day for regularities. it's a white shirt. it has a black line for a collar, and black lines for ends at either of his arms. it is, possibly, aaron's favorite shirt.

presumably murphy has seen him in it before. that's the point.

andrew is very aware of the contrasts that exist between himself and his brother -- the way aaron hunches his shoulders or the space he takes between steps, how his eyes flicker sharply when someone moves as if expecting a fist to come slamming back down on him. he has studied aaron for many years, very silently and when no one is watching, staring at the taunt draw of his shoulders and the way he attracts people, simply by being. andrew's antithesis, despite the similarities in their looks -- twins in appearance and not much else, except for the way their mouths both seemed to form infinite hard lines, permanent frowns. andrew is grateful for this, because he's fairly certain the muscles of his mouth have long since forgotten how to hold themselves in a smile, and that little tear in his facade could give it all away.

because those years of studying his brother, his twin, his whateverthefuck, have amounted to this: murphy tracking into the woods for some reason, and andrew with his eyes stuck wildly on him. he might be taking a piss. andrew can't be bothered to care, stalking in shortly after him, sharing a precursory look behind himself to make sure no one is watching. ( except axel. specifically, he should be there. ) )

Hey.

( he says. aaron tone of voice. fake life knitted into the single syllable, a softness he sometimes lets axel hear in the dead of morning when sand is still bedecking his eyes from sleep. hey. gentle, kind, light, aaron minyard. it's fine if it isn't believable. andrew only needs to trick him for a second, after all, before he gears up and punches him directly in the jaw.

he didn't mean to do that. he doesn't think he did, at least. he meant to talk, and warn, and say unfair things that he knows are unfair, but that need to be said in equal measures. things that start with i will kill you if and have a variety of different endings, all relating back to aaron himself. ultimately, it becomes this: andrew can't be fucked to do a thing for himself because he can't find the vanity inside himself to care, but when it comes to aaron, he will always put his life on the line. there isn't a single life more important that his, and -- andrew has to admit, a lot of it is their looks. that andrew could be looking into a mirror when he sees him, a less fucked up mirror for a future he might've had if his life and innocence weren't ripped from his seven year old hands, like a toddler stealing something from walmart. aaron's dignity, his purity, his goodness, his light, it's something andrew can and will die for, again and again and again. )

If you don't regret what you're doing, you will. One day. Be sure of it.

( he says, after a short second. )

[rekt]

[ hey, aaron's voice, in a body wearing aaron's shirt, and murphy's head picks up from where he's digging around, looking for where he'd buried some emergency supplies, in case the city ended up being a bust. his brows lifted, he doesn't expect the twin at all, even knowing there's a twin out there, and that twin probably wants his head right now. andrew gets his swing in far too fast for murphy's jerk of a reflex to save him, taking the punch square across the cheek, inside of his mouth crushed up against his teeth.

which is why andrew can likely see blood on said pearly whites when he straightens up, ignoring whatever was just said to him, because honestly, he doesn't fucking care. he's not dignifying this freaking stupid line of thought that whatever andrew says to him about how to conduct his life if going to mean absolutely anything at all. nah, we're just here to brawl. ]

Was wondering when you were gonna turn up.

[ because they'd warned him he'd get a talk. this isn't a talk, but no, this is better. so much better than just walking away and maybe flipping the bird. a snarl breaks across murphy's features, the kind of animalistic crazy you get when a place like the Ground formed you like pick axes carving out stone, and he launches forward overlapping the last syllable of what andrew had been telling him, completely in one ear and out the other, before he slams out a punch, angling a shoulder after to drive into his gut, trying to send him to the ground.

it's really a good thing aaron didn't tag along. ]