ℑ𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𑁍 [TDM]

[gorelord]

Welcome to the Test Drive!

For information on the game premise, setting etc, please utilize the navigation pages below. Questions specific to the TDM prompts or the setting can go to the comment thread. Anything else relating to game mechanics can go in the FAQ.

GAME PAGES

premise
setting
faq
rules
glossary

i.
arrival:
Well darlings, don't you panic

(warnings:drugs)

It begins with a nightmare, the details of which have already slipped through your fingers. Only the curling echo of its dread lingers in your chest. Something has snapped you out of a catatonic state: the shudder of rain and thunder battering against the window, a cold chill running down your spine, or perhaps the smell of dinner stirring your appetite. Whatever it may be that brings you back to your senses, you find yourself in an old moldering estate lost to a bygone time.

You are not alone. A warm hand touches your arm as someone checks in to see if you're alright before they pull away.

You're in the middle of someone's cozy gathering: a humble gathering spread throughout the entire wing of some manor. The warm glow of lamplights and candles light the way around a cluster of interconnected rooms. Flickering shadows conceal the peeled edges of the wallpaper. The pungent scent of dinner and smoke layers over the dampness of the wood. There is the feeling of forgotten opulence made anew by its current occupants: finely carved and ornate furniture sits askew in some places, threadbare rugs layered over one another, melted candle wax piled on the corners of mantles and sconces.

There are no serving staff, only eclectic guests of mixed status who look no more belonging to their surroundings than you. Like any house party, there are those open to mingling with strangers and will fill you in on your situation. Others turn in on their huddles and cannot otherwise be bothered to include you in their company. You learn you've been at the Lonely Fortress anywhere between a morning and a fortnight. It's not uncommon for new arrivals to take a while to come around. All that matters is you're present, you're alive, and you should try to enjoy the night.

oh fantasy, feed me!

If you're feeling out of sorts, getting some food in you will help. The dining hall is there for those who follow the aroma. Long draped tables are dressed with various tiered plates and platters of a feast fit for a woodland lord. Attendees graze the dressed tables for bits of roast, bites of vegetables, and the occasional sweet or bread roll. Carafes and pitchers scattered up and down the tables hold fortified wines, spruce ales, ciders, and fruit punches. The food is losing its warmth, but even just a nibble will help ground you from the foggy haze you've stumbled out of.

Smalltalk is easy to come by here. If you've just come to, someone might be nudging you to pass the olives. Get to know your neighbor. Eat, drink, mingle.

a jump to the left

If dinner doesn't suit you, the stronger liquor can be found in one of several interconnected parlors where groups of people have collected to socialize and entertain one another. There's gambling in the Smoking Parlor where people bet away favors or trinkets over card games. A haze of herbal smoke swirls overhead, lending to the room's abnormal warmth.

The Velvet Parlor will suit those looking for a more intimate mood. The center floor before the hearth is piled with rugs, blankets, and pillows for patrons to laze over. In a dark corner, a masked man plucks away a druzy melancholic tune on a pear-shaped instrument, lending to a subdued ambiance. Small groups convalesce among couches and pillows as they imbibe in mood dizzying substances meant to soothe frazzled souls. Partaking in these drinks might leave you feeling a bit loose lipped. Join them in drinking games such as two truths and a lie, charades, and truth or forfeit.

a step into the night

If the party isn't to your liking, there are dark corridors aplenty to get turned around in. The Fortress is a maze to navigate at night. No lights beyond the party line the corridors, forcing those to wander by lamp or candle. The further away from the revelry, the colder and damper it gets. The sounds of the storm raging outside howls through the hall, rattling doors, and other unexplainable bumps in the night. The deeper in the dark you wander, the more paranoid you begin to feel. Is there something lurking after you in the dark? Beyond the battering of the rain, the air is eerily still. Occasionally, you may hear the whispers of feverous ritualistic chanting echoing in the dark. No matter how hard you try to follow it, you are unable to find the source.

If your first instinct was to try to leave, you'll find locked gates and a spitting rain. It's not worth traveling in these conditions, so you might as well stay inside for a little while until you can see where you're going.

ii.
fight or flight:
Madness takes its toll

(warnings: monster transformation/body horror (bug adjacent), violence/gore, aphrodisiacs, sex, potential for dubcon. )

Later into the night, something begins to feel off. Call it a gut feeling, a primal instinct. A loud, monstrous shriek pierces the air that leaves your ears ringing.The lights flicker and snuff out, plunging the fortress into a darkness. All revelry tumbles to a dead stop as one by one the light begins to return. The warm tone of the night shifts cool as a few brazen souls step out into the hall to heed unearthly cries only to never return. Commotion rattles the walls as the monster hunts through the dining hall, leaving a pile of crumpled bodies with the marrow sucked from their bones.

A monster has crashed the party (or perhaps it was summoned). Lonely, human-like cries slither through the halls, beckoning victims into the maw of a ghastly beast by mimicking the sounds their most cherished loved ones. Shaped like a large, overgrown humanoid centipede, it scuttles through the inky dark on dozens of spindly hands, hunting by sound alone. Those who hear its cries may need to fight an unearthly compulsion to return the call and beckon it near.

"Servitor," an old man's grave whisper slips into everyone's minds. "Contain your fear, find sanctuary, do not make a sound. Go now."

rise and scatter

Without a word, everyone retreats as quickly and quietly as possible. Doors are shut, shuddered, and locked. Those who are unable get to safety quietly are followed and spirited away off into the darkness to be crushed and consumed by the unseen creature. People barricade the doors, others open the windows to let the sound of the rain to muffle their noise. Secret passages behind the tapestries are unveiled as small groups pair off to sneak off to find refuge elsewhere.

No one speaks, but their voices slip into each other's minds. The soft murmurings of more seasoned residents urge those capable of hunting the monster to get to the armory and for the rest to split into smaller groups. The monster needs to be driven out and the rest need to prevent the infection of hysteria. Here, comfort is only found in numbers, safety is not guaranteed.

Choose wisely which path you take and who becomes your lockdown partner. Not everyone will make it through the night. Do what you need to survive. Don't speak. Don't panic.

rose tint my world

If you chose sanctuary: be prepared to wait a while in the room you've hunkered down in or risk exposing yourself to the horrors lurking the corridors. Occasionally, you can hear whatever it is hunting; the skittering of legs and the sorrowful cry that tempts the weak-hearted. If you hear a loved one crying out for you, it's not recommended to heed it.

Not everyone fearfully hunkers down to wait the night, though. You may find yourself in mixed company who take on stranger measures to distract themselves. Instead of huddle quietly, waiting for death to stalk them, their comforting beins to devolve into quiet and desperate carnal pleasures. Soft hands paw over worried faces before tucking a candy into their mouths. The sentiment here is clear: don't ask too many questions, just eat the candy and go with the flow. Its properties can be swiftly felt: a relaxant and a mild aphrodisiac. The people in here are trying to fight the spread of panic with the distraction of intimacy. The veil of rainfall drowns out soft unkept moans and labored breaths. If you're unwilling to participate in a light horrorgy, none here will compel you, but it's probably better to find a different corner to quell your hysteria.

a feeling of unnameable dread

If you join the monster hunt: you can pick up a weapon from the armory. The Fortress provides an eclectic collection of premodern arms suited for the most modest of novices to the most sporting of hunters. No firearms, you'll be in close quarters and a bullet won't be very effective against this servitor. You get a torch and either a blunt or bladed weapon. Whatever you take, hopefully you know how to use it.

The servitor is sensitive to light and sound. Some hunters are tasked with luring it away by playing a high-stakes game of marco polo. Others who feel more equipped to defeat it, might find fire to be particularly useful. Be weary of other horrors bumping around in the dark. The night can play tricks on the senses, and just believing something might be lurking in the dark might briefly manifest your horrors into reality.

iii.
respite:
Down the river of night's dreaming

An announcement of the servitor's defeat comes in the mere hours before dawn. Those who have holed themselves away begin to emerge. Anyone who perished at the hands of the monster will have left nothing behind but smears of blood where they met their demise. You're told their bodies have been taken by the bramble, but little more is divulged. Not everyone here is at your beck and call for answering questions.

The overall mood is somber and exhausted, leaving the once raging storm outside to dwindle down to tranquil trickle of rain. For now, it's to begin winding down the night for a much needed rest and recovery. It's time to clean up for the night, tend to any wounds, and find a place to rest.

Medical supplies are far from any modern counterparts, but the resident herbalist can spare salves, tinctures, and clean bandages along with any tonics to quell any lingering weariness. The first night after awakening can be difficult, riddled with nightmares. If you do not take up the offer of a sleeping tonic, you may find yourself sleepwalking.

oh no, they were bunkmates

Despite the size, private bedchambers are in short supply. Newcomers may find themselves paired up to share quarters or fighting to keep their space to themselves as more filter in looking for a place to sleep. If you're not willing to share a room or a bed, there are plenty of other spots to curl up into and rest for a few hours; however, seasoned exiles warn that those who insist on remaining alone tend to have a rougher night's sleep.

Comments

lottie matthews | yellowjackets

[ramure]

( ooc: cw for cannibalism & mental illness/psychosis & cult spirituality being integral to lottie's character )

I. ✈ ØⱧ ₣₳₦₮₳₴Ɏ, ₣ɆɆĐ ₥Ɇ!

[ She'd come alive again to the smell of dinner, to feeling warm. To being indoors, of all places. How impossible is that? Still, Lottie is no stranger to hallucinations, or to visions, as she understands them. Is that what this place is? Another vision, another warning? A message from the wilderness, maybe? No. It feels different, so alive with a rotten, fetid consciousness that Lottie knows the difference immediately, even before the headache from reawakening has dissipated. This is not even a gift from the wilderness - there is nothing familiar here. Yet she is not frightened, not really. Nothing seems to scare her despite the strangeness of it all. She is glad to be touched by friendly strangers, calm at their approach and appreciative of their guidance. She remains fascinated by the dream (vision, whatever it is, Lottie has ceased to care) for some time, enamored by the old, worn opulence around her. She explores in silence, offering strange, short answers to anyone who questions her.

This is not the wilderness, no. But something else lurks in the very air itself, Lottie can feel it as plainly as if it were a friend whispering to her while holding her hands in theirs.

When finally offered food she eats ravenously, no cutlery, crumbs and juices running down her chin. All the options she hasn't had access to for well over a year call out to her at once with a thousand different smells. Her stomach growls like an animal and for a few minutes she can only look with wide, dark eyes on the feast before her. A real feast. Then she eats so much so quickly that she begins to feel sick, her stomach turning on her fast as the fortified wine starts to hit.

Then, belatedly, another consideration hits. ]

You don't suppose it's all poison, do you?

II. ✈ ₳ JɄ₥₱ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ ⱠɆ₣₮

[ Recovered from her tummy ache and now in the Velvet Parlour, Lottie partakes in the drink, feeling for all the world like she's been invited to someone else's Doomcoming - and what an invitation it's turning out to be. Strangers with bright eyes and wet mouths lounging about in comfort that seems so decadent to Lottie that it feels like she's stealing something, like she's done something illegal to be here. But what, and who has she taken it from? Her friends? They have come creeping back into her mind more and more the longer she's here, the longer she thinks she might not wake up from this vision after all.

But there is an intoxicating crackle to the forced calm around her that Lottie can feel like a fog in the still, musty air, and suddenly her cup is empty. The murmur of voices around her, the other loose-lipped confessions from the faces she's seen passing all day have the thoughts of home on her lips before very long at all.

Luckily there is someone beside her to listen, someone who seems to be looking at her expectantly. Or maybe that's just Lottie's love for attention. ]

I don't regret killing him. We had to give it what it wanted.

III. ✈ Ɽł₴Ɇ ₳₦Đ ₴₵₳₮₮ɆⱤ

[ The scream cuts Lottie's heart in two, a ghost she'd thought she'd forgotten the pain of. Laura Lee? God, it sounds just like her, Lottie thinks, sounds like how she must have screamed when the little plane caught fire. When it began to smoke, when it...

Cold fear returns with the darkness and screams, with the fearful scattering of her new friends. It's the sharp sort of fear that had been everywhere when her dad's private plane had first gone down, before she'd begun to sense the force that was with them out there. The presence that would never, ever leave them alone. But she was alone here without it, right now, and whatever power this place is soaked in and that called this fear, has fast outstripped the wilderness.

Unthinking, Lottie follows the body fleeing next to her, scrambling after them into one of the hidden passages tucked behind a nearby tapestry. She crouches down with a hand over her mouth next to them, willing herself to breathe more slowly, to slow down her rabbit of a heartbeat. She's good at being quiet, at putting away fear, but she reaches for the hand she can feel next to her in the dark anyway.

But as the fear settles in her like silt in a river, as it becomes less urgent and more manageable, her curiosity swells in its place. She wants to know what's going on, what's happening out there. She wants to see, to know what she can hear hunting people in the halls. She wants to feel its power, to experience a living thing this world has created. ]

It's calling to me. [ She doesn't now if she's whispering in her mind to no one, to everyone, or just to the person beside her. She realizes she doesn't really care. Maybe even the monster can hear her, too. ] It sounds... like it knows me.

[ Still holding someone's hand in one of hers, she lifts the side of the tapestry and peeks out at the slit of dim light that's bared. Is the room empty? No-- ]

IV. ✈ ⱤɆ₴₱ł₮Ɇ ฿Ʉ₦₭₥₳₮Ɇ₴

[ Lottie has to admit that she's glad they're sharing. Not just because of the chaos and terror of the night, but because she's used to sharing space, to feeling the comfort of breath and life all around her. What once was an alien inconvenience and then a tiresome reality is now something she realizes she's longing for as she waits for someone to stand in her doorway and break her solitude. Above all, Lottie thinks she needs someone to talk to. To confirm she's still alive, to confirm this place is still real.

When someone finally arrives, she gives them a wavering, weak smile as both a greeting and a welcome. ]

Are you okay?

[ Considering everything that has just happened, she would understand if they weren't. But Lottie herself seems curiously at peace, even a little blissful now that company has turned up, though keen eyes will notice the blood on all of her fingertips and the brushstrokes of it on her face in the places she's absently touched. ]

✈ V. ✈ ₩łⱠĐ₵₳ⱤĐ!

( Let's plot or just hit me with something different! pp anytime @ kaitniss )

respite, bunkmates.

[hedoniste]

You know, I have had better days.

( debatably worse ones, too, but maybe not more surreal. it has the strange, sliding sensation of a dream, except she’s never been in a dream for so long, or with such consistency, or without

(she can hear nothing over the silence)

and anyway, she’s still carrying her shoes. it’s so ordinary. what kind of dream cares what happens to her shoes. god, why does she care what’s happening to her shoes; she sets them down at the end of the bed, frowning at them as if they represent everything inexplicable and terrible that surrounds them currently.

a sleeping tonic is gripped in her other hand. it’s not exactly an unfamiliar idea, but the idea of drinking it in the company of a stranger feels — harder to do in practise than it had been in theory. )

oh fantasy feed me

[exarchest]

Then we're all going to die.

[ Rainer remarks flatly, already reaching for an empty bowl. there isn't one, so he picks one filled with fruit and dumps the fruit on the table. some apples roll over and fall to the floor, but certainly that isn't as bad as having the girl get her sick everywhere. he scoots over, the bowl ready. just in case. ]

Uh huh. Hungry, were you?

[ he'd been watching her from the corner of his eye. and who could have missed the loud growls? it had been a while since he had enjoyed such a feast, but her hunger was obviously something else entirely. starvation? malnourishment? he studies her carefully, his real concern masked under dry humor. ]

later than i intended, as we do (to the left)

[sourgirl]

[ A part of Nat doesn't want to trust she's actually here. It keeps feeling around the dark for the inevitable snag that pulls down the great big curtain that hides the open wilderness. This isn't rescue, it's not home, it's something else entirely.

It could be better than where they came from, but she's too focused on nervously feeling for cracks in the veneer. A sign that this is a dream, a hallucination, something that makes sense. Because the moment she knows she'll let herself feel the relief, something will spring up and tear it away again.

She can recognize Lottie's voice from anywhere. Her attention shifts in the dark, locking onto her sitting among the pillows like she's been there all along. ]

Lottie—[ Is she seriously telling a bunch of strangers what she did? What they did? Wasn't that part of the fucking problem that held them back in the first place? Can we not? ]

Get another drink with me? [ It's not a real question. The look on Nat's face says there's no argument to it, but she knows damn well Lottie does what Lottie wants. ] Please?