revivalprojectooc | Winter Test Drive Meme

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Winter Test Drive Meme

WINTER TEST DRIVE MEME
Application FAQ | Taken Characters | Reserves | Application

Welcome to the Current Test Drive for The Revival Project!

This game is a spin-off from the closed The Drift Fleet game. For more information about the game, including more details on the setting, please check out the FAQ here or the premise here.

A thread on the TDM will be required for all applications. Please view the FAQ for information about how this works. Any questions about the game please direct to the comment section of the FAQ as well.

If you are a Drift Fleet alumni bringing your character from the game, please label your character as 'DFAU' on your top level. Also, keep in mind you have complete flexibility on how your character comes here. They could be taken before endgame, after endgame, two years after, one year before, etc. It's up to you! If you want to completely restart your character, they're not considered DFAU anymore and won't need the label.

So go! Explore Agra 10! And, as always, HAVE FUN!

Thread ideas:

Winter in Temba and Sh'Ka

Winter has arrived on Agra 10 and with it its cold temperatures, sharp winds and, you guessed it, snow. It starts slow and gentle in Temba, but even such gentle snowfall tends to build up and over the course of a few days of constant snowfall, the city has been covered with a white, roughly knee-deep blanket - Unless someone actually remembered to keep some of the paths clear.

And it still keeps snowing. The cold is also causing some of the Shadowpaws to be drawn to the inhabited buildings of Temba in search for shelter. The further away from the library one is, the more likely it gets that they may share one's living space and bless anyone else living there with nightmares. The area around the library remains free of the shadowpaws thanks to the mothcats residing there.

Over in Sh'Ka, a similar picture has been painted. But being situated within all these tall trees paints a somewhat different picture. A more icy one. All the by now leaf-free trees are covered in a thick layer of ice, as are Sh'Ka's stone-carved buildings. The wind here is harsher than it is in Temba, which has been comparably wind-free.

Please try not to slip and hurt yourself while marveling at either city.

Explore ~~the city~~ Temba!

Here's a map of Temba and a bit more description of some of the buildings here.

Most of the buildings are run down and have clearly been abandoned for years; fortunately, the water treatment center appears to be working, but power is intermittent and unreliable. What used to be stores or places to live in lies in ruins, but there may still be something to scavenge among the rubble. Do you want to risk a swim in the flooded area that has turned into a deep lake that has yet to be fully explored; or does it draw you to some of the more prominent and partially restored buildings, such as the hotel, the hospital or the amphitheater.

If you are lucky, you might even stumble over The Deep End, the bar located on one of the mid-levels of the tower residences in one of the residence towers. Unfortunately no bright neon signs can lead you there, but it does exist.

Visit the spaceships!

That's right, there are currently several small spaceships sitting in the hangar. Not all of them may be around when you check out the building, as one of the pilots may be using one of them to fly over to Sh'Ka. But there should still enough of them around for you to inspect and maybe wonder about. However, only one of them will open its doors for you. Do you dare to step inside? Check out the protein paste or maybe even meet one of your crew mates?

The two currently crewless ships are open for anyone to step inside and have a look around, maybe even use for a nap.

Try the network!

Upon arrival, your character will have on their person a small, handheld communications device. Maybe they know exactly how to use a computer, smartphone, or tablet, and immediately blast out a text or video trying to figure out what's going on. Or maybe they're not so tech-savvy after all, and everyone is about to get a lovely shot right up your character's left nostril.

There be storms...

These power-altering storms keep ravaging parts of the planet every once in a while. No one truly knows where they come from or what to do about them yet, but one of them appears to be approaching. You have the option to find shelter in one of the buildings to wait for it to pass. Unless, of course, you rather feel drawn to investigate.

Should you step inside the storm, or even get lost in it, it will show ghosts of people you know and those you don't. It drains you of any super-human abilities and tries its best to keep you from getting to its origin. Are you going to try anyways? Or are you going to chase the whispers of people from your past? Maybe you will simply find yourself calling for help or stumble across another lost soul in need of assistance.

More information can be found here.

Wildcard!

You're welcome to use any previous test drive scenarios or previous game events as a basis for a thread/situation, or simply make up your own! Keep in mind that you're currently stranded on a planet with only basic necessities, but there is enough food and fresh water. Creature comforts, however, seem to be distinctly lacking. Quite unlike a gathering of potentially dangerous creatures to encounter. The setting is yours to explore and have fun with!

✧ Premise ✧ FAQ ✧ Rules ✧ Test Drive ✧ Taken ✧ Reserves ✧ Application ✧
✧ Map ✧ Devices & Network ✧ Data Points ✧ Ships ✧ Flora ✧ Fauna ✧ Supply Requests ✧ Calendar ✧
✧ Activity Check ✧ Player Plot Suggestion ✧ Player Contacts ✧ Player Permission Code ✧ Hiatus ✧ Drop ✧
✧ Navigation ✧

code bases by tricklet

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a. Arrival
A dusting of snow stood on the fur of the sleek, black cat when the chill finally encouraged him from sleep, to an irritable flick of his tail, to slitting open his yellow eyes. This wasn't the plush throne of a benevolent emperor. And what happened to the piles of money? When the terrible dream persisted, the cat had to admit another flick of displeasure, this time an ear, before he was lifting his head, and squirming around to consider that weird lump under his belly. The textured cover of the book he was laying on was digging into his delicate parts. Attacked from all angles, absolutely no reprieve.

When he did give a proper look around to try to spot who had made it snow in his house, his eye was immediately caught by the glowing ball above. It stayed there, entranced, pupils huge and black as he made the leap up onto the ledge of the fountain, not even aware of the near threat of water with his focus so intently on Orb. Orb was friend. Orb was beautiful. Orb was going to get slapped. He had to stretch up on his hind legs to reach it.

Seconds later, full of regret and limping around to avoid putting down one soggy paw, Salem was off of the fountain and searching for somewhere warm and soft to go back to sleep and put an end to this increasingly horrible dream, spell, or inevitable psychological breakdown. Spending so long as a cat was bound to do that to a man. If it was a spell, it was a good thing he had the book, maybe. Insofar as the book could tell him what kind of spell. Using the book was another matter altogether, and the first problem to solve was going to be moving it at all, because it couldn't stay out here in the ever mounting snow. It was already starting to disappear, its decorative leather cover mounded with white. Salem tried grabbing it with his teeth first, searching for enough of an edge to get a hold on and pull, then went around to try to push across the stone with his nose, then his head, paws just slipping in the snow and toes getting colder by the second. A surprisingly human, mournful sob broke out and echoed across the town square. It might have begged, "Pleee-he-he-hease..."

b. Shadowpaws
The room was clearly lived in. Not exactly well appointed, by any means. Not fit for someone of Salem's stature. But there were blankets, and pillows, and a half full glass of water that someone must have left there recently. Who the room definitely did not belong to was the gentleman that Salem had followed in here. Gentleman was a generous title, as he did not stop to make a formal introduction, and most gentlemen didn't scamper up walls. This one, both furry and feathery and thus delectable, had to have been in here somewhere, because they had come in through the same window. Salem waited, ears twisting to listen (trying to hear over the eager grumble of his stomach), until telltale movement had him crouching and ready.

Their eyes met across the room. It could have been love. Or fear, it was possible the thing just peed a little.

It moved first, a burst of action that sent it scrabbling up the blankets. Salem tore after it, scratching his way up the fabric, tearing the pillows where he landed on them, rending the wallpaper as he pushed off the wall and sending the glass splattering across the room as they both went barrelling by it. At this point, the scene could only be better set with a generous splash of blood.

Billy was sure he'd heard some sort of sobbing, but when he'd come to explore he didn't find anyone. He did see a very cute and pathetic looking cat though. He wasn't sure if this was a creature native to Temba or one that had been brought in, but he stooped to offer an affectionate ear scritch.

"You okay Buddy?"

Once in the throes of a passion (blubbering tantrum), it was difficult to shut it off enough to give a convincing performance for the mortals. This one coming to crouch at his side, where Salem was stretched down onto his chest with his feet pushing into the heavy book and chin on the cold ground, where he would surely die, miserable and alone and with no one to witness his endless suffering, this mortal could be forgiven if he was sure the cat went, "Uh, meow." The very normal cat then cleared his throat, and tried again with a much more kittenish mewling, a trill already building in his throat as he tipped his head agreeably into the scritching. Maybe it was all worth it, for some pats.

It was cold outside, rather cold. Which meant Lark hadn't meant to stay out there very long. She had wrapped herself up in a shawl and thick scarf, donned some mittens, and went out of the hotel. It was time to cook some nice hot soup and enjoy a bowl.

Until, that was, she heard a sound. A voice actually. Voices carried so much in the cold, but she still started seeking it out. Only to find a cat.

"Oh you poor dear," she said, moving closer to it. "Here little kitty, let me take you inside where it's warm."

She would find the person after she had the cat safe.

"Did you just-?" Billy wondered aloud, but his suspicions quickly felt foolish as that cat nuzzled in, and he smiled, reaching to scoop him up.

"Poor guy, you must be freezing, huh? What's this? This yours?" he asked with a teasing voice, pausing to look at the large book.

Yes, Salem was incredibly poor and incredibly dear and deserved to be taken care of. Some mittens of his own wouldn't be too bad, either, and he'd have to figure out how to get them off of this lady before he could sneak them away. Going somewhere warm sounded like a very good start to this genius plan. Unfortunately, he couldn't just leave the book out here on its own to freeze. He hopped up on top of it again where he had started, letting his tail swish away the powdery snow to reveal more of its cover in what he hoped was a tantalizing way, and gave a plaintive meow with the biggest, saddest eyes he could manage.

Scooping was a bit much, very intimate before they had been properly introduced. Salem went, "Ulp!" as he was lifted, going liquid and heavy, which mostly just made his feet dangle, and he wiggled his front paws anxiously toward the book with as much of a stretch all the way to his claws as he could to try to reach it. It was going to take a careful balance to try to both communicate that he did deserve to be carried around where it was warm against the mortal's chest, like a prince, and that he would commit a brutal murder if the book didn't also come with him.

He settled for a kind of garbled, "Bo-ok," which maybe could be a meow that sounded surprisingly like a person saying 'book'. How charming, what a charming cat he was.

Well, that was definitely a cat, a real cat. For a moment Lark had to hold back her delight. She had wanted a cat since coming to the Winding Circle but with Rosethorn's work and many of her plants not being safe for cats, it had never been in their ability to have.

"Good thing I left Little Bear safe and warm in my room," she said, moving forward. "And what an interesting book. Hm, I think the best choice would be to take this to the library. But you can't be near the mothcats. Dilemmas."

For now she leaned down, reaching for the cat. She'd have to find a way to carry them both she supposed.

"We'll just take the book to the library for now, and take you to that charming man with the strange talking magic cat. I expect he'd look after you."

Edited 2022-12-04 20:23 (UTC)

There were a lot of affronting concepts coming at Salem fast, when he thought he already couldn't get any worse. Yes, he would have to agree that it was good that the bear was not here with them, because he was the size of a snack for a bear. No, the book certainly did not belong in a library where just anyone could check it out, that sounded like a sure way to lose it. And no, he did not want to be near a mothcat, whatever that was, he decided to take the moral stand right there and disagree with them on principle.

On the other hand, he knew a thing or two about strange talking magic cats. This very real cat said, "Oh, goodie, a cellmate. What is he in for? Mass destruction? Temporal treason? Forgetting to send a wedding invitation to Drell? I have my favourites."

Oh. Oh dear. Lark stood there for a moment, regarding the the feline that was very much talking to her. Interesting.

"I admit, this is unexpected. And to answer your question, I believe he is merely the man's companion. And forgive me, I did believe you to be little more than a cat. How should I address you."

In the mean time she takes her scarf off to wrap around the feline the best she can. It may be impolite to pick him up after all.

Edited (there bear it's not default iconing) 2022-12-04 21:13 (UTC)

"That's what he wants you to think," Salem assured the lady, giving an imperious, tight turn where he stood to settle back onto his haunches. Magic talking cats did tend to be a deceitful bunch. He didn't entirely know what to think about being dressed, though if it were up to him, he would have put a scarf on, too, so he supposed he could tolerate this humiliation by sitting patiently for it. The colour did bring out his eyes.

"I get to choose?" he answered, looking quite thrilled about it, and didn't have to think long before he suggested, "'Your highness' has a nice ring to it. 'Beloved and bewitching emperor' would be ideal. If you give me some milk, I'll let you call me Salem."

No, Lark was certain of her conclusion, but that could wait for him meeting Mini himself.

"Unless you are a King or Emperor, I fear I shall not use the titles for you. And I have no milk," she told him quite honestly. Done with the scarf she straightens and looks at the book.

"Come, we can talk as we go, but you cannot carry your book alone. I assume you are our latest 'He Row'."

Edited 2022-12-04 21:31 (UTC)

She made it sound like she still thought him 'little more than a cat', which made Salem huff his offence at her assumption that he didn't deserve these titles. Maybe not yet. 'Hero' did sound good, though. The kind of person who would be allowed to take over the world. He slipped off of the book to look up at her hopefully again, giving another twirl so that she would use her human hands for him. "I could be a hero. My career opportunities kind of dried up a few years ago, and it's been a rocky transition to find something new. I don't do intern positions, though," he said, watching carefully after the book. "That can't go in any library, it has to stay with me," he added, before it could get to far and she could realize this vision of hers.

"I'm not sure I know what an intern is," she says, stooping to pick up the book. "That makes sense. Most arrivals seem to come with something from home. This would be be yours. When you find a safe place to live, it should be there with you. Your piece of home."

Once it was secure in her arms (and oh dear how large it was), she looked to him.

"I am not sure I could pick you up now, if you wished to be carried. Would you be willing to walk?"

"I can give it a shot," Salem replied, though he didn't sound as enthusiastic as he had been, and his ears were twisted back anxiously. Not about the walking, he'd been doing that for years and was pretty good at it. What was ruffling his fur was, "I'd rather just go home, thank you. I'm not really cut out for living on my own. I have needs. A delicate constitution. A refined palate. It takes a village, you know."

"Sadly, that is not something I can offer you at this point," she admitted. "I wish I could go home too. I miss many people there. But when we are called to this place, we are unfortunately mostly bound to it."

And his luck was that they had a village. Even if the 'taking a village' won't be that hard. They are a village.

"There may be someone here who you could reside with who would happily welcome your company. If you are tolerant of dogs and not likely to mess with threads or strings, I could even offer some of my space.

Being turned into a cat and forced into the Spellmans' care was bad enough, there wasn't any room left on Salem's plate for further bondage. Besides, "That's not fair! I haven't done anything!" Maybe this wasn't the best time for bad behaviour like lying, if he was trying to plead for his release. "Nothing that anyone was supposed to know about!" Better.

Despite this miraculous turn for honesty, prospects were looking bleak. Salem threw himself onto the ground, and revealed where that sobbing had been coming from in dramatic heaves. Between his tears, he wept, "I love messing with strings."

"You will find that is true of all of us. Our job here to try and save the Agrii," she said with a shrug. There was little she could do for all of this but find shelter.

Oh the poor thing. Lark crouched down, sitting on her heels, and looked at him. If only she could make it better.

"I'm sorry. I suppose wherever you go I can spare you some of the non-magical string."

"..." There was a stretch of silence where Billy shifted the cat to look into his eyes, trying to decide if he was crazy or not. Despite all he'd seen- talking animals included- he'd never seen one try to bluff. So...maybe he was just hearing patterns and his brain was trying to make sense of them.

Regardless, he carefully held the cat so he could lift the book up and under an arm without disturbing him too much.

"Let's get you out of this cold, huh? Get us both fed and then figure out if you're our new guest or someone left you behind."

These eyes were incredibly innocent and vacant, and did not belong to a being that could say the word 'book', and Salem did his best commitment to the bit by going limp and dangling in the mortal's hold. It wasn't terribly comfortable, so being tucked in one arm was an improvement, especially to see the book coming along with them. He didn't know where they were going, but going was better than whatever he had been doing. Going towards food was even better yet. He chirped his approval, and wiggled in the hold the mortal had on him to climb up onto his shoulder for a better vantage point and get a good sense of this cold place. He hoped he hadn't been left behind.

Salem was consumed in his tearful breakdown, so he almost missed the natural implication that there must have been magical strings as well. He was still pitifully hiccuping when he ventured, "Are these your magical strings? You still have your magic?" This whole thing might have been much less dire than the lady had presented it, if she wasn't even a mortal. She just needed some instructions.

"I'm the only thread mage here, so of course they would be mine," she said. She was shocked that he was very apparently familiar with magic, or familiar enough.

"When it is not a storm, which muddles abilities and magic in those that have it, yes, I have my thread magic."

She started walking toward the diner, expecting him to join her. Perhaps there was still some smoked fish around.

'Thread mage' sounded very specific, and Salem had to assume it was some fancy title because the lady otherwise made it sound like there were plenty of witches here. Maybe they all had weird, specific jobs, like celery sorcerer or couch commander. He would be happy to fill that role, if they were looking, and hurried after the thread mage's heels so no one else could volunteer in the meantime.

"So, when the snow clears up, we can get out of here. Open a portal or enchant a mirror or ask the book. Home, here I come!" he said.

"-What's all this?"

These were the words uttered by a very tired and slightly confounded man who stood in the doorway for longer than he had originally planned. While he didn't really have time to fix anything up before leaving for several hours, he was very sure the room was a tad neater than...well. This.

His nose wrinkled at the sharp scent that hit the air just so, noticing the open window when a chill ran down his spine. "Oh, for- thought I closed this." Stepping past and around the bed, he scrambled to pull the pane shut with a huff. It was then he drew back to take another look at the newer mess made, from the fallen glass to the scattered blankets and the flecks of...blood? Was that blood??

"-Oh god."

Feeling a little queasy, Steven swallowed, running a hand over his messy curls as the other awkwardly rested on his hip. "What, how, where did this come from...?" Not that he felt like sleuthing it up, but he needed to find the culprit.

By cautiously saying hello, obviously.

"...Hello? Anyone in here?"

A proper hero would have made himself scarce, not waiting around for the thanks of his adoring fans, or the hopeful looks of the cleanup crew. That had been Salem's plan, honest, after his lunch, and then a requisite post-lunch nap--no one could be expected to move too quickly after that. In fact, in was rude of this man to have woken him, making him blink groggily at the feet moving around the room from under the bed, and the muttering from above.

It was only fair that this man knew who he had to thank, really. That, and he should be appropriately fearful of Salem's violent bloodlust, should the need arise. He came slinking out from under the bed to leap up onto it with a greeting trill, tail up proud as he pressed new red stains into the sheets from his toes soiled by the carcass still hidden where he had left it. That mess was unbecoming, he did realize, and started to languidly lick his feet clean.

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Winter Test Drive Meme

Salem Saberhagen // Sabrina the Teenage Witch

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