sixthiteration | Test Drive 20 (August & September)

→ Holds and applications are always open. Holds are required for all applications.

→ Choose one of the scenarios below or make up your own. Feel free to try multiple scenarios.

→ Write LOGS or TEXT prompts, or both.

→ THERE ARE ONLY THREE RULES FOR THE TDM:

1. It has to take place in the 6I universe.
2. It cannot be the character's arrival into the game.
3. Please only test new characters who do not have a version in the game. Our cast list is here.

→ TDM threads cannot be used to meet AC, but if the character is accepted into the game and both players agree, you may keep the CR.

→ Character want ads are here.

Prompts

Happy anniversary, villagers! Buckle up!

HEAT WAVE - Poor you. All you were trying to do was get yourself a little something to eat from the kitchen at the inn. Maybe you cooked it up yourself (The inn does, after all, have an electric stove — FANCY!), or maybe you just grabbed some leftovers. By accident or on purpose, you ended up with way more RED SALT in there than you maybe should have, and this is no ordinary seasoning. Whether you like things eye-wateringly spicy or not, it's August, you're sweating buckets, and it's only getting worse.

SKUNK DRUNK - Isn't that just the way? You're out and about, minding your own business, and you get sprayed by a BROWN SKUNK. The good news? It doesn't stink like a normal skunk. The also possibly good news, depending on who you ask? You're now in for about 5 hours of being very, very friendly. (Just remember to keep the test drive PG!)

BRAIN CANDY - Whether you made it to the anniversary party or not, you've gotten your hands on a piece of leftover candy from the big bash. Careful, though, these treats are more than meets the eye: Whatever COLOR it was, you've now taken on the associated personality traits. (Not the power, just the traits.) At least it only lasts 10 minutes.

WILDCARD - Choose your own adventure. Maybe play powers roulette.

Texts

All characters are fitted with a smart watch-like device on their left wrist, which they can use to send text messages to other villagers.

- Texts may only be 140 characters long
- No video or voice, text only
- Display names may be changed by characters on the fly, but anyone can tap to see someone's real full name

Please list your CHARACTER NAME, CANON & PROMPT in your SUBJECT LINE.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"There's a lot of things out there that I should steer clear of. But I'm usually the person that ends up running right toward them. I've never been able to turn down a good story." Of course, that implies that she views him as some kind of interest piece. But she doesn't think there's anything wrong with that, not when he's able to teleport and tries flirting with her like it's all a big game. Which it is, isn't it? It's a way to not pay attention to the fact that everything here is crazy.

"Do you live nearby? The least I can do is offer to walk you home."

"Yeah? Well, don't listen to what they say, luv. Curiosity didn't kill the cat, just probably maimed her a little."

Walk you home. It's so funny when he was just there - when he could instantaneously be anywhere, apparently. John can't help it, he laughs. A round, hearty sound that he cuts off abruptly.

"Nah, I'm not worth the effort. I'm all the way out in the next village."

"Well, for not being worth the effort, you certainly are amusing." Which is a good consolation, she supposes. Only now they're left standing outside the inn with no place to go and nothing to do.

"I don't live that far out. You can help me carry some things back." His chest gets a sturdy pat, like he's a good dog that's about to be put to work.

He's really not sure how women do that, perhaps it's a brand of magic all their own. John looks down at her hand as it thumps against his chest and lifts his eyebrows.

"So now I'm a pack mule." It's not a question, he is bored enough to help. Ish. "Alright, I suppose chivalry isn't completely dead, just sleeping in the backseat. What've you got for me? I'll wake him up."

Edited 2018-08-08 20:38 (UTC)

He's ridiculous. "Relax, it's just a sack of potatoes." Which...probably sounds strange, so she feels the need to elaborate. "I thought the best way to try and meet new people here is to offer a free meal."

Not that anyone actually pays for any food here, but she's going through the effort!! So it counts. "You'd be willing to walk all the way here from the other village for that, wouldn't you?" She's not sure how many people actually choose to live over there, but she's definitely curious about finding out why they want to.

"If you're cookin' I suppose I could be coaxed to pop by." Get it, because teleporting. And in that same vein actually, he's going to glean from her which house is hers before hefting the sack of taters over one shoulder with a little oof. He's not out of shape, he just doesn't usually carry heavy things around okay!!!! He might also be slightly out of shape. John offers her a bright, twinkling smile before vanishing - with the potatoes is worth noting (he didn't know that would work) - and reappears on her porch. Yeah, a bloke could get used to this. Not wanting to be too forward (that's a lie it's laziness), John sits on her stoop and affects boredom by the time she rounds up the path. "Hey! What took you so long, luv? Er- Lois, right?" He should probably at least attempt to learn people's names here. Or whatever.

Lois doesn't rush. She takes her time, enjoying the weather and the scenery as she goes. It also helps her take her dear sweet time knowing that she's making him wait on her. By the time she makes it to her house, he looks nice and cozy, and she's a sweaty mess. Still, she spares him an exaggerated look that spells out her lack of amusement at his antics.

"So what theories do you have on why you can bring inanimate objects with you and not people?"

There's a slight smile for her lack of amusement with him. She'll be sick of him by noon, even better. He can forget her name. Leanne? Whatever.

"Carrying a person through dimensions takes sophisticated magics. My guess is if two complex beings were disassembled and reassembled that way, they'd come back all... wrong." He wrinkles his nose and shrugs a shoulder, face smushed into his hand like he was a step away from sleeping when she showed up. "My DNA is pretty different from our spud buds over here so I'm guessing they're safe to cart through the stream."

She's not expecting him to give an educated response. Or even something that passes as an educated response. He takes her off guard completely, and she stops on the second step up on the porch and just stares as if she's finally able to properly see and assess him.

"Congratulations. That's the first thing you've said that I actually believe."

The last few steps are quickly bounded up, and Lois steps past him to lead the way inside. He can carry the sack of potatoes the rest of the way and live up to being the eye candy that he wants to be.

"What would you say gives you an edge on knowing what you're talking about? Specifically in regard to this, obviously."

John lazily shoulders his load again before trudging into the house without shutting the door and dropping the potatoes onto the counter with a loud thwap. He proceeds to lean his hands on it and regard her seriously.

"Oh, did I not mention? John Constantine, master of the dark arts, at your service."

"I think you mean master of dramatics," Lois counters, starting to take out and sort the potatoes by size. Each one has their exact place, and she has no problem taking the time to put them there.

"But you did fail to mention anything about the dark arts before."

She leaves it open there for him to talk about it more if he wants to, since she has no idea where to start getting him to elaborate.

"In my defense, this place is distracting." And yet boring all at the same time. He's reaching for his business cards then realizing he doesn't have them or his coat so it looks like he just patted down his own chest for something that wasn't there. Smooth, John. He drops his hands to his sides and pushes out an annoyed breath even as he watches her work. It's calming somehow, like sorting ingredients for a spell. "And anyway I was gonna have the wording changed. Master sounds so pretentious. I fancy myself more of a petty dabbler."

He waits a beat, rubbing a hand over his face. "I specialize in exorcisms."

She's done pieces on the occult before, or at least followers that committed crimes in the name of it. John doesn't seem the sort to do that, but she knows appearances can be deceiving. She pauses in her sorting to glance up his way, having to really restrain herself from launching into journalist mode. Her hands curl around the edge of the counter as she leans forward against it, having to physically bite at her tongue for a second before speaking.

"Is that something that's in demand where you come from?"

"More and more all the time," he admits, tone light enough but eyes serious. With the Rising Darkness in full swing, he'd been busier than ever and ironically at a record low for actually getting paid. "This seems like a place that could use a Warlock for hire, actually, so I got here just in the nick of time." Without any of his magic or books or kit(s).

She's easy to read though, isn't she? At another time, he might have found it cute. For a night or two anyway.

"What are you bringin' to the table here, Gordon Ramsay?" She said she was making this food to get on everyone's good side. So she can get information? Sounds about right.

"I'm not sure yet," she honestly admits, staring disapprovingly at the potatoes like they're a road block to some huge problem she's desperate to solve. "But anything that's edible has to be better than going hungry." And that's the pitch she's banking on using to lure in new contacts, but she figures just keeping him around for a little while is better than nothing. He's good conversation, and she thinks he might possibly manage to be a decent friend.

"Do you have any requests?"

She's willfully not reading any further into his question than this simply being about food. He's called her Gordon Ramsay, she thinks it's cute and can roll with it.

"Hm. Usually I'd agree with you, pet, but there are strange forces at work here." Still he's not about to starve himself even if there is something wrong with the food. Not until he has proof there is anyway. "Wouldn't say no to chips though, would I?" Who would? It's a comfort thing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Test Drive 20 (August & September)

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