Test Drive 20 (August & September)

[sixthiteration]

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Test Drive

→ 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!

1. 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.


2. 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!)


3. 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.


4. 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.

Comments

Bobo Del Rey | Wynonna Earp

[fooloftheking]

HEATWAVE

It's been a lot of years since Bobo's had to cook for himself, and most of them had been spent in Hell. That being what it is, that doesn't mean he doesn't have the skills. While he is a man of creature comforts, he began life with much less than they have even here, and he's certain he can do this again. At least he until he finds a way once more to a better life.

So he's in the kitchen, doing much as he did when he was just Robert Svane in a Purgatory as just a human.

It isn't much, the basics of stew being easy enough, and enough salt can cover a multitude of sins. Or so he thinks as he starts eating. Okay, damn he's not sure what he added with that heat, but it's definitely got a kick. But it's food, and filling, and he'll be damn if he let's himself be bested by stew for fuck's sake.

About half way through the bowl, his face is a rich shade of his red, sweat shines on his brow, and if there's a bit of a tremor in his hand as he goes to take another bite, well, he's never going to admit that.

That bite never makes it to his mouth though, dropping bowl, spoon and all into the sink with a howl that is much more animal than human as he spins about from the sink, huffing out a breath.

"Well Damn! Now that will definitely warm a man's gut."

SKUNK DRUNK

Bobo believes that no matter what a man believes himself to be, and even when he's not entirely a man in many ways, if you see a skunk? You turn and head the other way. Which he did, planning to hightail it out of there, but it is too late and he finds himself sprayed.

Pissed at first, more worried that he can't smell it and wondering if somehow it fried his nose, he's heading for the Inn. Finding himself desperate to get out of the clothes, into whatever he can scrounge up that are clear, and do something to clear his senses. Maybe go and dunk his head in the river. Can't hurt at this point given he can smell the soil and greenery around him, but not the strong scent of skunk that he is familiar with.

Though the more he thinks about clean clothes, the more he can think about a lot better things to do once he gets out of them. Especially if he can find someone to help him to get cleaned up. Obviously, he realizes, he's not been handling his time in this place right at all.

TEXT

looking for a large metal tub with lid best. will not be returning

drunk skunk

[quinientos]

Ever since old clothes like he wore back home showed up, Vasquez has been avoiding the scrubs with his life. It's not the same without a gunbelt, and honestly, he finds himself going for it more than once, but the lasso will have to do. Of course, what it means is that he doesn't really do much about wearing the spares when he has to wash the shirt, which is where he is by the river, wringing it out when he sees someone in his peripheral view.

Hand going to the gunbelt (that's not there), he eyes the man warily as he approaches. "You okay, cabron?"

[fooloftheking]

Bobo has not been lucky enough in his time there to get back his coat, but at least he's scrounged up a pair of dark slacks and long sleeved shirt. Sure they're both a bit short in the ankle and the wrist, but it's better than those god awful medical garments he found himself in.

Given the swagger in his gait though, he might as well be wearing boots and the heavy fur trimmed jacket he favors. Spying the man by the water, his direction changes slightly, moving closer with a sly smile. His gaze thought follows the motion, processing the mannerisms and the accent combined.

"Doin' just fine, compadre," he says, tones mocking even as he looks him over slowly despite the taunting of his words. Or perhaps, for a man like Bobo, putting the man off in the mood he's in just feels good. "You know how things are. Sometimes you just want to get out and in touch with nature." Yet he barks a laugh as he says it. "Why? Am I invadin'?"

[quinientos]

Vasquez should know better than to be pulled in by someone who sounds like he comes from a time and a place near his. He knows he should think twice about the promise of bickering. And yet? Here he is, wanting every bit of it and more. He's an idiot like that, though.

"In my space? No," he says, hands up in the air as he slaps the wet shirt on his shoulder, stabilizing himself on a few rocks as he tugs it on, not caring about the wet when the weather is still warm enough. "You go out often and touch nature?" Vasquez challenges and by the emphasis on touch, he hopes there's no mistaking the meaning.

[fooloftheking]

"I can fix that, you know. The not invading." And as if to prove that, he edges up another step closer. Watching with slightly narrowed eyes as wet fabric slid along the other man's torso, the tug and stretch of it as his tongue ran along his upper teeth. There's a cant to his head, chin lifted, almost as if he's scenting the air.

"Well, you know, a man's got to alleviate the stress of life somehow. Not like I've got all the options I had before about things to touch. Worst things that happened to mankind is ignorin' a man's needs."

That is something this place needed, in his mind. A bar, and maybe a brothel, but then Bobo is a man with specific needs. Or so he likes to portray. Even here. Especially now.

"What? You don't find a need to get out and get close with nature?"

[quinientos]

Vasquez snorts at the offer, smirking at the man. He's too wet to find his cigarettes, but he's chewing on the inside of his lower lip to give his mouth something to do, refusing to let the stare break as he holds his ground. "Trust me, I know all about ignoring needs," he says, and that one, he can't even joke about.

It had been a miserable life, his. This and the other place had been much better. Stepping out of the stream, bit by bit, he works his way towards the other man. "It's not nature I like to be close with," he says over his shoulder as he passes the other man to head for his little bundle, digging out his smokes and matches. "I much prefer people. Never been a tree fucker," he says bluntly. "Though I think I've heard of desperate men sticking their dicks in holes in trees, just to feel something."

[fooloftheking]

"Well yeah. This place seems to be good about making sure we're doing without what we should have." Bitter? Bitchy? A bit of both from a man that has done without, lived in Hell, but upset about the lack of certain modern amenities he's gotten used to.

He snorts though at that comment, eyes rolling as he shifts to brace himself though with his feet apart, easily balanced though trying not to look concerned. Not inherently aggressive, but so used to having to be on the ready at all times. "It's a turn of phrase, compadre. You understand what that means, right?"

Though his brow furrows, upper lip curling at that as he turns to watch him walking the other way. "What the hell kinda men have you known?" He winces at that, the very thought almost enough to break that easy mood that had him considering so many things. Except that. "Do people not know what splinters are where you come from?"

[quinientos]

"English, not my first language," he blithely replies, like he's so innocent about all this and it's not his fault he went straight to innuendo instead of acting like he actually knew about it (even though he definitely did). "And the men I know are the kind of men who drink too much and who don't have enough women in town."

For him, he just expanded his horizons about who he would sleep with, but not every man is so comfortable in letting someone else be on top or with them in bed. "It's not a civilized place, the West, sometimes."

[fooloftheking]

"Really?" He looks at him, stunned, faking wide eyed confusion in that moment. Holding the expression for a long moment before he snorts. If he keeps rolling his eyes like that, he's going to hurt himself. Maybe sprain something.

"Yeah, I mean, you've kinda got an accent. In case you haven't noticed. I'm kinda familiar with it." He sounds more like many Bobo's known in Purgatory though he's never thought before about how things can change, even in those subtle ways.

In ways like that.

"Only times anyone talks about the West like that, like an entirely other world, was a long time ago. What year was it when you woke up drowning here?"

[quinientos]

Vasquez doesn't react at all to the teasing, because yes, he knows he's very obvious, but he also isn't about to play along. At least, not that easily, but maybe later. "Are you?" he asks, curious about that, because he doesn't even know where this man comes from.

"I'll tell you when I'm from, you tell me where," he bargains, even if he's already planning to give his part of the answer. "1879. I think. I was in hiding for most of it," he says blithely, like being a wanted man isn't a problem to announce anymore.

[fooloftheking]

Strolling closer once more, Bobo considers that. Both the man and the information that holds for him. "Well, you don't look like Doc so I'll assume not at the bottom of a well," he smirks, pausing close to invading personal space.

"There were a few men with accents like yours before things went to Hell. Literally. It was 1881 that year, during the winter. When I died," he says, speaking of it casually as if it means nothing. "It was 2017 when I found myself here. I admit, going back to life like this is kinda culture shock, but I think I can survive. Probably better than most."

Text from @ObiwanKenzobi

[morethanasidekick]

Is this a meth thing? Or a dead body thing?
For real I saw it on a crime show one time. Bodies in barrels was all the rage down under.

[fooloftheking]

its more of a still kinda thing because not enough whiskey in this place

why would you put a body in a container? put them deep in the ground and let them become part of the earth.

all the shit they have now, keeping them in a damn tub seems nuts

[morethanasidekick]

Cause bitches be crazy?
I met a lady once who kept the heads of her victims on a shelf.
Like creepy china cat figurines.

Still you say. You have my attention.

[fooloftheking]

in the house? where they smell? why not just put them on a pike?

Run one a time or two before so shouldn't be hard to set up with what we have here.

[morethanasidekick]

Okay so 1. It was just the skulls and 2.
That's what you take from what I just said?!

I'd been thinking the Inn should be turned into a proper bar. People trade goods for booze.
Bob knows most the people here could use a stiff one.
In more ways than one.

[fooloftheking]

you can buy skulls on the internet. doesn't make much of a statement.

what else was I supposed to take from it? except your life sounds about like mine.

you and I sound like similar creatures. just going to tell you. of the same mind though definitely. on all count.

[morethanasidekick]

And to think. I could have asked her if she went with Ebay or Amazon while she had me tied up in Kaczynski's other shed.

Do people try to eat you a lot too?

Sure. Minus the heads on pike thing. I try to save my victim displays for special occasions. Like lent.

[fooloftheking]

wasted opportunity. you should be sad over it.

if that a come on or literal? The former, yes. The latter? Naw. Just kill me.

got to make a show of things or they'll take advantage of you.

skunking it up over here

[chemethtry]

[ Yeah, well. Guess who just ate food with red salt all over it, yo. Not that Jesse realises it's the salt that's got him burning up, but Jesus, man, is he sweating buckets. His face is beaded with perspiration, his light grey scrubs are clinging to his skin, and his insides feel like they're roasting by a furnace. He's tried gulping down water, to no avail. So, after bursting outside in hope some cool fresh air will bring relief, he's made a beeline for the river nearby, and when he reaches the riverbank, he starts tearing his scrubs off.

He's down to his lame ass, pre-issued tighty whiteys that remind him uncomfortably of Mr. White, hopping on one white socked foot while yanking the scrubs off his scrawny leg. And, hearing footsteps approaching from behind, Jesse whirls around - or tries to whirl around, but with his leg still tangled in his scrubs, he loses his balance. His eyes snap open wide and a startled shout juts out of him as he goes stumbling and tumbling backwards, almost doing a clumsy backwards somersault, and lands with a sprawling splash in the water. ]

[fooloftheking]

[Bobo is already heading towards the river when he sees someone race through the town, heading towards the river that's his destination. Looking to get cleaned off and get whatever the skunk sprayed on them off. Even if it doesn't have the stench of a skunk.

Watching whoever it is, Bobo pauses to lean against a tree, watching the show. Least there's entertainment that he's enjoying.

Especially right when he splashes down in the water. Pushing away from the tree, Bobo approaches the near naked man, slow clapping it out. Moving to stand up on the water's edge, a bit looming as it is, staring down at him with a bit of predatory curiosity.]

I have to say, that was a rather impressive show. What's the encore?

[chemethtry]

[ There's a few seconds of thrashing about in the water as Jesse scrambles onto his feet. Tries to scramble to his feet. His now soaked scrubs have wrapped themselves around his legs like a wet snake, and a few colourful expletives of bewildered outrage erupt from Jesse as he untangles himself. What a skinny waif he is, too - all bony arms and legs, bony chest; the very definition of junkie metabolism. His hair, too, is matted haphazardly across his forehead. And his tightly whiteys? Clinging and sagging against his skinny ass. Slightly seethrough now they're wet, too?

And fuck, he's still burning up.

Looking up at the dude standing there, watching him, Jesse bites an agitated grimace of annoyance at him. ]

The encore? My foot up your ass, yo.

[fooloftheking]

[A dark smile curves Bobo's lips, amusement lighting up his eyes even if all together it isn't entirely a welcoming look. Not caring if the thrashing sends water over his shoes. So much so that he takes another step closer.

Watching the water on pale skin, the way the sun reflects against it.]

Damn, you really are just a scrawny thing, aren't you? This place is going to eat you up.

[Laughter tinges his tones, even as he holds his hand out. It might even be an offer of help.]

Not my thing, but thanks for thinking about me. You know a man can drown in like three inches of water, right? Might wanna get out of there.

[Definitely not a threat. Probably not.]

[chemethtry]

[ ...The fuck? Jesse peers up at this creepy, smug asshole, water dripping down his face. Or maybe that's sweat? He still feels like he's trapped inside a sauna despite the cool water he's standing knee-deep in.

But he squints with suspicious incredulity at this asswipe, while his skin crawls at how... predatory this guy seems. Tightening his jaw, Jesse flings his hand up with a sharp thrust of his middle finger. Flipping the bird, while his skinny ass is standing there with drooping tightly whiteys barely clinging to his bony hips. ]

Drown on this, dickwad.

[fooloftheking]

[Bobo rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Judgement shows in his expression as he shifts back a step, folding his arms over his chest.

He's still smirking though.]

Not what does it for me, thanks. There a reason you're stripping down like there's bees in your shorts?

[Not leaving, not showing less amusement or curiosity either. And not really being helpful.]