sixthiteration | Test Drive (December & January)

→ 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 NETWORK 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

SNOW BLIND - It's snowing, a lot, and pristine landscape though it might create, it also brings plenty of problems, especially when you live in an Edwardian-style village with a serious lack of snow shovels. It's currently blizzard conditions and visibility is nil — Maybe you gave in and ducked into the nearest house for temporary shelter, and discover someone else had the same idea (or just lives there, oops). Maybe you're stubborn enough to still be out in it, struggling against the wind and snow. Or maybe you've tromped into the South Village Inn like a human popsicle, and are just hoping you don't lose any fingers before you make it to the fireplace.

JUMPED-UP - Winter's here, which means it's the perfect time for an expedition to warmer, southern climes. You've joined a group following the river all the way down to the far southern beach, for fun and for science. On this latest break in your journey, you've spotted a large, jewel-colored feather and picked it up, maybe as a specimen to bring back or just a feather for your cap. Turns out it's an archaeopteryx feather, and you're now, well... let's call it a little gravity-challenged. Not a bad benefit once you figure out how to control it.

COLD CALL - The snow has slacked off, leaving behind a winter wonderland. Sure, there's plenty to do, but after being cooped up inside for days, most people won't blame you for a morale-booster — That is, unless your way of starting a snowball fight is to pop up and throw them at unsuspecting passers-by. Making a snow man or snow angels might come with a little less retribution, but you do you.

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

Network

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

- Text and/or video, any length
- 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

"Wha-" Malik turns and takes the snowball pretty much to the face and just splutters at the indignity for half a moment before throwing the one in his hand right back at Desmond.

"Come then, let me see what skills you have." He challenges, grinning and whipping the snow from his face now that his hand is free.

Desmond laughs. He doesn't remember the last time he laughed. It's been a long time. But he does. Malik's face when it hits him is priceless. He dodges the thrown one and spreads his arms out white. "Bring it on, old man." Okay he is not, in fact, old at all comparatively, but Desmond's still younger and he remembers an older Malik well. He's still going to taunt him that way. It's just how it is.

He darts toward a tree, picking up snow on the way and tossing it in Malik's direction.

"I am not so much older than you." Malik points out, because he's barely in to his thirties thank you.

He's hurling poorly packed snow right back, giving chase.

"But you are older. I can see gray in your hair already." Desmond chuckles and parkours his way up the tree, back flipping off of it to toss more snow at Malik. He knows he's just as spry and able to dodge around, so at least this time they're using their skills for fun, not murder.

"You spend almost four years bouncing from one other person's life to another nearly every fortnight while also trying to herd cats and see if you do not get grey early." Malik quips back, diving and rolling out of the way of the worst of the snowfall.

He stays on one knee, using his lower position to hurl as much snow as he can at Desmond.

"Keep your elbows in."

"Oh I've seen plenty to get grey about, but sure, keep using that as an excuse." Desmond grins and doesn't mind that he's getting wet and freezing, and that he's not even dressed for this type of shit. It's not like he came out expecting to end up being childish in the snow. But whatever. No regrets.

"Dude, you don't need to train me on how to throw snow. Don't be like Altair."

Malik considers Desmond for a moment, "Eh, it would not look bad on you." He shrugged and grinned right back.

There's probably a fire going somewhere they can thaw out beside, and if there's anything Malik's learned over the past few years away from his own time it's that taking the chance to actually have fun is just as valuable as the chances to do the rest of things.

"You are the second man to ever wish I was less like Altair." He laughs, "I will try not to, but I promise nothing. Pointing out places for improvement is as second hand to me as breathing."

"Oh I know, he has big shoes to fill." Desmond wouldn't say he liked someone else more than him, exactly, but there were times that Altair was everything he needed, and times where he was a little Much. Desmond spent a long time in his life. It would never stop being weird how much he knew.

"But the man is not so much about the careless fun. Because he critiques form and gives technique suggestions." Just like Malik. These people. Ugh. So serious. He makes a face at him and smiles. A very small smile, but it exists. "Then again, it's pretty cool you guys got through that whole rivalry thing. Most people can't do that."

Malik tilts his head and considers Desmond for a moment, one eyebrow slowly raising. He doesn't know all the details of how Desmond knows the things he apparently does. He has a half a decent idea however, considering his own recent history.

"Altair will likely never truly allow himself to be careless in anything, but there is fun to be had without going quite so far. I suggest attempting to teach him something new, he may be old but there are yet tricks he can yet learn."

Then again, what 12th Century Assassin's consider fun is often a bit different than what anyone from the 21st century would.

He laughs though, "I would not say that we are 'past' our rivalry, only that the nature of it has fundamentally change. It is competitiveness of friendship and care not of jealousy and disregard."

"I can teach him how to bartend, play cards, or hack computers. And I can't do the latter because we don't have any. And we don't have booze or cards." Desmond shrugs because that means he really has nothing to offer in comparison. All his skills were learned from Altair, Ezio, Haytham (ugh), and Connor. So what he could give back is a big question mark, unless it's teaching them how to lighten up already. Which is not even something he can do now because this is the most he's been lightened up in awhile.

"That must be nice." Desmond had some other Assassin children he grew up with, but he was always William Miles' son. He was always held to a different standard and light. "Shaun --- I guess I'd call him my friend, because I almost just said my friend Shaun, but I'm not sure he'd say the same. Anyway, we had some rivalry issues. But we didn't get around to the other part of it." He wonders if Shaun cares that he's dead.

"Bartending takes a great deal of skill, it is an admirable profession." Malik replied, offering a faint grin. "If Altair does not want to learn from you, I would."

Malik's expression softens, though he's careful to keep it away from pity. "I think, if you consider him your friend then he likely considers you one as well. Some friendships are made on the basis of both being able to bother one another in a particular way and mutual respect. I am sure he misses you."

Desmond gives him a look as if he's not actually sure whether he's being serious or not. "Bartending's ... kind of not usually thought as of a profession, Malik." His father had many, many things to say about it, not like that mattered. "I liked it though. I liked being around normal people talking about normal things." Even the weird things to them weren't weird to him. No talk of eons of hate and power, no teaching a child how to slice a throat.

He shrugs and waves a hand as if to wave the thought aside. "It's a nice idea, but I'm not sure. He's a great guy though. I mean, he's a real prick, but I hope he and the others are as smart as they always told me they were." Because it was up to them to stop Juno.

He is serious, it takes a fair amount of skill to be a good bartender.

"Yes, well. 21st century ideas about what is or is not a respectable profession are idiotic at best." He shrugged, "It is better to have a profession you enjoy than one you do not. Being around those who are not... us is a a valuable thing, and anyone who has told you differently has become blind to the world around them."

Malik gives him a quiet smile. "None of us are ever sure of anything, not really. Trust your friends will do what is right even without you there."

"My dad is the current Mentor of the Order, so I think it's pretty easy to guess he thinks anything outside of that profession is shit." It wasn't about pride, or wanting his son to take after him, although he probably wanted that too. William only cared about the Assassins and about being able to control their destiny. Or so it seemed to Desmond, even now. He didn't know how things would have been different, if he stayed.

Desmond chuckles. "Oh, no, they don't need me there to do right. They were already on bandwagon save the world." It was him who took a little longer to fully commit.

Malik snorted at that, rolling his eyes. "And I think he is already full of shit on the matter, I know enough of your time to know that things have gone very tragically off the rails Desmond." He said firmly, even as he gestured vaguely at the air, "But what do I know? I only helped write the damn book on things, and met the founding father of the entire Brotherhood."

There's a definite note of anger in Malik's tone, as well as weary resignation about the entire situation beyond his time. The anger dies quick enough though, and he just sighs.

"I hope you are right, and I hope your friends get the chance to live long lives in the world they save."

Edited 2018-12-14 02:59 (UTC)

"A lot of things start out good and lose their way. Sometimes they come back around." His last message to his father practically replaying in his mind at that moment. "And sometimes they never do." Now that he's dead, that he's gone past the truths and the lies, Desmond thought that message was more of a hopeful facade than originally intended. Back when he still thought saving the world was a possibility without all of the baggage. The Assassins were fucked up long before his father was born.

He shrugged. "I personally will never know. What do you think? Would people rather have died or dealt with a psychotic bitch as a despot?"

Malik nods, "And you see why I have trouble talking of this." He agrees before falling silent for a long moment after Desmond's questions.

He knows the answer he wants to give, the one he would have given a year or two ago. Before the Arcana, before trying to give those dragged in to their game a choice in the matter and losing what he had thought were close friendships over it.

"...I think that so long as she provided enough comfort to them, most would rather live as pets and playthings than die in a fight for something that does not personally affect them." He admits, arm curling over his torso in his version of crossing his arms. "And even when she broke people and took away the people they loved, there would only be a handful willing to do anything more than sit and endlessly talk about doing something."

He shrugged a little, "My apologies, I prefer to be honest than nice these days. More than before."

Desmond's eyebrows go up at that incredibly cynical response, and at the end of it he just smirks. "Wow, man. And I thought I was pessimistic." He shrugs. "It happened before, that they pissed off enough people they rebelled against them, so it'll happen again. It might just take a long while first." She still had to get the power back and build up her army too, it's not like one would just be handed to her. He is pretty sure even the Templars didn't want that.

"Very few have ever accused me of optimism." Malik replied, shaking his head. "I do not mind a peaceful solution when it is possible, I even see reason to encourage it when it is the reasonable path to take. But people from your time take great issue with the idea of violence being an option to begin with."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Test Drive (December & January)

Canon flavor or CRAU flavor? :>

CRAU is fine!

\o/

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hold already damn you i need this in game

I'm just waiting on some info from his first game :D