modmachine: (Default)
Hᴇx - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ([personal profile] modmachine) wrote in [community profile] worldofmemeness2016-09-30 05:31 pm
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TEST DRIVE 01

Welcome to the first Test Drive for Hex! Unlike most test drives, the scenarios included here also feature things that you can investigate with mod interaction. If at any point in your test thread, your character(s) want to investigate something further, please put a "HEY MODS" in your subject line to make it easy to find.

Don't feel limited to the scenarios presented - make up your own prompts as much as you want!

Reserves will open on the 7th and Applications on the 15th.


In a grassy square in the Central District, wedged in between dorm halls, there is a tree. Far wider than it is tall, its leaves are just beginning to turn from yellow to orange, with a few green stragglers near the top and a growing carpet on the grass beneath it. At one end of the tree's reach, there is a picnic table, the sort with benches built in to either side.

Anywhere under the boughs, a distinct ticking, like the sound of a clock, can be heard. Moving about makes it clear that the sound is loudest nearest the trunk. Numerous small gears stick out of twists between branches, though they do not appear to move to the naked eye.

Someone has hung a string of orange lights in the branches for Halloween, along with some cotton spiderweb. No matter how closely you look, there doesn't seem to be an end where the lights plug in to anything. Otherwise, there is nothing unusual about the decorations.

In the center of the table, half-covered by leaves, there is an iron plaque that has not been particularly well-treated for rust. Some of the writing on it is almost legible. It is chill to the touch. Someone's carved their initials and a date into the end of one bench -


Abandoned vehicles are by no means an unusual sight in the Sixth District. Abandoned buses are slightly more unusual. This particular bus has boarded up windows, a black light string hanging over the windshield, and the words HAUNTED HOUSE written along the side, where the old inoffensive public-transit advertisements have been painted over. The front door serves as the entrance; the back leads into the wrecking yard and the haunted "house" proper.

A girl in her late teens in slightly unsettling gothic lolita sits in a cheap folding chair around the front of the bus. She doesn't charge admission, though there is a candy bowl labeled for Donations on the card table next to her with a few bills and some change in it, in the center of a group of candles that burn in skull holders. She reminds everyone who passes her to please not touch the actors or props inside. Occasionally, mist from a smoke machine on the other side of the wooden fence billows around her ankles, almost seeming to form caressing fingers running down her legs.

Across the street from her, two men sit in a beaten up old pickup truck, the much taller man smoking cigarettes with the windows open. The shorter man fidgets almost uncontrollably, constantly glancing in the direction of the girl and her bus. Their voices aren't loud enough to hear distinctly from the haunted house side of the street, but the woman at the bus entrance shoots them occasional looks none-the-less, alternating between pleased smiles and blank stares. Painted along the sides of the truckbed, in much dirtier letters than those of the haunted house, is the phrase NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH.


In a bar downtown, it's not much different from any other night of clubbing, except that everyone is wearing masks. Ranging from the elegant custom work of a nearby boutique (conveniently open even after sundown tonight, if you need to pick one up) to cheap colored paper held on with elastic handed out at the door of the bar, masks are the must-have accessory tonight. Indeed, many of the parties won't let you in if you don't have one.

Those paying careful attention might notice little dots of red on the necks of some of the partiers, especially those who seem a bit pale and have called off drinking for the night. Aside from that, though, it doesn't seem like anyone's really getting hurt; it's just a fun time for everyone. Except for the poor guy who made the mistake of wearing an owl mask and yellow contacts, anyway.

Just within hearing range of the beating bass of the clubs, a young woman in a red jacket holds a mask in her hands, turning it over and sometimes holding it to her face to look at in a window reflection. The long face of it calls to mind some kind of black dog, perhaps a Doberman or German Shepherd. She isn't dressed at all for an evening at the clubs, and has a canvas bag slung over her shoulder with the shape of heavy books straining the fabric at the bottom.


Not everyone seems to be getting into the spirit. A playground near the center of the city has precious few decorations - save for a spiderweb on one of the swingsets that seems to be natural, not man-made. A pumpkin or two have been left near the edges, but they're all smashed, the orange guts running along in a streak that seems to blend into a thin line surrounding the entire perimeter.

The see-saw looks like the board's been freshly painted, but otherwise all of the equipment looks almost lonely and old. The rust on the metal stains everything an orange-red, and the slide in particular seems the worst hit. Still, everything is at least standing, and those who attempt to play on it will find it sturdy and warm in the cool night.

... Except for the merry go round. That one seems to be bent, as if someone very heavy sat on the edge. It still turns, but it wobbles dramatically, with horrible squeaking noises. Still, it's usable, for anyone who would like to play.

crazycatvampire: (Default)

[personal profile] crazycatvampire 2016-10-31 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"No, we split up before I came to this city," Corwin says innocently, shaking his head-- well, the mask-- and sounding a little wistful. "Too many of us in one place for too long would be... bad for us. And he wanted me to learn to be independent. It's important."
onecatmore: (listening)

[personal profile] onecatmore 2016-10-31 09:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"Why would it be bad?"

He ...feels bad, now that she thinks about it. The feeling is strange, off somehow, like the whole reality around him is off balance... no. Like he unbalances the reality around him. She can't quite tell which angle he's coming from in this. It's more like he's swinging he scales around than tipping them one direction or the other.
crazycatvampire: (calm)

[personal profile] crazycatvampire 2016-10-31 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"What we are makes humans upset," Corwin explains, lowering his voice. "Even if they don't really know why we upset them. If we're in one place too long, they always turn on us. It isn't their fault, I don't blame anyone for it, but it still happens. So we usually don't stay in one place too long, and we don't stay together, or it'll only get worse, faster."
onecatmore: (listening)

[personal profile] onecatmore 2016-10-31 10:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"...Upset."

Well, yes. She can confirm that one. Somewhat, anyway.

"Do you know why?
chalicejoker: (Skeptical)

[personal profile] chalicejoker 2016-10-31 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
"Because there are those out there who would destroy me without a second thought because of it." He shrugs. "You don't want to get wrapped up in that."
runs: (cat: ttly cat behaviour)

[personal profile] runs 2016-10-31 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)
That was the right thing to say. She has absolutely no interest in being caught up in the trouble that a complete stranger has with his past.

She would get up in the trouble that a very good friend has with their past, probably, she has in the past (though not necessarily voluntarily), but she'll generously allow this stranger to keep his issues to himself.

And jump off the carousel, turning to face Hajime one last time before padding away.

"Good luck with them not catching up with you, chummer."
crazycatvampire: (lookaside)

[personal profile] crazycatvampire 2016-11-01 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"We aren't real," Corwin shrugs. "Not yet, anyway. That's frightening." He sounds like he completely understands the reaction, even expects it, and doesn't hold it against anyone. It just makes him a little sad.
onecatmore: (listening)

[personal profile] onecatmore 2016-11-01 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Ripples in reality...

Huh. An unformed, divergent reality that simply exists within the consensus, walking around it without incurring paradox but incurring... something else instead that is no less damaging. More so, perhaps.

Fascinating.

"Probably because it fractures the certainty of what we are."
chalicejoker: (Attack)

[personal profile] chalicejoker 2016-11-03 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
She has definitely pissed the demon off. He reaches into thin air and pulls out a longbow with no string, and instead of taking aim, he's using it like a bludgeoning weapon.
crazycatvampire: (thinking)

[personal profile] crazycatvampire 2016-11-03 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
"Do you think that's it?" Corwin asks, sounding surprised, and curious. "That sounds like poetry. Though also not like something I can help with. If it is a problem with the human and not with me, how can I help them understand I'm nothing to fear?"
onecatmore: (explaining)

[personal profile] onecatmore 2016-11-03 07:32 am (UTC)(link)
She shakes her head.

"No, it's not that easy. Think about it... imagine you are on fire, and walking into people's houses on fire. Yes, that may be an issue with their houses that aren't fireproof, and people not being fireproof themselves, but that doesn't mean that you can "explain" to them that they just have to be fireproof, because people inherently aren't."
movingon: (frenzied far)

[personal profile] movingon 2016-11-03 12:46 pm (UTC)(link)
The bow misses her and slams a foot deep into the ground next to her feet - which are moving. Thanks for answering that question for her, bug-like menace. With a growl, the Gangrel lunges forward, talons aiming for the lesser protected lower abdomen... only to slip on the belt and go past him.

She slams upper-body-first into the demon, setting him off balance and sending them both back to the ground.
chalicejoker: (Chalice - Down)

[personal profile] chalicejoker 2016-11-04 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
Hajime's got to be out of practice, that's the only explanation for this rather embarrassing level of failure. The impact with the ground knocks the wind out of him for a second, and he's stuck trying to scramble to his feet while trying to shove the Gangrel off of him.
movingon: (frenzied close)

[personal profile] movingon 2016-11-04 01:00 pm (UTC)(link)
It is surprisingly easy to shove her off him.

At least for a hot second, until she is far enough off him to let her talons slam down into the space between them and sink into his lower abdomen, attempting again what she tried before.

They don't manage to sink in too deep, the leathery skin having dulled the impact, but they sink deeply enough to rip a nice stomach wound. Blood shoots up and splatters all over her front.

Green blood. That startles her enough to pull back instead of sinking a second claw into his guts, or even twisting the ones already in there.

WHAT.
chalicejoker: (Chalice)

[personal profile] chalicejoker 2016-11-05 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
Hajime hisses in pain when she manages to hit him in the gut, and he will try his damndest to push through it and punch her. He doesn't care where, he just wants to land a hit.
movingon: (frenzied close)

[personal profile] movingon 2016-11-05 01:51 pm (UTC)(link)
He does land a hit, but it only connects with her shoulder - the shoulder that the claws in his guts are connected to, so he at least effectively removes the pointy things near his guts and sets her minorly off balance - not much, because she catches herself quickly on the other arm and swings back, aiming for the same spot once more since the hide is already pierced there.

"What are you?"

Wasting breath on questions mid-fight would be more of a problem if breathing was an actual issue, though the slightly lessened concentration still persists.
chalicejoker: (Chalice - Red)

[personal profile] chalicejoker 2016-11-05 06:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"I could ask you the same thing," Hajime grunts as he clutches at that wound with one hand and works at defending himself with the other. He's angry now, and he is for the moment blocking all attempts to attack the wound again.

He will also attempt to kick her while his hands are busy.
movingon: (frenzied close)

[personal profile] movingon 2016-11-05 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, I don't bleed green."

Running into someone who looks less natural than her wasn't what she expected when she got up this evening. She has of course heard about the Tzimisce and their unnatural flesh-and-bone-forming, but the colour of their blood should be out of even their hands.

Not that she has time to think when he kicks at her, hitting her in the shin. The kick is hard, and her body instinctively recoils at the impact, making her miss with her next attack, that now aims for the armour free area between his helmet and body armour, her talons screeching over the surface and getting stuck in the earth next to his head.
trixieplease: (fuckoff)

Trixie Dixon | Black Jack Justice (Native AU)

[personal profile] trixieplease 2016-11-06 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
1.

Trixie finds the presence of cold iron soothing. Now, the technical definition of cold iron is surprisingly uncooperative, but even the potential for a defense where the fae are concerned keeps her calm. As for cheesy Halloween decorations, no matter how peculiar, she's not that impressed. Holiday spirit has always evaded her, aside from the bits that come with lots of alcohol.

But the kitsch isn't enough to chase away her interest in the plaque. Her crouch to peer at it is a little precarious, soft earth and perilously high heels never the best combination. The shoes aren't part of her mask. She just values style over practicality sometimes.

4.

She does not like children. Has never liked children. But faintly, in the back of her mind, she worries about them. Their wellbeing is important even if she wants nothing much to do with it. She only ventures into the park to see if the battered merry go round is even safe, vaguely intending to call someone and start complaining if it looks not to be. She's not sure who to call, but she's good at riding the waves of other people's unwillingness to break social convention until something works out the way she wants it. She's probably asking to get mugged, but terrorizing a mugger might improve her mood a little. Her movements are businesslike and her expression dares anyone to object to her bad decision making skills.
chalicejoker: (Chalice)

[personal profile] chalicejoker 2016-11-07 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
"Get your eyes checked." Lying comes easily to the demon, as naturally as breathing does for humans. And his human form is going to be feeling it once he gets away from here. He needs to get away from here; he could make the fight louder and messier, but at what cost? He'd attract all the worst sorts of attention to himself if he kept this up for much longer...

...and there is the matter of that wound, that too. The bow that had gotten stuck in the ground vanishes, and Hajime uses her getting stuck as an opening to try to get away and out of there, as much as it pisses him off.
forest_born: (Default)

[personal profile] forest_born 2016-11-07 05:33 am (UTC)(link)
"Not very well, I'm afraid." He's leaning his chin on hand, giving it another tired look; something is obviously off about the place, but damned if either of them were having any luck figuring out what. "It looks like it used to be a date and a name - some form of dedication, perhaps."

He frowned. "Odd that it would be so ill-kept when everything else here is well tended."
onecatmore: (fuck)

[personal profile] onecatmore 2016-11-07 08:36 am (UTC)(link)
It is indeed odd. She hadn't even thought about it like that before.

As if it doesn't belong, perhaps in a different way from just being neglected by those who take care of this part of the park. She throws a quick glance at the man at her side. How safe would it be to...

A mental shrug, and she goes ahead. It's not like what she's thinking about is particularly noticeable to an outsider, though she honestly never knows what people like her sister can actually perceive. Assuming that's what he is.

She runs her fingers over the plaque, her fingers skimming what little is left of it. "Odd indeed." Making sure that she doesn't stand right next to him, and certainly not right in front of the plaque, she quietly recites a prayer to the place to show her its memory, specifically the one of when the plaque was first put there. To anyone who doesn't understand Finnish, it will simply sound like she's reciting the first lines of a poem, and without taking her eyes from the plaque she comments: "It reminds me of a piece of poetry that we had to learn back in school."
Edited 2016-11-07 08:37 (UTC)
movingon: (frenzied far)

[personal profile] movingon 2016-11-07 08:50 am (UTC)(link)
He might lie well, but if she couldn't trust her senses, she probably wouldn't trust anything at all. She'd like to make a sarcastic remark about it being hard to visit a doctor when you look like her, but this really isn't the time.

Especially when he rolls out from under her while she's only half-mobile and busy pulling her talons back out of the ground. She can still defend herself and will do so, if necessary, but for a few seconds, she'll be unable to attack.
crazycatvampire: (Default)

4.

[personal profile] crazycatvampire 2016-11-07 09:08 pm (UTC)(link)
There is in fact someone in the playground, hard to see in the dim light as he's shrouded in a long black cloak, crouched over by the merry go round itself, and his white mask is turned away from her. At the crisp sound of her high heels on the cement, though, he straightens up to a towering six and a half feet or more and half-turns towards her. His costume, if she might recognize it, is based strongly on this creature, and he seems to ooze unnaturalness-- a literal disquiet.

"I'm sorry, were you going to use this?" His voice is rough and raspy, but not ungentle. "I can leave. Though I don't think it will turn properly."

1. I'll add icons for her when I get home, you know who she is :P

[personal profile] wryandwatchful 2016-11-07 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"How do you even walk like in those?"

The voice-- that of an older teenaged girl, dirty blonde hair tied back and topped by the laziest costume ever: a pair of black fuzzy cat ears on a headband-- comes from above, in the branches of the low-growing tree. She's still high enough off the ground to be out of reach, up there, though, staring down with eyes that brightly reflect the lights strung up around her.

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