riverviewooc | riverview: test drive meme

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meme: test drive

riverview: test drive meme

riverview test drive meme

Welcome to Riverview's first test drive meme! Feel free to dip your toes in on the test drive meme to try out your character in the setting, play out a mission, and get samples for your application at the same time!

● Reserves are currently OPEN.
● Applications open on March 1st.
● All threads on the test drive meme can count as game canon once the game is up and running.
● TDM threads do not count for Activity Check, but they do count for Activity Bonus Points.

Feel free to use the prompts below or create your own scenario. The setting is built to be flexible, so feel free to make things up as you go.

information resources
premise ● arrival ● setting ● ask a question ● navigation

prompt i: batten down the hatches

If the sky has seemed a little more yellow-green than usual for the past couple of days, there's a reason for that. Meteorologists have been warning of a particularly nasty storm blowing in from the direction of the Delta in the Southwestern part of the Abandoned City.

The Quarantine is about to be hit by a nasty typhoon, and there's a lot to be done. Whether you're helping sandbag the banks of the river, which is bound to be swollen by the storm and flooding, weatherproofing your building, or just huddling indoors for warmth and helping reassure your friends, family, or partner that everything will be okay, it's time to take action!

prompt ii: monster madness

There's been a lot of talk around the Quarantine about the various predators and monsters outside the fence, and how they've been getting steadily more active, crowding the fences, trying to leap over them, seemingly driven by some kind of mania. There have even been increasing instances of predators that normally mind their own business attacking the fences wholesale, slamming into it over and over as if they're trying to find a weakness.

The good news? The fences have been holding. So far.

The bad news? They won't be holding for much longer.

The Perimeter Guard is in a bad way, and it's all hands on deck. They've also sent out a few of the Perimeter Guard Cadets to post up flyers around the city asking for temporary help in fighting off the beasts. So pick up whatever weapon you're best with, hop onto a truck transport, and head on over to the fences to help drive off the monsters and keep the Quarantine safe.

prompt iii: hold your lover close

With a storm rolling in that's going to keep everyone indoors, that might cause power outages, and is just frankly pretty scary, a lot of the clubs, restaurants, and hotels are doing special events to keep everyone's brains occupied and flooded with endorphins.

There are flyers around the city advertising various couples activities: speed dating, dance classes, overnight pool parties, and all-expenses-paid lovers' nights in.

The catch? The great deals only count if you're a twosome. So if you don't have someone to love, hit up speed dating in the indoor courtyard of Riverview's largest mall, or grab the first person you see and take the opportunity.

prompt iv: solution

After a day or two of storm activity, things are definitely not getting better: the rain is torrential, the monsters are attacking with increased energy and decreased rest times, and the distractions are starting to wear thin. Power outages happen off and on, a very rare situation in Riverview Quarantine.

The government has put out an all-points-bulletin imploring anyone with an exploratory spirit to help.

From what government science techs can tell, the storm isn't natural - after all, even the meteorologists were saying that the pressure systems seemed extremely strange. They've managed to narrow the cause to an area in the delta where the storm seems to be originating from, and are broadcasting the general location so anyone with the guts can head out into the storm and try to find the source of it.

Any characters who decide to penetrate the jungle in search of the source will find a device in the shape of a pyramid, with glowing blue edges about a day's walk into the Abandoned City. The pyramid is a malfunctioning weather control device that is causing wild pressure fluctuations and causing the storm as well as making the animals in the jungle aggressive and erratic. Characters can destroy or deactivate the device to end the storm.

This mission can be threaded out however you would like, in groups however large you would like, and more than one team can accomplish the goal.

prompt v: wildcard/network

Whether you're looking for help with a mission or just want to get to know your fellow new arrivals, your character can make a post to the network.

Or you can choose your own adventure and do something else in the setting!

navigation

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1 - Hurricane Party

Three thousand nine hundred and fifty six beers on the wall, tthousand nine hundred and fifty six beers...

[She's singing to herself in the tavern- oooh, sorry your royal future selves, bar- but it's very much at room filling volume. She's not much for keeping quiet, especially when a bit pissed (in both senses of the word). She'd been off saving the world, yeah? Then here. In weirdo land, where it's raining and all she can really do is drink up and wait out the storm.]

Three thousand nine hundred and fifty five beers...

IV - Hit it until it works again

[Lucky her, bows and arrows weren't exactly genius work. They may have taken her nice and fancy ones when she dropped in and ended up getting healed, but they couldn't much stop her from rigging up her own. Sticks, string, point things. Simply. So when her group comes across the evil magic pyramid making everything suck, Sera has the answer: arrows. She's got one notched the moment she sees the place, and lets fly before saying a word. It's only as she reloads that she speaks up.]

Kill it!

[No ma'am, he is a pirate and this is a tavern. Flint comes in out of the storm looking like a man bedraggled and half drowned, the door slams closed with the galeforce wind and he's left dripping on the floor in the sudden silence that follows. But, as with all things tavernous, so long as you don't start stabbing people they tend not to give you undue attention for the briefest of disturbances. The din resumes, and Flint is left to leave watery tracks across the floor as he drips his way towards the bar.

The girl's singing is-- not the worst he's heard, all things considered. (Three-thousand and what, now? How bloody high did she start?) Pirate shanties are a way of life, and there are some blessedly unskilled singers amongst his crew. There's an easy way to remedy it, though. There's a certain point of drunkenness at which speech (and singing) becomes difficult, and not a soul alive is going out in that storm just to escape one loud child. Flint just gestures for the bartender to put another one of whatever she's had thus far on his tab in addition to a whiskey for himself. Maybe that'll do it.]

[ And suddenly there's free drinks. Her ears perk up- more literally than she'd like, don't go getting saucy 'bout her being an elf and all, now. But that's a sign. Someone who knows how all this shite goes down. Just a pity that, when she has the bar keep point out the source, it's a male. And a human. But, eh, there's worse sins in life.

Cutting her song short (to the cheers of her public), she weaves her way over. ]

Got a better song?

[It's the first moment that he's gotten a good look at her ears and though he is hardly so crass as to stare, it draws a sharp, inspective gaze. James has been confronted with all manner of things in this place, but he's still learning to deal with the absolute intricacy of worlds colliding.

He rubs his fingers through his beard, drops his hand against his whiskey glass.]

Don't suppose you know Way me Susiana?

[He conjures the name at random, from a hundred different shanties he's encountered in his time.]

Got anything with tits in it? Dunno any others.

[Spoiler: if she'd ever gotten to the end of her count down, there were breasts involved. It's the simple things in life that bring the most joy.

She frowns a bit as he looks at her ears, but free drinks buy quite a bit. So long as he knocks off as soon as she takes her seat.]

[He's not a man given over to excessive humour, but her statement earns a dry chuckle. He can infer her meaning just fine.]

Sounds like perhaps you should consider writing your own.

[With as many tits as make her happy.]

Bah, that's bard shite, yeah? Let them make the pretty words, I'll stick to watching pockets.

[She's never shy about being a thief in general, but a few rounds in? It's all fair game now. She plants an elbow on the table, using the palm of her non-drink holding hand to support her chin.]

But you go on an' sing your...whatsit. Lay me, Susie? Song.

[Oh she's charming. He has a sort of innate distaste for thievery, a remnant of life in London, yet even those old sensibilities can't find fault in such flagrancy. He's known this girl for all of thirty seconds and already he's wondering if she could keep secret about anything if she tried. He quite likes her.]

Mind whose pockets you watch, Miss. I doubt everyone is tolerant of quick hands.

[He hooks one boot on the crossrail of his stool and shifts his posture just slightly. He doesn't take her comment as a cue to guard himself against theft, but then he's been dealing with cutpurses all his life and knows light fingers when they make an attempt on his belongings.]

To the rest, I'm not the singing sort.

Miss?

[That sends her into a bad fit of the giggles. Forget the rest. It's a pure, unabashed laughing fit, without any attempt at covering her mouth or hiding the snorting.]

Andraste's lovely nips, I look like any kinda respectable sort? Sera. That's all I am.

[He lifts his glass in an indication of acknowledgement, and once he's taken a drink he offers her a hand for shaking.]

James.

[She takes a long swig out of hers in turn. Skipping for the toast straight to the cheers.]

Okay, James. You don't sing, don't pocket pick, an' don't go messin' out in storms like the rest of the dumb lot. What's it you get up to?

Oh, I've been out in the storm.

[He's still soaked through to the bone, he demonstrates this keen fact by wringing the tail of his coat for her amusement.]

But to answer your question directly, I'm a carpenter.

[It's as good an occupation as many, and one he needn't pretend at. He was at his father's knee learning a trade long before he was a Navy man. His hands are rough and broad, calloused in all the places one would expect and his many rings won through the hard conquest of piracy have been tucked away. Whoever he decides to be here, Flint is not a mandatory monster.]

Tch, fine. You're dumb as the rest. Won't fight you for it.

[Normal like person, though. She can appreciate that. Not many rich carpenters out there, not that still called themselves such anyways.]

But you'll be rolling in gold when all this mess's done and we've got to piece it back together. Can swing another round for us, yeah?

[Ah, Hell, why not. Flint makes a gesture for another round.]

You expect they'll be paying us in any currency we can take with us when they usher us home?

Shiny metal bits are always 'round. Or britches. Just a matter of finding the right buyer.

[But they could just pay her in arrows in booze, really. Except for the whole 'having to pay to leave' shite she's game for most anything.]

You got somethin' waiting on the other side?

[She's so patently quirky, he can't help the faint smile that curves his mouth upwards. He settles for smoothing his moustache to hide it, though he doesn't truly care one way or another. Old reflexes. Britches, dear Christ. Is he dealing with some sort of irrepressible clothing bandit? Fucking delightful.]

Do you mean back home, or in the hereafter?

Home! All know what's waiting in the after after, yeah? Big blessed bosoms and the rest of it.

[Because clearly everyone here is also an andrastian. Clearly.]

It's the before that's all messy like.

[She can keep the bosoms, James' preference stray quite a distance from that proclivity. But he lifts one shoulder in an absent shrug, and takes another shot of his drink. Getting him true and proper drunk would require more than what's served here. What's on the other side, for him? There is a betrayer's fate set to befall him, a sword of Damocles above his head. Each pendulum swing is a heartbeat before he feels it at his throat.

Yet even monsters dream. What difference does it make, to tell it to a half-drunk girl in a tavern so far and away from everything he knows?]

A farm. A place to work the earth. [It would be nice to have dirt instead of blood beneath his nails.] Cattle, crops. What about you?

Sounds awful.

[She doesn't have the good manners to looked ashamed of it, but she mimics his shrug from a moment ago instead. She's a city girl, tried and true, could never be away from the filth and wonder of population. But...eh. Food had to come from somewhere, yeah? So long as he was happy.

With cow shite everywhere. ugh.]

Was helping save the world from a big monster thingy but...well. Sometimes the heroes are monsters too, yeah? Gotta get back. But...

[But it was good to step away from the Inquisitor and their political bullshiting. But that takes too long to explain and- damn. Drunk. She was drunk. And she groans as that knowledge hits her, her head falling forward between her shoulders- too far. She misjudged and her forehead hit the table with a firm bang.]

Maker's salty balls.

[He's seen more than his fair share of drunkards, this little misstep does nothing to phase him. Though he does take the opportunity to order her a glass of water with lemon, which he puts in front of her.]

Drink that, when you've a mind.

[It's not really an order. Some people, so inclined, would promptly tell him to go fuck himself. But he just can't bring himself to dislike her, or to leave a drunk girl alone to whatever mercies this place has in store.

He is not a nice man by any stretch. But he is rarely cruel unless called for. Sometimes the heroes are monsters too.]

What manner of 'big monster thingy'?

[His mind jumps first to bullshit (likely) and then to a sailor's stories. He's too rational a man to think that krackens exist, or any other monsters of the deep he's heard tales of, but it's certainly where his mind first strays.]

[She is just going to let her head rest for a moment. Not going for the water, but not throwing it on the floor at the moment. Just turning enough so she's looking at him again, face pressed to the wood of the table, not a single care for appearances. Or the large red mark on her forehead.]

Dunno. Magic shite, yeah? Don't need the full problem when I've got the answer: arrows.

[holy shit she's just the tiniest angriest pirate can he fucking keep her. Flint actually laughs at that.]

A definitive cure to most things that ail oneself. So you're from one of those worlds where 'magic' exists?

[Or she's drunk and imagining some fallible thing as being so. But then again, he's never seen anyone with pointed ears that weren't the result of some very creative scarification, either.]

Probably everywhere. They're just..sneaky. Those magic types. Always skulking an' drinking their tea an' 'no, Sera, the wall's aren't for climbing on' and 'go away, Sera, my sense of humor's shoved up my arse.'

[Her head stays down, but her hands come up to act as mocking little puppets as she imitates her version of Solas. Not that James'll known who it is, but when she thinks of magic these days, she thinks of the worst elf she knows.]

But then who do they come runnin' to when the world's ending? Us normal people, that's right. Bah.

[Well that's specific. He leans back in his chair, faintly humoured by her depiction and the fluttering wave of her hands.]

Depends on how you define normal, I'd wager.

You shoot fire from your nips?

[Laser focus. That's what this is. From her reclined position on the table, hands freezing in mid air]

Sera | Dragon Age

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