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

[Two types of men make that remark. Someone made comfortable in following, and leaders who don't wish to give it away. Flint raises an eyebrow at it, but it's his only reaction as he brushes past the man and - boots squelching uncharitably in the mud - heads for one of the buildings on higher ground. It seems to be a school, by its exterior, and it's been closed down for the storm. Flint, however, doesn't seem to care. It's an empty building near enough to the crisis that he can keep an eye on it, and he's brought provisions enough to outlast it.

He heads first through the door and to the small corner of the gymnasium he's sequestered for himself. There's a heater running, and several of the gym's instruments pulled close and tarped over to give it the illusion of being a small room. All the knotwork, of course, is expertly done.]

Hungry?

[ There's nothing wrong with deferring to others with more experience, especially those who expect to be followed. Flint is very self-assured, and Clark falls into step behind him. Setting down the shovels, he looks around, examining the knots. He was briefly at sea himself, but didn't learn all of them. ]

Not particularly.

[ After the backbreaking work they just did, highly suspect. Clark isn't really hungry, but Flint offered. ]

I'd have one of those small granola bars, if you don't mind.

[He rummages. Once secured, he tosses the aforementioned item in Clark's direction with an easy underhand, not one meant to test.]

I have towels, if you've a care to dry yourself.

[What a fucking luxury they are, too. Aboard a ship, when you got wet you simply worked that way. The baths at the Hamilton estate had fancy linens one used, but he's not felt such a thing against his skin in a long, long time.]

Thank you, I'd appreciate a towel.

[ He pockets the bar. ]

My name is Clark.

[ Just Clark the alien. The cape and suit came with him but they're neatly folded in his apartment and kept out of sight. ]

[He hands him one wordlessly. He, meanwhile, dries only his hands.]

James. Thank you, for your assistance out there.

No problem.

[ Clark scrubs it through his hair. Wet clothes aren't a nuisance, he dries what skin is visible.

He finds a warm part of the room to spread the towel. ]

Do you mind if I wait out the storm here?

Not the least. Make yourself comfortable.

[He has a small cookstove, and on it something that smells very much like soup. Without much preamble he proceeds to mix the ingredients for dough in a bowl before spooning it on top of the soup to cook, rather like dumplings.]

[ Clark finds a small spot to sit down, cross-legged. He fishes the bar out of his pocket and eats quietly, folding up the wrapper to dispose of later. Silence doesn't bother him, and the world is never fully silent.

He watches Flint cooking, distracted only listening for anyone outside who might need help. ]

[No stranger he to silence. If the man is not compelled to speak, Flint certainly won't force the issue. He tends his soup, which is plain and hearty, the recipe is ages old. He uses few spices to make it palpable, and once it's cooked to his satisfaction he takes a bowl for himself.]

Should you change your mind.

[A nod to the pot. He's not averse to sharing.]

[ Clark nods. It smells good. The invitation is for the intimacy of a shared meal, with a man who's not overly inquisitive. It wouldn't hurt to make friends here at least for the time being.

He sits down opposite, taking a bowl. ]

Thank you.

[No need. And yet,]

You're welcome.

[Flint does not get drunk in any but the most dire of situations, but he still has a difficult time trusting water when he's accustomed to it being so commonly diseased and dirty back home, so he produces a bottle of wine and sets it out. His meaning is clear, but it's an invitation rather than any attempt at forcing the issue. Not everyone drinks.]

I suppose I should ask the requisite question, if you're inclined to answer. Assuming you're from Earth, what year is it for you?

[His tone is mild, leaving room for avoidance or a lie.]

[ Clark sets out two glasses. He doesn't mind a drink, if it's what's expected in this man's company. ]

I'm from Earth.

[ There's no reason to lie or avoid anything: he hasn't been asked about his abilities (yet). Kansas, the Kent's farm. The only home he knows. ]

It's 2013 last I knew. [ #comicbookmovies ] What about you?

[Always with the new fucking millennium. Flint is honestly used to it by now, it doesn't merit the least of his surprise.]

1717. [And, with mild amusement,] June 6th, if we're to get precise about it.

[ Clark smiles. ]

Did something happen in 1717 before June 6th?

[He chews, perhaps longer than he needs to on a chunk of dumpling. He's smiling too, which adds a sort of playful edge to what he says rather than one meant to mock.]

The sun rose. It set. The wind blew. A thousand men died the world over and a thousand more were born. Presumably, in any case.

[He spent it in a gaol in Nassau's fort with an old, familiar book for company that he knows now by rote, but that's neither here nor there.]

Besides that, nothing remarkable that I'm aware.

[ Clark's smile broadens and lingers. ]

The same thing happens in 2013.

[ Give or take one or two aliens. ]

Remarkable, how these things stay the same.

[He takes one of those glasses, and gestures for Clark to fill it with a polite nod.]

I've heard cars are quite the delight.

[ Clark obliges him. ]

As are planes. We even managed to land on the moon forty five years ago.

[He's about to open his mouth to ask what a plane is when that next bit sinks in. And if he were but a lesser man he'd have choked on his wine right there. As it is--]

The fucking moon?

[This is perhaps his first and truest moment of surprise in this hellbegotten place. Magic, he can accept. Cars make a linear sort of sense. Planes, once the concept is described to him, will put him in the mind of a man from Venice once upon a time. But the moon?]

That's right.

[ Gently out of habit. It's his first moment of overt surprise. De la Terre à la Lune came out in 1865, long after this man will be dead. ]

May I ask how, exactly, this came to pass?

[The surprise is gone, laid to a timely grave. Now he is only curious. It's boyish, almost. His first love, before Miranda, before Thomas took hold of his heart and took it with him to an early grave, was for learning.]

[ Clark's first love, since even before he knew he was from another world, were the stars. After he learnt what he was he devoured everything about it, and feels confident in his ability to explain rockets. ]

Do you have a pen and paper?

Mm.

[A soft, agreeable noise. Such things are never far from him, and he rises to fetch both with his food now forgotten. The paper here feels odd under his hands, too smooth and too perfect, but it is cheap and plentiful. He's been keeping a log in ancient Greek, which is the least-known of the languages he speaks, but it is not that book he offers to Clark, merely one like it.]

[ Clark draws a rocket, then a lunar excursion module, and finally the Apollo spacecraft, going from one to the other. He lingers on an aspect if Flint shows interest in it, unhurried in his explanation.

Humans haven't built anything as wondrous or efficient as the Kryptonian scout ship yet, but they will. ]

[His questions are sharp, and they show an innate understanding of the sciences as they stand in his age. If corrected on any account, he will not make such a mistake again. He learns quickly, with efficiency and by the end he's nodding. Christ, but what a world. Thomas would have loved it. It would have appealed to the freest part of him, and Flint's fingers are unerringly gentle as he traces the curve of a drawn rocket.]

Miraculous. Thank you for showing me this.

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