riverview: test drive meme

[riverviewmod]

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

Comments

james flint ☠ black sails

[diagenesis]

→ when you tell a pirate to batten


[The differences in enduring the storms of Nassau are not so significant in this foreign place that Flint feels his expertise to be lacking. All things begin the same. There are no sails to stow, no rigging to lash, but the backbreaking work of irrigation ditching and the filling of sandbags still needs done.

He tosses a shovel to the nearest able-bodied person. Male or female, storms hardly discriminate and in this, neither does he.]

You there. Give me a hand with this.

[His tone is firm, authoritative. Obviously not a man used to hearing go fuck yourself (though there has been plenty of that in his life, it's usually ignored or rescinded at the point of a sword where necessary).]


→ 'all my friends are dead' but lovers are dandy too

[Flint was forged by circumstance, McGraw by the happenstance of life. Neither are needed here, strictly speaking, in the capacity he is accustomed to existing. He discusses nothing with no one who does not earn his confidence, but he knows what it is to integrate seamlessly into a thing. Once, it was the Navy. Then piracy, then captaincy. He cannot liberate Nassau from a world beyond worlds. One cannot keep a promise when one is removed from its place of reckoning.

His manners are not so courtly now as they once were. But he makes token appearances when and where people expect. In this instance: dance lessons. He has not bothered keeping up to date with London's fashions, but Miranda (and Thomas) enjoyed the baroque styles of the courts. They spent more than one evening together in step to music only they three could hear. The man he used to be even came to enjoy it.

Now, it serves as only one thing: a way to learn. No spy, no turncoat he. But in lieu of a brothel, any place that encourages fraternization is the next best place for information, and Flint can be charming when put to task.

He has no reason to expect this place is any kinder about men asking another man to dance here than it was in the golden age of piracy, so he focuses on the women that enter the hall and eventually picks one out.]

Beg pardon. [Hell, he even dredges up that old London elocution.] May I have this dance?

[if approached by a man, he would politely but firmly turn them down, though it might inspire him to ask questions about how freely it was done.]

batten down.

[laveers]

[ She has one good dress, sacrificed from the knees down (though pride has kept the bracelets and necklaces) is already holding a shovel looking for a suitable place to start digging. ]

Begin. I will find one more, or we won't finish before the storm hits.

[diagenesis]

[The only immediate response he has for that is to raise one eyebrow faintly, but ultimately he shrugs. Of all the people in his life, both as McGraw and later as Flint, who have seen fit to boss him around, he has always minded it the least from women.]

Best hurry, then.

[He knows storms, the sweep and swell of them. This one is closer than he likes, but the solid ground beneath their feet is better than the rolling deck of a ship as far as odds for survival go.]

[laveers]

[ A quick nod, and ten minutes later there are two others starting their own section, digging towards them. Hediye settles into a rhythm with the trench, practice and urgency fuelling progress. ]

You have done this before.

[diagenesis]

[He rests a moment, his foot on the step of the shovel's blade. Some designs, it seems, are universal.]

I live on an island. [Not an entire truth. Not a lie. He has no issue being forthcoming so long as the details remain sparse and tightly leashed.] We see a great many storms.

[laveers]

Any like this?

[ She tilts her chin towards the clouds. Islands can be anywhere; some only see sun and others not a sliver of it. ]

[divulsion]

[Wanda doesn't dislike fun, but formal dance lessons or even more casual lessons in formal dancing aren't something she's typically drawn to. Like so many other activities in this city, it's something of a stepping stone. Come to this place, chat with these people, and you can do this activity that you actually want to participate in. You can see this show that interests you.

She knows how to dance but the style is something best reserved for clubs. Raves. Electronica and songs with thumping bass, things she can lose herself to, this is the kind of music she loves best.

Still, pushing herself outside of her comfort zone is a small price to pay, and she's certainly not opposed to meeting more of the other displaced. After all, hasn't she been told by her teammates, each in their own way, that there's value in learning about the people and places around her? It may not be immediately apparent but tucking away the knowledge for later can't hurt.

With this in mind, she doesn't hesitate to accept the request to dance from the man who approaches her.]

Of course, though you'd be wise to watch your toes. [She's managed one turn around the floor and while she's not clumsy, she's not particularly skilled at this style of dancing. Not yet.] I'm Wanda.

[diagenesis]

[It registers as a playful overture, and it gives him cause to quirk a faint smile mechanically, not a reflex but something deliberate. He fakes candor well.]

Between us, I think my toes can handle it.

[These dances don't have nearly enough space between participants. He's not-- uncomfortable with the nearness, but it has been quite some time since he was close to another body for some purpose other than slitting their throat or belly. Flint lacks the grasp on embarrassment that McGraw had, but he does keep his distance even as he gently cups her hand in his. There is something of Miranda in her appearance. The high cheekbones, the dark hair and the fact her eyes on him are fearless. Perhaps she was a poor choice of companion.]

James.

[divulsion]

[Wanda would find herself more comfortable with closeness in another context. She's well accustomed to the training sessions back at the Avengers' compound, learning hand to hand combat on the mats with Natasha and Clint. The grappling, the throwing. She's used to that.

This isn't terrible, however. He seems to have a better grasp on how to hold himself and where his hands go than she does. Determined not to waste the opportunity even if it isn't part of her ultimate goal, she focuses on her own positioning and hand placement. And idly, she wonders if Pietro would have ever danced like this if he were here, if he ever would have learned with her if he were still alive.]

Well, James, where are you from?

[Her own accent is faint compared to his, but she can make an educated guess as to his origins. Of course, she's learned recently that home isn't always the country that you were born in. Not forever.]

[diagenesis]

[Both of the men he's been are indisputably British. Home was his mother's hovel, his father's work-bench, his Navy bunk, a bed shared by two other warm bodies, and then the Walrus. Nassau is not his hearthstone. It's barely more a place that he's weighed anchor. Thomas' dream. Not his. He only made it so through will and cold steel, gold and death enough to fill a bloody, frothing sea. Dreams and nightmares are synergistic when they're all there is to drive you.

Nassau is not his home, but he will be its fucking king. Flint inclines his head to one side faintly.]

Late of the Bahamas. Port of Nassau.

[divulsion]

[Wanda's impression of the Bahamas is certainly different from his, no doubt. The Bahamas to her is a vacation place for wealthy Americans. Sandy, sunny beaches. Tropical drinks. The sort of place that she and Pietro rarely let themselves dream about going because it always seemed so far out of reach. After all, they were two orphaned kids in a war-torn country, without support or any prospects. More importantly, perhaps, each of them lacked that weakness that would allow them to turn their backs on their homeland when it was dying by blocks.

She lifts an eyebrow, letting him lead them around the floor.]

The former pirate haven? I think I've heard a little about it.

[But not much. It had been mentioned in passing in those those pirate movies. She and Pietro had made it through all three in a weekend a few years ago.]

What's it like there now?

when you tell a pirate to batten

[signifies]

[ Clark requested to clear out underground shelters when the sky changed colour, but the city officials seem to think this will be enough. There's no reason not to trust their word, and so he's been everywhere possible: helping along the river, and digging faster than ordinary people can.

This is the last place left. He catches the shovel, nodding politely to Flint. ]

All right. Where do we dig?

[diagenesis]

[He hefts a second shovel, and points out three key locations.]

Here, there and there. We need ditches to divert the flow of water as it rises.

[And so he bends to his work, digging the shovel into the ground with a foot upon its step. He's already drenched, and has stripped his coat off as it makes no difference and adds no protection from the elements. It only impedes his movement.]

[signifies]

[ He works side by side with Flint. There is no small talk. In these conditions there's very little call for it out here, and there's work to be done. Some people manage to multitask. Not Clark. He digs much faster than Flint and more tirelessly. ]

[diagenesis]

[Reminds him of Billy. In better days, before the man's good opinion of him was soured by so many things. Few men in his time grow to be that tall or broad, the ones that do are almost always the best fighter on a crew. Not because they are skilled, necessarily, but because they can endure. Outlast a better class of swordsman. Flint watches him, made wary by this, but does not comment.

They finish the job in record time, with Flint having done very little of the work despite his altogether honest contribution, and he watches water seep into the ditch they've built. The muck of it is up nearly to his knees, now.]

We're done here. We should seek shelter for now.

[signifies]

[ He may be tall and broad, but Clark has long been in the habit of being unremarkable, and after they finish digging he's shrinking into himself again and offering nothing more than a nod with a soft: ]

After you.

All my friends are dead.

[prisonking]

[ Michael is already regretting his decision to come. Dancing is easy. Michael is good at patterns, and repetition. People are complicated. Less predictable. Everyone marching to the beat of their own drum.

There's one person in the room without a partner, a man, and Michael isn't altogether comfortable approaching him. It isn't because he's male. That, Michael could care less about.

He just can't get a read on him.

Even here, all he can think about is survival. The entrances. Exits. Who is wearing a weapon. Concealing, or openly carrying. Whether this man has hands strong enough to choke the life out of him, given the opportunity. At some point people had stopped being people, and started looking like predators or prey.

Michael watches him for longer than is polite, or necessary, before finally picking his way through the dancing couples and over to where the man is standing. He tries to soften the intensity of his eyes, alert, watching for the slightest hint of movement, with a smile. He stands with a soft spine, casual and relaxed, except for the tension in his legs. Always ready to run.

Really, just a tall, out of place young man, with a cool voice, looking for a dance partner. Unless you happen to know what a fugitive looks like. ]

Looks like I was late to the party. Are you waiting for someone?

[diagenesis]

[If is any one unassailable thing, one truth of the world that is held resolute, it is thus: like knows like. The man is not subtle about watching him in ways that go beyond interest in a dancing partner, and though James is hardly made uneasy about it, it does sharpen the intensity of his own scrutiny. He understands the vigilance but not its source, and what it means to look to all the places a man hides a knife.

He is not altogether unsurprised when the young man takes it upon himself to approach. James has assured, seemingly at random, that this engagement should take place with his back to the nearest wall. There are no old pirates by luck alone.

He is two men at the best of times. Flint watches like a wolf from behind wary eyes. James shakes his head with a smile.]

No.

[He says it mildly, not without a friendly sort of charm. Even so, it's a cold word. Isolating. The dichotomy does not seem to trouble him.]

Are you?

[prisonking]

No. I don't know anyone here. Thought I might meet someone.

[ Michael's first move is to be honest. Dancing is all about give and take. One step forward. One step back. Until someone bows out, or takes the lead.

His shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, and he turns to the side, not away, to look out over the dance floor. He's not that generous. Michael knows better than to turn his back, even if he'd had to learn it the hard way.

He looks back at him with a smile that reaches his eyes. His second move. Michael's always been more comfortable leading than following. ]

To tell you the truth, I don't even like dancing.

[diagenesis]

[His arms are folded across his chest, sleeves conceal the sunburnt forearms and their plethora of scars but his hands are worn, knuckles that have broadened from the breaking of the bone. For some, it's a defensive posture, reactive to some fell thing. For James, it's something he wears easily as he nods out towards the crowd. ]

I'm certain you could find a young lady keen to show you the ropes.

[It isn't as if he's unattractive. If anything, the look of him puts Flint in the mind of Billy, who could've had a lady in every port from Nassau to Havana if he'd ever been so inclined.]

[prisonking]

[ Michael flinches, startling himself. It takes him a moment to recover. Caught off-guard by the force of his own reaction. He tears his eyes away, looking anywhere but at the other man.

It wouldn't be the first time he's stepped on his own foot.

He's not ready to dance, yet. Not with a woman. Not without her. There are worlds between him and Sara, whose life he ruined, and heart he broke, but she's still the only woman on his mind.

No matter how hard he tries to forget her. For both their sakes. ]

Probably. Couldn't you?

[spellslots]

[In the interest of not being too mean to Flint, let's say that Taako is the one doing the approaching this time. Not for ulterior motives, he's just bored and Flint looks kind of rough and tumble (even though he's scrubbed up for the dancing) which reminds him of Magnus and maybe, okay, he misses his stupid friend a little.]

You're quite the charmer, aren't you?

[He'd noticed Flint dancing with a couple of the ladies, something that Taako so far has not done (he hasn't danced with anyone, he's here because someone told him there would be free food).]

You must be making someone happy, when they're so eager to get us to socialize.

[He's not stupid, he's noticed the focus on pairing up.]

[diagenesis]

[Flint absolutely raises an eyebrow at this new company. At... everything this new company entails, more specifically. From the hair, to the ears, to... well.

Eyebrow. It's a thing.]

Beg your pardon?

[Flint is hardly disingenuous enough to play stupid by any respect. He's noticed it too, he's only asking for clarification.]

[spellslots]

[Yes he's amazing, he knows, try not to pass out from how great he is.]

All this, dancing, pool parties and speed dating - which sounds wild, sign me the fuck up - but it's a little suspicious, don't you think? I mean if they're into it that's cool, whatever, but they really should tell people before getting them involved in their kinks.

[diagenesis]

[He makes a rough, low sound in his throat, some sort of laugh that has no real cause to escape him. Of all the people here he might have expected to be suspicious, this one is perhaps the least surprising to him. Max, after all, does the same thing running her tavern and brothel in Nassau. A pretty face is never to be underestimated.]

I think voyeurism is the least of all their sins, frankly.