redmarsshit | test drive meme: january 2020

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test drive meme: january 2020

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.

a. nuclear fallout boy.

There is a mid-90s strip mall forming outside of Anchor.

Which is to say that there is now a Hot Topic next to the Blockbuster, and a little canopied sidewalk connecting the two. The difference between them is that the Hot Topic has an airlock entry and is safe from the radiation outside.

It's also not decked out for any Earth holidays, but it is fully stocked. Just not stocked with things that an Earth-based shopper would recognize as their "typical" fare. There are band t-shirts, with extreme fonts and symbols, but said fonts are almost cuneiform and the symbols are references that no one who wasn't living on Mars-15 in 1994 will get. The joke t-shirts are much the same, with cartoon characters, visual puns, memes, and designs that are, well, out of this world. There are bizarre earrings in standing cases, body decorations that might not quite fit a human, temporary tattoos, and random junk that cool fifteen-year-olds would snap up if it existed on Mars. (Use your imaginations, Anchorites.)

One thing you won't find in this store is advanced technology that serves any actual purpose. Sure, there are thumb-sized fart machines and little wall-mounted projectors that can decorate ceilings with preprogrammed holographic scenery (mostly starscapes). But none of it is any more useful than the keychain of that fat hipster cat with butterfly wings and bug eyes hanging from one of the displays. The cash register, which is the most futuristic thing in the place, is smashed to bits. Gotta get those Mars credits somewhere else.

b. looking kinda familiar.

There are little creatures scuttling through Anchor again, though these ones... well, they really are creatures more than they can be called animals. They're little blue-gray blobs of tissue, growing as they roll around until they finally split in two, both pieces then going their own way. Even though they don't have legs, the little blobs are fast, and many of them have no interest in interacting with the people of Anchor, and disappear into the ether never to be seen again.

Some of them, however, will single people out and start following them. The longer that little blob follows, the closer it gets, the more it takes the shape of an animal that represents the follow-ee's innermost soul or personality. The part of themselves that they hide away. As it begins to take shape, the person it follows will start to hear a tiny voice, at first just muffled sounds that could be coming from anywhere, but as the creature's form clarifies, the mumbling turns into actual speech. Clumsy, at first, almost like babytalk, but soon the little creature following its chosen Anchorite will be able to speak with its chosen person in full sentences. No one else can hear the little creature talk - only the one it decided to follow.

Keep the little bugger (or big bugger, if your innermost soul is an elephant or something) around for a week, and it will settle into its chosen shape, bonding to you for as long as you're alive. It can speak, listen, and understand, but you're the only one who can hear its voice. If this whole animal companion stalker situation isn't up your alley, though, and you're not feeling the connection, the little critter will slouch off to its own blobby existence.

c. creatures from the black locked room.

There's been a lot of exploration happening in that flooded area that Joe warned you all about. A lot of rooms opened, a lot of rooms explored and/or destroyed (thanks, Jacob et al. srsly). It's a lot of noise in a somewhat confined space. And something in one of the rooms is stirring...and done with being locked away.

Midday on the 20th of the month, the sounds of metal shrieking as it is twisted out of shape burble up out of the flooded halls. Thumping, rumbling, and eerie hooting noises are all muffled by the water at first.

There's only one at first, sloshing up out of the water and looking perfectly dry. Well... it looks like nothing, actually. A deep blackness that can hypnotize if it's stared at for too long. Long, dark claws that shine with a silvery edge. The vicious teeth in its shapeless head glow a pale blue-green.

Then another comes to the top of the stairs, and another.

They're perplexed at first by the webbing Peter Parker left to block off the hall, but a few experimental pokes with a claw shows that the stuff gives under their talons with only a little bit of effort. The three creatures slice their way free and move as a pack through the lower levels of Anchor, prepared to mob whoever they come across and tear them to shreds.

There's a problem when it comes to straight-up fighting these things, though: when physically attacked, they simply bounce back, when pieces are hacked off with a blade, each piece becomes a new, identical monster. The only way to beat them is with energy and other alternate fighting styles - magic, lasers, energy projectiles, etc.

Some people might be lucky enough not to run into them. Good luck to the rest.

d. the network.

Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to ask a friend to back you up to take out the toothy voids? Maybe you need to hold your sat phone up to whatever crazy thing you're seeing and send out a recording to double-check if your eyes are deceiving you and what you're looking at is real?

Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.

Navigation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh...."

She blinks. There is a stupid question, why doesn't he wear a better under layer? But from what he just said...?

He smiles, trying to ease some of the sharpness from his previous tone. "It's njt the same, back where I come from. Its like... like the City was, but older and colder and poorer."

He pauses, and then has an idea. "You know that room? With the illusions? I could show you London. So you could see what I mean, look around it yourself. Once we've found you clothes here so you look the part."

She beams at that, her eyes going big and wide, "really?"

Because she tried, as much and as often as she could, to understand, to help to talk to them in ways that were more familiar to them. To help them in turn with the things that weren't familiar in terms that actually made sense. Unfortunately, sometimes, she just couldn't quite - grasp it. Misery, she understood. The almost pointless fight, she knew too. But sometimes it felt like something was going over her head.

"Okay. Yes. Definitely. But we have to swap. You show me London," particular, Lon-Don. Trying to say it exactly like he did. "I'll show you Pandora."

Jacob laughs, because the light in her eyes is bright and happy and full of wonder, full of eagerness and he can't help feel that spreading to him. London was a home, more so that Crawley had been. It was a beautiful ugly mess of a place, full of wonder and horror all at once. He can't wait to show her.

"Alright. But no skin pizza." He only has the vaguest imagining of what Pandora is like, as they've discussed more of the events and technology rather than the landscape. He doubts anything can kill them in an illusion, so Pandora is probably as safe as London.

"You've got a deal. Do you want to finish up here first?"

"I'll ease you into the bandit insanity before we get to skin pizza."

That much what she can at least do for him. If he wanted to see how bad it could get, she can show him that too - but. Until then. Start him off somewhere a little less intense.

"Well, are any of these clothes kind of similar to London clothes?"

He makes a face. "Can't we just avoid that bit altogether?"

Maybe then he will understand more about Pandora, about her. That's what he wants, really. She is his closest friend but he still doesn't fully understand the world she comes from, and he wants to. Even if it means a lot of unpleasant things.

He looks around them, and frowns. "Not really. There's not enough layers. But we can do something similar. And short. I don't think the illusions will notice."

She gives him a sympathetic look for that worry. That oh Jacob, there is no skipping those bits, which is mostly a guilty little giggle as she follows after him.

"Hrm? Really? I don't know if long skirts work with...." she lifts a hoof to wriggle it back and forth. The things just tended to get caught, and pants definitely were out - for the same reason. Funny they didn't really make pants for the oddness of animal curving hind legs.

"Granted, just about half of this is perfect for Pandora. So it'll definitely be a start."

"Good point," Jacob admits. He doesn't often actually need a reminder about her unique shape, but he supposes that as he has no experience of goat legs he can be forgiven. He can't say he's never tried on a long skirt, out of curiosity, but he's never done anything in one, so it's possibly something to avoid when climbing rooftops.

Which he knows from their time in the City isn't something she'll be doing. Better stick to a walking tour then, or find a nice carriage. There's always a few laying around.

"Short skirt then, I suppose. Or whatever takes your fancy, I don't know if it will matter." He looks around again, a little skeptically. "Do people on Pandora wear anything like this?"

She tries so hard, so very hard to keep a straight face. But it doesn't last, bursting into a fit of laughter as she tries to imagine any Pandoran being half as well dressed as Jacob Frye was when he got up from bed of a morning, let alone the rest of the day.

"Uhm, no, nothing at all like you. The Hammerlocks might come close but..." she finally swallows the giggles.

"Come on, you pick for me, I'll pick for you. Then we can surprise each other at the end, okay?"

Her laughter makes him frown, because he's not well dressed. He remembers how she looked when they first met, in a fancy dress. He'd just got it into his head that was sort of the Pandorian style. As it turns out, the opposite is true.

"Alright. Please nothing... really weird."

And with that he goes off to find her something that might just pass in London. A dress and a vest-thing. Not exactly suitable for an audience with the queen, but that's not what they're trying to do.

She so very helpfully gives him a little wave of her fingers, that is her response to all of those concerns. No promises.

Because he was about to be in for a shock, that was for sure.

Her choices from the other end are a bit odder. Its clothes, sure. Was it anywhere near as put together as he seems to find? No. Definitely not that. Pants, shirt, belts, knives, pots of what seem to be painted, hrm - not quite Crimson Raider, sorry Roland. But good enough to put him where he needed to be unnoticed. That as she waits for him to come back from picking, she appears to be... trashing. Using the long edge of her nails to wear holes into. Then when it's not quite right, she uses her teeth, biting into some now worn threads and ripping at with that terrifying bite strength.

Giving him a sunny expression like he had absolutely nothing to worry about. "Ready to go?"

He watches, a confused and horrified grimace on his face as fabric rips under her ministrations. He's not sure what she's doing, but he is concerned by what he sees.

"Are you hungry?" He has to ask, tone as amused as it is perplexed. "Or is that the fashion on Pandora? Get your best friend to gnaw your clothes?"

As he speaks, he holds out the stuff he picked for her, so she can inspect it herself. Hopefully it works with her tail and legs.

"I'm ready. If you are."

It's not even intended, she suspects, the words just out of his mouth because Jacob just says things like that. But she pauses where she's biting his clothes. Your best friend.

Her tail thumps like a mad thing. Best friend. Someone's best friend. She was, maybe, his, and she drops her gaze to stop the bubble in her throat to ask if he really means her, and Angel he's just being silly, it's just a word, a word people say a lot, too.

Clears her throat where she drops the clothes from her teeth to speak. "You'll see."

But with the wearing in done, she passes him the pants - black and now thoroughly worn in and ripped up. "Sounds good."

He takes then with a momentarily look of uncertainty, and then shrugs it off. And then, because he's actually far more curious than he pretends, he begins taking off his current layers. Thankfully, he's let the coat in Anchor, as it really doesn't fit under the weird space suit.

"Are we going straight to the hallucination room?" He asks, unfastening his belt and turning his back on her as he removes his trousers.

It's not the first time he's undressed with her in the same room, and it won't be the last. He's at ease around her, comfortable and happy, even if he's uncertain about the clothes she's picked out for him, he's still going to have fun trying them on for her.

"Hallucination ...? " Trying to figure out what he's talking about - and, oh. At least it's only a little giggle. "It's not a hallucination, it's an illusion. A bit different."

Or maybe just taking the second to enjoy to watch him taking off his shirt.

Ahem.

So she takes a back to him, pushing her dress over her shoulders. Letting it pool around her ankles before she steps out of it. Shaking out her fur before she reaches for the dress. Thank god there were buttons as she started undoing the front of the dress. Still would need his help. Stepping into it with a little hop and shimmy it up her legs with little jumps to pull it up.

When she says that, he snorts. "Semantics. Hallucination, illusion. You're seeing something that isn't there."

He glances over his shoulder at her then, if only because it's polite to look at people when you speak to them,and the sound of fabric and fur moving makes him curious.

He looks back sharply, if only because looking at her when she's naked isn't something he wants to do unless she knows he's looking.

Connor's a lucky boy.

"You okay back there?"

"Tail," is the mutter of explanation, it'd gotten stuck, just like it always did. It wasn't just laziness that she dressed in loose clothes that half fell off her most of the time. It was simple practically. Tight, form-fitting clothes weren't for her form, that was for sure.

"Help please?"

She turns back for him, and it's easy to see what the problem had become, the whole thing was tucked up around her middle as she had tried to pull it up her body. Tail caught, and she couldn't reach around to pull it back down without the whole thing falling off. A stubborn little irritated wrinkle of her nose as she tried to squirm it up her body, but couldn't really get it further than her hips. At least she wasn't totally naked, there was that for him - not that she even thinks that might be a problem, who was he to the legion of scientist Jack had employed to cut into her body and seen her at various stages of unconscious and undressed? She at least knew, liked, and trusted Jacob, and she didn't come from anywhere that cared about being naked, to begin with, let alone with someone she could happily spend every day with.

Jacob hesitates. Its only for a moment as Victorian sensibilities fill his head, and then he gets over himself. Yes her tail is only just above a very shapely bottom, yes she really isn't wearing very much at all right now, but she's also uncomfortable with her tail caught up in that fabric and he can clearly see she can't get herself free. Connor would think he was ridiculous if he tried to voice his uncertainty, and so what? He's literally just undressed with her in the room.

He moves closer, surveying the problem and not her backside, honest, and with one hand gently begins to shift the fabric of her dress away from her tail. And then, with the other hand, he carefully, gently, takes hold of her tail to untuck it.

"You know, I don't think any other woman I know has this problem." He says conversationally, "Then again, I don't think any of the men I know have this problem either. And Charles doesn't much go in for clothes when he has a tail. But who is going to tell a werewolf he's not properly dressed?"

There is no helping it really - tails as it turned out, were terrible sensitive, sends her all squirmy and trying not to giggle madly as he touches to try and help her get free. The way it makes her foot stamp the ground and her main shake with a breath of a giggle she tries to swallow.

"That's because Charles gets to turn all the way back, I get stuck with an extra appendage."

A appendage that had no self respect, honestly. Caught in Jacob's palm it flicked back and forth eagerly in her contentment of being touched it all.

"What's wrong?" He asks, as she squirms and giggles, wriggling around like an eel out of water. He's not certain what's got into her, but then it becomes clear. "Hang on, are you ticklish?"

He hadn't actually ever wondered what having a tail felt like. Hers seemed to almost act independently to her, as if it had a will of it's own. It certainly seems that way now, as it twitches in his hand. But it's whisps are so soft, he doesn't let go. Just absently brings his other hand to it, stroking over the soft fluff at the end.

And then, absently, strokes it over the back of her neck.

If it were anyone else, she'd have snatched their hand off like lightning for touch her throat at all There was nowhere more sensitive, more terrifying, to have anyone near.

But she knew Jacob, and she trusted Jacob -

And this is what she gets for that trust!

"Oi!" It'd be a lot more convincing if she wasn't shrieking with laughter. Shivering and shaking herself fully as her foot stomped on the ground. Pushing him off to snatch back the end of her tail to curl it around her body and hang onto the soft hairs where they could be protected. "Tails are sensitivie!"

Her laughter is the sweetest music, it really is, and as she turns and twists and her tail slips from his fingers, his hands move around her to steady her, to keep her from knocking into the many displays and shelves.

"Yes, I can see that." He replies, grinning like a devil, and moving to flick the little tufts of hair that escape out the top of her closed fist. He can't resist, that squeal when he tickled her was somehow addictive. And her tail surprisingly soft.

"But is it just the tail? Or are you just ticklish?" He asks, fingers dancing over her skin, avoiding the patches of fur he knows aren't ticklish.

She is in fact ticklish - just about everywhere. The fur at least offered some protection. But half-dressed and trying to hold her tail, it's pretty much impossible to avoid him.

"Stop, stop! Jacob!" She squirms trying to hold it together as he keeps playing his hands here and there. Pushing at him as best they can. Digging her elbows against him as she leans her head against his shoulders. "Of course I'm ticklish! Stop!"

He pauses, just for a second, so she can gasp for breath before starting again, across sensitive glowing skin, soft as down, laughing as she does. They're idiots, really, and perhaps this moment of idiocy reveals just how young they are.

Or how much he likes to touch her.

"What's the magic word? Can't stop till I hear the magic word, space princess."

She's half doubled over trying to escape him by the time she decides, right that's it. Gasping for breath, held up only because he's tickling her, squealing and laughing and going pink in the face from the effort of even trying to breathe she's just that damn ticklish.

But enough of that. He has had quite enough fun at her poor, innocent expense.

So Angel picks him up.

One arm around his waist the second he gets free and hauls him like a sack of potatoes over her shoulder.

"Ha!"

test drive meme: january 2020

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