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synodiporia_ooc2014-03-29 03:05 pm
powersthatbe) wrote in synodiporia_ooc2014-03-29 03:05 pm
Entry tags:
Test Drive #2
Welcome to the Synodiporia Test Drive Meme! Below the cut there are twofour new prompts, here and here are the prompts from previous testdrives, which you’re still welcome to use here. When you comment, be sure you specify what prompt you want to play with, and please put up your own threadstarter - it makes for a much more friendly environment that a forest of bare toplevels!
Prompt #9 gives a look at what it's like for everyone to be stuck in Liminal Space, & Prompt #10 is a chance to try your hand at being an infiltrator in our upcoming Noir plot.
Before you start, we’d like you to please take a quick look at the game’s Concept, its Rules, and the Liminal Space, Previous Universes, & Noir Plot pages, just to give you the background info you’ll need for some of these prompts. And if you’re looking for more information, the Directory is here and the Application page is here.
Prompts:
Prompt #9: Liminal Space
Today, if it's a day, Liminal Space has shifted again. It's twilight, and a moldering New Orleans graveyard, full of ornate gothic sepulchers, stretches in every direction, gray stone and wrought iron barriers sectioning it into smaller plots. Some of these mausoleums have been opened, and their insides don't match their outsides. Inside are well-appointed train compartments, dinner cars and sleeper cars and such, richly appointed and well lit, as if they come straight from the Orient Express. Out the windows, you can see the landspace whizzing by, although it's not the same landscape from one window to the next. You can feel the vibration of the train, the acceleration - but step out of the car and you're in a graveyard again, and inside the cars you can hear crickets and nightbirds singing and smell the rich aroma of flowering trees.
Also in the graveyard are a few scattered train-cars, but nobody's going into those - inside they're all dank spaces packed with decomposing bodies. There are small animals here and there outside - rabbits, birds, that kind of thing -- all of them dead, but none of them letting it keep them from their nightly routines. The crickets and nightjars are making train noises. Bemused travelers are finding comfortable spaces wherever they can.
Prompt #10: The Midnight Rose
It's half past nine and the joint is jumping. The shutters on the front window are down, the front door is locked, but there's a big mook with a shrewd look in his eye letting anybody with a black enameled rose pin on their lapel in through the delivery entrance, and the back room they're shown into doesn't look anything like a candy store. There's a small, dark bar in one corner, and in another corner six guys with strings and brass are making like they're the Duke Ellington orchestra. The floors are tiled parquet and a few couples are dancing, but most of the action's at the smoke-shrouded card tables where a dozen little private meetings are happening, gents and dames in pinstripes and fancy hats or beaded dresses and heels, but rarely both. There are card games and conversations going on, and who can say what's more high stakes? Tonight, this is the place to be, Bensonhurst outfit or Gravesend mob or anybody else who can pay the cover charge.
Prompt #9 gives a look at what it's like for everyone to be stuck in Liminal Space, & Prompt #10 is a chance to try your hand at being an infiltrator in our upcoming Noir plot.
Before you start, we’d like you to please take a quick look at the game’s Concept, its Rules, and the Liminal Space, Previous Universes, & Noir Plot pages, just to give you the background info you’ll need for some of these prompts. And if you’re looking for more information, the Directory is here and the Application page is here.
Prompts:
Prompt #9: Liminal Space
Today, if it's a day, Liminal Space has shifted again. It's twilight, and a moldering New Orleans graveyard, full of ornate gothic sepulchers, stretches in every direction, gray stone and wrought iron barriers sectioning it into smaller plots. Some of these mausoleums have been opened, and their insides don't match their outsides. Inside are well-appointed train compartments, dinner cars and sleeper cars and such, richly appointed and well lit, as if they come straight from the Orient Express. Out the windows, you can see the landspace whizzing by, although it's not the same landscape from one window to the next. You can feel the vibration of the train, the acceleration - but step out of the car and you're in a graveyard again, and inside the cars you can hear crickets and nightbirds singing and smell the rich aroma of flowering trees.
Also in the graveyard are a few scattered train-cars, but nobody's going into those - inside they're all dank spaces packed with decomposing bodies. There are small animals here and there outside - rabbits, birds, that kind of thing -- all of them dead, but none of them letting it keep them from their nightly routines. The crickets and nightjars are making train noises. Bemused travelers are finding comfortable spaces wherever they can.
Prompt #10: The Midnight Rose
It's half past nine and the joint is jumping. The shutters on the front window are down, the front door is locked, but there's a big mook with a shrewd look in his eye letting anybody with a black enameled rose pin on their lapel in through the delivery entrance, and the back room they're shown into doesn't look anything like a candy store. There's a small, dark bar in one corner, and in another corner six guys with strings and brass are making like they're the Duke Ellington orchestra. The floors are tiled parquet and a few couples are dancing, but most of the action's at the smoke-shrouded card tables where a dozen little private meetings are happening, gents and dames in pinstripes and fancy hats or beaded dresses and heels, but rarely both. There are card games and conversations going on, and who can say what's more high stakes? Tonight, this is the place to be, Bensonhurst outfit or Gravesend mob or anybody else who can pay the cover charge.
Prompt #3/ #7
No... he holds a vague memory of waking up in a place that made even less sense, of receiving an explanation that left him with more questions than answers. He was a bit vague on the answers he'd gotten too - the memory was pretty hazy.
He looks around for people he knew. Maybe someone had a better idea of what was going on.
no subject
In a moment, though, he catches sight of Armin and hastens over to offer his help. "Are you all right?" he asks softly, concern overcoming the evident alarm of waking up.
no subject
"Yeah, I'm alr -" He says as he starts getting up, but cuts off as he abruptly collapses to his knees, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach in pain. It takes a long moment of heavy breathing before he's even remotely aware of his surroundings again.
He gives the boy a weak chuckle with no real mirth in it. "It seems I spoke too soon. Do you know... what's going on? Where we are, or what's happened to us?"
He's obviously still very much in pain, and just as obviously ignoring it for the sake of gathering information on their surroundings.
no subject
"Easy... Just rest a moment. I'm not sure what's going on. Joscelin seems determined to keep us locked in this room, we seem to have all acquired new injuries, though they're mostly healed, and we're nowhere I know. This place doesn't look familiar at all." He laughs self-deprecatingly. "But that doesn't mean much, given the liminal space before. Does it strike any chords with you?"
no subject
"I... I've never see it before, and I don't remember being injured. But...
Who is Joscelin? And what is liminal space?"
no subject
Smiling wryly, he shakes his head slightly, opening a hand in a 'you see?' gesture. "Liminal space is what it's called when we're between worlds. It's... well, even stranger than this."
Alcuin leans down to put his head on a level with Armin's, pointing out Joscelin's stern, blond form across the room. "Do you see him? That's Joscelin. He's been doing this longer than nearly anyone else. It's his writing on the door, warning us to stay inside. But at the moment, I'm more concerned with your injuries. Can you sit up?"
no subject
"Why did you expect me to know of this?"
Taking Alcuin's hand and bracing his other against the wall, he slowly stands up - only doubling over in pain once before he manages to push it down, ignoring it.
"If we're to stay inside, what does he expect us to do here?"
no subject
"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Armin, even if I wish it could be under better circumstances." He hesitates, then continues more slowly. "I have seen you before. In the space between worlds; I didn't know you then. It appears that someone or something in this place is tampering with memories."
Shaking his head, he dips his shoulder to get beneath the blond's arm, laying a light, warm palm on Armin's chest to help him straighten. "No matter what we're to do here, I think your injuries need to be checked first. There aren't any cuts that I can see. Your stomach hurts?"