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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.
#10!
Though wearing the gown has the unfortunate side effect of attracting attention-- including the unwanted male kind. After all, Lightning's all dolled up, and the guys want a piece of that.
She's not having any of it though.]
No means no. Don't make me say it again, [is what she tells a particularly big guy who looks like he's in the mob, but she's honestly unimpressed at everything right now.]
no subject
Non.
no subject
You might want to think twice, now he's here.
[If New Guy is just playing knight to try his hand at being a slimeball though, he's got another thing coming. She doesn't have her sword on her, but she figures she can punch his lights out.]
no subject
He's a fool not to... apologize.
[His accent is pronounced, definitely French, and he stumbles a little over the last word. The words come out grim and grating - whatever he's doing, it's not trying to be charming.]
no subject
Garrett is one of the ones in the pinstripes in the back, but the way the fedora sits on his head, it covers his right eye in a nonchalant slant, echoing the relaxed way he sits with his back to the wall. There's several other members with him, discussing things around him in low voices, turning to him for answers, to which he gives.
As for the little interruption going on up front, the mobster sits up a little, raising his voice just enough for them to hear.]
Alfonso.
[The man who's been giving Lightning a bit of trouble freezes slightly, before turning back to him. Garrett raises his right hand and shoos him, and Alfonso nods stiffly, stepping back and moving aside.
It's rather obvious Garrett's one of the high-ups in this place, and the people around him know it. He doesn't want trouble, and the way he settles back down makes it apparent that he's just content watching Lightning from this distance rather than talking with her face to face.]
no subject
And not out of gratitude-- who cares? Lightning is going to do this for information. She's an Investigator, after all. So she pushes away from her place at the bar and approaches the man. People turn to stare at her, but she just shoots her a raised eyebrow.]
no subject
It's fine. Sit down.
[There's a bit of a muttered protest, all of them looking back at him in surprise, but Garrett only nods a little, and they return to their seats. Glancing upwards from where he is, he finally addresses Lightning, a grin spreading across his face.]
Now, what can I do for you?
[He seems completely relaxed, interest showing in his visible eye, the kind of intrigue that a fox has when watching a hen go back to her nest. He has no idea who this woman is, but she's certainly left a mark upon the place already.]
no subject
Something tells me you're the big man around here. So yeah, there's probably something you can do for me.
no subject
[He's not the big man, that's reserved for someone else. But he's an heir to the mobster throne, so you bet he's one of the ones calling the shots. He'll turn his head to look her over quickly and raise an eyebrow.]
Not that I've seen your face around before.
[A pause, but it's more of him thinking of who she is rather than what she's here for. If she wanted to slit his throat she would've done it already. He shifts a little, then continues.]
So what do you want?
[Much as he enjoys chitchat, he's not one for speaking in circles unless it benefits him, and talking like that usually means there's cops involved.]