The Powers That Be ([personal profile] powersthatbe) wrote in [community profile] synodiporia_ooc2014-02-05 08:29 am
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Test Drive #0.

Welcome to the Synodiporia Test Drive Meme! Below the cut there are four prompts to get you started: the first is if you’d like to test what intro-ing a new character is like, the second if you’d like to just chat and get CR with other prospective players just before the game’s starting event takes place, and the third and fourth for threaders looking for more active challenges to play in the game’s backstory - a bit of a look at what getting involved in this game’s plot would look like.

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 than a forest of bare toplevels!

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 pages, just to give you the background, so you know what you’re getting into. And if you’re looking for more information, the Directory is here and the Reserves page is here.

Have fun!



Prompt #1: Liminal Space: New Arrivals

It seems to you that you’ve just stepped through a door, and you can feel the faint breeze of it blowing behind you.

You’ve just stepped into a mansion as imagined by MC Escher. This is the grand foyer, and zigzagging staircases with gilt balustrades curl impossibly along the corners, leading to a ballroom on the right wall, a theater on the left, or a fire-lit banqueting hall on the ceiling, far more rustic than the rest of the mansion looks. The far wall is a scattered collection of doors and windows facing all directions and opening who-knows where. Outside the windows you can see a beach, a mist-shrouded forest, and a starry sky. One door has a sheaf of papers nailed to it. Another has blood trickling out from beneath the doorframe.

When you look behind you, however, there is no door there. Nor, in fact, is there a wall in the traditional sense. Instead, there’s a marble-tiled bath-house.

In all of these places, whatever direction they happen to be facing with respect to tradition gravity, are people in strange clothing. Most of them seem to be looking relatively bored or restless, and only a very few seem at all bothered by the notion that the laws of physics seem to be being held in abeyance - mostly, the people standing nearest to you.

Most disturbing of all, beside the quiet murmur of conversation in your ears, you can also hear voices casually exchanging small talk inside your head.

After a moment, there’s a lull in most of the audible conversations, and a large portion of the room turns and looks your way. Someone -one of the voices in your head - says

Look at that. A new pack of Fools just arrived.




Prompt #2: Liminal Space: Everyone Else

This time, liminal space has manifested as a mansion as imagined by MC Escher. This is the grand foyer, and zigzagging staircases with gilt balustrades curl impossibly along the corners, leading to a ballroom on the right wall, a theater on the left, or a fire-lit banqueting hall on the ceiling, far more rustic than the rest of the mansion looks. The far wall is a scattered collection of doors and windows facing all directions and opening who-knows where. Outside the windows you can see a beach, a mist-shrouded forest, and a starry sky. One door has a sheaf of papers nailed to it. Another has blood trickling out from beneath the doorframe. Behind you, there’s a marble-tiled bath-house.

It’s up to you to find a way to amuse yourself. You’ve been here thirty-six hours, longer than any of your previous Jaunts between worlds has taken, and since the food in the banquet hall vanishes the moment it’s out of your sight (even if it’s inside you), you’re starting to get hungry. When is the portal going to appear?





Prompt #3: Alternities: Locked Rooms In Moebius

You wake up in a new world, but by now you’re familiar with that. Only… something’s wrong. You didn’t step through any portal. You’re lying on a cold surface with something draped over you, and you can hear confused murmuring coming from your left and your right, maybe above and below you too, and you hurt.

You sit up, shrugging off the dingy once-white cloth draped over you. You’re in a morgue. All the alcoves are open, and in many of them, other Travelers are stirring and waking up. Some of them are wild-eyed. Some are blood-spattered. Every last one is criss-crossed with unfamiliar white lines of scarring.

On the slab in the center of a room is a clock. The hands indicate that it is 3:01. A collection of bloody-edged tools - knives and separators and saw and scalpels - sits beside it.

There is one door out, up half a flight of stairs in one corner, and no windows. The door has been barred, and all around the edges doorstops have been jammed in - wedge-toed shoes, folded sheafs of paper, a length of rubber hosing - anything that will fit in the narrow gap between door and frame, used to create a seal.

Scratched into the paint on the door are the words In the name of Blessed Elua, listen to me this time and stay inside. Don’t go out there. Just wait. Please. -JV

Somewhere out there in the distance, close enough to be audible but far enough away to be quiet, barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent lights, there’s a loud, ragged scream, and then the distant voice begins to sob unevenly.





Prompt #4: Alternities: Extravehicular On The Spark

You’re standing on the curved, chrome-bright hull of a space station that stretches to the horizon in all directions - not a smooth horizon but a busy one, with shapes like distant cityscapes, mountain-ranges of conical turrets glowing faintly with violet light, and a faint if inaudible hum travelling upward through your feet, varying in strength and direction at the passage of distant traffic, scalloped domes sliding over the surface or small treaded runners like motor-trikes zipping by at much greater speeds. A white plastic belt around your waist puffs cool fog every few seconds, a black metal rod in your hand smells of ozone and seems glued to your palm, and your boots are heavy, steel-soled, and have a blinking generator at the heel - but otherwise, save for a pair of goggles tucked into one pocket, you’re wearing street clothes, just what you’d expect yourself to be wearing. Your hair moves around you in a cloud, and your stomach turns uneasily. Even though you seem to have both air and heat there is no gravity. You might as well be hanging from the underside of this craft, not standing on it.

Looking up - or down - anyway, away from the ship - you see a massive planet filling a quarter of the sky, covered in jade-banded rings of cloud that swirl and churn anxiously. Between you and the luminescent green world is suspended a miniscule shape, round, red, like a rough-edged droplet of blood. It and the planet above it appear to be slowly expanding as you watch.

You’re not alone. A group of other people, similarly equipped, stands around you, looking as confused as you feel. A startled expression crosses all their faces at the same moment as an excited, fast-talking voice enters your mind.

-- hacked the telepathic network and scrambled your heads! Bet the champs never thought that was possible! What does that tell you about -- never mind, it can wait. We’re live now, but only for a moment. We need to avoid any *further* psychic interference, so we’re going dark. Repeat, the network is going dark. They won’t be able to get into your heads again. The clock’s at seventy-two minutes at my mark, Fellow Travelers. Aaaand… Mark. Okay. Seventy-two minutes to bring down those engines, or we’re out of the World Series and you can all see how you like floating home! Let’s crash this sucker, kids! See you all on Sangre.

The voice vanishes. You have no idea who it was, and no memory of what it was talking about.
hakodate: if you have a poor performance. just say "what do you expect? i took a paintball to the DICK!!" (you know you have a good excuse now)

[personal profile] hakodate 2014-02-07 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
"There's always someone stupid enough to press their luck."

Funny how that used to be a complaint he leveled about Souji more than anyone.

Funny how that feels like it might as well be a lifetime ago.

He looks up again, gaze resting on the slab in the middle of the room - and he heads straight for it, swinging his legs off the edge of the table he's on and rolling down his sleeves as he crosses the distance. The clock doesn't escape his notice, but it's clear enough what really has his attention; his hand stops mere centimeters short of the tools, hovering over each one in turn as his gaze flicks between them. Some of those blades...look about right, don't they?

"Doesn't look like silver." He glances back over his shoulder at Souji. "So what about you?"
fridgeninja: (glasses adjust)

[personal profile] fridgeninja 2014-02-07 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
"But opening that door might put everyone here at risk," he says, sounding the thought out, glancing curiously at Yosuke. He can see his friend is turning the problem over in his head as well. They work best when they can bounce ideas off one another.

"Did you see anything in here we should look into?"
hakodate: we talk about it all the time, but i never see it. (i think i shall call his penis gatsby.)

[personal profile] hakodate 2014-02-07 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah." He's not inclined to keep staring for any longer than necessary, though, so Hijikata's quick to get up, off that slab, and roll his sleeves back down and straighten himself up. Not knowing how it happened is unnerving - but staring isn't going to help him figure it out.

"Anything you can think of that explains it?" There are ways around his healing, after all - obscure enough that he wouldn't expect someone in a world that's never heard of rasetsu to stumble across by accident, but if that isn't the case for Eren - well, then it's easier to make the assumption that for whatever reason, his power just isn't going to work here, no matter what they hit him with.

And if his healing is really blocked, and he didn't just manage to forget about getting on the wrong side of a lot of silver -

Well, that'd be enough to tell him not to rely too much on anything else he usually has over the average joe, either.
fridgetothefire: (shock and aww)

[personal profile] fridgetothefire 2014-02-07 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
She's in jeans, and a pink sweater, and a shapeless hat. She has blood under her fingernails and grass stains on her knees. She mimes a curtsy without skirts, and it still manages to make it look elegant.

"Lucky I'm a fast learner, then. It's lovely to meet you, Joscelin. I'm Madeleine Strauss."

(This is a lie.)

(No it isn't.)

(She was never really part of their family.)

(Why not be Madeleine Strauss?)

She can be anyone. She smiles, small and sweet, and halfway means it.

"You sound like you expect me to join -" she waves a hand at the madness, thinks of the illustrations in Through the Looking Glass, does not at all think about reading it to Pietro and Wanda. "-the rest of you." She doesn't put off by the prospect. Not in the slightest.
creatic: (pic#7392811)

[personal profile] creatic 2014-02-07 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
He'd delayed following, taking a glance about the remainder of the room and back towards the stairs located in one corner before moving to follow Hijikata and stand off to his side to observe his examination of the unclean tools.

"Who knows?" The white sheet is pulled from his form now with a taut and considerable amount of force to let it float down onto the now empty slab the other had awoken on minutes before. His jacket is discolored with the fibers having bathed and absorbed the fluid, the fabric itself now left slightly stiff where it's been stained. "All I can say is they made a mess and didn't clean up."

That or he made quite the mess of someone and doesn't remember it. Souji's also not particularly concerned one way or the other—he hurts, and his shoulder does ache more than other places, but there's no restriction in his movements from what he's tested so far, which means he's still useful.

And the clock says time's ticking.

"Regardless, I won't be too upset if Hijikata-san says we should leave this creepy tomb soon to figure things out." Something about being in a morgue with a bunch of people he still doesn't really feel all that eager to trust and some of them looking a little unwell is not settling well in his mind, at all.
creatic: (pic#7312506)

i hope assuming here he knows him at least in passing already is ok ;O;

[personal profile] creatic 2014-02-07 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
"Again? I guess I really have nothing better to do now."

Souji had passed the first couple of times, assuming they wouldn't be around long enough to bother, but it's been a long time spent now of Liminal Space proving him completely and absolutely wrong.

Considering how fickle he was about interacting with others even with familiarity, him bothering to seek out the game was a rare event. Still, he couldn't exactly deny the few times he'd bothered trying it that it was bad. Some of them had been downright entertaining, even.

Well, that and he actually found Remy to be one of the more interesting individuals encountered here over the periods of time passed since he last remembered calling a place 'home'.

"What are you going to do if you ever lose those, anyway?" His heavy sigh only added to the already obvious teasing present in his tone of voice.
hakodate: in a stairwell and go home. (some days you just pee)

[personal profile] hakodate 2014-02-07 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't answer that; soon, yes - but there are a few things to figure out inside first, and first among them, as far as Hijikata's concerned, is knowing what of themselves they can rely on, if not their memories. He reaches down to his wakizashi, using his thumb to push it just an inch out of its sheath - and bringing that same thumb to slide lightly against the exposed blade. Just enough to bleed, but not quite enough to be messy.

It already feels off (and isn't it funny that being human is what feels off now); there's none of the prickling of his senses that usually even the scantest amount of blood sets off, none of the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears and the hunger that follows.

There's just a thin line of blood, slowly deepening and showing no sign of closing up in itself, and the dull realization that as far as this world is concerned, he is - both of them are, he can only assume - normal.

He glances up, eyes locking onto Souji's, and finally favors that statement with an answer. Yes, of course they need to get a look outside and see what they can figure out, but -

"Carefully."

Okita Souji, if you get yourself cut to pieces because you're being a reckless little shit who thinks he can take it, he will goddamned make you wish you'd died and gotten it over with before letting him say anything about it.
easternaffairs: (I have decided.)

[personal profile] easternaffairs 2014-02-07 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
It couldn't be said that the Empress was a stranger to pain. But she had always been lucky enough that her flirtations with it were only the sorts that involved splitting heads after a night with too many bottles of wine, or the bruises and blisters that any youth would have earned being raised as a Dragon and therefore needing a passing understanding of a blade.

It let her force herself to her feet after a brief inspection to ensure she was as intact as possible. The scars were not entirely aesthetically pleasing, but she could live with them. It was the context surrounding them that Zerika found intolerable, and had her lifting her chin in challenge at the note.

"Well," she said. "As far as I can recall -- and I assure you that I believe myself of sound mind -- I do not know who would have left this instruction. If in fact I have been here before, then I say these words are no more compelling to me on the second reading than they were the first time."
creatic: (pic#7394026)

[personal profile] creatic 2014-02-07 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
Seems like rasetsu abilities are about as reliable as their memories.

Which means they can rely on two things: their own swords and the swords of the other.

Souji is silent, watching and waiting, steeling himself for something that never comes. And, somehow, it's ironic that there's a sense of weight in the letdown rather than relief because such a situation is not the time or place to be human. His gaze slips up when Hijikata's does, hearing that condition ( and every other that is left unsaid, too ).

He shifts, finally, turning in the direction of the stairs and only then once he's broken eye contact does his reply come and accept what's been set down as the rules. He knows what he's doing and what he can and can't tolerate, okay.

"Of course."

Because like hell he's going to get cut into pieces and then actually be so stupid as to live long enough to have to deal with Hijihen. Have some faith in him only screwing up once, at least, not expecting him to do it in twos ( all the while knowing this shit actually comes in threes, anyway ).
rosetinting: (cornsilk)

[personal profile] rosetinting 2014-02-07 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
[whoa determined '-';;]

Oh... I don't really have an opinion, I guess? It's all over now, so... But I definitely wish them good luck too! Both the passengers and the animals. They seemed pretty determined at least. ...Well, some of them. The animals, definitely.
hakodate: we talk about it all the time, but i never see it. (i think i shall call his penis gatsby.)

[personal profile] hakodate 2014-02-07 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
(Hijikata's Souji-induced headaches come in threes and threes of threes.)

He takes one last, long look at the slab before him before he turns on his heel to follow Souji to the stairs. The tools used on them, the clock reading 3:01...he can't help but feel there's more to them than that, but he'll be damned if he can see any more pieces of the puzzle to put into place right there. Maybe that'll be more apparent when they return later.

If they can return later. Because as he stops next to Souji in front of the door, the efforts someone - they themselves? - have gone to to keep whatever's out there out aren't lost on him.
protect_and_serve: (overlook)

[personal profile] protect_and_serve 2014-02-07 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
"That depends on what you mean by joining us," he answers her. "You're welcome to keep your own company. But there are realities to this place you would find unpleasant if surprised with. Will you let me tell you about them?"

He stays cool, contained, neutral. There's a certain dry humor to his voice. but it doesn't leak into his eyes.
velvetempress: (Default)

[personal profile] velvetempress 2014-02-07 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
Normal people would be surprised at that. Even if she was, Margaret never showed it on her face nor did her body expression change. Maybe a master of the poker face she is.

"Time is odd here indeed." she finally broke the silent thoughts before going back into more questioning. If Souji had more knowledge in this area than her, it would be wise to listen.

"You mentioned conflicts in different realms. What were some of them?"
protect_and_serve: (truly?)

[personal profile] protect_and_serve 2014-02-07 05:17 am (UTC)(link)
"I left it, Your Majesty. JV, for Joscelin Verreuil. And... it would not be like me to invoke Elua's name casually."

Joscelin inclined his head casually, not quite a bow. From the moment he had learned Zerika's titles he had been politely deferential, but for all that, he was hardly subservient.

The troubled frown on his face is familiar there, but at the moment its lines are graven more deeply than usual.

"For all that... I remember it no more than you do."
parried: (oh okay)

[personal profile] parried 2014-02-07 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
Bringing his focus back to the message he'd received, Drizzt can only shrug as he recalls the words. The bit about engines isn't what stands out the most to him. The phrases telepathic network and get into your heads bring to mind one terrible thing. Illithids. But they are not in the Underdark--he is as certain of this as he can be of anything--and therefore Illithids cannot be behind their current predicament.

"A siege engine to pierce the metal we stand on, perhaps? Or to gain entrance to one of those towers," he guesses as he shakes away his disturbing thoughts and gestures toward the large metal buildings. He is also simultaneously hopping from foot-to-foot in an attempt to understand the purpose of the strange boots they are wearing.
roomforhope: (pic#6701642)

[personal profile] roomforhope 2014-02-07 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
Probably the absolute last to get up is one Stephanie Brown -- terrible late sleeper that she is. It doesn't dawn on her for about a good ten seconds that this is 1) not normal and 2) relatively unsettling, but once she recognizes the feeling, she's quick to look around for familiar faces.

Cass -- oh, good. Familiar and helpful and just the person she wants to see in emergencies, or at least one of them. Steph immediately beelines for the door, looking at the words.

"Someone really wants us to stay here."
fridgeninja: (glasses adjust)

[personal profile] fridgeninja 2014-02-07 05:47 am (UTC)(link)
"Most recently, we were in a place that... hmmm. Are you familiar with the song 'Hotel California?'"
easternaffairs: (When Sethra worries everyone worries.)

[personal profile] easternaffairs 2014-02-07 05:48 am (UTC)(link)
She alternately appreciated and was annoyed by subservience or challenges, one of the constant challenges of dealing with a Phoenix. But Zerika did know the value of listening to information when it was provided. That was why there were imperial advisors and counselors, and why the Orb's record-keeping was such a valuable tool.

Zerika didn't know who Elua was, but if Joscelin considered the being important, that was enough. She waved off his gesture, thinking to brush off the tilted head and move on. Probably he would be more useful than she would throughout the whole of this encounter.

"Then it is the same as if we had no warning at all," she said. "It only takes eyes and ears to know we are in dire circumstances."
Edited 2014-02-07 05:48 (UTC)
airdives: (pic#6355927)

[personal profile] airdives 2014-02-07 05:49 am (UTC)(link)
Ange is an unassuming poker player, at the very least -- after all, betting is something she's had no fondness for in her life, even with a plethora of money back home. Still, she seems to have mastered the poker face long before she actually took up the sport, so even if she's still learning the game, her ticks are almost zero...almost.

"...if you add any more descriptions to that, I could turn it into a movie."

The tone is joking, but her face is practically as stern as ever.
creatic: (Default)

[personal profile] creatic 2014-02-07 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
( Don't forget to divide by zero. )

His eyes flicker, looking to the warning scratched out rather than focusing on all the pieces barricading them from accessing the ( apparently-incredibly-undesirable ) other. The message could be just about anything, really, and that was assuming it was even truthful. Taking into consideration it being a lie, for further thought? Well, that opens quite a few more possibilities to ponder, now doesn't it.

But, for all the reasons to doubt, one thing in particular catches his attention, causing him to tense a little at the implication.

"This time...?"

Not to mention, what the hell were they supposed to be waiting for?
hakodate: of exclamation points and be happy this one is of age. (just ignore his excessive use)

[personal profile] hakodate 2014-02-07 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
If it's a lie, that does raise plenty of other questions, but if it's truth -

They're missing a chunk of time, they don't remember how they got here. Something has to have happened in there, and that something, Hijikata's sure, is going to be what they need to figure out how to clean house here and move on.

"I get the feeling going out there is a one way trip."

Which won't necessarily stop them from making it, but it does mean that maybe another look around the morgue is in order, first.
reachforthekey: (Default)

[personal profile] reachforthekey 2014-02-07 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
The purpose of the boots will become obvious just as soon as both feet leave the ground at the same moment - with nothing pulling Drizzt back down, he'd begin a slow midair turn, possible precursor to floating away.

While it's all but certain his own reflexes would be up to the task of saving him, within that first moment Eren's stomped a single careful step closer, his own hand shooting out to grab the elf's wrist.
reachforthekey: (smirk)

[personal profile] reachforthekey 2014-02-07 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
... Yeah. I can agree with that, at least. And even that was better than... that island.

[By far the most peaceful of the last three places they visited, however frustrating it was, it's certainly an unusual opinion.]
reachforthekey: (crosslook)

[personal profile] reachforthekey 2014-02-07 06:57 am (UTC)(link)
"There's something I could try... but it's too early for that." Eren's voice goes from speculative to uneasy, and he too stands and starts prowling around the room. "Ah... actually, wait." Going over to the autopsy table, he produces a scalpel after a momentary search, absently wipes it clean on a corner of his shirt and returns to hand it to Hijikata.

"Try stabbing my finger with it."
rosetinting: (ivory)

[personal profile] rosetinting 2014-02-07 07:14 am (UTC)(link)
[It does surprise Snow White, who had enjoyed the relative peace (and seeing the ocean, and meeting sea creatures), civil unrest aside.]

You didn't like that one?? I thought it was nice.

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