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synodiporia_ooc2014-12-26 04:17 pm
powersthatbe) wrote in synodiporia_ooc2014-12-26 04:17 pm
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Test Drive #6
Welcome to the Synodiporia Test Drive Meme! Below the cuts there are three new prompts, and here are the prompts from previous test-drives, which you’re still welcome to use in this post. 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! OCs are especially welcome!
Our upcoming app round runs January 1st-7th, after which we’ll have a Victorian Cosmic Horror Jaunt - the madness of the Cthulhu Mythos in rural 1800s England. With that in mind, here are some darker prompts, to catch the feel of how your characters react in troubling times...
Prompt #20 is a flashback to the Cursed Kingdom jaunt, where werewolves hunted, deadly magical creatures roamed, and magical curses and traps struck without warning. Feel free to play an investigator, a werewolf, or simply a citizen of the magical kingdom who’s become unfortunately lost...
Prompt #21 is a glimpse of a Jaunt, either far in the past or sometime in the future. In the mining village of Enterrado, a gang has taken control of the flow of silver into and out of town, and the only folks with the hope of running them out are a vengeful band of vigilantes and outlaws. With half the Travelers brainwashed into believing they belong to one gang or another, friends are ready to kill friends, and it doesn’t seem like the few sane folks remaining can stop the bloodshed...
Prompt #22 is set in Liminal Space, during a time of instability, where buildings are collapsing and re-forming, and the worst fears or greatest desires of Travelers are appearing (and vanishing again) like all-too-solid mirages. What would your character imagine, and what kind of threat would it present… ?
Prompt #20: Dark Forest
The trees are too thick to let in any hint of sunlight, if there is any, but more likely the world is just as dark everywhere else by now. Tendrils of mist wind between the trees - most of them harmless, but every now and then one will latch onto a passerby like a leech and begin to turn pink as it drains blood. In the open hollows between the trees, shallow puddles of brackish green water contain hidden sinkholes, or startling arcane visions of the dead. Slowly, snakelike, briars grow and slither like a cage from tree to tree, enclosing anyone too slow and cautious in a pointed hedge-maze. And somewhere nearby, a wolf howls...
Prompt #21: Wild West
They've taken to calling the tavern at the end of the street the Bastille. Its windows have been shot out and barricaded, and some of the tables inside have been upturned for cover. But still, despite the tension, people come in to drink. For all that the miners and the vigilantes have exchanged fire in the streets, and three men have been shot dead in this very saloon in the last day, it's the closest thing left to neutral territory. Desperate bargains and parleys are discussed, struck, and abandoned. Drinks are downed in quantity, and it's almost true that nobody gives a damn any more who's cheating at poker. If you're looking for an old friend, or one of the mad strangers from out of town, or even for someone to draw down on, you won't get better terms anywhere else than you will in the Bastille. Come for the whiskey, stay for the knife-fights.
Prompt #22: Chaos Given Shape
Liminal Space bends and drips like a Dali painting, one landscape sagging into another, buildings settling, leaking water or dirt from whatever alien environment is above them; walls collapsing only to reveal something new on the other side, like a caterpillar molting into a butterfly. Calm meditation and focus by Travelers seems to stabilize the environment briefly, but if one person exerts too much mental influence, the surroundings begin to resemble the territory inside their heads. Old fears and nightmares, lost loves, desperate desires all form out of the fluidic landscape - and that's enough to break almost anyone's calm. But two people, working together, can sometimes strike a safe equilibrium...
Our upcoming app round runs January 1st-7th, after which we’ll have a Victorian Cosmic Horror Jaunt - the madness of the Cthulhu Mythos in rural 1800s England. With that in mind, here are some darker prompts, to catch the feel of how your characters react in troubling times...
Prompt #20 is a flashback to the Cursed Kingdom jaunt, where werewolves hunted, deadly magical creatures roamed, and magical curses and traps struck without warning. Feel free to play an investigator, a werewolf, or simply a citizen of the magical kingdom who’s become unfortunately lost...
Prompt #21 is a glimpse of a Jaunt, either far in the past or sometime in the future. In the mining village of Enterrado, a gang has taken control of the flow of silver into and out of town, and the only folks with the hope of running them out are a vengeful band of vigilantes and outlaws. With half the Travelers brainwashed into believing they belong to one gang or another, friends are ready to kill friends, and it doesn’t seem like the few sane folks remaining can stop the bloodshed...
Prompt #22 is set in Liminal Space, during a time of instability, where buildings are collapsing and re-forming, and the worst fears or greatest desires of Travelers are appearing (and vanishing again) like all-too-solid mirages. What would your character imagine, and what kind of threat would it present… ?
Prompt #20: Dark Forest
The trees are too thick to let in any hint of sunlight, if there is any, but more likely the world is just as dark everywhere else by now. Tendrils of mist wind between the trees - most of them harmless, but every now and then one will latch onto a passerby like a leech and begin to turn pink as it drains blood. In the open hollows between the trees, shallow puddles of brackish green water contain hidden sinkholes, or startling arcane visions of the dead. Slowly, snakelike, briars grow and slither like a cage from tree to tree, enclosing anyone too slow and cautious in a pointed hedge-maze. And somewhere nearby, a wolf howls...
Prompt #21: Wild West
They've taken to calling the tavern at the end of the street the Bastille. Its windows have been shot out and barricaded, and some of the tables inside have been upturned for cover. But still, despite the tension, people come in to drink. For all that the miners and the vigilantes have exchanged fire in the streets, and three men have been shot dead in this very saloon in the last day, it's the closest thing left to neutral territory. Desperate bargains and parleys are discussed, struck, and abandoned. Drinks are downed in quantity, and it's almost true that nobody gives a damn any more who's cheating at poker. If you're looking for an old friend, or one of the mad strangers from out of town, or even for someone to draw down on, you won't get better terms anywhere else than you will in the Bastille. Come for the whiskey, stay for the knife-fights.
Prompt #22: Chaos Given Shape
Liminal Space bends and drips like a Dali painting, one landscape sagging into another, buildings settling, leaking water or dirt from whatever alien environment is above them; walls collapsing only to reveal something new on the other side, like a caterpillar molting into a butterfly. Calm meditation and focus by Travelers seems to stabilize the environment briefly, but if one person exerts too much mental influence, the surroundings begin to resemble the territory inside their heads. Old fears and nightmares, lost loves, desperate desires all form out of the fluidic landscape - and that's enough to break almost anyone's calm. But two people, working together, can sometimes strike a safe equilibrium...
no subject
"I cannot say, as I have never done so. But if learning to do so will aid you, then I shall." If she was daunted, she did not allow it to show upon her face. And for all she knew, perhaps she may find herself adept at it.
"And I am Elizabeth. Your pardon, Malik. Though it is a pleasure to meet you, knight or no." She bowed her head, lowering her gaze sheepishly. "Daggers, yes." And magic, too. Though she did not mention that part.
"Are we to climb that, then?" She nodded her head toward the cliffs, one brow raised in inquiry.
no subject
He sheathed the sword in the cabbages at his hip, fingers ghosting over the styled curve of the hilt. "Good, we may be attacked and you will have to defend yourself. Either Templars have overrun this place or there is something worse to come. If they wear white robes like mine, any hesitation will be your death."
He needs to get high enough to see bot the road towards Jerusalem ans Acre as well as in to the gardens of the fortress itself.
no subject
It might be argued that such was merely common courtesy and sense, but it was still reminiscent of chivalry enough to flatter her. When they found his people, she was resolved to learn how to climb such heights. If for no other reason than now that the challenge had been presented to her, she wished to overcome it rather than balk in its shadow.
Reaching down, she located two serviceable daggers, which for her seemed more like shortswords, and fastened a discarded belt about her waist in which to sheathe them. "I understand. Though.." her brows drew together. "The templars were disbanded a century ago. Perhaps en route, might you explain just how it is they have resurfaced?"
If they had, she did not doubt for a moment that they might be a threat. She'd heard the stories of their greed and corruption. But that was a conversation for the road, and Elizabeth was as keen to start and locate his people as he was. Ahead, she could see what was left of a wooden watchtower, and she pointed in its direction.
"There! That would afford a good view of the road ahead." If any large groups of people were on the move, he would be sure to notice.
no subject
The hardest part of learning to climb was overcoming most of the fear of falling, the rest was learning to move and building the strength to make it seem as if you couple ignore gravity.
"It has barely been four years since their leader, Robert de Sable was slain and his men along with those of the King Richard Lionheart we're run from these lands." Malik frowned, "There is a better one from the stone one beside it, where the eagle flew from and the hay at the bottom."
It would also be an easier climb with better foot and hand holds for him to take advantage of should it not crumble when he wad half way up.
no subject
Elizabeth listened quietly while he explained the situation to her, and she yet found herself confused. One, because that name was most definitely French. What were the French doing in the desert in the fifteenth century? Bless her, but Elizabeth, believed that she was back home in her own era. Right up until he mentioned Richard the Lionheart. She gave a visible start, and her surprise this time was visible on her face.
"Richard the Lionheart is the King of England?" Oh, dear. Oh no. Fortune had sent her into the past this time, it seemed. Now, she was fairly certain that Malik would definitely not appreciate learning of her blood tie to Richard. So she said nothing, and followed his train of vision toward the rock outcropping not far from the tower. It hardly appeared safe. Though she was not at all about to infer that he might fall, because he did appear more than capable.
"Very well. Be safe on your ascent." Meanwhile, she would do her best to spot him and keep an eye out for any of those white-robed men he'd mentioned. She had no wish to be ambushed in a land sh was unfamiliar with.