returnjourneymemes | TEST DRIVE 002

Entry tags:

test drive meme

TEST DRIVE 002

RETURN JOURNEY: TEST DRIVE 002

Welcome to the Return Journey's test drive meme! We appreciate your interest. Our TDM features a small sample of events your character might encounter in game, which you're free to embellish or improvise with your own ideas as desired. Don't worry if you haven't read everything yet; while we recommend skimming our FAQ for relevant questions, critical information should be contained or linked within the prompts themselves!

TDM threads can be used as samples for applications. Players can mutually keep threads as game canon after being accepted into the game, though threads featuring non-canon squalls or events may need to be adjusted.

We suggest putting your character's name, canon, and potential role (warden or inmate) as the subject. If you're not sure which role you want to choose, feel free to try your hand at both!

If you have any questions about the TDM, please ask here.

1. Welcome Aboard!

Welcome aboard the SFS Peregrine, a ship in the Admiralty's Transformative and Penal Reparation Fleet. It is presently circling the outer perimeter of the Oos Ring Galaxy.

Wardens have been approached personally by the Navarch with a job offer: Come aboard the SFS Peregrine to assist in the redemption of an inmate, and receive a miracle known as a windfall as payment. Even if you don't ask as many questions as you should, every warden will be treated to a short Warden Orientation video explaining their expected duties and conduct.

Inmates have died and been placed aboard the SFS Peregrine as candidates for reformation. You may have come willingly, offered a choice between death or redemption, or you may have been collected against your will. Inmates are also treated to an Inmate Orientation; you'll find you have less privileges than a warden, but more motivation for...latitude. Violence? Chaos? Bribery? Blackmail? Well, no one said the path to redemption was without a few bumps along the way.

Given staff shortages, some wardens may be asked for a favor. Rather than leaving directly for the Peregrine, you've been asked to pick up an inmate from the limbo between death and redemption. During this mission, wardens will have clearance to enter a snapshot of sorts, where the inmate died (so devoid of other living beings). You either have to talk them into willingly coming along...or bring their unconscious, fresh-from-death not-corpse with you in the Avro provided. Better hope they don't wake up on the way!

Inmates, in this case, you'll be presented with the choice of death or redemption from a warden rather than the Navarch. Or possibly not provided with a choice at all, if death has rendered you unconscious. Good luck when you awaken to find yourself in a small ship, with someone you've never met. Try not to cause any trouble.

2. Pairings

Pairings are a critical aspect of the dynamic between warden and inmate. While interactions between wardens and inmates are not restricted to those in pairings, this relationship is a bit more...inescapable. Inmates test the limits of a warden, whether they take a more typical or unusual approach to matters; likewise, wardens learn what makes an inmate tick (and hopefully cooperate). Chances are, your values will clash.

A pairing of any sort is as varied as the individuals involved in them. And today, courtesy of the Navarch's monthly announcement, you and your sorry partner have been paired. Temporary or permanent, with a warden for an inmate or an inmate for a warden, it's your first day together — out of at least a month, so good luck setting some ground rules and figuring out each other's breaking points.

3. Life on the Peregrine

Hey, inmates! Ever gone to summer camp? Had a sibling? If so, you might see where this is going. If not, welcome to your first experience with shared sleeping arrangements!

The dorms are lined with bunks, though maybe they're better described as pods: futuresque capsules stacked two high, with sleek white paneling and cool blue LED lightning. Each bunk can be closed off with a sliding door privacy and boasts a bladeless fan for temperature control. Bedding is adequate. If such modest conditions do not appeal to you: consider not committing crimes against other people.

And just like with siblings or summer camp, you don't get a say in who your bunkmate is. Maybe you'll luck out and get a light sleeper who doesn't toss and turn in the night. Maybe you won't, and you'll end up with someone who will kill you if you snore. Whoever you get is who you're stuck with until further notice!

Wardens get much more hospitable quarters, but they may want to keep an eye out on the inmate dorms. Just in case an inmate does try to kill their bunkmate.

4. Squalls

Occasionally, the ship passes through squalls, the equivalent of cosmic turbulence that can mess with little things like, say...the fabric of reality. These are shipwide effects, though who they hit is variable. Sometimes you might fall victim; other times you might be the one standing by, exasperated, as you deal with those affected.

(In other words, it's up to player discretion. And feel free to make up your own squalls!)

This time around, the squall comes with an interesting side effect: whenever you lie or someone lies to you, you experience an immediate rush of anger — whether you consciously know someone is lying or not. Think of it as a temporary lie detector, but instead of being hooked up to a machine, you might punch someone in the face.

5. The Peregrine

The Peregrine's layout and protocols have been designed with its intended passengers in mind, who are primarily Earth humanoids and inclined towards certain social and cultural practices. If you're wondering why you are on a ship of Earth humanoids despite not being one yourself, please understand that all ships in the Admiralty have a population capacity. At times it may be necessary to assign other species to a ship of this type, based on availability.

As a warden, you have full run of the ship map. Inmates...less so, but that's nothing a little creativity can't fix, right? Just remember, if a warden catches an inmate somewhere that inmate shouldn't be, it falls on the warden to handle the matter. And if the warden turns a blind eye...well, let's hope neither of you get caught. While it won't result in anything as extreme as a demotion, wardens can expect to get a stern dressing down; inmates, meanwhile, will be reprimanded by the warden who found them.

6. Networking

Now that you've powered on your CommLink for the first time and sat through the short tutorial and appropriate orientation, you're ready to explore the wonders of messaging. Video, audio, or text, the world is your oyster and you surely have opinions on it.

There is no anonymous option and IDs must be some variation of your name. (IC, characters will have to try their luck and see what the communicator will or won't accept when they register; OOC, it's up to players to decide what name to use if the character has multiple names or aliases.)

Wardens have access to a group network filter, something that inmates lack, and can track inmates throughout the ship with their CommLink. Inmates, best avoid getting your device confiscated or monitored.

7. Wildcard

If it's in our game pages, you can use it as a prompt! The sky's the limit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Nobody's going to stop you, and therefore nobody but you is going to stop me."

Volk stands, lifts his bag.

"Are you going to stop me?"

Is he?

The immediate impression: that if he permits this person to occupy the cabin, he will not be able to remove him without considerable difficulty, and that will be very annoying. The pushy attitude, though, that's relatable; every major advance in his own life was made by startling someone into letting him in.

"It's quite the ask, considering we met only a few seconds ago. I'm not opposed, but... let's take this a little slower. Just to start."

"It's like, different rooms with different doors. I'm not dating you here, I'm just subletting."

But, okay. Negotiation. Sure.

Volk sits back down on the edge of his bunk and smooths down his - okay, well, he wore jeans today, he normally likes a modest skirt for business meetings, but this'll have to do. Legs crossed at ankles. Smile on.

"What would you like to know?"

Now that there's a little more distance between him and the concept of perhaps having to chase after some guy, he relaxes back into what he came to do: see the inmates' residence. Moving a little further into the space, the slight sway of his stride, the click of the crutch's foot, looking interested with a distinct sense of appraisal.

Subletting. That's a cheerful word for it. (The dating quip passes without apparent reaction.)

"The usual: first, an introduction." His voice is mild; his accent, more or less Slavic, plucks gently at the consonants. "I have your name here," an offhand gesture with the CommLink, "but it doesn't say how you prefer to be addressed."

"Volk is what I usually go by."

The pairing note says Joshua Aleksandrovich Volkhov. His pronunciation of his own name is the only slide into a Russian accent for Volk. Волк is 'wolf,' and it's totally wasted on someone who isn't even a furry.

"How about you?"

All smiles. Be charming. He wants a fucking room with a door he can lock and a shower that doesn't belong to anyone else.

Edited 2022-02-05 09:00 (UTC)

That makes two non-furries in the room—alas, this one's not even technically Russian, though he does note the phonetics seem familiar. Notes the conspicuous shift from demanding to sweet, too.

"Viktor."

Someone else might insert the usual pleasantry here, but it's likely not Volk's pleasure to meet him, and his own ego is in need of no such empty appeasement. In any case, by now he is near the bunks, in fact just leaning in to see an empty one, his gloved hand grasping the sliding door.

"I came aboard only a few days ago—so that gives you seniority, in a sense."

Edited (fussing) 2022-02-06 01:00 (UTC)

Boy, what an honor.

"What do you think of the place?"

This isn't small talk, although it's pushed through with a smile like small talk. It's a test.

"This place," he says, and turns, "is a technological marvel. Every component in every room was designed and manufactured with an exceptional level of skill. It is absolutely magnificent. Truly inspiring."

He pauses, looks sideways to Volk.

"A very well-made, very fancy cage. Bird included."

Volk actually laughs. It changes his entire face, knocks him out of Job Interview mode. He ducks his head, swings his feet.

"It's good, yeah. I think it's a lot of smoke and mirrors. I could make all of this look like it does, if I had a team."

He knocks on the bunk at different parts.

"Strip light. Plastic sheeting. LEDs. Sliding cabinet door from Ikea."

A brief, subtle squint, mostly the lower lids, precedes his casual raising of the CommLink. Just a little note, tapped out by elegant fingers.

"You're suggesting this is some kind of simulation." It sounds flat, but then the CommLink tips, encouraging. "Please, go on. I'm interested."

"You make it sound more sophisticated than it is. I think it's a set. It's just a warehouse dressed up in lights and plaster -"

He holds up his hand. It's good. He's not denying that it's good.

"By people who knew what they were doing, granted - to make it look like it's more exciting and special."

"Ehh, it's possible." His head tips once, simultaneous concession and skepticism. "Unlikely, in direct contempt of a certain philosophical razor, but not impossible. I've considered the idea myself."

Stranger things, and so on.

"What would be the motive here?"

"What's the motive of building it for real?"

Which means: how in the hell should he know?

His mouth twitches, crooked. Maybe some distant relation to a smile.

"And the infirmary? What do you think of the Auto-Doc?" The way he pronounces that is the verbal equivalent of tiptoes; it's the first time he's said it aloud.

"The actual coffin? I've never seen it work."

Which means like, he's seen it, but truly anyone can put some chrome and tubes on a big sideways walk-in shower.

"That can be arranged," he says, mild as you please, and gently claps his CommLink shut.

"I've made use of it myself—diagnostics, just to see." And a few other things that aren't particularly anyone's business. "But if that, too, is fake, then I might be an actor." He's visibly entertained by this idea. "So... if you want tangible proof one way or the other, my suggestion would be to make yourself the subject."

"You're not."

Not an actor, he means. This is blunt. The braces look worn enough to be real. If a studio wanted a character who needed to wear any, they'd hire an able-bodied actor and have them fake it with pristine props. These are complete assholes we're talking about.

Does this mean he's just going to take Viktor's word on it and not take this opportunity to get into the doom tube and turn it on?

Volk puts up a finger.

"I'm making a living will. If it's going to do something boring like suffocate me or electrocute me, get me out. I can suffocate any fucking time I want to, I don't need to be in a pod for it."

Otherwise, fuck it. He hops back down, opens the trunk at the end of his bunk, and jams his clothes-bag into it.

Edited 2022-02-07 00:55 (UTC)

You're not, Volk says, obliterating a man's imaginary career in two blunt syllables, and then continues to say things; meanwhile, Viktor turns to make his way back to the entrance, distinct in his gait and the tapping of his crutch. (It is indeed both weathered and real, and comfortably integrated with his figure.)

"I can, with certainty, assure you that neither of those things will happen." He pauses, turns his head so his profile is just visible over his shoulder. Correction: "Relative certainty."

And then out he goes, into the corridor, expecting Volk to follow.

"No, no no, no no no no-"

Not desperate, just staccato. Hey. Hello. Listen up.

Volk does follow, but only enough to stand in the doorway crossly and yell after Viktor.

"Hello. Specific terms. If any of those things happen, you agree to get me out of there or I'm not doing this."

Viktor doesn't make it too far before Volk comes squawking. Hello stops him, turns him back halfway, edging impatient; of course he's listening.

"Of course I will."

He didn't leave everything behind and come all this way just to stand next to a glass tube while a stranger dies, and his frown has creased up with disgust for the suggestion. This isn't about him, though, or what kind of person he is. (Isn't it?)

"But you don't have to do it. It was only a suggestion—I'm not going to force you."

"You don't need to, I want to see this. But I do want to make it clear where my limits are, alright? I'm not that curious."

He walks out, finally, strides to catch up with Viktor.

There's something funny about the way new wardens come in seeing inmates, and this isn't the first time he's caught it. They get defensive fast. Maybe they're uncomfortable about keeping people locked up. Volk wishes that they'd do something more productive with the emotion.

Good, then.

Those few ruffled feathers have smoothed by the time Volk comes up alongside, though it may appear otherwise, given the eyebrows and all.

"Fair enough," and filed away, another feature added to this sketched impression of a person. After a few smoothly asymmetrical strides, "So, you haven't been to the Infirmary—how much of the ship have you seen?"

From inmate housing to the central axis isn't the shortest trip; they're going to have to fill it somehow.

"I don't know how much of it is behind locked doors, and obviously they won't let me see the outside - so I'm not sure. I would guess it's less than half. I haven't been very deeply into the storage room, because I'm not a fan of dying in an industrial accident for no reason."

Lots of ways to die that he's not a fan of.

"Why do you think it's a ship? Besides that they said so."

"I've seen the outside."

His attention lifts, eyes up and looking, taking in the whole of the corridor before them.

"After I agreed to the contract, a shuttle came. It was..." Incredible, honestly. His eyes are bright with the memory. "It was real. And not a short trip," he adds, with a slight lean. "I, eh, couldn't sleep on the way. Too nervous. Too much to see."

"I was out until the garage. That's where I woke up."

He's not over it. He's not done being rattled, and angry, and offended. Ever.

"I don't even remember falling asleep or being knocked out or anything. I was just taken."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

ableism mention

puts my hand over timestamps

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject