West World - Test Drive Meme #1

[worldtech]

★ Test Drive Meme #1 ★

Reserves are OPEN, and Apps open on February 18th!
Game opens March 1st!

 

Your body is gently rocked awake. No, not to the dulcet tones of an Aerosmith ballad, but the rumble of wheels, the creak of wood, the thunder of dozens of horses beating the ground with their hooves. Perhaps you're asleep in the saddle, perhaps awkwardly jammed between strangers in the back of a canvas covered wagon. It's a peaceful prairie afternoon, the sun is shining and the birds are singing, a herd of bison are baying down by the river, but this is the wild frontier, and the tranquility won't last forever.

But first, there's you. What do you remember? Perhaps it's a fabricated history on the East Coast: a huge family of which you are the youngest; a toppled business empire; a brush with the law. Whatever it is, it's why you've hit the trail, a past that you can't return to, your hopes staked on a future in the town of Horseshoe.

Perhaps. Or perhaps those hazy memories are quickly slipping away. Perhaps you know exactly who you are, and you have no idea - none at all - how you got here in the first place. One second you were fighting a space battle in a galaxy far, far away, and now you're eating dust, blinded by the hot summer sun, your ass being beaten sore by the road beneath your feet.

The question is: now you're here, what will you do? The road is hard ahead, but it's dangerous to go it alone.

 

★ It's Only Horse Play

The thing about horses - and mules, for that matter - is that they're not cars. They have minds of their own, and you can't fix them by swearing at them until they start, although I guess you could try. They have limited energy, so they might stop dead in the middle of the road, holding up traffic. They might throw a shoe--no, it's nothing like changing a tire. Irritated by flies or the whip, or surprised by a snake in the road, they might bolt at random. If the worst should happen, that wicked cool stallion you're riding might just have his eyes on a mare in harness. Be careful he doesn't break his leg trying to climb over the wagon's shaft.

All in all, four feet and a mean set of teeth make for a fun ride. These horses, too, have come an awful long way, and they're getting as miserable, tired and grouchy as their owners. Harnesses are one size doesn't fit all, wagons are heavily loaded, and the horses are bruised and sore, their legs and feet aching from the slog, their necks arched painfully forward to take the strain. To spare your horse, its good to get out of the saddle now and again, but on the trail, that's not always possible. Don't be surprised if, hitching up, a horse resists the harness--and be careful! Remember, that animal is your lifeline. Without it, you and all your worldly goods are stranded out here.

★ Old Man River

A river crossing. Awesome. You remember this part in Oregon Trail, right? All you have to do is cross the river. But it's not that simple. One wagon might cross easily, but another, more heavily laden, might sink too deep a few feet in. A weaker, more exhausted horse may struggle, or lose its footing in the swell of the current, or worse, one of the wagon's wheels may break halfway across. A horse might even panic, as the water wraps around his feet, jump sidewards and take the wagon with it.

Perhaps you make it, but if not you're going to need help. Brute strength or supernatural powers might come in handy helping you to wrestle across the haphazard ford. Maybe that help is friendly, and maybe it comes with a price.

Rivers are dangerous. One missed step, one misjudgement, and it's the end of the road. Whatever you do, be careful. Make a plan. But whether you like it or not, you have to cross. The road to Horseshoe is on the other side, and you're so close now you can taste it.

★ It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night, and the travellers had pulled their wagons into a circle. Firelight glowed from the campfires that struggled despite the makeshift windbreaks, damp wood keeping their glow muted. You're close, one more day's drive away from the town, the scout says. One last night of misery. One night in gloomy, damp wagons, wearing wet clothes. One more night of dried meat scraps and corn meal. If you've remembered who you are already then it's all okay for you, but for some of the group this is it, the end of their long road, their turmoil; their hopes and dreams on the line. There's an air of celebration despite the weather.

If someone still has some bourbon to hand, then now is the night to pass it around. Stories will be told, songs will be sung. The constant sound of a fiddle or a banjo cuts through the night, keeping all but the heaviest sleepers awake. Tired horses doze standing up around the edge of the circle, one hind foot cocked as though to catch them if they fall. Now is your last chance to really get to know your fellow man, in the cameraderie of the trail, before the town swallows you up. Tell your stories, struggle with reality, teach someone the words to Yellow Submarine. Sleep when you're dead.

★ Wildcard

You're on the trail, so why not let your mind wander where it pleases as well? Perhaps your character is riding out to scout the trail ahead. Maybe they're law enforcement or ex-army? Maybe the wheel comes off your wagon, or your horse drops dead and you have to beg for a stranger's help. Maybe you're Superman, and you want to frighten the natives by flying off ahead, or you're a faith healer, who can revive a broken down horse with a touch. Start a gunfight, or go shooting rabbits, or soothe a stranger's teething infant with an alien lullaby. It's your adventure, so make it up as you go along.

(p.s. if your character absolutely must fly off ahead to get the lay of the land, they won't be able to find the town. That would spoil the fun of getting there, wouldn't it?)

★ Mods notes: A quick reminder that characters can have either no memory loss, OR a partial memory loss which allows them to recollect their past at a player's chosen speed. Characters are also allowed to have NPC family members (who may or may not be on the wagon train with them), for instance an NPC wife or kids who might give them a hard time about not remembering who they are. NPC family members are not mandatory, we just thought they were a fun thing that you could play with if you wanted! We also accept OCs and game-based OCs,as well as canon characters! If you have any questions about gameplay, please check out the FAQ! ★

Comments

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne turned to look at the strange woman. She had kind eyes and she smelled faintly of ozone. Ariadne didn't know her name, but she remembered that hair. Alastrians were always drawn to people with pastel hair. It was only a shade or two less yellow than her Aunt Anya.

With a dip of her head, she squared off her shoulders, slipping into a second verse:

IN YOU I SEE ADVENTURE
I SEE COLOR, I SEE LIGHT
I HEAR THE MUSIC OF MAENADS
I HEAR POEMS I COULD WRITE
AND IF THE GODS COULD HEAR ME
IF MY LIFE THEY’D REARRANGE
I’D FOLLOW YOU INTO THE UNKNOWN
I’D CALL YOU MY SOMETHING STRANGE

From what she knew about the song, which wasn't much, it was meant to talk about the first time an Alastrian encountered an Elf. There was a whole legend built around it. Star-crossed lovers. The usual. But they said that it was because of this encounter that Alastrians could change their forms.

No one ever mentioned that it was also because of this encounter that Alastrians were hunted down like animals by the humanoids of the realm.

[dragonian]

Daenerys smiles, appreciating the fact that Ariadne looks at her before she moves into the next verse. It makes her feel almost as though the words are being sung just for her, although of course the opposite is true. Songs are sung much for the pleasure of the singer, in most cases.

She settles quietly, on one of the upturned - and now almost empty - casks of salt, raising her eyes to watch, still listening, intent upon approaching the woman once the song ended.

While before, she'd wondered about other things, now she wished to ask her which gods she served. It was the first time since arriving here that she'd heard the word used in the plural, as it was for those in the old world of her own kingdom. Perhaps they were the same gods.

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne received a rousing round of applause. Blushing furiously, she took a little bow, before hopping off of her crate. She could have sung more verses, but being the center of attention was always a little unsettling for her. She'd been trained as a spy, after all. Being practically invisible was her nature.

It didn't help that she was Alastrian.

She settled down beside the light-haired woman who'd encouraged her to sing more, offering her a gentle smile on the side of her mouth. She didn't say anything, at first. She just accepted a tin cup of more of the bourbon. But as she cradled it between her hands, smelling the ozone, she grew curious.

"You're not like the other people here," she said carefully.

[dragonian]

Daenerys passed the cup along to her, and then took a second one of her own, even though she was hesitant to drink it. It was something to wrap her hands around, however, and since people seemed determined to hand things to her - and had done for almost her entire life - it harmed no one to accept them, and then pass them on later to others.

"I'm not?" she asked, with what was probably a knowing smile back in the other woman's direction. To be fair, it wasn't the first time that someone had remarked on her unusual hair, or her regal attire. She was royalty, and had been raised to believe it, and it was hard to conceal that, even among the dust and sweat of the trail.

"What makes you say that?"

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne shrugged. "I'm good at noticing things," she replied. "And I notice that there are two kinds of people here. The ones who belong and seem to know what we're doing...and the rest of us. You're the rest of us."

And there was her scent, too. But Ariadne had learned after a lifetime of fear and xenophobia not to mention things like that. It wasn't 'normal.' It marked her as Alasrian, as different.

As fair game.

She, of course, had no reason to believe the white-haired woman would mean her harm. But old habits had a way of sticking to the soul.

[dragonian]

Dany smiled. She had an advantage, of course, in that she was more familiar with horses than some of the people here seemed to be, but that still didn't help when the creature that she had been given jumped and danced underneath her, and made it seem like she was the one with the problem

But she had more than made herself seem strange in other ways, between her curiosity and her dragon--for those who seemed to notice these things, at least.

"I truly have no idea where we are, or how I came to be here," she admitted, dropping her chin slightly and looking up through her pale eyelashes. "When I woke up in the saddle, I thought for certain that I must be dreaming, yet the dream has not ended.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

[demonicbeauty]

She shook her head earnestly. Of course, most of the things Ariadne did were oozing with earnest. And a childlike sort of sincerity. "Of course not," she replied. Who would she tell, anyway? And, for that matter, what right did she have to give away someone else's secrets?

Ariadne had plenty of her own.

"The same thing happened to me," she added.

[dragonian]

Relief settled into her demeanor at the admission, and she lowered her cup down to the ground beside her. She'd been carrying this secret around with the camp with her for days now, and to actually finally speak about it...

"Then I suppose we must endure the dream together." It offered a kind of camaraderie, didn't it? And yet if Daenerys couldn't explain her own waking up in a saddle, following this strange wagon train across an unknown land, how was she supposed to explain, even to herself, the fact that she wasn't the only one who had woken up here?

"You aren't from Mereen," she said, after a moment, starting with the frame of reference that she had; her own world, with its own countries and cities. "Are you Westerosi?"

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne shook her head again. This time, there was some astonishment in it. Her eyes widened to the size of coins, the whites visible all the way around. "I don't know...I've never heard of either of those places," she said. And she'd spent plenty of time studying maps of the realm. She loved to lie on her stomach, tracing the lines of the rivers and trade routes, imagining where they went. She had the names of all the countries and major cities memorized. Including the ones that the Red Dragon had sacked.

Especially the ones that the Red Dragon had sacked, really.

"I'm from Valeria," she said. She said it, as if everyone would know the name. But she supposed that couldn't be true.

Not necessarily...