TEST DRIVE MEME (JAN 23')

[myddvaimods]

TEST DRIVE MEME
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Arc Introduction, Month 0


The Pull

Falling asleep, closing one's eyes to die, or simply walking through a doorway... it only takes the slightest lapse of consciousness for the magic to take hold. That sudden feeling of falling within a dream overtakes the senses, lasting far longer than it should. If lucky or nimble, feet will hit the floor rather than spine or face.

Characters find themselves pulled into a new world without warning, and they are now in the spotlight. Literally. From their new vantage point from center stage in a cabaret, they can just barely make out the strange, sprawling figures that form their audience. Hulking animal shapes sit at tables and lean against walls, defining the edges of the dark space. The floorboards glow with untold power, etched with countless runes and scripts, radiating power and… a strangely pleasant smell of vanilla and cinnamon fills the air.

"Charming," says a seemingly disembodied voice, tone bored despite the compliment, "Let this one stay, I'm intrigued by them."

"Suboptimal," responds another voice, this time clearly to the right and behind. Looking over a shoulder, the two speaking stand on opposite sides from one another.


The last to speak, a seven-foot tall goat man, is holding a broken shepherd's staff. The whole of the item is glowing with power and strands of magic wind outward like thread or like marionette strings, as they trail to the new arrivals body at all their joints. The goat man sighs and lowers the staff, dispelling the magic and the strands like extinguishing a flame. Colorful sparks and embers erupt and rise all around the stage, before cooling and disappearing into thin air.

"Welcome, you're one of the Pulled. Now, get off the stage," says that first voice again, from the other figure. They are a slim person of ambiguous gender and seemingly timeless age. They crack a smirk, "we have more of your kind to summon, the good Secretary Theodore will explain further,"

With that, it's time to explore what this strange place and experience holds, because there's seemingly no going back now.



Theodore is not his name...

Whether going willingly or getting kicked off, the most recent Pulled is moved into the off-stage area. A man waits, looking uneasy and stressed but doing his best to project some air of competency. He'll shake hands with anybody who'd like to but doesn't seem surprised or offended if they don't take his hand.

"Good to meet you. I'm Ted, Ydris' secretary," he has an overall exhausted air to him, as he pushes up his glasses.

Every Pulled gets the same, rehearsed explanation of what's going on.

First, a welcome to Myddvai, the name of the world they now find themselves pulled into. Myddvai is the vast World Tree, floating pleasantly through space. It is a highly magical place and thus not always the easiest to explain. He heeds that Pulled might want to curve any... expectations of perfect consistency. This world is highly unpredictable.

In the most basic terms, Myddvai is controlled by forces of Chaos and Order. All magic falls between these two extremes and is, curiously, denoted by flavor. The curious scent of cinnamon and vanilla is caused by the magic at work, summoning in the various Pulled. Ted introduces the two on the stage as Ydris and Ives, who are currently the two most powerful beings active on Myddvai. He urges that getting on either of their bad sides would be unwise.

The two on stage have devised this ritual summoning because the whole of Myddvai is in trouble. Ydris is one of five Dragon Deities, the living gods that oversee the natural order and chaotic forces throughout Myddvai.

Due to "a mishap," the other four Dragons are all unconscious. Many groups are scrambling to find their own solutions or, more concerningly, using this opportunity to seize various forms of control.

Ydris is aligned to Order and cannot allow such grabs at power on their, suddenly very solo, watch. Ives, who is a being with wisdom more ancient than even the gods of this world, has enlisted himself to help with this. The two agree they need outsiders with no biases on the politics of this world, and no motivation outside of what Ydris and Ives can offer them all. The prize for cooperation is a simple choice:

"Pulled are welcome to remain in the world and live out their mortal lives in luxury, heroes that will be favored by all the gods... or, be returned to your homes with new life and power. Even if you aren't interested in going home, there are others who are." Ted glances away for a moment, before his gaze returns to the Pulled, "The choice will be each of yours to make... provided you cooperate. If you're not interested in helping, you can be a normal citizen of the world. That's always an option."

Beyond that overwhelming lore dump, Ted can only answer so many further questions, but feel free to inquire with Ted. He's mostly around to field each Pulled as they're directed off stage to meet him. Other Pulled who have already heard the script can hang around in his space longer, but they'll probably get tired of the same speech over and over. Ted looks like he would love to stop...

Join the Audience

"You can join the rest of the audience. Mingle as much as you'd like," Ted urges to those done with their orientation.

There is only a curtain blocking the backstage from the seating area. Joining the audience reveals that the figures watching this ritual are animal, insect, and arachnid people. Dog, rat, bat, snake... all manner of heads sit expressively upon more human bodies, all dressed in sharp suits, gowns, or mixtures thereof. This appears to be quite the fancy affair!

These are Springtide Vampires, the aristocratic leaders of this particular culture. They eagerly invite Pulled in pairs to sit and socialize with them.

While a few lick their chops at the new arrivals, they insist they are not out for off-world blood. No, what they want is connections to the Pulled. Springtide Families are all headed by a Vampire, and those who grant resources to this endeavor are being promised great favors or riches by Ydris. So, they are hungry for clout more than anything. A few Vampires are interested in making conversation about themselves, but most prefer to simply eavesdrop on any Pulled sitting at their tables and speaking with one another.

Pulled who are especially interesting or social will be slipped a calling card with a family crest: Rat, Dog, Raven, Moth, Cat, or Spider. The Vampire granting the card will instruct Pulled that this will be valuable soon. So, hold onto it for later and guard it against thieves. Pulled can only acquire one of these cards each, so choose carefully. If Pulled decide to trade among themselves, that may come with future consequences.

((Note: Vampires will be NPCs available for interaction below, but players are free to handwave basic interactions, as described above. Receiving one of the calling cards can also be done at player discretion.))

The bar is open to a new you


At the far end of the cabaret is a long bar leading to a kitchen. Mysteriously, the cabaret has no discernable exit. There is a row of seats facing the bartenders and another facing the stage. Both rows are exclusive for Pulled, set aside from the Vampires. Everybody who was pulled in arrived wearing whatever they last had on. If an outfit was too revealing, damaged, or just not comfortable, then Pulled are offered a silken robe and slippers to wear instead.

Whether a waitress or bartender addresses a Pulled, they refer to them as their Myddvai Breed. "What would you like to drink, Elf?" "You look like a hungry Rahuth! How about something from the kitchen?" and so on. All Pulled take on recognizable characteristics native to Myddvai, features determined by the Pull of the universe. Any who ask are told that features are likely to continue to manifest the longer they're on Myddvai. Some Pulled might also experience their form shifting wildly between different breeds and are assured that will settle down eventually. This kind of transformation isn't painful, only strange to experience. Pulled can get told all the basic information available on Myddvai breeds at this time.

Pulled have plenty of time to chat just among themselves at the bar. If endless, freely provided alcohol isn't enough to loosen the tongue, then perhaps sharing a meal will? Pulled are required to order food as pairs or parties, individual requests won't be served. The menu is distinctly lacking in grains, dairy, and red meat, exclusively having vegetable dishes and various seafood on offer. It's all very flavorful and filling, seasoned well, and delivered warm.

If you're facing the stage, there's plenty more being pulled in... and come to find out, not everybody is allowed to stay.

The Ice Storm

Watch and it becomes clear that the ritual doesn't always result in worthwhile Pulled.

The room swells as the pair of powerful beings do each half of the summons. Ives steadies his staff and draws in the smoke generated by Ydris, who looks entirely different. Their human illusion is dropped during a summoning, showing their true form as a fantastical, wax-bodied being of fire and metal. Flames all swirl intensely, creating a smoke that is wound into concentrated magical strings of energy. These lines are what pull people out from their worlds, causing a void in reality from which they arrive through. The tear is quickly stitched back together by those same thread, weaving the space back together again behind the new arrival.

If a Pulled is deemed unworthy, Ives points the staff at them. A flash of light overtakes the entire room. The Vampires appear to all know just the time to duck or hide their eyes when this happens. Except a certain Sir Goodpoint the flash is his favorite part.

After this light dissipates, the person is gone. Seemingly returned home. One would... hope. The next ritual begins again, people stay or go. There seems to be a completely unknown ranking system at play. The Vampires casually mention how many Stars someone is worth in passing. Not everybody chosen has a high rank by this measure, so that doesn't seem to be the deciding factor.

A semi-regular occurrence is the Ice Storm. This is when an unwanted character is Pulled multiple times and everybody in attendance has gotten just so fed up with seeing them. One of the front-row Vampires seems to have started a trend, that of plucking an ice cube from their drink and throwing it at the offending Pulled. Basically, everybody in the audience takes this as a great opportunity to pelt the unwanted Pulled until Ives makes them go away, jeering and booing are optional.

All Pulled in the audience are given cups of ice, wordlessly encouraged to participate. Nobody subjected to the Ice Storm is allowed to remain. Any who stand to object to this will get the Ice Storm directed at themselves, instead. It won't get a Pulled who was already chosen sent back home, but they will get a good pelting for their trouble.

It also makes for a progressively funnier show as new Pulled appear and slip on the remains of the previous Ice Storm. Glad that wasn't you, right? Or maybe it was and now you understand why...


OOC Notes

Welcome to the Test Drive Meme for Myddvai's First Season!

This post is Open To All for play, both those with and without invites to our game are welcome to play in this space.

Players are allowed to play around with their character as any of the available breeds while on the TDM. TDM breed choice does not need to match an application. All threads from the TDM can remain canon even if breed is changed later when applying to game. The lore reason for this would be instability of a character's form when first pulled in. Breed choice cannot currently be changed once within the game, so choose wisely when applying!

As a reminder, TDM participation is a required part of our Application to join. Both top leveling your characters and tagging around is encouraged!

For those without Invites who are interested in applying, feel free to join our discord and inquire about potentially receiving an invite.

All Mod Invited Players are allowed to extend unlimited invites to those they wish.

For those with invitations, Reservations are open along with this TDM! Please put in a Reservation if you are intending to join the game.

Applications open on the 1st of February and priority will be given to Reserved players. The first round of acceptances to the game will go out Feb. 4th along with an IC Introduction Event.

Not sure what Breed you want to pick for your character? Head over to our Design Workshop! Moderation and other potential players would be happy to help brainstorm.

code bases by tricklet

Comments

[sceptred]

[ and pittman puts in an order for what's probably the equivalent of layered eggplant. good stuff. the reply has a frown tugging at his mouth — it's an annoyance because, yes, that's perfectly plausible. ]

Or there could be a more benign explanation.

[petcromancer]

And pigs could fly, but I've yet to see that happen.

[So he's not holding out hope that this is some friendly team-building activity, sorry.]

Still, it's effective. There's very little a man won't do for food when he's hungry.

[sceptred]

Please. It's not quite so outside the realm of possibility...

[ though, even if he also could, he doesn't feel so inclined to argue in favor of their captor's magnanimity quite yet. ]

[ he sighs. ]

Are you not fond of it? [ sharing meals with people, that is. ]

[petcromancer]

[Hector's a few narrow escapes from pitchfork-wielding mobs past trusting in the good of humanity, sorry. He shrugs.]

I don't mind breaking bread with others occasionally. It's usually the other person who takes issue with me.

[sceptred]

[ pittman gets his layered eggplant dish slid in front of him... he's trying to save any opinions on the food for now. he gingerly folds a napkin onto his lap, then looks up to hector with an inquisitive expression. ]

Why's that?

[petcromancer]

Because I'm a 'necromancer', or a 'witch', and I conspire with vampires. Real vampires, not these oversized animals.

[He glances over where the vampires lounge and shakes his head. Otherworldly creatures of grace and beauty they are not.]

People from my homeland are quite judgmental like that. So I'm used to keeping my own company.

[sceptred]

[ my goodness. it's a good thing pittman neither had a drink to spit, nor had taken a bite of his food to choke on - that certainly hadn't been what he expected to hear. ]

[ he likes to think he has a relatively solid poker face, though, even if he pauses in whatever gesture he'd been taking. his mouth twitches, and he buys time in responding to that by forcing a cough. ]

... Why? [ so much for keeping his cool. ] Why consort with vampires?

[petcromancer]

[Hector raises an eyebrow. Struck a nerve, did he?]

Because I've been an outcast among humans since I was born, and I thought the vampires were different. More reasonable. They weren't, but it took me a while to learn that. Turns out, gaining immortality doesn't fix the flaws of humanity.

[He takes a long sip of his drink. Everyone is terrible, his judgement is pretty piss poor, and now he's stuck in some other world, tasks to wake up sleeping dragons.]

So, what do you do for a living? [He asks, as if they are having a normal get-to-know-you conversation.]

[sceptred]

[ fffffn. pittman raises a hand to rub at his forehead, if only in a brief gesture. before he gets around to the question of his career, he feels the need to back the heck up a moment. ]

No, no, it wouldn't. I'd hypothesize that it would only worsen any flaws, actually. And I still have a few more questions for you.

[ spoken with all the self-assuredness of one that's accustomed to getting answers, whenever he announces such a thing. he's only distantly aware he may be getting ahead of himself. he puffs out a breath. ]

Why is it that you were ostracized as a child?

[petcromancer]

[Hector doesn't mind sharing his traumatic childhood with this random stranger. Why not? He stopped letting it bother him long ago.]

Who can say, really? My hair color, or my off-putting aura? The voices I heard from creatures that shouldn't have spoken? My mother says I was born cursed, though she was never consistent about why. [He swirls the wine in his glass, watching it spin like a little whirlpool.] My first dog, I found in a field and raised from the dead. So you can't say I wasn't an enterprising lad.

[sceptred]

[ a curse? why curse a child? though, if hector isn't able to say, far be it for pittman to be able to offer an accurate explanation. ]

I see. I'll admit, I would also flinch at the idea, considering necromancy is typically thought to involve some amount of desecration of the dead.

Had you ever met anyone that considered it a gift?

[petcromancer]

[Hector sighs.] It's not desecration, it's recycling. Bodies decay and the pieces become new things over time anyways. Why not speed up the process?

[In his mind, it's a perfectly natural process. He's not one to send shambling skeletons around. He makes exciting new living things out of them.]

And yes, I met one person who saw the value in it. The lord of the vampires. Thus the aforementioned 'consorting'.

[sceptred]

I believe reasonable minds could differ as to that.

[ but — oof, okay. the pieces are slotting into place with that... pittman's frown deepens, his eyebrows knitting. it's certainly a lot to unpack. ]

I see. [ he sighs. ] To answer your question before — I worked as a judge.

[petcromancer]

[That earns the other Pulled a raised eyebrow.]

That makes sense. I do sense an abundance of judgment coming from you.

[Judges and bishops alike have sort of the same reputation in Hector's mind for being sanctimonious. And because Hector has always been more curious than smart about personal safety, he asks-]

Ever the executioner?

[sceptred]

[...! ] I'm trying to understand, rather than judge. But I apologize for coming across that way.

[ pittman looks a little alarmed by the casualness of the question. not so much about the prospect of examining his history of rulings, but the idea of being judge and executioner is discomfiting. ]

[ his layered eggplant is getting cold... ]

If the law calls for it, and it cannot be avoided, then yes: I've sentenced criminals to death. Not by my own hands.

[petcromancer]

[He shrugs. An apology is unexpected, and unneeded, honestly. Hector's past the point of caring what other people think of him.]

But you're not the torch and pitchfork-carrying type. That's good to know.

[The place Hector is from... wasn't great for impartial justice, to say the least.]

You can eat, you know. I won't be offended.

[He picks a nut from a little bowl of bar snacks and pops it into his mouth to punctuate his point.]

[sceptred]

[ while he may not be the pitchfork-wielding type, the place he comes from likewise tends to ♥ that shit ]

Of course not. It can hardly be called justice without proper procedural safeguards in place.

[ he holds his tongue on that for now, though, capable as he is in discussing that topic with endless enthusiasm. he hesitates before partaking, looking to the empty spot in front of hector. ]

I need to pray before eating. [ which he'll do so in a moment, but, ] You ordered a vegetable stew, correct?

[petcromancer]

Hmmm. [Hector gives the judge a long look, trying to ascertain how truthful he is being. A judge with honor? Who knew such a thing could exits.

Well, Hector has seen stranger things, he supposes. He shrugs.]

Yes, I did. I can go check on it, while you pray. Wouldn't want to be struck down by lightning for heresy while you bless your food.

[He's joking, of course, though he doesn't relish listening to someone's devout prayers. Hector knows at least one god exists, but he also knows that he is someone that that god hates. So he prefers to keep a comfortable distance.]

[sceptred]

[ pittman looks up with surprise when hector makes that remark, giving him his own long, scrutinizing look. it's then that it registers that such a thing had been said in jest. ah. ]

I don't think you have much to worry over. Unless you're a member of the True Order, the God of Light is unlikely to work in such ways.

[ -- joking, too, if his smile is anything to go by. probably.


anyway. he'll get to his prayers. ]