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goodmeme2023-10-06 06:18 pm
morrowmods) wrote in goodmeme2023-10-06 06:18 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME
test drive meme
Welcome to the opening test drive of goodmorrow! If you're just getting here, you can find our game premise here and our full navigation here.
It's a new game, but you don't have to play a newbie! This game has a mechanic that allows people to app characters who aren't new to the setting. Please check over on our application guidelines for more information about how it works. We've also got a summary of World Events that occurred prior to this TDM, so your oldbie can have some things to reference.
Thank you for playing! We're excited to have you.
goodmorrow! If you're just getting here, you can find our game premise here and our full navigation here.It's a new game, but you don't have to play a newbie! This game has a mechanic that allows people to app characters who aren't new to the setting. Please check over on our application guidelines for more information about how it works. We've also got a summary of World Events that occurred prior to this TDM, so your oldbie can have some things to reference.
Thank you for playing! We're excited to have you.
the summoning
Arrivals
There is always a buzz around the time of a summoning ritual. Will there be dozens? Or will this time only yield a handful? Will the stakes become dramatic enough for there to be a glimpse of one of the Old Ones, and the chance to partake in their incomprehensible greatness? The ones who believe consider it a day of hope and new beginnings. However, there are much more mundane concerns for the skeptics. Summoning means that there will be a whole new group of displaced folks who'll need to be oriented. They'll come hurting and confused, squirming with the bone-deep pain of travel and weary after hours of hearing about how they've been Chosen to herald the approach of the Old Ones. People will be here seeking help, and most of the native townsfolk only understand how to preach at newcomers. The new arrivals will likely need help from more experienced expats who better understand where they're coming from.
dessicated and unremarkable
Forbidden Knowledge
Even after the end of the summoning ritual, many kept their eyes watching the sky. There is always the risk of summoning more than just a new batch of novitiates. When pulling things from other worlds, chances are high that something else might tag along.
A few hours after the end of the introductory sermon, scraps of paper start to blow down from the sky. They travel on the breeze and seem to get into everything. They land on roofs and float through open windows. They get tangled in tree branches and end up underfoot on walking paths. Page after page delicately makes its way to the earth.
It must be wisdom from the cosmos! The rumor sweeps its way across town in hushed whispers. The gossips are saying that the elders want the pages collected, so that they can properly archive and study them. They promise a handsome reward to those who can gather enough to fill a tome, but that seems somehow less attractive, even as something to wish about. Whether deliberately hunting out the pages or accidentally encountering them in everyday life, it will soon be obvious that these are pages full of something best left unseen.
Some of the manuscript pages seem mundane enough. The words seem strangely familiar, as if they might be legible if one focuses on them hard enough. It's just a matter of figuring out handwriting or deciphering a dialect. It must be. A page might prove so engrossing that it leaves a person in an enthralled state, silently locked in a quest to understand something that looks so comprehensible only for it to veer off into the uncanny. This lock might leave them tremendously suggestible to any words spoken around them, their minds struggling and desperate enough to latch on to anything comprehensible at all.
Other pages seem less similar to human writing and will likely create less of a hold on those with the misfortune to view them. The pages covered in glyphs and arcane symbols feel almost empowering their foreignness, almost as if one might simply let the experience wash over them and let it run through them. Those unlucky enough to state too long at one of those pages might find themselves overwhelmed by instances of magical outbursts. It feels like a strange sort of sneeze as the arcane energy suddenly sparks a small thunderbolt into existence, or turns a bushel of hay into a solid block of iron. The effects are seemingly random, but wear off on their own in a few minutes. It's probably fine. What kind of damage could be done in such a short time?
This might be a relief to the illiterate members of the community, if it wasn't for the leathery pages. More parchment than paper in texture, these pages seem to carry something ominous in the rough fibers of their material. When touched without protective gloves, these pages force their handler to feel a glimpse of unspeakable suffering. It comes from a place beyond pain, lighting parts of the mind that were never intended for use. Screaming might be a way to express it, but more often it manifests in an expression of extreme emotion. Hysterical mania seems nice until it doesn't end and keeps a person up at night unable to stop laughing. Murderous rage might be inconvenient for the other members of the village. Whatever the emotion is, it's gone far beyond any normal limitation and will stay that way for the next several hours.
Enjoy the hunt, Revelbrooke. Try not to end up with too many papercuts.
A few hours after the end of the introductory sermon, scraps of paper start to blow down from the sky. They travel on the breeze and seem to get into everything. They land on roofs and float through open windows. They get tangled in tree branches and end up underfoot on walking paths. Page after page delicately makes its way to the earth.
It must be wisdom from the cosmos! The rumor sweeps its way across town in hushed whispers. The gossips are saying that the elders want the pages collected, so that they can properly archive and study them. They promise a handsome reward to those who can gather enough to fill a tome, but that seems somehow less attractive, even as something to wish about. Whether deliberately hunting out the pages or accidentally encountering them in everyday life, it will soon be obvious that these are pages full of something best left unseen.
Some of the manuscript pages seem mundane enough. The words seem strangely familiar, as if they might be legible if one focuses on them hard enough. It's just a matter of figuring out handwriting or deciphering a dialect. It must be. A page might prove so engrossing that it leaves a person in an enthralled state, silently locked in a quest to understand something that looks so comprehensible only for it to veer off into the uncanny. This lock might leave them tremendously suggestible to any words spoken around them, their minds struggling and desperate enough to latch on to anything comprehensible at all.
Other pages seem less similar to human writing and will likely create less of a hold on those with the misfortune to view them. The pages covered in glyphs and arcane symbols feel almost empowering their foreignness, almost as if one might simply let the experience wash over them and let it run through them. Those unlucky enough to state too long at one of those pages might find themselves overwhelmed by instances of magical outbursts. It feels like a strange sort of sneeze as the arcane energy suddenly sparks a small thunderbolt into existence, or turns a bushel of hay into a solid block of iron. The effects are seemingly random, but wear off on their own in a few minutes. It's probably fine. What kind of damage could be done in such a short time?
This might be a relief to the illiterate members of the community, if it wasn't for the leathery pages. More parchment than paper in texture, these pages seem to carry something ominous in the rough fibers of their material. When touched without protective gloves, these pages force their handler to feel a glimpse of unspeakable suffering. It comes from a place beyond pain, lighting parts of the mind that were never intended for use. Screaming might be a way to express it, but more often it manifests in an expression of extreme emotion. Hysterical mania seems nice until it doesn't end and keeps a person up at night unable to stop laughing. Murderous rage might be inconvenient for the other members of the village. Whatever the emotion is, it's gone far beyond any normal limitation and will stay that way for the next several hours.
Enjoy the hunt, Revelbrooke. Try not to end up with too many papercuts.
ooc notes
Thanks for checking out this setting! If you have questions, feel free to direct them to the first thread below.
no subject
If he's trapped in this world alongside her, he'll have no choice but to persevere, will he. But still, he hates the stiffness he feels in his jaw. The way that, thanks to that hood, he still can't (never did, not in this form) see her eyes. ]
You would have known I was here...if you'd been the one to bring me. So if you were surprised, it wasn't you.
[ There. He got it out. He can't be a good investigator, one who keeps people safe and solves crimes, if he lets this level of harassment get to him! ]
Am I wrong?
no subject
He wasn't supposed to have an upper hand, and she had all but handed one to him for not looking closer than she should have at first. Because he had to be taller than he was. If she had recognized him, she would not have been taken off guard. Could have played it off better. Instead, he turns that moment of weakness - she grits her teeth slightly, but only for a moment. ]
I believe I summed this up when I said that it wasn't any of your business.
no subject
[ His heart is pounding. Did he just....did he just....did he do it? Did he just win an argument with Archnemon.....? Should that even matter, at this point....? Under these circumstances, with everything unfamiliar....?
But Ken's done fighting the fact he can be petty. He's not about to deny his emotions any more. So fine. It's not something to brag about, but it is what it is:
He's a little proud of himself right now. ]
no subject
Tch... just a little boy chasing after a prize. [ Ignoring the fact that he's taller. ] Fine then, have it your way.
no subject
In fact, the "victory", if such it is, now rings hollow. She's just as powerless as he is in this situation, and seeing her give in (if not without another little dig, which pricks him) drives that home. He'll have to watch that she brings out that smallness in him.
And stay focused. ]
If the Old Ones brought us both here, then our circumstances are the same. I don't think we'll be working together, but as long as you aren't trying to hurt anyone, I won't interfere with you, either.
[ It's the best he can offer. He braces himself to be mocked for it, but, just like eight years ago, talking to a girl who didn't realize how much her loneliness was being fed upon, a girl this woman had kidnapped - he still had to try. ]
no subject
[ There he went again with the 'superior' way of speaking. Offering a truce because while he had been seeking a battle there was not one to have, trying to establish rules in a world that had drawn them in for its own purposes. She tosses her head in her annoyance; he might briefly catch a glint of gold in her eyes before her hair and hood hide those distinctive features once more. ]
Such a proclamation from a former emperor.
[ Mocking it is, apparently, since she's had to give in. He's not her Boss, though, she doesn't really have anyone to answer to in that way, does she? No real orders or considerations for her time. The thought occurs to her but she does not like it. ]
no subject
[ Should he go? Maybe he should go. There's a lot to think about, even if there's not much he can do about any of it at this point, and he'd like to be alone for that thinking....
....but. Ken turns halfway, then hesitates. There's so much to say between the two of them that there's also nothing. What is holding him back? He's told her where they both stand, to him. That way she has fair warning. So what...
....it's so odd. It's so odd, to have put someone behind you, to be haunted by their death, and now to encounter them in life. She's the same as she's always been, but the shadow of watching her die hangs over him, and he doesn't know what to do with it. ]
no subject
Even if he was the only familiar person she'd encountered. This far. ]
...What is it?
no subject
[ ....don't know, but that's not right, it's not that he doesn't know, it's that he hasn't fully specified, classified, the emotions....
Ken hems. Ken haws. Ken ends up giving a nothing tag, but you know, he's still Ken Ichijouji, and as Ken Ichijouji the management reserves the right to stare at our shoes and Think whenever we damn well please. ]
no subject
He's here, she's here. From different times, obviously. Even if she had been sent here directly, Time clearly was not something this world took into account. Maybe he wanted her to question it. To pry for answers not so neatly supplied by circumstance.
Yet, he has said nothing, and she has no plans to say anything, either, even if there is that odd compulsion to - linger, beyond the reason she's already lingering. To not turn her back on an - enemy? If he held to the supposed truce he was offering. For what. ]
... Tch. Don't be useless. If you have something to say.
bless your choice of icon
....I just hope...your second chance. Goes as well as mine.
[ Is that it? It still feels insufficient, but it's closer. Close enough, for now. And something he'd like her to think about. Because it wasn't fair, what happened to her. It wasn't right. It was cruel. It was what could have happened to the Digimon Kaiser, swallowed by his own darkness and ignorance, if it hadn't been for Daisuke and the others. Ken can't stand Archnemon, but he also can't wish that on anyone.
If he stays here after saying THAT, however, he knows she's going to rip him apart. So he turns to walk away now, feeling only time will tell how this can end. ]
That's all.
no subject
Waits a little longer for him to get further and punches the tree instead, breathing hard. Fine, it's fine, he could keep his superior, patronizing words--was that pity or something worse? Acting as though he knew more. Or thought he knew, but she wasn't thinking about that.
How dare he of all people?
She didn't want to think about what it meant. A second chance? To be in a new world without the ties to her old purpose, the old rules and old games. Everything could be turned to distraction, this feeling of being adrift. Because she couldn't wholly remember, the shock of the betrayal, but there had been pain, more than she'd ever experienced, just wanting it to stop and it wouldn't --
-- oh. Punching the tree hurt more than it should have. Another annoyance-- nothing bruised or broken but just sore enough. She glares at the offense--better to fume at that rather than The Boy-- if he was that, any more. Too much had changed, beyond what she could have imagined, and ...
Fighting would be easier. A tussle would even be preferred over this pattern of thinking.
She grits her teeth, giving the tree a final kick before abruptly turning to head in the opposite direction. At least that temporary physical pain might keep her from thinking about the rest. For now. ]