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pluviooc2024-03-18 02:45 pm
pluviosamods) wrote in pluviooc2024-03-18 02:45 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE 02
TEST DRIVE
Hello, and welcome to the second Pluviosa Test Drive!
This Test Drive corresponds to Days 4-12 in the ship calendar, and will run until around the game's next major event. You can get a better idea what's going on in the most recent Game Update which covers Days 5-8. Currently, character IC housing is not in operation yet; it is expected to open on Day 9 (part of the way through the Test Drive period). Otherwise, the ship is largely in the state described on the Setting page and in other game information.
Test Drive threads involving characters who are accepted are considered canon to the events of the game unless otherwise agreed by players/mods. Pluviosa does not do welcome mingle logs nor does it have any kind of in-character welcome information, making your test drive threads your character's arrival to the game setting. That said, mod-run interactions such as formal exploration and/or interactions with the Ship as an NPC are not available on the Test Drive.
It is advised that potential players familiarize themselves with the Premise page, the Rules/Session Zero page, and at least the first few paragraphs of the Setting page. As Pluviosa is a horror game, we especially encourage players to be aware of the content warnings that will be major themes of the game. If you have any further questions, you can ask them on the QUESTIONS header in the comments!
If you're test driving a character, you're welcome to join the game Discord and hang out and meet your fellow players!
You wake up. You remember waking up, right? In another place, another time...
There's blood running down your fingers. Outside, the rain isn't pounding, yet, just a gentle patter...
Or is it?
As characters gain fuller awareness of their surroundings, they will realize that there is, in fact, no blood on their hands (save any that might have already been there). It feels as though they lost focus for a moment and hallucinated, but the hallucination ended with them somewhere else entirely.
There is not actually the sound of rain. If characters are near enough to a window, balcony, or even a hole in the ceiling, they will find that it is cloudless, beaming sunlight outside. The emptiness in the distance rolls on and on, completely absent any signs of life.
That being, of course, because the signs of life are all in here. Characters might wake up on any of the decks on the upper side of the ship - anywhere that isn't the cafeteria or lounge where previous arrivals spend most of their time is free game. This also means, of course, that they have the jungle of plants to contend with...
Most areas in the ship are dark when characters arrive. That doesn't mean that they stay dark. Occasionally, lights overhead flicker on and off for a few minutes at a time.
The problem with this isn't the lights themselves (cool white and kind of industrial). It's the reaction that the addition of the extra light causes the plants in the dark areas of the ship that's cause for alarm. To describe the growth as explosive isn't an understatement - vines, saplings, and even thicker branches surge with growth, pushing outwards towards the distant sunlight and upwards towards the flickering bulbs.
The growth is sudden enough to take all but the most aware characters by surprise, and if they're in the wrong corner of the room, it's very easy to get tangled up, wedged in by a tree trunk, or otherwise trapped against some corner or wall. If you're lucky and skilled, you might be able to cut yourself out from there (or break down the wall you're shoved up against), but otherwise, there's only one solution left.
Yell like your life depends on it, and hope somebody out there can hear you. And that whoever hears is someone who is inclined to help, rather than leaving you there. Or worse.
Oh, and the lights flicker back off after a few minutes, of course. Hopefully you're not waiting for rescue in the dark (with the smell of mold and the general faint dampness of the forest) for too long.
Occasionally, the whole ship tilts.
This is not simply the side to side motion of a ship on the water (or the equivalent motion brought on by the way this particular ship moves); it's an extremely forward or backward tilt that sends things sliding across the floor if they aren't secured by roots or something else. Unlike storm-tossed ships, the tilt is somewhat prolonged - rather than everything sliding back and forth a couple times a minute, the tilt lasts for five, ten, maybe as much as twenty minutes.
Although it's not enough to knock a well-balanced character off their feet, it's quite likely that new arrivals will not be particularly on-balance. And attempting to traverse the ship with the tilt is a tall order... especially when the ship's angle does unexpectedly change... to the exact opposite direction. All that goes up the mountain must go back down, and a glance out the windows reveals that that's exactly what's going on, as the ship progresses across a mountainous landscape without real regard for the concept of mountain passes.
And for characters who have managed to make their way to the "civilized" parts of the ship, namely the cafeteria and the lounge above it... None of the furniture in these areas is secured. The cafeteria carts under the direct control of the Ship don't seem as inclined to go anywhere, but the tables and chairs in the cafeteria and the couches and armchairs upstairs... Well, it's a good thing both spaces are surrounded by railings. Large chunks of tree trunk also still littler the lounge, sliding back and forth and occasionally rolling with great force across the floor.
Better hold on tight.
While wandering around the ship's interior, characters might occasionally hear a person whistling.
The sound always seems to be coming from just around the corner, but it sounds alive in a way that other sounds don't. Maybe more alive, even, than the rustle of leaves, the occasional drip of water, and the sounds of things sliding back and forth across the grimy, leaf-covered floors. The whistler, whoever they are, doesn't actively respond if called out to - but the whistling does pause, as though indicating that the call was heard, before starting up again.
If characters choose to follow the whistling, they're inevitably led to the same place - somewhere overlooking the great gap down the middle of the ship, whether an internal suite's balcony, one of the bridges crossing between the two halves, or one of the hallways that runs alongside it. Once they're there, there's no whistler in sight; however, characters will be filled with the overwhelming urge to look over the edge of the railing and down into the lower parts of the ship.
Exactly what they experience after looking down varies. Some will hallucinate that they've fallen over the side, feeling their balance go haywire and seeing the floor rushing up to them right up until the moment of "impact," at which everything returns to normal. Some will feel a stranger's hands on their shoulders, threatening to push them over with a great shove that goes through them with incorporeal fingers. Some will just hear unidentifiable laughter right up close to their ears, and experience the distinct sensation that there's someone laughing at them, in a haha-made-you-look kind of way.
But whatever happens, when they look up, there's no one there - or at least not anyone that physically close to them. The one good thing about being drawn to the middle section of the ship by whatever prankster this is is that it makes it a lot easier to run into people if you're all drawn to the same, highly visible place.
And at least the other person is flesh and blood, right? Probably.
This Test Drive corresponds to Days 4-12 in the ship calendar, and will run until around the game's next major event. You can get a better idea what's going on in the most recent Game Update which covers Days 5-8. Currently, character IC housing is not in operation yet; it is expected to open on Day 9 (part of the way through the Test Drive period). Otherwise, the ship is largely in the state described on the Setting page and in other game information.
Test Drive threads involving characters who are accepted are considered canon to the events of the game unless otherwise agreed by players/mods. Pluviosa does not do welcome mingle logs nor does it have any kind of in-character welcome information, making your test drive threads your character's arrival to the game setting. That said, mod-run interactions such as formal exploration and/or interactions with the Ship as an NPC are not available on the Test Drive.
It is advised that potential players familiarize themselves with the Premise page, the Rules/Session Zero page, and at least the first few paragraphs of the Setting page. As Pluviosa is a horror game, we especially encourage players to be aware of the content warnings that will be major themes of the game. If you have any further questions, you can ask them on the QUESTIONS header in the comments!
If you're test driving a character, you're welcome to join the game Discord and hang out and meet your fellow players!
ARRIVAL - LIKE THE RAIN
You wake up. You remember waking up, right? In another place, another time...
There's blood running down your fingers. Outside, the rain isn't pounding, yet, just a gentle patter...
Or is it?
As characters gain fuller awareness of their surroundings, they will realize that there is, in fact, no blood on their hands (save any that might have already been there). It feels as though they lost focus for a moment and hallucinated, but the hallucination ended with them somewhere else entirely.
There is not actually the sound of rain. If characters are near enough to a window, balcony, or even a hole in the ceiling, they will find that it is cloudless, beaming sunlight outside. The emptiness in the distance rolls on and on, completely absent any signs of life.
That being, of course, because the signs of life are all in here. Characters might wake up on any of the decks on the upper side of the ship - anywhere that isn't the cafeteria or lounge where previous arrivals spend most of their time is free game. This also means, of course, that they have the jungle of plants to contend with...
LIGHTS ON, SHOW START
Most areas in the ship are dark when characters arrive. That doesn't mean that they stay dark. Occasionally, lights overhead flicker on and off for a few minutes at a time.
The problem with this isn't the lights themselves (cool white and kind of industrial). It's the reaction that the addition of the extra light causes the plants in the dark areas of the ship that's cause for alarm. To describe the growth as explosive isn't an understatement - vines, saplings, and even thicker branches surge with growth, pushing outwards towards the distant sunlight and upwards towards the flickering bulbs.
The growth is sudden enough to take all but the most aware characters by surprise, and if they're in the wrong corner of the room, it's very easy to get tangled up, wedged in by a tree trunk, or otherwise trapped against some corner or wall. If you're lucky and skilled, you might be able to cut yourself out from there (or break down the wall you're shoved up against), but otherwise, there's only one solution left.
Yell like your life depends on it, and hope somebody out there can hear you. And that whoever hears is someone who is inclined to help, rather than leaving you there. Or worse.
Oh, and the lights flicker back off after a few minutes, of course. Hopefully you're not waiting for rescue in the dark (with the smell of mold and the general faint dampness of the forest) for too long.
TILT-A-WORLD
Occasionally, the whole ship tilts.
This is not simply the side to side motion of a ship on the water (or the equivalent motion brought on by the way this particular ship moves); it's an extremely forward or backward tilt that sends things sliding across the floor if they aren't secured by roots or something else. Unlike storm-tossed ships, the tilt is somewhat prolonged - rather than everything sliding back and forth a couple times a minute, the tilt lasts for five, ten, maybe as much as twenty minutes.
Although it's not enough to knock a well-balanced character off their feet, it's quite likely that new arrivals will not be particularly on-balance. And attempting to traverse the ship with the tilt is a tall order... especially when the ship's angle does unexpectedly change... to the exact opposite direction. All that goes up the mountain must go back down, and a glance out the windows reveals that that's exactly what's going on, as the ship progresses across a mountainous landscape without real regard for the concept of mountain passes.
And for characters who have managed to make their way to the "civilized" parts of the ship, namely the cafeteria and the lounge above it... None of the furniture in these areas is secured. The cafeteria carts under the direct control of the Ship don't seem as inclined to go anywhere, but the tables and chairs in the cafeteria and the couches and armchairs upstairs... Well, it's a good thing both spaces are surrounded by railings. Large chunks of tree trunk also still littler the lounge, sliding back and forth and occasionally rolling with great force across the floor.
Better hold on tight.
SOMETHING WHISTLING
While wandering around the ship's interior, characters might occasionally hear a person whistling.
The sound always seems to be coming from just around the corner, but it sounds alive in a way that other sounds don't. Maybe more alive, even, than the rustle of leaves, the occasional drip of water, and the sounds of things sliding back and forth across the grimy, leaf-covered floors. The whistler, whoever they are, doesn't actively respond if called out to - but the whistling does pause, as though indicating that the call was heard, before starting up again.
If characters choose to follow the whistling, they're inevitably led to the same place - somewhere overlooking the great gap down the middle of the ship, whether an internal suite's balcony, one of the bridges crossing between the two halves, or one of the hallways that runs alongside it. Once they're there, there's no whistler in sight; however, characters will be filled with the overwhelming urge to look over the edge of the railing and down into the lower parts of the ship.
Exactly what they experience after looking down varies. Some will hallucinate that they've fallen over the side, feeling their balance go haywire and seeing the floor rushing up to them right up until the moment of "impact," at which everything returns to normal. Some will feel a stranger's hands on their shoulders, threatening to push them over with a great shove that goes through them with incorporeal fingers. Some will just hear unidentifiable laughter right up close to their ears, and experience the distinct sensation that there's someone laughing at them, in a haha-made-you-look kind of way.
But whatever happens, when they look up, there's no one there - or at least not anyone that physically close to them. The one good thing about being drawn to the middle section of the ship by whatever prankster this is is that it makes it a lot easier to run into people if you're all drawn to the same, highly visible place.
And at least the other person is flesh and blood, right? Probably.
Something Whistling
Hmm. Not ideal; Miku had been using that sound to guide her to where there likely would have been someone she could ask what's going on. She'd been following the sound of it getting louder...but her hearing is good enough that she's still not close enough to where it was coming from to be able to pinpoint a location in the silence. All she's got now is a general idea of a direction.
Still...for lack of any better options presenting themselves, and chafing against the idea of remaining still and waiting for answers to come to her while her legs still worked, Miku marches on. Eventually, she stumbles across her first sign of non-plant life.
She's just not sure...if he's human life. Because he has wings.
"Ah?" The questioning sound slips out without her permission.
no subject
A soft sound, a voice this time, interrupts Sunday's quiet thoughts.
He turns, to find a girl standing there, staring at him. She was very pale, enough for him to wonder if she was a ghost too, another apparition-- He doesn't reach for her, simply cocking his head, like he couldn't wholly believe what was in front of him.
She didn't look like anyone he'd ever seen on Penacony, nor was she dressed that way, either. He's not sure what was a worse thought: That he was no longer on Penacony, or he was going mad and seeing things.
Everything about this place was unsettling to him.
"...Can I help you?"
The question is probing for acknowledgement. He doesn't think he can help her any more than she could help him.
no subject
It's a question asked out of rote politeness, by a man standing at the edge of a world and not knowing what else there is to do.
Miku feels it, then: fear. Just a stab of it. She doesn't know this stranger, but there's a sadness to him that rings out deep and encompassing and she doesn't think she can help him.
...she couldn't help Mafuyu either. In those months before she managed to reach out to the other members of N25, Mafuyu had continued to decline. But there had been moments--brief, shining moments--where she'd found reprieve in Miku's arms. And all Miku had had to do to chase down that warmth...was sing to her.
So, eyeing the man in front of her, and not answering his question that doesn't want for an answer in the first place, Miku takes in a deep breath, reaches for the right song for this exact moment, and starts to sing.
no subject
And then... the young figure in front of him begins to sing. Her voice is not natural, no, it was... electronic, of sorts. And language she sings in is not one he knows inherently, but yet, he understands every word. His lips part, and his shoulders slacken, minutely. In confusion, in awe.
He sees this girl, but he also sees beyond her, a makeshift stage he'd put together as a young boy, the star of it all, his beloved sister. How he'd helped her onto that little table, and gathered all of the toys in their playroom. He'd done it to inspire her again, to bring the light back into her eyes, after the loss of their mother, their homeland.
After that kind soul took them in, and granted them a new Family, under Harmony.
The way his sister had lost her voice, and had used the power granted to her by Harmony to sing, upon her return to Penacony, her voice having lost its tune, its resonance with her home.... The way this young woman sang with a voice that did not sound organic at all in nature. She really did remind him of Robin.
Miku's song touches him: the desire to achieve one's dreams, even through hardship. The feeling of being a burden, of being trapped. He closes his eyes and just listens, even as his memories sting like hot tears in his eyes.
Sunday's dreams had been hers. Even his own, truest desires were fuelled by his love for her, how much he wanted Robin to be safe. He never told her how much it had hurt when she'd left, just as he'd never told her about that bird. She deserved her chance.
And then...
"That was... Very nice. You remind me of my sister."
When her song ends, Sunday's arms and wings drape tightly around him, as he slowly opens his eyes to look at her. Breathing deep and slow. He'd never stopped mourning. He doesn't think he ever will.
"I am Sunday. May I... know your name?"
no subject
Sunday. What an odd name. "I'm Miku, Sunday-san," she says. "Your sister..." does not appear to be here. Maybe that's why he's sad? "Do you miss her, Sunday-san?"
no subject
Does he... miss his sister?
An ache, throbbing away in his chest. The memory of their childhood together, so close and yet so incredibly far out of reach. The way he'd tried to lock himself away, when she'd left, a gentle, patient voice calling him out of his shell, gently leading him into his own.
Hours of writing his own scripture, his own bible, until his fingers ached and eyes could barely remain open. Hours of memorizing the words. The trading card, her signature, tucked into its pages. A bookmark.
It was all for her.
The fear, revulsion to the unsafe, outside world, when he'd been told she'd been shot. His desperation to see her, to bring her home. (She'd refused. The children on the front lines needed her more. More than him. More than her own brother might need her well and safe.) He hated the thought, ruminated on it. Could not let go of the possibility of it happening again, and again, the longer she spent away from home. He could keep her safe in Penacony. It would be perfect, complete, whole. He knew he could...
█████ would keep her safe!
But then she returned home. And he couldn't. She was killed under his nose. He'd collapsed in a heap when he'd seen, after shooing everyone away. Clinging to her. He'd done it all for her. Every word of scripture, every prayer, every punishment, every lesson, every snip of feathers, every rule, every law, both harmony and █████, it was all for Robin. He loved people as he loved the world. But he loved Robin more than his own life.
The memories are confusing, disorienting. Did he miss her?
Like a drowning man missed air.
"I do. I miss her terribly. I've been... without her before. But not like this."
They were still able to write, before. But with no idea where he was, let alone her.... It wasn't quite possible, now, was it?
Sunday's arms cross over his chest. What a pitiful sight he made, trapped in his own mind, unable to move without his younger sister at his side. A cage of his own making, chains woven around him long before he ever realized they were. This poor girl having to witness all of it, even singing to him, like she once had. Like he had once sung to her. Their mother's last song weaves through his heart, her sacrifice predating his own determined one. That was his plan, wasn't it?
Wasn't that what love was? To give, to protect, to offer one's throat for the life of another? And now he was so far away from her, from everything he knew... What sort of test was this? What could possibly be his answer?
He had to move. He had to try something. Anything. He glances back at the balcony behind him, the dark abyss below, and finds no more comfort in it than he would a gaping maw, than that hand on his shoulder and that voice in his ear. For Robin, he would breathe deep, closing his eyes.
He couldn't give up now. Not here. He turns back to Miku, more collected, now. His voice a little stronger.
"Do you know what this place is?"
no subject
She frowns at his next question, and hugs herself, wishing she could offer more reassurance. "I'm sorry, Sunday-san. But I don't know what this place is...beyond it being some kind of boat. I think."
no subject
He looks at this young woman, a quiet sympathy in his eyes. She could understand, even this young? It made his heart ache for her. He doesn't want to pry, or dig up uncomfortable memories for the girl, but...
Love just means we'll always return to each other.
But did it? To him, love was sacrifice, for the sake of another. It was his mother giving her life for the safety of her children. It was him, giving up all else, for the sake of Robin's dream. Wanting to create that paradise at any and all costs.
Including himself.
But.... Robin always did return to him, didn't she? Not as often as either of them would like, but she would return, or send him treats. Gifts. That autographed card, that Sunday had tucked into his book of scripture. Letters. Even though she was far, she always took time to remind him that she loved him, that he should stretch his legs and spend less time within the Dream. That he should eat well, that he should live.
"Perhaps... Perhaps you're right."
His eyes fall on a couple of empty chairs in the suite. Sunday walks over to them, pulling them out, freeing them of any stray roots. Offering the girl a place to sit a while. The poor dear was without shoes.
"Would you like to sit with me a moment?"
A boat...
He'd guessed it was some kind of ship. He'd gotten a glimpse at some of stars on the balcony, but he'd been more focused on dealing with that. Pesky, sick feeling he'd gotten.
"I thought perhaps some sort of space vessel, but it doesn't move quite as smoothly. Too choppy."
no subject
A space vessel, huh...? Miku tilts her head. "This is...different from where I am from, too," she says. "I suppose I am not used to...reality. Let alone a reality like this." She's finally realizing this place can't be VIRTUAL, she thinks.
She wonders where Sunday-san is from, to find himself at such a loss and sadness to be here, too. "It must be different from your home too, Sunday-san."
no subject
"I understand. I don't often spend much time in reality either, no matter how much my sister wishes I would."
There was too much to oversee. Too much to take care of. Robin meant well, but she couldn't understand. And... He liked it that way. Preferred it. So long as she could achieve her dreams... He supposed he could try to be happy for her, even if he worried more, the longer she was gone.
She was never meant to be caged.
"It is very different than what I'm used to. There are parts of it that feel almost... close. Like the endless span of rooms and corridors around us. I have never been on a vessel this... vast. And the plants here are... I've certainly never seen them before."
Not that he was a man who went outside much, if at all.
"I would love to hear about your friend, if you don't mind telling me."
no subject
"This is a strange place," Miku agrees. "All the stranger for the fact that no one I've met seems familiar with it...what a lonely world..."
When he turns the subject to Mafuyu, Miku feels warm. She's of course happy to talk about her; she always is. "Mafuyu is...a guiding light," she says, "but the world around her, and forces outside of her control...have made her dim. Even so...she's so kind, and so talented. I really admire her, more than anything." She looks at him inquisitively. "Is it like that, with your sister?"
no subject
Sunday smiles, a little bittersweet. Kind, still, as he listens. As Miku describes her Mafuyu, Sunday understands. She reminds him of Robin. She always meant well, had always been so kind, and warm..... Generous in everything, even with her life. He smiles, as Miku asks if Robin is like that, too.
"She is. She travels to distant worlds to spread her songs, and her aid, to people who are in less fortunate situations. She wants to spread hope, and create a better future, a better wold, for everyone." Sunday says, his voice tinged with fondness, pride. "She's managed to touch so many hearts. I am very proud of her."
He pauses for a few moments, folding his hands together, wringing them, playing with them. Uncomfortable with the memory of Robin in a hospital bed on a faraway planet. While she'd been expected to pull through just fine, Sunday couldn't count the number of times he'd begged for an Aeon, any Aeon, to save her.
"Mafuyu sounds like a lovely person. I... understand how hard it is to be so far apart from someone you love."
She's all Sunday had left, of their mother. Her and their mother's song.
"Robin was hurt once, very badly. It never stopped her from continuing to try to bring hope to others. I've been afraid of worse happening to her, ever since. Robin is everything to me."