Pluviosa Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pluviosamods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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.
X | Megaman X
i. Arrival - Like the Rain
When isn't blood on his hands? That had been the entire problem, clawing at the threads, empathy and related elements throwing warnings pulling errors in cognitive processes, jarring to a halt and leaving him panicked, grasping for any shred of stability. But even now, even when he's made his peace with his own internal conflicts...
There will always be blood.
Whose is it this time? Not even the rain could wash it away, soothing as it sounds. Not where it stains beneath the gloves and the armour, not where it seeps into sensory networks or the ceratanium plates beneath. He wouldn't be surprised if, on the day he's finally retired, someone finds it clinging to the cables around his core and between his joints.
Maybe... Ferham's.
But X wakes to the pristine white of his gloves, active processes kicking him out of whatever hibernated state he'd been in previously as retinal lenses adjust focus to let him see the room around him. Full waking leaves him confused, though: he doesn't recognize this place. The last thing he remembers is... No, the last thing he remembers is preparing for atmospheric re-entry, the hatch sealing behind him. So then this... doesn't make any sense. Scans don't reveal anything familiar, even as X walks up to one of the walls, sets a hand on it. He's pretty sure this isn't even the right composition, but as he slips out of the room—a side room, looks like a few floors deep if he's estimating correctly—he's given extensive reason to pause.
"Is that...?" Living plant-life? So sorry to anyone trying to pass in this area, there is a very immobile android in the way.
ii. Lights On, Show Start
It's not the first time X is glad to be outfitted with combat capability in non-combat situations, but this is ridiculous. The sudden growth makes him think more of the integrated mechanobio plant-life he's used to than standard, offensive modes and he's honestly expecting small-scale shots or bullet sprays, but there's still no sign of photovoltaic panels or threads of metal, so this is just... an organic reaction to light. To interior, electric lighting, at that. He's not a botanist or anything, but he's reasonably sure that's not normal. Still, they're plants, so he's not sure he wants to be firing off buster shots in an enclosed space like this one.
Which means a lot of reliance on his Auto Balance to accommodate the way he has to dash and move between lunging branches when the lights flick on, red "scarf" flaring to life and trailing behind him with the rapid movement even if there are no scanners to worry about tracking him.
When the lights dim flicker off, X just... lets himself drop. It isn't tiring, his energy reserves are fine, but it's just strange. Especially because he's... fairly sure based on trajectory that he should be in the middle of the ocean with his partners and not wherever this is. For any who approach or come in passive scan range, give him a minute to recover.
iii. Tilt-A-World
The tilting, X decides, is not the biggest nuisance. It could be worse. Auto Balancer is really showing its value here, though, and he makes a mental note to thank his creator's AI the next time he stumbles on a capsule.
The problem is once he finally makes it above deck, X is so incredibly far from prepared for the couch. He might have highly advanced engineering, he might be an experienced Hunter, he might be any number of things, but he is still on the shorter side and light enough weight that a couch careening towards him knocks him flat when he simply isn't expecting it. And who would!
At least being bowled over by a log wouldn't be so... injurious to his pride. Now that sounds like a Zero thing to say. X still pushes himself smoothly back onto his feet as one such log does roll and skid a ways down a newly-established incline. And it... it occurs to him to wonder:
"Where did these all... come from?"
He's still not over that this is all living plant-matter. Or, well. In the case of the tree chunks: formerly living.
iv. Something Whistling
Something is strange about the whistling he keeps hearing up here, but he can't identify what; the lack of active response when he calls after it sits strangely, too. Passive acknowledgement before resuming. He's being led. Where, he isn't sure, but for the sake of answers X chooses to follow.
As he does, he tries to analyze the waveform the whistling produces and run the sound in general against known frequencies for different voices (he presumes human, in this case, as it has all the hallmarks—trying to account for distortion), but it doesn't tell him much. Whatever's... he hesitates to think "wrong", but the word's there all the same—whatever's wrong with it isn't something he can pull on standard data assessment for, and he isn't specialized enough to try to go deeper.
When his tracking leads him in what feels like a giant circle (and mapping agrees), X frowns. A balcony? Alarm is a familiar feeling but what runs through him now is loud, and X braces against the railing to scan for... scan for...?
(there's a weight on the backs of his shoulders, a force, and he tips forward, grip lost on the banister as it bends and squeals and X can feel the ground come rushing up towards him, velocity screaming by, and his systems will not comply, will not let him re-calibrate, correct his angle to land as safely as possible in the circumstances—how can this be so high up? and there's the—)
Sensors slam him with error reports, cognition arguing with tactile sensory arguing with spatial awareness and his stabilizers and a host of other branching senses, as X starts out of that unreal feeling. Internal temps read too high, and it's difficult to pinpoint what just happened. Hand pressing against his face, X takes a step back from the balcony, breathing heavily to try and disperse that heat.
The banister's fine.
He's still on his feet. Hasn't moved an inch until now.
"What on earth..."
v. Wildcard!
Come poke a weird android.
Something Whistling
Veritas is surprisingly decisive when he moves towards the strange whistling he detected on his way to his own room. While at this point he is well aware of the dangers of approaching a sound he can't 100% confirm is real, he prefers to have his experiences observed first hand rather than told to him. He's a skeptic by nature, and second hand sources of information must always be analyzed for potential biases and outside influences. So he follows the sound to its source towards a balcony where he finds a mechanical, no, bionic? Android?
His first thought was he was looking at an Intellitron. But the bulk and color of the frame looked different from the usual gold coloration characteristic to them. Though he can chalk it up to design choices or... perhaps someone from another world entirely unfamiliar to the universe he knew of had arrived once more to the vessel.
"Are you quite alright?" He calls out to the figure, approaching the balcony. He ignores the piercing laughter pressing up against his ear, frowning at the mockery in the sound as he presses a finger to his temple. "I don't suggest leaning over the banister too far. Nothing but tangled mess of roots and overgrowth with festering mold and mildew down there."
no subject
"Sorry?" Oh. "No, I..." X looks back to the banister, frowning faintly at it. "I'm fine, thanks." A little bewildered though, maybe. And while his first thought is to ask about the presence of the plants in general (mold? mildew? outside of stagnant water, X can't think of the last time he encountered any associated with plants, much less from overgrowth), there's a parallel thought process that takes priority. "I'm sorry if this sounds strange, but..." Armoured arms fold across his middle, weight shifting to one foot, and X considers the banister, the entry to this space, and back to this new person, "did you hear whistling?"
X isn't confident in his logs, scrolling over them even as he asks because this is strange. Auditory data? Present. He definitely heard something, but the missing information, the conflicts?
...But then he actually processes who he's looking at. Who in the world...? It might've been a long while since humans walked the surface, but X does not remember them dressing this way. It does call on some of his pre-programmed information, provided courtesy of his creator, and so all X can think is a curious "Hellenistic".
no subject
"I do." They're still cackling in his ears even as they have this conversation, making his head pound. "They're fond of playing pranks," he clarifies. He doesn't really know how far they go, only heard it from second hand knowledge himself, but he's aware they can exert some force into the world around them. Not dissimilar to a Wubaboo but significantly more malicious and ill-intended, he surmises from this experience.
"One of those pranks would have you tumbling over that ledge." He glances at inquisitive look in the bionic's demeanor, no doubt trying to find the source of such trickery, and enlightens him with what he knows. "They aren't real, as in, there's no living person to trace the sound to. More like... lingering ghosts. If that helps to explain things. Whoever voices these belonged to are long gone."
ii. Lights On, Show Start
The lights are flickering around here, and the risk of dodging possible lively plants keeps his mind engaged enough to not dwell on the nightmares much, and that's plenty entertainment for him. Lights suddenly turn on nearby. "Here we go," he says, grinning. He does a spin on his heel and runs, stepping and hopping where seemed right to avoid shooting vines and sprouting ferns-
His foot catches on something much more solid, metal??? Which sends him tumbling to the floor in a sprawled heap-
Something whizzes right over his head, inches from where his face had just been. Well then. "How lucky..." he mutters, rubbing his head.
It's dark again, so the plants are still. His eyes dimly glow as he looks around for what he'd tripped over. A fallen beam? A cabinet? No-
A. Person? Aventurine squints...they look like an Intellitron, but also...not. Bulkier design. Was it one of the ship's droids?? Either way, it could be sentient. He gives a sheepish smile.
"Apologies, I didn't see you there. Are you alright?"