oasismods | JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

"-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐"

You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...

You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash.

You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable.

Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go.

"W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ"

With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.

[MOD NOTES: TDM threads may be used as game canon.]

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Feel free to ask 'em here.

[ Whiplash is definitely something Newt wasn't expecting when he opened his eyes, but there it was, his neck sore, head hurting, back in just as much agony. It takes him a moment to blink away the confusion from dark eyes as he looks down at the crisscross seatbelt that has him hooked in securely. The agitating sounds of alarms going off are ignored from the time being as anxious dark eyes travel around the room. Last he remembers he was planning to help Tommy murder the woman who stole Minho from them.

This isn't a good sign, waking up in a strange place and not having any memory of getting there...

Fingers hover over the press in to release the belt from around him. There are others in here, he can see them, hear them groaning and breathing. Finally he presses the red button in that releases him from his confines, seemingly able to breathe now.

What the bloody hell is going on?

His foot thumps against a backpack under his seat, and he takes a moment to haul it up into his lap, barely able to unwedge it. It takes him a moment to actually get his legs working but he stands, pulling the backpack onto his back. Getting out of that noisy place was his first priority, he needs to think. Yeah, that'll go great after he trips over the person sitting next to him's legs. ]

Shit. Sorry.

What supplies are in the backpack?

He'd managed to grab the bag, but he hadn't managed to brace himself for what came next. Hell, to say he'd tensed up the second the dark came, would be an understatement. While he'd never been an outright coward, there were some unfamiliar situations that had him briefly scrambling for the solution to them.

And that definitely wasn't enough to stop him from moving forward...

With a firming expression, he ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. He ignored the way his knees felt the tiniest bit unsteady. It was all just a dream or something, right? Heh... As if. It felt too real to be a damn dream. Either way, he wasn't ready to give up anytime soon! He'd keep going, and he'd fight his way through all of it, no matter what it took.

So, he could be found making his way through the ship, doing everything to find some kind of weapon.

Edited 2016-01-28 04:28 (UTC)

The backpacks include typical survival gear: rope, two bottles of water, two bags of trail mix, what appears to be Aspirin, a small blanket, a small flashlight with an extra pair of batteries, and a water filter either a life straw or water purification tablets. And of course his ear piece for the audio network.

If he's lucky, he'll have one of the ones with a hunting knife or a hammer in it but those seem to be in short supply.

Around the ship there seem to be stockpiles of trail mix, various other non-perishables, and full water jugs as well. A few other player decided items may be found as well, as far as weapons go a character will be lucky to find a handheld tool, and there are no spoiling foods.

Will the be arriving in their canon clothes as well?

Yes, in all their walker guts glory. There will be abandoned stores in the city that will give them the opportunity to get more clothes or change.

He will only be worried about his crossbow and the six knives he likes to carry being gone. At least he has his vest. Thanks!

Maybe if there are any characters technical enough they'll get the comms to the station back up and running and he can request them. Cheers!

Waking Up
Daryl was pretty disorientated when he came to. Being strapped into something as high tech as he was shouldn't have been possible. Not with the world the way it was. He unbuckled himself and slid out of the seat, landing hard against the floor before sliding the two feet across the isle into the body opposite him. The occupant was dead and no someone he recognized. Hell, nothing he saw was anything he recognized beyond the clothes on his back.

The dead body he was leaning against wasn't moving or trying to grab him, so unless it's brain stem got severed in the crash, because this was definitely a crash of some sort, it was recently dead enough not to reanimate. Yet. Daryl wasn't going to chance it and patted himself down for his knife.

Which was missing.

"Shit," he muttered and lunged across the space back to the seat he'd been in. The footing wasn't good, the transport he was in sitting too much at an angle to stay upright without effort. But the belts used to strap him in could also be used to brace him while he took a look around. It didn't take long to figure out there were backpacks under the seats with some very basic supplies. So the transport was probably a military one. Only question was, how in the hell had he gotten on it and who were the others he'd been traveling with?

At the sound of another person coming to, Daryl jerked his head around to watch them carefully.

Welcome to the Jungle
He'd grabbed three backpacks from beneath the seats of the dead and used a broken off piece of metal bracing that had twisted out of place to stab each one of those bodies through the eye. They hadn't yet gotten to the point of walking again, but he wasn't taking any chances. There were more backpacks under the seats. Just that Daryl couldn't carry that much alone and the angle of the ship was one he didn't want to fight with. And, well, there were other people in there, too.

Some of them had woken with him. Some would wake up soon enough. And they'd wake up outside the ship because he'd unbuckled all the wounded and living he could that were still out of it and brought them out. Laid them out as comfortably as he could while he started going through the supplies he'd grabbed for himself. They could scavenge their own.

But since they were the only people around that he could see, he'd wait until they woke up before he went exploring any further. Maybe they knew what was going on.

There was a familiar comfort in the darkness. Not from what her father had taught her, but thanks to her travels over the past year. Despite everything that had happened to him, Yuri didn’t abuse the power of darkness. He had protected her, many times over, and proved to everyone that there was more to him than the brash exterior he constantly showed. Proved that evil wasn’t as black and white as she once thought, when she lacked more perspective of the world.

Bless his heart, that brave soul. Her heart briefly clenched, almost as tightly as she clutched her bible to her chest. Alice had tried to make her way to the pilot and heal him, but it was too late. She prayed for his safe return to God, and anyone else that might have been aboard the aircraft. Just in case there were any survivors, she began to search through the ship, accompanied only by the sound of her soft breaths.

Quite honestly, Mikaela is most likely the first person off the ship and out into the sun. He would much rather deal with the grueling sun than stay one minute with bleeding humans. Since he's one of the first people off the ship, it means he's also one of the first to reach the crumbling wall.

It isn't all that different from what he's used to back in his own world although the jungle scenery is new. The one backpack Mika did manage to grab before abandoning the ship and all of its passengers is lifted to one shoulder. He doesn't look back at the ship or the people either pouring out of it or still inside.

Clearly Mika does not care about the others who were in the crash and fully intended to continue on by himself. Which is exactly what he was going to do until the presence of someone else disrupted that plan.

Whoever it is will have one blond, blue-eyed, serious-looking teenager staring at them and not saying a word.

Bucky had been in and out of consciousness for several minutes now, but he was finally pulling fully out of his daze. The soldier took stock of his position, the straps around his chest, and the ache of his body. A helicopter crash? Had the Handlers found him again? He couldn't give away his awareness. He evened out his breathing before opening his eyes, which adjusted quickly to the darkened interior. Not a helicopter, then. Some kind of carrier?

The man across from him stirred and the soldier instinctively reached for his knife--it was gone. All of them were gone, as well as his guns and various explosives. But as he watched Daryl move and react, he seemed just as lost. Then he made sure the dead stayed dead and began moving the unconscious and wounded outside. Somehow the man's actions felt... right. So when Dixon passed him, he ignored the programmed instinct to lash out like a concealed snake and instead, cleared his throat subtly then unbuckeled his harness.

"Those men were already dead." James commented coolly, voice rough with disuse. He grabbed a backpack and rifled through it to take inventory of what he had.

He opted to offer Dixon a hand and wrenched a mangled seat out of the narrow path so Daryl could reach the rest of the survivors. The metal plates in his arm shifted and locked, preparing for the stress of the weight before he twisted it from the bulkhead completely to relocate the mess of metal and pleather out of the way.

The man with the metal arm. Daryl had pinned him for being unconscious the whole time and had been planning on leaving him for last. He looked dangerous, but more than that, he looked heavy. And Daryl figured he'd best move the people who were lighter out of the way before attempting to tackle a load like that.

When the man spoke, Daryl clutched his make-shift weapon all the tighter. And when the man pulled a seat up and twisted it off like it was little better than a turkey leg, Daryl braced himself against another seat and reassessed the threat the man held. He had the look of someone trained to fight. And while Daryl hadn't seen many prosthetics in his day, he knew they weren't nearly that advanced before the outbreak. At least not for the everyday folk. Which meant this guy was military. And that supported Daryl's suspicion of being picked up by the wrong group of survivors at some point. When though?

He remained where he was, watching the man for several moments before giving a grunt of acceptance at the help he was clearly providing in getting the rest of the wounded and unconscious. Whoever the man was, he wasn't out to hurt anyone. Not immediately. Daryl would have to watch him, but he could use the help.

"Making sure they stay that way," he answered like the man was stupid. His own voice gruff, accent pinning him from somewhere south of the Mason Dixon line. "Grab the backpack off the bottom of that one and put it outside with the others."

Edited 2016-01-27 14:23 (UTC)

Bucky's brows drew together in confusion briefly at the statement. He'd think it a joke if it hadn't been delivered without even a skipped beat or bat of an eye. He paid the slight tension absolutely no mind. Even his Handlers, at times, treated him like an attack dog that might bite them--truth was, he just might now that memories were flooding back. But this man was, as far as he could tell, not HYDRA. He lacked a distinct logo and didn't quite fit the bill. At all.

"Do they usually not?" The question was out before he could mull over whether he should even speak again or not. Well, okay then. He'd spent the past several months avoiding people, trying to put his own mind back together, and now he was just going to carry on a bizarre conversation with Mr. Backwater Gent with a heart of Gold.

Upon the order, he immediately acted, picking up the backpack and carrying it outside. He dropped it off and only then did he realise that he'd followed through without question. He'd have to focus on shaking that lingering twitch of the programming. Not that Daryl had been wrong in the command or that he would have disagreed with it, but had it been something worse, he would have still acted.

He returned to Dixon's side, moving to help him carry whomever he started dragging out now. "Do you remember boarding this craft or who owned it?"

[ It takes a little while for the world to come into focus, longer still for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and perhaps even more startling than the wreckage is the fact that she has no idea how she got there. She doesn’t remember hopping on a shuttle off Pandora to… wherever this place is. Logically, she knows that the crash could have rattled her brain enough to give her mild amnesia, but she still finds that gap in her memory disconcerting. What she does remember is that this is the second time she’s come to after whatever transport she’d been on has crashed or blown up or been otherwise destroyed. Twice was enough to start constituting a trend, right? And it’s a trend she would rather not see continue.

As it is, she’s battered, bruised and her neck aches something awful. A healing hypo would be more than welcome right now, but she doesn’t spot any immediately in the debris, and she’s never been able to use her own healing abilities on herself. Figures.

Maya works her safety harness off, fumbling in the low light, when the lights go out altogether. Figures.

She’s able to get the damnable thing off and wriggle out of her seat, pointedly ignoring her various aches and pains as she does. She brings a hand up, and the blue tattoos that snake down the length of her left arm, from shoulder to fingertips, begin to glow bright cyan. The Siren conjures an orb of blue-purple light in her palm, illuminating what’s left of the ship’s interior as she takes mental stock of herself. No digistruct device. No weapons. But her powers seem to be fine. Better than nothing, she decides, and takes a better look around. Her eyes land first on the backpack beneath her seat, and no Vault Hunter worth their salt can resist loot of any kind, even a battered backpack. Maya tugs it free and slings it over her shoulder.

Only then does she turn to her fellow survivors, holding her hand up higher to offer them light if they need it. ]

Are you okay? Let me help you with that.

[ Gamora wasn't one to hang around, definitely not at a crash site. The drop ship isn't from any known origin she can ID, nor are their surroundings. That much, okay, she can deal with that, to be entirely honest. The part that frustrates her to no end? Someone took her weapons. Someone who wasn't going to be long for this world as soon as she figured out who, but that's neither here nor there. Instead, she's focusing on re-arming.

While others dally around, groggy and shaken from their sudden and unanticipated arrival, she's gone ahead and thrown out the bags of supplies, out into one big pile. There, outside, she makes quick work of searching each and every one. She's already recovered two knives, already tucked away in her own belt. One hammer, too, although that's been set aside for the time being. Same with medical supplies, food, water; all in all, it looks like she's counting up what they have.

Just, you know, keeping the sharper bits for herself. Next bag rifled through, another knife found. Gamora holds it up into the light to inspect it with a discerning eye. She won't even look away when approached, instead offering a dismissive: ]

Don't even try it.

[ The third knife, probably deemed worthy, ends up stabbed into the ground by her for emphasis. ]

Just behave and maybe I'll let you have one.

Edited 2016-01-27 18:55 (UTC)

"No." Daryl stilled, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Two years in and there was no way anyone didn't know that. Not if they were alive.

He stood up as best he could and watched the other man do as he'd said. Acted like he was used to taking orders. Was it possible the military had kept some of their own in the dark about the virus? For that long? Naw, that didn't make no sense. Of course, Daryl had just woken up in the middle of God knows where, surrounded by God knows who, for God knows what, and God knows how it happened.

And then golden boy was asking the same questions Daryl was asking himself, which halfway shot his theory to hell. So maybe the military did have their ways of making people forgot. Really forget. Or maybe it was a group of survivors who got their hands on enough military tech and supplies it didn't make much difference. Only thing Daryl knew for sure was he didn't have enough information to make a good educated guess. Not yet. That, and if the anyone else didn't know what was going on with the dead, they would have to learn fast. Not if any of them were going to survive for long.

He shook his head and got his arms under the shoulders of the next person, "Nope."

After another few seconds of silence, he offered, "Anyone dies, you get 'em in the head as fast as you can. Gotta be the brain or they'll be up and walking and you'll be the only thing on the menu."

Edited 2016-01-27 19:25 (UTC)

[ Even while dazed and trying to figure out what the hell just happened, Gamora snatching up every backpack she could find was difficult to ignore. It’s no small relief when Maya steps off the ship and finds that the packs have just been piled and not absconded with completely.

The Siren approaches the pile, raising her hands when Gamora makes her threat. ]

Wouldn’t it be better to divide the weapons as evenly as we can? We don’t know what’s living out there.

[ But Maya, that would require sharing. ]

You're right. We don't. [ She looks away from the latest backpack, taking a second to size Maya up. If she's approaching that diplomatically, chances of an immediate fight seem slim. ] I don't plan on taking every knife, but I'm not about to head out there alone until I'm properly armed.

[ To her credit, Maya’s at least going to try diplomacy. ]

What constitutes “properly armed” to you? Because based on the number of knives you seem to have and the number of packs you’ve already gone through, weapons are a rare commodity.

[Alex groans softly, coming around after the chaos of unexpected crash landing, the ship filled with the sound of alarms and screaming until the power suddenly cuts out. Nothing smells right and Alex is reeling under the confusion of what had happened, but one thing was perfectly clear: he hurt all over. He grunts softly, grimacing at a stab of pain above his left eye, and lifts a hand only to draw it back with blood on his fingers. He can feel it running down his face, sticky at the edge of his unbound hair.

His golden eyes open and he looks blearily around the ship, trying to piece together what the he'll had happened. He'd only just left a modeling gig and was on his way back home when... everything just went dark. He frowns, trying to remember what had happened or how he'd gotten here, but it's all just a blank.

The heavily metallic scent of blood hangs in the air, mixed with the burnt electric smell of fried wires and fire. It's the former that worries him the most, as there is no power any longer, nor the sharp scent of gasoline that might warn of an impending explosion. He tries to focus again, body already beginning to heal itself of its injuries; a benefit of his lycanthropy. Fumbling with the criss-cross belt across his chest, he finally manages to release the catch and pulls it up and over his head, grunting as his head spins again.

And then Newt trips over his legs.

Alex reaches out to help steady the other boy, waving the apology away with one hand.]

It's fine... You okay? [Asks the guy with the bleeding head wound; but if Newt pays attention, he might notice that the bleeding begins to slow and the gash appears to be closing as he watches.]

So? Sharpen some sticks. This place looks primitive enough for that.

[ Although that requires her leaving them something to sharpen sticks with. As much as she would like to replace all of her own missing knives, she can't argue that the other woman is wrong. The rest are as lost as she is and she shouldn't be taking just anything she feels like taking, but she'd also been hoping to be long gone before any of them made their way out to call her on it. That makes it infinitely harder to simply abandon them to their fate.

All of which Gamora isn't about to say out loud. Instead, she turns away, back to her search and onto the next pack. In that one, she'll find another hammer, which, again, she sets aside with the other supplies. ]

I suppose I could live with only three.

Something didn't feel right at all. He shouldn't be slowly waking at this point. Had something happen after trying to get back to the Resistance base? There's a groan as the pilot shifts in his seat, shifting against the straps that held him in. Poe's eyes open to a completely different scene though. He expected to be in a single cockpit not an escape pod of some sort. Their had been others around but he couldn't make out any of their faces due to the smoke clouding the pod. The electrical popped and sparked causing him look around for where it came from. He didn't really want to get stuck in something that was about to blow but the lights soon went out. There didn't seem to be any kind of trouble. Not yet at least and he hoped that it would stay that way.

The straps were easy to unbuckle out of and he landed on the ground with a slight wobble. It wasn't anything like that time when he woke up on Jakku. But it was similar, a faint headache but he didn't seem injured. Poe couldn't remember how he ended up in it either. The pilot saw something sticking out from under his seat. He grabbed hold of it and pulled yanking out a backpack. It didn't take him long to sling it on but he wasn't done with the pod just yet.

He takes his time looking over the controls first wanting to see if he could recognize anything. The controls were different from what he had seen. If there was something to read he would to best understand everything. For now he keeps in mind where the communications could be. Poe scavenged for a few more water bottles and an extra backpack before exiting the pod. He would wait around for any others that wake. Going out alone might not be the best idea.

[ There's something about the whole abduction thing that seems so passe to Peter, now. Like, it's so 1988 (just so 2000 and late) but, okay, maybe the crash-landing in some kind of interplanetary transport ship is a new part of the overall package. Not that this is new, either, the waking up on a crashing ship thing. There was this one time on a junker when he was just out of his teens when--

Nope, sorry, storytime is temporarily on hold, seeing as how the crash knocks Peter unconscious.

He wakes in the darkness a few minutes after the impact, when the lights have died and the exposed wires sizzle and pop. He takes stock of himself -- two arms, two legs, a head, and the appropriate number of fingers and toes -- before he finally wrestles with the harness and stumbles out of his seat. Fuck, his shoulder aches something awful, and he's going to be sore as hell come tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow ever comes, wherever this is.

... Where the hell is he, anyway?

There are others on the ship, still. He sees shadowy forms thanks to the light streaming in through the breach in the bulkhead -- and he only notices the presence of the bags when he spots others walking away with them. He grabs up one, claims another from a John Doe, and rummages through it until he finds the flashlight, which he wields with impunity. He casts the light around, examining the interior of the damaged fuselage, and lets out a low whistle. ]

This is a real fixer-upper, huh?

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Page 1 of 27

JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

QUESTIONS

Newt | The Maze Runner

Re: QUESTIONS

Luke fon Fabre | Tales of the Abyss

BACKPACKS

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Daryl Dixon | The Walking Dead

Alice Elliot | Shadow Hearts: Covenant

Mikaela Hyakuya | Owari no Seraph

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maya | borderlands

gamora | guardians of the galaxy

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Alex Marsters // OC wereleopard

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Poe Dameron | Star Wars

Peter Quill | Guardians of the Galaxy