TEST DRIVE MEME 001

[ataraxites]

T E S T   D R I V E   M E M E A R R I V A L You wake up, alone in the dark. There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Through the fog you can see shadows of movement, the muted sound of alarms crying. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're suddenly dropped several feet onto the opposite wall. It takes you several minutes to catch your breath and gather strength in uncooperative limbs; more time still to climb up through the debris to the hole in the outer wall high above. You emerge in bright sunlight, surrounded by an immense jungle. As your vision clears, you realize you stand on the hull of a colossal spaceship, crashed on an alien planet. There's a shout behind you, and as you turn, figures climb over the curve of the ship towards you: your rescue party, weathered and scarred by the efforts necessary for survival. B A S E   C A M P A ramshackle spread of tents and shelters built out of resources salvaged from the ship and gathered from the jungle. Not sleek, not clean, but alive: people coming and going from tent to tent, heading out into the jungle or returning with freshly foraged food. Some are working to build more shelters or improvize working tech out of parts salvaged from the ship; some are cooking; some are just taking shelter from the sun for a while. Whether you find somewhere to help or apply your skills, it's probably a good idea to get to know your neighbors. E X P L O R A T I O N The jungle is dense and green, teeming with life, high calls and cries of strange animals and birds, the low buzz and murmur of insects. There are no paths or notable markings; go too far into the trees and you may not be able to find your way back. Dangers hide in the shadows but there's also food, water - or perhaps you're looking for more, pushing further in a search for answers about this planet you're now living on. Or you can turn your attention to the crashed ship, the huge bulk of it balanced precariously on the edge of a cliff. It creaks and groans in its delicate position, audible from a distant but all the louder should you venture inside. Dark corridors made even more dangerous by the damage to the internal structure, debris and obstacles blocking progress, and any wrong step could cause it to collapse in on you, or send the ship over the cliff. But finding any tech, resources or supplies might just be worth the risk. C H O O S E   Y O U R   O W N . . . Hunt or flee from strange creatures in the jungle, take a try at rock-climbing down the cliff-face, or practise in-game gained abilities. Ataraxion is currently without a network until one is built, but test-driving on a prospective one is also totally fine!

Comments

Re: base!

[hairrands]

AJ dances backwards as he gives her a synopsis of what's likely a tongue-lashing to follow; the guy looks relatively dainty, but with a sword like that strapped to his back she can't make any assumptions. "Listen," she growls, "I need it more than you do; you've got old faithful there, I have shit. You weren't using it."

And then, in a stroke of brilliance, she adds, "I'll bring it back later." She's the sort of person who looks like either she'll do so with a few gauges and a broken hilt later, or else not at all... but the jutted chin and the pursed-lips trying to be an amicable smile are her best attempt. She hates other people, normal humans and strange scarified or tattooed pointy-eared people... she doesn't recognize Fenris from where she'd last lived, but she's seen people like him. Trying to argue her way around him or anyone is likely to be a disaster, which is why the knife has already disappeared into one of her utility pockets like it never existed.

[judex]

If she'd kept growling instead of smiling, Fenris might have decided they were kindred spirits.

That's a joke. Fenris would never decide he was kindred spirits with anyone. But his lip might not have curled with quite so much disdain. "I'm not peeling leaves—" because they've been eating leaves, if she hasn't been informed yet; leaves "—with a sword. You'll find your own."

But the knife is already gone. He scans her, quickly, and then one of his hands shimmers blue-white and translucent, immaterial, darting out as he steps forward to try to test a pocket—sticking his hand through people's clothing is probably an invasion of privacy, but no one's taught him so, apparently. At least he doesn't reach through skin.

It is, just for the record, the wrong pocket.

[hairrands]

It's also the pocket covering one part of her body that AJ would punch a bitch in the nuts for groping. She aims to do so now, giving a shocked and feral snarl of disgust. Her expression isn't far different from one of pure primordial canine rage, and though she is no dirty-fighting pro, she undercuts like she's done this once or twice before, at least to other humans.