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

[justthewind]

That's not what the jungle thinks, and it's meaner than you are.

[ Jungle, her mouth still shaping that word tentatively. Rhymes with bungle. Sounds kind of dirty, if you asked the Dag, and even if no one ever does, she'll point it out eventually.

She stays on her branch, as if not prepared to share the ground with him. Not because he scares her, but because she might try to hug him, and then she might cry because she wishes he were Cheedo instead, or Furiosa, and simultaneously doesn't wish that at all because they shouldn't be here either.

Too right. ]

What's that make you, anyway; someone who should be anywhere?

[theroadwarrior]

Yes.

[He says it in an utterly matter-of-fact way. Did you expect anything else? He reminds himself that they hang off rigs and other tall places, so he has no reason at all to tell her she shouldn't be up there. Really, it's just typical for the people in the wastelands to be up high on something or another. Yes. Mhmm.

...

He points up at her.]

Should get down before you fall.

[What, he's just saying.]

[justthewind]

[ Her stare is fixed, her mouth thinning into a line. He is just saying, and maybe if it was an order, she would have hissed something at him like they'd only just met and climbed all the higher. But he's just saying. And they haven't just met.

The Dag twists, hooking an arm on the sturdy branch, ducking towards the trunk, all reaching limbs and bony fingers. In her short time here, she's become good at climbing, in that her toes and fingers seem to find every required hold.

Which doesn't mean she doesn't skid the last foot down, a thin exhale sharp through her nose as she lands, boots amongst the jungle ground. She stares at him again, that same flat kind of gaze that always looks at once unseeing as well as vastly receptive, before tilting a look at all the scattered pods, her basket looking worse for wear. ]

You gonna help me pick this up or what?

[theroadwarrior]

[He grunts a displeased little noise like she's entirely unfair -- she's the one who dropped the basket, not him, but he still is in the process of stooping down on his good knee anyway to help collect her fallen goods. It'd be bad if they were left to rot or bruise any worse; maybe Dag will reward him something with a crunch to it. Or maybe she'll wag her finger in his face for complaining wordlessly about salvaging her fallen goods.

He's still deciding if she is someone he can only handle in small doses. But at least she's not telling him to choke on a dick, so. Progress made. Max should be proud of his budding relationships.

He holds up the basket, straight-faced and surly; he's about what she'd remember up close, though he has a new scar; his forearm has a hand-shaped burn, fresh and pink. And his beard is a bit itchier, darker now that it doesn't get as sun-bleached.]

Did they, hm - tell you what's happened?

[He made the wives' safety and needs a priority.

What a horrid mistake that was. He's already regretting it. Damned basket. Stupid bloody thing, reminding him of the Fury Road and the people who took up space around him.]