thetube | Test Drive Meme: August 2015

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Welcome to the Underground test drive meme! This is where you can try out the AU version of your character, start some potential CR and get a feel for the world of the game. Choose your character's species, read up on the available factions and you're ready to go. Put your character's name in your subject line when you post, tag out, and have fun!

Note to current players: Activity in this meme counts as game canon! So you can use it for activity check. If you end up playing anything that you can't or don't want to use as game canon, it's fine to ignore it. (In that case you shouldn't submit it for activity check.)

For prospective players: Thinking about bringing a character to the game? Feel free to comment to our Potential CR Planning meme for OOC planning and discussion.

Here are some prompts to inspire you:

1) BABY COME BACK. Is there someone you miss? Maybe you've come to visit for the first time in months. Maybe you'll even stay.

2) FULL MOON. (29th August) Uh oh, it's that time of the month. Werewolves, have you been feeling more aggressive lately? A little short of temper? Better start preparing for your monthly transformation and hope that you don't get interrupted. And then there's the morning after, which feels like a massive hangover. Wait, where are your clothes?

3) CARNIVAL. (30th-31st August) It's the August bank holiday weekend and that can only mean one thing: the Notting Hill Carnival! With the sun high in the sky, enjoy the parade, the music and of course the food. Jerk chicken, anyone?

4) SPECIAL EFFECTS. There's nothing like a touch of subtle magic to add to the occasion. Dress up and show off. Mind you, there could be other supernatural types around who see straight through your tricks.

5) PARTY ALL NIGHT. It's not over when the sun goes down. Get yourself to one of the bars or after-parties and keep on partying. Just don't drink too much. You know it makes it harder to control your powers... and your urges.

6) BRAWL. The police work hard to keep London's gangs away from Carnival. When you have supernatural gangs to contend with, their job gets a whole lot harder. Drunk and disorderly or simply looking for an excuse to cause trouble, encounters between rival factions can soon become hostile. Now are you here to cause a fight or to stop it?

7) NIGHT IN JAIL. Oops. What did you do? And who's that with you?

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

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[ CARNIVAL ]

Only a Strider will understand what a Strider's line of thinking, reasoning, and bullshitting. A Strider is supposed to be inscrutable, confusing. To try and understand them is the first rookie mistake of anyone ever.

So anyone wondering why Dave has covered himself in enough bright orange feathers to shame some of the parade dancers' headdresses, as he sips from a bedazzled Storbucks cup that's bedazzled enough to weaponise the sun's rays, can only blame themselves for thinking they'll understand the mysteries of the Strider right off the bat. What's there to understand? It's the Notting Hill Carnival, one of the sickest events he looks forward to every year. (Not that he'll tell anyone that.)

He notices someone gawking at his attire before he raises a drink at them in faintly mocking fashion before downing it one go. He gives a burp, wipes his mouth the back of his hand, and then finally greets them with a deadpan, "hey. 'Sup man. Before you ask me - I made these bad boys. Original creation; do not steal."

[ BRAWL ]

He came in to have a good time and he feels so attacked right now.

'Course a couple of assholes had to try and ruin the fun by having the biggest dickus contest nearby. He was going to ignore it until he noticed a couple of people he knew looking uncomfortable and sigh. Someone had to step in and save the day, didn't they? He didn't have anything else to do but binge on the chicken.

"Ladies, ladies--" Bro taught him a lot of things but he's gotta admit flashstepping is a handy thing to have in situation like these. He steps in between the two pissed off dudes who look more like examples of swole gone wrong than real human beings. Werewolves? Fae who got into bodybuilding too much? Magic plastic surgery gone wrong? The options are endless but his drawl will always be the same, "I think we can agree that we all badly want Nic Cage to put his bunny in our box but think of the children here--"

Okay: Judging by the wild swipe they made at him, causing him to jump back to avoid the sloppy punch, they didn't like that opinion of his. Sorry Egbust but he's gotta admit the assholes here have an idea what taste is.

Even if it looks like the two arguing assholes look like they're going to tag team him to crush his head in a mean game of patty cake. At least he'll have the warm fuzzy knowledge he got them to stop shouting at each other by focusing their sweaty rage at him. Way to go. Gold star. "At least I get to die the way I lived: Getting beat on by a sweaty awkward thirty-year-old guy."

[ NIGHT IN JAIL ]

Welp. That could have gone worse.

After forcing himself to pester someone to bail him out and pay first and ask questions later, Dave finds himself forced to wait in the cramp jail cell with someone else. If he finds them staring at him and his awesome if tarnished attire weird or anything, Dave keeps his face blank and his tone cool as usual. Cool as a pickle in a fridge box in Antarctica during a blizzard, man. That's him.

"Got a polaroid camera or something? I'm ready for my close up." A ridiculous swing of the cape/boa he's wearing cements his 'too cool to care' aura he's keeping up despite looking like he got tossed down a flight of stares after being warned about them, bro. "I always wanted to be on 'Nottings Gone Wild.' Do you think my daddy will finally love me if he sees me here, all hot and bothered?"

It's been a while since Aradia's visited the Carnival. She used to go every year, but... well. Previous shenanigans, untimely death, etc. The narrative knows the score by now. But she needed a pick-me-up this year, and she had been getting better at the whole manifesting thing lately, so what's the harm?

Turns out the harm was barely dodging a street brawl. Oops.

Most people can't even see her, this she knows, and she can practically feel Will's disapproval over her breaking her word already but- but some poor idiot's in over their head and she doesn't stop to think. Just anchors herself to the nearest streetlight and reaches for something to throw, planning to start a steady barrage of rocks at the nearest thug to hopefully give the Dude an opening to fight back. Or run, if that's more his style.

Something about him looks familiar, though. It's hard to place and it'll bug her all night, but something keeps gnawing at her attention. Whatever, she'll pick at it later when New Dude isn't in danger of becoming a pretty chalk outline on the pavement.

It takes him a second to realise it wasn't a really weak punch from someone else that hit the back of his head. It was a rock, little one at that, followed by another and another and whoa it's raining pebbles. Is bam-bam going to come join in on the fun or?

Whatever. Dave is sure as hell not going to complain that much since he just needs to take a sidestep and have the guys have fun in their bonkkake and have a bit of comeuppance for being a pair of dickweeds that needed to be wedded out by the weediest weeder who ever wedded and that's going to be him now, thanks.

He's not supposed to use his flashstep so much in public but then again Chip and Dale over here aren't supposed to cause a ruckus and try to beat his ass into the ground and they're still trying to. Using the flying rocks as an advantage, he quickly moves around them and borrows someone's glittery parade stick. It'll have to do since he can't haul his shitty sword around and finds it has just as a satisfying THWACK sound to hit when he hits Chip across the back.

Looks like Chip's been skipping leg day with how quick he is to reel into Dale, smashing into each other like a wrecking ball. Look, man, he never meant to start a war, he just wanted to let Nic Cage in. Maybe instead of using force, he should have let them win.

… Nah.

"Thanks," he said aloud as he braces himself with the parade stick in front of him, stance taut and ready for a hoedown. Either someone is helping him out and he can't see them or maybe there is a god out there since there are real life furries running around the town. "Didn't think I'll get help but guess I owe you a solid. An I.O.U from me to you with a dash of a thanks and fist bump if you're up to that sort of thing."

It's lucky the rocks did enough to help. There's not much more she really can do in a fight besides break a few lights, and that gets messy fast - besides, she's trying to cut back on those. Mostly. It's a habit she has to stop, because that gets way too addictive and there's probably a metaphor about that somewhere.

And then time stalls, because Aradia can't tell if the monotone 'thanks' means The Dude realized she was there or not. It's always such a headache trying to figure out who can do what, honestly, so it's faster to bite the bullet and edge into view. If he can see her, it'll become pretty clear soon.

If he can't, then she's going to feel like an idiot. Even chance of both, really.

"You're welcome! I figured evening the odds a little wouldn't hurt," and her voice wavers for a moment, her worry over being seen or not impacting her manifesting but-- no, concentrate. Maybe if she's lucky she can focus hard enough to be seen regardless. Or he'll walk off during the one-sided silence, if she fails. "Since they looked like they were cheating. Being twice your size and all."

Then she winces, because way to go Megido, already insulting someone two steps into a conversation. "I mean. I might need a rain-check on the fist bump. Not so good with anything involving hands these days."

"Wha--" Dave, for a second, stills just as Aradia moves in front of him. For a second, the coolkid facade breaks a bit as his brow furrows and the straight line of his mouth moves enough to be considered a possible maybe frown. Thanks to all the witches, vampires, werewolves, and shit, the activity could be enough to have spirits be seen if someone spots them at the right time in the right space in the right light if the air is decent enough. It almost looks like he could see her but the moment is ruined since a mood killer runs headlong at him faster than a sudden image of Nana Egbert sporting the latest version of Bro's smuppet swimwear and oh christ he really likes making it hard on him.

Dale finds enough breath from Chip's bungled snuggle session to charge like a bull seeing red on a Spaniard during the Pamplona encierro and Dave is the Spainard wearing the bitchingest red during the encierrno so ándale ándale for him please hold the phone as he rolls to the side and sticks his foot out, making the guy trip and fall face first to the pavement.

Eat the aftertaste of knockoff converse sneakers and glitter, bitch. Dave got rid of one of them for now and he looked fabulous in his orange feathered boa/cape thing too. Watch him get on Hot Hillingdon Monthly after this. Dave Strider, tagteamed by two buff beefcakes and gives all he's got and what spunk what determination what oh hey looks like Chip got him in a headlock.

"Whoa dude how about some personal spa--aurgh." Chip tightens his headlock harder in response and Dave is now starting to wear the bitchingest red but it was on his face and it was going to clash with cape how tacky. Oh yeah he was suffocating too under the hands of a giant sweatasaurus. "I could, er, use a miracle mile over here, falling rock skies perouugn-- Easy there, champ! Gotta buy me dinner fuuurgh."

He saw her. Even if it was only for a moment, even if it ended in a maybe-flicker of discomfort and even if it promptly turned into the Running of the Creeps, the fact remains that The Dude actually saw her. It's a novelty that never quite fades, and it doesn't hurt that it gave her a clear view of him, too. The shades give her some clues, but... no dice. Either way; connection established, good deed achieved, time to move on - only then the game changes and oh dear.

Aradia watches in shock as Dave gets lifted into a chokehold, reflexively crying out despite knowing that it's pretty useless, how does yelling even help. Throwing rocks is immediately ruled out - she'd run the risk of hitting him too, and there's no guarantee the jerk would even feel it. Which leaves her with a grand total of not much. Lights? No, wouldn't work, it'd require him being near one when she possessed it--

Wait.

This is probably the worst idea she's had in at least a month. But she sprints forward all the same, forgoing manifesting in favour of throwing herself at-through-into Chip the Thug, and trying to work out how to make her shaky willpower work in her favour in the process. Possessing people can't be too much harder then falling into computers and fountains in theory, all it takes is shoving her sense of self at theirs and hoping that they break before she does. Right?

Eugh. Bodies are gross. This is the worst idea ever. "Drop him!"

"Drop him!"

Dave looks up if the rubberband noodle that he's calling a neck will let him do that, staring at his current choking choker chokey through his sunglasses with a deadpan stare. "Drop what? My balls? Buddy, they've been swinging free like my people a looong time agoooooh fuck."

Rude much? Looks like Chip is the hit it and drop it type of guy and gives Dave more reason than ever to make the guy see more stars than on the parade's dancers. At least he's out of that chokehold, not!gasping for air as he gets back on his feet and is quick to flashstep to keep a healthy distance between them now to survey the battlefield where everyone is a jerk and no one wins except the guys filming this all for Youtube. Awesome.

The asshole looks like he's going to shit enough bricks to make the big bad wolf have some nightmares and he's still going to look pained as fuck. Serves him right: Give a hit, take a shit.

Now Dave as two choices at this point he could either walk away and ahahaha yeah no let's finish this.

"Hi my name is Dave Strider and welcome to Jackass.

Eat your hearts out, Youtubers, as Dave runs at full speed at the dude looking like he's going to pee stale apple juice from his nipples as the orange feathered boy runs, jumps, and gives a hell of a dropkick that's aimed right at the chest. So he falls flat on his back and ass after that.

Worth it to hear the sounds of a man who's going to feel that in the morning and the morning after like the aftertaste of a bad night out in the pub because Dave Strider is the hangover you wish you never had but is teaching you that you're not god. It gives him a minute to catch his breath, debate his life choices, and look around the crowd of gawkers and cheerers to see if he saw what he really saw earlier because no way it could really be--

While Dave's in the process of doing a talented acrobatic pirouette off of Chip's chest, Aradia's busy completely freaking out in the poor bastard's head.

The sensation that comes with possessing a living being is hard to describe to a non-ghost. She can feel everything, down to the individual thumps of his heart and the rough abrasion of his greasy wifebeater shirt on skin, there's no chance to filter it out and it's distracting and awful and she wants it to stop. Feedback bounces between spirit and host in a ever increasing loop, and if poor Chip's not already off his rocker from the Strider-approved beatdown by tomorrow, the migraine Aradia's leaving behind would probably finish the job.

In reality, it only takes a few seconds post-escape for her to be violently ejected, but it feels like an eternity. She doesn't so much hit pavement as get absorbed into it, glitching through the surface layer and. This sucks. She misses the missing chunks of her soul all the more now. "I regret everything."

Hopefully The Dude got away safe in the meantime. She didn't get a chance to check in the confusion. Owch.

Chip and Dale are down for the count and they better be: Chip looks like he's seen some shit after taking a nasty shit and is just refusing to move, looking like a pink buff starfish trying to do photosynthesis or something. Dale is still tasting gravel for breakfast in the coming months, knocked out cold like he was hit by the Stone Cold Stunner itself. It's safe to say that this is won for sure by yours truly with a bit of help.

Go Team Strider and Pebble Rain.

Though someone had the audacity to realise maybe they should stop this before someone got a real weapon on their hands and started calling for security to break up the fight when the fight was over seven minutes ago. Get with the times, grandpa in the nipple tassels.

Realising the jig was up faster than EggMcmuffin loudly proclaiming something dweeby in an attempt to impress him, Dave gets back on his feet and is ready to hide back in the ground when the beat of his head kicks in and the memories snap in place and oh yeah wasn't there someone here but now they're not here all Deception-style?

"--Hey?" He looks around, trying to see the person through the crowd. Still around, mystery chum? Were you real or did the chokehold allow him to see the face of god which happens to be a familiar face he knows in the past or what. "Hey. I'm serious about the fist bump. Least I can do. You didn't leave me hanging so I won't leave you hanging my mysterious saviour-sempai."

"Do you think I might convince you to stop talking?"

His cellmate is a middle-aged man, watching Dave with a very deadpan sort of exasperation; he ran out of patience some time ago, in the course of breaking up a particularly idiotic, very public fight. He looks rumpled and lightly bruised, as a result. Witches do not have much advantage in the physical sense, especially with witnesses.

But the accent's fairly posh, and he's not budged from his seat at the edge of the cot, for all that he keeps looking Dave over a bit too intently.

He gets the vague impression of power; the boy is-- something. He's really making a strong effort to care what. Between the eye-searing cape of orange feathers, and the fairly horrific babbling, he's becoming more inclined to ignore each other peaceably and wait this wreck of a situation out.

Man he should have seen Dave's bedazzled Storbucks if he wanted to see something wild but those bastards took it away when locking him up. The only danger his drink was going to be someone's waistline but only if they're a dirty liar and does it look like his hips lie, your honour?

Okay but really -- The first fight he got into was just as justifiable since he tried to break up the fight. The second one he thought he was in the right to deck the asshole's halls with his first because if Chip and Dale can't get away with being obnoxious assholes, he sure as hell isn't going to let someone insult his mother. He's going to be all up in her defence like Jean Valjean on the barricades.

Not that the popo got the gist of so here he is.

"What? We gotta pass the time here while we're trapped, trapped like rats. Since I don't think you're the type to play footsies, twenty questions seem like a good way to go." Dave shrugs the coolest shrug he could shrug, acting like it's every day someone offers to do foot play with a stranger in a cramper jail cell as they waited to be let out.

It flew in the U.S.A -- thanks Obama -- but maybe London here is different since they do spell their shit weird. "What are you in for?"

Giles is looking at Dave now with a sort of dawning horror. The babble isn't panic at being tossed in a jail cell, with or without an irritable stranger, is it. Is he high on something? Is that what they've thrown him in for? Does he just do this?

To be entirely honest, he has nothing better to pass the time. Perhaps someone should be enjoying the night, and he certainly hopes that the outfit and... demeanor serve some purpose, even if it's surely not for him.

"Oh, attempting to convince several idiots not to complicate their night and mine." He tips his head in a gesture to their general surroundings. "Unsuccessfully."

And, in case he ought to spell it out more effectively for the American, or in case it will head off something inane: "I was trying to break up a fight."

If Dave's high on anything it happens to be the sweet knowledge he won his fight, hands down, and that he looked fabulous while doing so. Welcome to Dave Strider's twisted mind. ♐ 19 ♐. Single and ready to never mingle. Anti-sincerity. Pro-irony. Unicorngate Supporter.

It takes him a second to realise teach over here is saying he got into a fight to make love, not blackeyes. And he wound up in here? Shit, thanks England-Obama.

And shit--

"--Oh. Shit. You're that dude who was nearby when someone said they played my mom like a video game controller." An offence. A grave offence that warranted Dave smacking the idiot's head in hopes it'll help get dislodged from his ass and see the light of Dave and learn the first commandment of Thou Shall Not Talk Shit If They Cannot Take a Hit. "Proper 'sup man. Didn't think I'll see your shoes here since they're the goody two brand."

"Ah." Yes, by Giles' profoundly unimpressed impression, he does in fact remember that. "Which makes you the one--"

Well. The crowd of absurdly-dressed and variously drunken idiots had all run together, after a point. But the boy had certainly done a number of things, none of them appreciated in Giles' night, before he was distracted by the ensuing chaos. And then the following responsibility, as the most sober and respectable-looking man to have not yet bolted or swaggered or stumbled away, of dealing with the police.

"And yet here I am." Doesn't he sound delighted about it, too. "Leaving further tourists to knock each other senseless in the street. Do let's hope the city is still standing by the time we're let out."

"The one who gave such a sweet asskicking Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris would be blue balled over where they are if they saw me at my best which was my best." Yep. That's him alright. The Terror in the Streets. The American Dream. The Dave Strider himself.

And the one stuck in a carnival jail because he couldn't flashstep out in time before someone grabbed him by the end of his fabulous cloak, tugging him back like it's all Roadrunner up over there. In the distance, he could hear the saddest trombones doing their best 'wah wah waaaah' as he flashbacks a bit to what lead up to his arrest.

He leans back on the bench and kicks his legs to rest against the bars. The guard keeping an 'eye' on them gives him a look but doesn't bother to reach over and rap his baton against the bars to keep the Texan heathen off them. Fuck yeah to laziness. "Aw hell no man. By the time we get out, I bet it'll be a post apocalyptic wasteland moment we set our foot out of here. Fire in the streets, riots everywhere, everyone suddenly ditching comfortable cotton clothes for heavy leather with pots and pans nailed here, there, and everywhere. Just like my gritty animes.

"I bet we gotta team up and everything when we get out. You the jaded and tired oldcomer and me the wide-eyed innocent youngling taken under your wing to warm your heart and the under of your collar." He pauses after that long rambling as if somehow, someway, what he just said to a total stranger registers at long last but nope. "I gotta admit I hope that isn't the case. I just finished paying off for my turntables and I bet you have a million seniors' discount places you don't wanna see burned up to ashes."

Giles does not, in fact, have the first idea what an anime is, but all the babble runs together after a point so he mostly doesn't care. He nods along in the way of someone humoring a panhandler they do not intend to give money to. Or a raving madman who ought to be escorted gently, so he won't snap at the first sudden move.

It's really very difficult for his expression to be more deadpan unimpressed, but somehow he manages. It's a true talent.

"I'd rather see my collar unmolested for five entire minutes." Given that he just recently had a-- werewolf? someone he could have dropped had it been a proper fight, but not in a crowd-- tangling an unwashed hand in it not an hour previous. But he settles further on his edge of the bench, tips his head as if in consideration. Why not: there's nothing better to do. "Do you think the wasteland would be quiet, though? It might be rather worth it."

Tavros is fairly certain he's never seen that much bedazzling in one place. That takes time, effort, and worst of all, a complete dedication to the art. A devil may care attitude is something he almost can't help but admire! Especially out in public like this. It's almost admirable.

Almost.

It does make him feel pretty plain. While the bright stranger is all dressed up, he's sitting in a greasy t-shirt and muddy jeans. Definitely not carnival attire... Maybe he should have changed? Mm. Too late now.

He's about to turn back around and go right back to minding his own business when the stranger catches him staring. Caught off guard, the best thing he musters is a startled: "What?"

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Test Drive Meme: August 2015

DAVE STRIDER | HOMESTUCK | META HUMAN/HUNTER-IN-TRAINING

BRAWL! \o/ also that username omg

YAY AND I FOUght long and hard for this username, you have no idea

it's a battle well fought tbh it's so beautiful

i like to think it is and these two i love them aaaah

they are the best time player trainwreck this town's ever seen

get #rekted town, watch them cause a pileup in bad life choices intersection

harken now the ancient words of mine ancestors, dave strider: do it for the vine.

yesss and! first time they met, instead of fighting they ended up playing cards. aradia won.

Jail!

Whoo! In advance I'm sorry for Dave's everything.

nah man I play Nepeta sometimes you have no idea

oh my gosh i saw that conversation with skull. no pressure but /excited vibrating

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carnival