TEST DRIVE MEME 001

[rubimods]

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:

CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences.

This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.

✧ ✧ ✧

Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.

THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities.

If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.

FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS

AWAKENING IN PAJAK WOOD

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest warmth of the sun. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the daylight has taken on a sickly green tinge. You lie amongst the mosses and ferns, the soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin. Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born.

Fortunately, you seem to be alone. The birdsong continues as you sit up and get your bearings — aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember. Amongst gnarled oaks and moss, you see nothing around. No sign of civilization or sentient life. Movement flickers at the corner of your eye, but it's just a curious animal — brave squirrels or lizards who have come to see what stirs in their home.

Then, like the rippling of the horizon at noontime, the ash-gray soil around you undulates. Sea, not earth. Something else has come to greet you — their grey bodies blended in so easily with the floor, but as you stagger to your feet, you see them. Thousands of spiders roll like waves underfoot. They crawl towards you from the darker edge of the forest.

attack

Individuals who attack the spiders will find the small spiders are easy to kill, but the pheromones released by their corpses draw larger spiders in their place. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they will attempt to use their webbing to handicap any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.

FAQ: DEATH RULES

hunt

Any aspiring monster-hunters enterprising enough to try to follow the spiders to their nest will move eastward. This way, the forest grows darker and darker — though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset.

In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Soon, you cannot move at all.

Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.

SETTING: THE VOID

But flee the spiders westward and you will discover that the wood is well-populated with the survival resources that someone might seek — berries bushes and trees bearing stone fruits; sticks and dry leaves to aid in the building of a fire; rocks big enough to fashion into crude weapons; small animals that can be hunted or caught; hike long enough, and you might just find the freshwater stream that runs north-to-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads.

What's more, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist hiking parties, others may still be naked and confused and processing how they have no memory of how they got here. They all stagger vaguely, as you do, with only the sun for a waymarker — and even that won't last long.

Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty, as it's going to be a long hike. If you sneak a good look at your new companions, you may four varietals of marks on their bodies. Maybe someone will even point out that you have one, too.

FAQ: CURSE MARKS

EVERY DAY LIKE THE ONE BEFORE

Hike far enough — or long enough that the sun does go down — and signs of life come into view. The glow of fires and lights, the smooth curve of a stone wall. A town sits at the edge of this wood, a reward to the survivors.

The fifty-foot wall of beige stone protecting the town's perimeter has only a single entrance — an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people into town from the winding dirt road. Attentive eyes may note that the road itself bears the mark of many wagon wheels and horse hoofs, but not cars.

guards

The guards grant entry to anyone who attempts a conversation with them. However, if your character is more likely to attempt to sneak in, overcome the guards, or attack them, please reach out HERE.

Inside the wall lies a quaint, historic town with a population around five thousand. The streets are cobbled, and their signs are lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a bank — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.

No matter what time you pass through the gate, the streets are full of people. The climate of the bustle befits a night market or a busy friday downtown — plenty of people to ogle at your exposed body. But despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, the locals don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. In fact, the further into town you go, the more you may notice that they all wear revealing clothing that, to your sensibilities, may seem sexually suggestive. Some individuals openly expose their breasts and nipples, while some others may incidentally reveal when they turn around to tend to their errands that their dress is backless — entirely! If anything, they seem to be under the impression that you're naked to participate in the evening's events with the rest of them.

Those still determined to find proper clothing will find that modern clothing stores aren't a thing here. The closest this town has is a tailor's shop, which is closed for religious observance, and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! The locals will gladly share what they have with those who ask politely — but those items are as revealing as what they're wearing. You might get a mesh bodysuit or drape outfit. Remember not to be ungracious! it's only appropriate for the occasion.

steal clothing

Anyone unwilling to ask nicely for help could break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry. Notably, inside their homes, the people of the town also appear to own some more modest apparel. Be sure to alert us HERE if your character pursues this option.

SETTING: CRIME

And what is the occasion? The locals are excited and flattered by any interest in their ordinary weekly prayer: the folks dancing and selling their wares are all offering their energies to give thanks and ask for their god's patronage! The abstractions are all familiar — fertility, harvest, peace. Smalltalk makes them eager to chat and draw you into those festivities — including some ceremonial wax-dripping on the exposed parts of your body!

Anyone who chats at length with the townspeople will gather that the locals feel it's better for the newcomers to dive into the deep-end because, since you'll be settling in here, they expect you'll want to participate down the line. They seem to be under the impression that the new arrivals are a boon from their god.

In addition, many of the locals' choice of clothes reveal the same four types of marks on their bodies as the folx who were wandering out in the wood!

ROOM AND BOARD

Once you're tired out, the locals will help you find a place to stay. The boarding house is several stories tall and spacious, accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines. Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage.

The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!

Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.

finding roommates

Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.

Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.

Comments

A

[ragnarsson]

Because I am?

[The voice came from the teenager sitting with his back against a tree. He'd been taking a break from trying to struggle towards where he figured the nearest town would lay. Sorry Daryl, Ivar was a sarcastic asshole most of the time. Partially because he was sixteen and everything that entailed and also partially because it was a good defensive mechanisms for those who had mocked him his entire life for being unable to walk.

That fact was quite evident as his legs were sickly, withered things with no developed muscles to them. He'd clearly never taken an unaided step in his life. How had he gotten this far since he woke up amongst the spiders? The multiple scrapes, scratches, and bruises spoke to the fact he'd crawled the entire way. Ivar hadn't gotten through life this long without learning how to do things for himself. Help was always appreciated but he never expected it, so he was used to doing things for himself, even if it was a long hard struggle to do so.]

[dadyl]

[ It takes Daryl a few seconds longer than it should to process what he's seeing because it's just been so long. Where he comes from, if you can't run, you died early, and Daryl's first instinct is to look around the woods for walkers because damn, this kid has had good luck so far. Then again, he hasn't seen a sign of the dead so far - only that horrific tide of spiders.

But he had to have come from somewhere and for a dozen reasons Daryl swallows his modesty and takes another step from behind the brush, one of his series scowls firmly in place. ]

Hey. Woah. Did someone leave you out here?

[ Maybe it's a stupid question but Daryl can't imagine this kid had come out into the wilderness willingly like this, let alone had done so naked. It isn't impossible that he has an answer or two more than Daryl. ]

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar got a better look at Daryl when he finally came out from behind the tree. He almost looked like a warrior of his father's generation with his shaggy hair and short beard, though the accent he had made it clear he wasn't from Northern Europe as most Vikings were.

His voice was more pleasant upon the second question.]

Not that I'm aware of. I just woke up out here. No clothes, no weapons, nothing.

[At least he was working on the weapons part. He'd found a suitable stone and had sharpened it into a crude stone knife. Since he'd been resting, he was currently working on making it into a better, sharper weapon, whetting it against a firmer stone.]

[dadyl]

Shit. So did I.

[ But the similarity sounds like far from a good thing the way Daryl says it. The hair on the back of his neck prickles and he can't help glancing around the two of them again, his senses trained hard on the woods. They have to be being watched, it isn't a coincidence that two strangers had woken up the same way in the middle of nowhere. Someone had helped them get here and it wasn't for a benevolent reason.

But they seem to be alone for now and Daryl doesn't like towering above the kid, especially because of the view that now grants him, so he goes to one knee and uses his scarred thigh to block himself from Ivar's gaze as much as he can. His skin shows a lifetime's history of torture and battle but there's nothing he can do to hide it now. ]

I'll take you in my direction if you swear not to kill me with that.

[ Because there's nothing worth waiting around for out here. Not if those spiders are anything to go by. ]

[ragnarsson]

[The marks on Daryl's skin that Ivar could see spoke of someone who had seen Some Shit and survived quite a bit. Yep, definitely a warrior of some sort. Ivar was brimming with curiosity about the man's past but there would be time for that later. 'Getting to know you' time could be carved out when pure survival wasn't the order of the day.

He nodded slowly. Better to team up with someone than go it alone.]

I won't slow you down.

[He said in a reassuring tone. Though it stung each time it happened, he also was used to be people getting sick of him and dumping him as soon as they had the chance. That was just life when you were considered a poor, weak little runt among the Norse, even though the truth was Ivar was far from being one.]

My name is Ivar Ragnarsson.

[dadyl]

No. You won't.

[ Daryl confirms it with as much confidence as he would have had in something like gravity. With a deal struck, he finally stands up again and approaches, trying to swallow the deep discomfort of being completely naked while he bends down enough to offer Ivar an arm, his back, and an indication to climb up around his shoulders. The kid doesn't exactly look like he's lacking upper body strength and Daryl was glad to see it. He's never been one to underestimate anyone, least of all a survivor. ]

I'm Daryl.

[ He weighs about as much as Daryl assumed he would and he sets his jaw as he straightens up again, adjusting to the burden, thighs protesting just a little. He reaches behind himself with one arm to help support Ivar as much as he can, again horribly aware of the skin-to-skin abnormality of the whole situation. Daryl can count on one hand the number of people he's had exposure to like this. If feels profoundly wrong to add another to the list like this. ]

So how d'you usually get around, Ragnarsson?

[ragnarsson]

[Sure enough, Ivar was easily able to climb onto Daryl’s back. This was one aspect of his life where he excelled in maneuvering himself around. He’d been carried around by people pretty much from the moment he was born, so by now he was used to how to hold onto someone to keep from sliding off. Having a lot of upper-body strength definitely helped out in that regard.]

Crawling, having someone carry me, or using a chariot on the battlefield.

[He answered in a forthright tone. Since so few Norse children with physical disabilities as severe as his survived into adulthood, there wasn’t a lot that had been thought up to make their lives easier. Wheelchairs or braces weren’t even a consideration.]

[dadyl]

A chariot on the... haha, funny.

[ The dryness of his tone says he didn't think the joke was funny in the least but felt as though he had to say something. Maybe the kid just didn't want to tell him. Maybe he can't blame him for that and the question had been too personal without Daryl realizing it. Inexplicably, he thinks of how Connie had to explicitly tell him to look at her when he talked to her, or else she couldn't see his lips move enough to understand him. That mistake had been what had motivated him to learn how to sign. ]

You mean a wheelchair, right?

[ The battlefield comment makes more sense to him. Fighting walkers from a chair, navigating the wilderness, that sure would make the whole world a damn battlefield to maneuver. ]

You lose it or somethin'?

[ragnarsson]

Wheelchair?

[Ivar echoed the unfamiliar word in a confused tone. It should have been an obvious assistive tool for him to be using but the Norse so rarely let anyone with a physical handicap as severe as his live at all, so anything to make his life easier wasn't really something considered as he'd grown. There was also the practical consideration in that wheelchairs generally needed smooth terrain to move over if they were to be effective and such areas were far and few between in Western Europe during the Dark Ages. It wasn't like they bothered much with paved roads.]

Everything I had with me was taken before I woke up. They even took my armrings.

[He sounded mournful about that fact. His armrings were precious to Ivar. The first had been given when he was twelve, the age at which a Norse boy was considered to be a man, and Ivar had been especially proud to reach that milestone given no one even thought he'd live that long. The other, older and more tarnished, had belonged to his father Ragnar. Ragnar had given it to Ivar just before his death and it was the only physical reminder of his father Ivar had possessed.]

[dadyl]

[ This kid is ending up more and more a mystery, as he doesn't seem to understand what Daryl is asking (Ivar not knowing what a wheelchair is hasn't occurred to him at all) and Daryl has no idea what he means by 'arm rings'. However, he feels like he's asked too much already so he just nods, knowing the kid can feel it as they walk. ]

Sucks. Every weapon I had is gone. All my food, supplies.

[ Daryl had been setting out for a long journey - he had been prepared. Then he'd just been here, missing all the things that would have made this disorientation easier. ]

My bike, of course. Who the hell would just leave us like this?

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar had no idea what a bike was just as he hadn't understood what a wheelchair was, but he didn't want to seem like a complete idiot, so he didn't bother asking what that was. Maybe later on there would be time for questions as to what all the unfamiliar terms were.]

Someone with a bad sense of humor. Perhaps one of the gods is playing a joke at our expense.

[He wouldn't have put an idea like this, being left in the middle of the woods naked and without supplies, past a god like Loki. Mischief was his raison d’être after all.]

[dadyl]

[ Just like that, Daryl's cult senses are tingling. He's run into enough strangers with bizarre habits and beliefs, not to mention downright dangerous ones, that he doesn't just write it off as an odd turn of phrase. Neither does he slow down, just continues plodding on naked through the woods because he has no other choice. ]

One of the gods?

[ People believe in all sorts of gods in his world but usually it's only one at a time - and almost none of them think that their God acts out weird shit like this on earth. Except for Pope. He'd sure as shit thought that... or at least tricked his people into thinking he did. Religious fanatics are always bad news as far as Daryl is concerned. ]

[ragnarsson]

Of course.

[Ivar missed the tone in Daryl's voice that suggested this had made the zombie apocalypse survivor wary.]

I suspect this is something Loki would arrange if he found amusement in it, though Freyr, Freyja, or Odin might find such a thing to ease their boredom if they were having a dull time in Ásgardr.

[The Northern European accent he had thickened on the names of the gods and places found in the Norse culture. For him, believing in the pantheon was as simple as breathing: it wasn't something he did consciously, he simply did it without thought.]