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

[unconscionable]

You're all good now.

[ Still excruciatingly pleased with himself. Nice to be useful. Especially when he feels so out of control, somewhere he didn't choose to be. It's hard, when he's had so much power for so long, to feel helpless. Brings back bad memories. Better to focus on pretty Lottie and her green hair. ]

You can wash it as much as you like, it should stay the same.

[ His hand wanders out of her hair and down to run blunt tips of his fingers over the shell of her ear, brushing against her neck a moment — if there's a spark of pleasant electricity through her at his touch, is it a natural response or something he does necromantically? It's hard to say, and then he's taking his hands back, folding them modestly in his lap so she doesn't have to look at his junk. ]

Go swim. I'll get a fire going.

[oomfies]

[ Uh — Lottie fails to school her expression, fails to breathe when she feels his fingertips run over her ear and her neck and her skin flushes. Uh — she stays like that for a moment, just running over what happened and how her skin tingles even when his touch is gone. He pulls those hands back to.. ]

Oh! For sure.. Yeah, I'll go —

[ Swim, she mumbles to herself, sheepishly edging away from his rock and abruptly turning around so he can't see her expression. What he can see, though, is the way her hair sinks and floats in the water, how no dye ebbs away from it. Lottie will see this too, when she holds the strands up to see if the water that drips down turns green, but they don't. He'll spy her muted, then visible, delight at that, how she just dunks her entire head underwater and stays there for a bit too long before emerging, hair clinging to her like a second skin.

And she'll do just that until he calls her over for that fire, wading and floating through the water, playing with her hair. ]

[unconscionable]

John watches her the same way he's been watching her, with his unreadable eyes and a blank, patient mask that covers for how she's one of the most attractive women he's ever met. Fortunately he's pretty good at seeming chill instead of a creep, except for those few breakaway moments when he uh, isn't.

Fire he's had practice with once upon a time when the world ended, knows how to create sparks and encourage that initial flare to something that can eat first grass then twigs then sticks. Builds it big: there's room, with the water right there as a natural break, and maybe the smoke will get them noticed. Plus she'll want something warm after her swim.

Food is still sparse: he can bring down game or small creatures if he sees them, but he also doesn't really need to eat so he only actively hunts if asked nicely. Sadly he can't do any of the predecessor tricks: water into wine, infinite bread and fishes. He made a wall of cow flesh once, though, that's close.

For now fire and water will have to do. Once she's emerged from the water he says: "Do you think we should keep moving or set up camp? This would be a good spot for a shelter." Water and rock can store food, keep them clean and hydrated. They haven't seen a spider in a while. He doesn't know how far it might be to find civilisation, how long they can keep sleeping outdoors naked before their shared body heat isn't enough.

[oomfies]

Lottie doesn't notice the way he looks at her half of the time — chalks it up to #justnakedthings when she does before promptly screaming silently and overthinking until she gives herself a headache.

Despite the added fun, the novelty of having actual green hair, it wears off in favor of just that: overthinking about John and the way he touched her. John, encouraging embers to build and grow until she can audibly hear the crackle of fire when she breaks the surface of the river. John, saying words and calling out to her.

He speaks right as she eases herself out, only stopping when she's waist deep, wringing her hair out just to watch the water drip from it. And then Lottie turns— looks at him over her shoulder before full on pivoting towards him and the fire. She wonders why he's putting such a big decision on her (inexperienced) shoulders, but she equally likes being involved. Most of the time, she'll leave whatever decision making they face to him (he's smart, he's nice, and sure he stares for a little too long sometimes but, again, #justnakedthings).

Today, as she sits just a little ways from him beside the fire, she pauses. "Maybe we can stay here?" She draws her knees in close, presses her chest against the back of them so she can hunch over and outstretch her hands to the flames (predictably, Lottie does not think about the way her breasts squish against the meat of her thighs, is only trying to mitigate her trembles at the temperature change).

"Just for a little. I like being near the water." I like being clean, is the underlying confession to her simple reply.

[unconscionable]

That admittance has John nodding; he's perfectly happy to go with whatever she wants, since it's not the huge decision it seems. "I can still go out and hunt and look for a trail, signs of people." They found each other, there could be others out here. "But if this turns out to be something long term... we've been lucky with the weather so far, that's all I'm saying."

A small sigh, holding out his hands to the fire. "Better game near water, too. Yeah, it's a good idea." Apparently one he's willing to credit to her, like her decision was the whole of it, since he smiles at her with that. Simp energy.

That's settled, then. Maybe they can try and start a shelter before the sun sets. "So why green?" he asks, picking up a long stick and poking the fire so the big log shifts with a hiss and pop.

[oomfies]

Long term. The thought makes her feel sick despite the fact she isn't dead, and that they're still technically fine. It's an odd sort of feeling she gets, when he agrees it's a good idea, the joy from his validation almost completely overturned by the reminder that the good luck they've had so far is very much that: luck. She almost wallows at that, oblivious to his smile (one day she'll pick up on that #simpenergy, and she'll be giddy about it), right up until he asks her about her hair.

She perks up, expression softening. "Oh— me??" Yes, you, Lottie. Who else here has green hair? At the mention of it, her hands move to gently play with the wet strands that stick to her skin.

Eventually, after indulging in the heat of the fire for a little longer, she elaborates, "No one goes green. It's a color that makes you stand out, you know? Pink, purple, orange, blue, it's like— been there, done that. But green? Name one person you've seen with green hair."

lajdhk just realized i automatically switched to prose 😭 thank you for just rolling with it 😭

[unconscionable]

Think I knew a guy with green hair in uni, but he wasn't fashion green, he was an anarchopunk with face tats. But that isn't the same.

[ And he stood out too, because she's right, it's an unusual colour. ]

And now you'll be the only natural green in the universe. Lucky it suits you, hey?

AFGAUYEF YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY FINE!!!! dont even worry

[oomfies]

[ Her lips slowly curl up into a grin, clearly amused by the brief anecdote he tells because that was another issue, too. What would make a sexy fun young flirty green, rather than a drab and droll green. ]

You think it suits me?

[ She asks, fully knowing what the answer will be. ]

[unconscionable]

[ John meets her eyes earnestly. ]

I do.

[ She always responds so well to praise, it charms him. A warm smile and he offers a little more: ]

You'd probably look good with any hair colour. You're managing to work 'naked in the wilderness'.

[oomfies]

[ His initial reply, she fully expects. But the follow up? The expanding? Makes her feel obscenely bashful. Makes her feel a little less weird about the whole 'naked in the wilderness' thing and reminds her of the times she'd do this on purpose (less wilderness, more tasteful nudity).

Her eyes flick down to the fire, for a moment not being able to meet his gaze. Her cheeks burn as she thinks of something to say— ]

That'd be a fun photoshoot or something.. [ A beat. ] I mean— you know, once we find civilization. And a camera.

[unconscionable]

You a model, then? Not that I'm surprised.

[ She's definitely pre-Rez, the hair dye and the reality tv references are two immediate clues to that. So it stands to reason she has a pre-Rez kind of job, great as she'd look in a Cohort uniform looking pretty in one of his propaganda posters. ]

You can give interviews about how you were lost and powered through it.

[oomfies]

[ She's technically an influencer (fashion blogger, if she wanted to be really cringey and specific) but he continues talking and she doesn't bother correcting him. Because he's not wrong— most of her job is modeling. Posturing, of some kind. ]

Oh, totally. I'll tell them all about how I only broke one nail during the whole thing.

[ Which is currently false— she still has all her nails, thanks to John. ]

But that it wasn't a big deal, they grow back. Nature, something something.

[unconscionable]

Don't forget to mention your personal knight in shining armor — well, all right, kind of lacking the armor at the mo'.

[ But he's talking about himself, obviously. ]

[oomfies]

[ It's wild, the fact she isn't cringing at that line when she usually would— her expression softens a bit at that, even, because it's true (the lacking armor bit, the personal knight bit). She palms at her hair, now damp rather than sopping wet, and she opens her lips. ]

Can I [ A beat. ] tell people, about my hair?

[unconscionable]

Just tell them it's always been like that.

[ John shrugs loosely, leans back on a hand. ]

Just not the best idea to advertise it, otherwise who knows who'll come ask me to do it for them. Then it won't be special.

[ Then you, is the implication, won't be special. His expression is neutral but his eyes are a horrible void that holds all the insecurities in the world. ]

[oomfies]

[ 'Then you', the implication, 'won't be special'. It hits loud and clear. Is startlingly so, above the crackle of the fire and above the ambience of the forest. Her smile stiffens for the briefest moments, overwhelmingly lost on what to say, on how to react to the way his eyes make her heart twist and how the concept he introduces makes her feel strange. ]

Yeah! Yeah, you're right.. Then everybody's gonna come ask for your help and—

[ She won't be special? She searches for something on his face, some confirmation that she's saying the right thing. ]

I don't wanna bug you or anything— sorry.

[unconscionable]

Hey, that's okay.

[ He gentles, letting her off the hook. ]

I mean, it's your choice.

[ It's not like he's manipulating her or anything. Would John do that? He's so nice. She's probably just being weird.

He pokes the fire again in a small shower of sparks. ]

[oomfies]

[ Her lips edge their way into a pout, wholly unsure of herself because she is just being weird, probably? John wouldn't tell her it's okay if he didn't mean it, right? He wouldn't speak to her so gentle if he didn't, wouldn't tend to the fire so she can dry without a worry in the world.

She unfurls her legs from herself, leans a little in his direction. Openly, visually, debates on reaching a hand towards him. ]

No, it's okay.. It's fine! I won't. [ Her tone insists that it's a promise. ] This can stay between us.

[unconscionable]

Great!

[ So earnest. What a nice guy.

He's kind of pleased that she reacts so well — he's a leader, and he knows how to get people to do what he wants. (That some people have called those cult tactics? They were wrong.) It's barely even deliberate, just how he is, withdrawing the warmth of his personality as punishment, then returning it in full love-bombing force. ]

Hair in question is looking pretty messy. Want me to see if I can figure out a comb for you?

[ As if she should care when they're in the middle of the woods. But the same way he's caught them food with his powers, he can fashion stuff out of bone. ]

[oomfies]

[ Great?? She studies the planes of his face and thinks, great? Is this okay? It must be, if he's offering to create a comb for her. Her lips part, then close, then open again, absolutely unsure if she should accept it outright. She wants to, she really does, but— he said it looks messy?

Her hands subconsciously pull away from him, paw at her still vaguely wet hair. Droplets skim along her skin as she tries to wring it dry. ]

You don't have to, if you don't want to..

[unconscionable]

[ He moves suddenly, shifting a little closer to be able to put a hand lightly on her wrist, stilling that frantic attempt to fix her hair. ]

Course I want to. You're beautiful, and you deserve to feel beautiful too.

[ He rubs a thumb gently along her wrist, over the bump of bone. ]

I don't mind helping out. My curls could use a go through too, anyway.

[ Though he doesn't immediately break away to make anything. ]

[oomfies]

[ It's quick— sudden, the way she feels the warmth of his palm on her skin. She does still, completely pauses and flushes at the way he calls her beautiful. Lottie knows it's true, by now, but John saying it makes it feel all the more special. ]

Do you want me to..?

[ Do him first, she means, all the while never explicitly pulling away from his fingers curling at her wrist. ]

[unconscionable]

Brush my hair?

[ A flash of white teeth, charmed. She's so cute. ]

Wasn't what I meant, but you can if you'd like. Let me make the comb.

[ Which means pulling away from this intimate little moment, always emphasising that he's a gentleman (that he's not chasing, that he could take or leave her — not actually true, the rate at which he's developing a crush is tectonic but undeniable.)

He has enough self-awareness to know that necromancy can be off-putting, even if messing around with bones and flesh is so ordinary in his world, he remembers a time when it wasn't. So he'll go take care of it privately, using animal bones, and leaving Lottie by the fire.

When he returns he tosses it to her: a thick-toothed ivory comb. ]

There you go.

[oomfies]

[ He smiles and it blindsight's her, makes her cheeks flare a warm pink as she fumbles to catch the comb. His time away from the fire makes her gravely miss him, feel alarmingly alone (scared) and vaguely paranoid (afraid?), so when the touch of ivory hits her palms it is very much welcome. Vaguely, vaguely, warm, and it feels strange but familiar, lovely, in her palms from every other time John has indulged her in this. ]

Thank you..

[ She says, a soft little mumble that's just loud enough for him to catch (arguably, only for him to catch). Her thumbs moves softly over the comb, her eyes fluttering up towards his. After pooling the thick expanse of her hair along her back, ]

..Can you do mine first, then? If that's okay?

[unconscionable]

You want me to?

[ He seems surprised; it's not exactly the kind of request often made of the Emperor of the Nine Houses. He would have been perfectly content just watching her do it herself, bare arms lifted over her head... ]

Sure.

[ He likes her, so sure. He comes over and kneels behind her carefully, putting his hands into her hair once again. ]