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rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-02-07 11:31 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME 005

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.

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. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the any event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.

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: spiders, aphrodisiac and truth serum effects, public nudity, exhibitionism/voyeurism, bdsm, kink negotiation, social pressure, and animal sacrifice.

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.

FAQSETTINGCALENDARRESERVESAPPLICATIONS

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the frost-covered mosses and ferns, the frozen 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. 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.

You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards reemerging after a long winter. With your feet under you, and you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees, though much of the fruit has been picked clean. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, will lead people towards the first signs of civilisation, the cabins of those who choose to live beyond Rubilyskoye's formidable walls.

In the forest, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike.

Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.

This quaint, historic town of five-thousand has cobbled street and signs 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 grocer — 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.

When you enter, the streets are full of people, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available — the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

breaking and entering
If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.



Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. It's already full of people who appeared in the village just as you did today.

finding roommates
Don't spend too much time asking questions in the common areas. 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. Maybe you'll get lucky and run into someone who has decided to move out? (Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements; at this point, many characters have used activity rewards to move to accomodation outside the boarding house.)


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 a breakfast of thick grain porridge and caramelised bananas from the new peaks; these NPCs can also answer any questions about the situation. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. Gossip about new arrivals spreads quickly, and Rubeans who run businesses or train trades are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.


writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing, being offered work, asking questions over breakfast, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



HEARTS FESTIVAL

New arrivals to Rubilykskoye will find themselves strongly encouraged to participate in the current zadza purging festival, and will be assigned either a collar in leather or iron based on their Niez or Wilk mark, or a wrist-strap or manacle that suits the attachment of a leash for those with a Diabel or Skala mark.

Characters are encouraged to embrace this temporary designation as a sign that they will be good citizens; those who object or ignore their designation may find the NPCs try to helpfully guide them, express displeasure at "Void-Touched" who won't assimilate, or in rare cases exert social pressure, coercion, violence or shunning to ensure compliance.

Throughout town various NPCs have set up tents and booths to host myriad performances, workshops, demonstrations, and food stands for their celebration. The foods were made using some of the new flora that have brought back from the peaks. Characters can get their hands on the following heart-themed foods from the second day of the festival onwards:

  • HEART-SHAPED COOKIES: eating these intensifies body heat, making characters a great cuddle buddy for the cold weather and likely to strip down, feeling overheated even in a snowdrift

  • BEEF HEART STEW WITH DUXELLES: eating these fills those who consume it with confidence, making them more solicitous and dominant

  • LIME-GLAZED GOAT HEART SATAY: eating these intensifies sensation, making characters more sensitive to both pain and pleasure

  • CINNAMON GLUWEIN: drinking a cup of this hot beverage will make characters especially honest

The nature of the booths set up for performances, workshops, and other goods focuses around the festival's dominance and submission themes. These persist throughout the day regardless of the hour or the audience, so very few people can be found consistently at their places of work during the day this week. In addition:
  • Skala and diabel NPCs may offer to share their partner(s) with the Void-touched, or ask to share theirs.

  • PIOTR, a farmer, brings tools over from the farm including bridles and saddles, which can be found at a booth near some hunters who've made anal plugs that end with real animal tails, as well as muzzles.

  • The cages from the Moot Hall have been moved into the streets, and people are allowed to move freely in and out of them. One of them has been covered in curtains to function as a glory hole booth.

  • Some niez and wilk NPCs line up near the main event stage and kneel to offer themselves as human furniture.

However, characters may also come across some carnival games operated by NPCs who are eager to help the Duchess find her heart! Some involve slaughtering livestock by removing their hearts—rest assured, these livestock were already on the menu, but their ritual sacrifice will now involve the cutting out of their hearts. Cut out an animal's heart yourself, or just attend the show! Many of the townspeople will get into it, painting their faces with animal blood or drinking from it.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try reacting to being assigned a dominant or submissive role, scenes where your character is starting to feel the effects of the food, watching (or participating in) a performance, or joining in on a gory animal sacrifice. NPCs that are usually welcoming may strongly pressure even new arrivals to participate in their cultural festivities.


the fathomless dark

At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day — eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.

In the void, the air feels heavy, 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. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.

Monsters thrive this far out. 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 attempt to use their webbing to entangle 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.


Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body — what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?

In the fog, you may also hear the voices of those familiar to you — people you know from the town, or people whom you know with almost perfect certainty aren't here. these figments may recreate unhappy memories or force trespassers to hallucinate their worst nightmares. Nothing is as it seems in the void, and when you swing at these figments, desperate to silence them, it might not be a figment at all, but a friend in the flesh trying to help you. By the time you see their true face, it could be too late to stop yourself.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger!


HIDING INSIDE EACH OF US

Uh oh spaghetti-os.

The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.


Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.

Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.

someone else transforms
Poor Merta Chesnokov, the usually stalwart older woman who mans the Apothecary, has been beset by unusual requests in addition to her regular demands, not to mention sweating blood. The festival, a rash of skala blood flu, and a little extra town chaos in January, has brought a high demand to her little shop. Now there's also a local fashion springing up for teas and herbal remedies sourced from the recently revealed tropical mountains.

After another failed tisane test drive, and the third customer asking for a new kind of aphrodisiac to add to their festival food, she was seen tossing down her work knife with uncharacteristic frustration, and taking an "early lunch" that she didn't return from that night. Though her children, friends and employees reach out to her, there's no sign of her until you stumble upon her in the woods.

Merta overboils with her suppressed fury as her body distorts and her flesh blackens and crusts. Her attempts to hold off her transformation have failed, and Merta turns into a Smoldering Skink, a large repillian creature whose thick scales hold back her magmatic insides. The noise she makes is an unhearthly hissing scream like a boiling kettle, and she attempts to vent her pent-up stress by wildly attacking everything in sight. Immediately, the surroundings catch aflame! There will be a small fire eating at the dead wood of a long winter if it's not put out, but your first priority might have to be fielding a stampeding lizard with massive teeth and burning hot scales...

(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)


you waited too long
At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.

Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.

As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
drysdale: (greatnews364)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-08 06:49 am (UTC)(link)
"I didn't mean to say that," he says, bemused, which — he also doesn't mean to say. Better to lean into it in order to pass it off, but instead he blurts out, "I've spent more of my life drunk than sober, this feels different," an almost effervescent need to say it bubbling up from his chest. Jesus. Is this what it feels like to be Marta?

He lifts the glass, examining the dregs through the clear mug, but it's impossible to discern anything with the spices floating around. "Have I been roofied?"
Edited (not honest enuf) 2024-02-08 18:36 (UTC)
pharmacy: (097)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-08 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"You haven't been roofied." He grins around the lip of his cup, adds like it's the most obvious thing: "It's drugged. Festival drinks are always drugged, come on. Just be glad it's not a heavy-duty aphrodisiac. Which--" 

He points warningly as he drinks and swallows. "Mmm. You should be watching out for. Unless you like that. Which you might, I don't know your life. Hey, welcome to Rubilykskoye, by the way." Yes, he radiates new blood. One hand crosses towards Ransom. "I'm Quentin." 
drysdale: (greatnews025)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-10 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
It probably says something that he considers drinking it anyway — drugged isn't necessarily a dealbreaker, but Quentin doesn't know his life or need to know his life. He sets the drink down on the nearest flat surface with a sigh.

"Ransom," he offers, shaking Quentin's hand after eyeing it for a second or two. "What does heavy-duty mean? I've never found anything that doesn't just enhance your libido as a secondary side effect."

If he's giving off new blood energy he might as well try to get his head around this place.
pharmacy: (149)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-10 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
Suspicious ass. Suspicious acting, as he sets his drink down. Suspicion nursing, with as wary as he is of just shaking hands. The question saves Ransom from being teased about it, redirecting Quentin's slightly toasted energy to something more productive. His eyebrows jump conspiratorially. "I mean like...fuck-or-die heavy duty. I mean like you can't--you can't think unless you've got your hands on someone. Like it's impossible to come down for--I dunno, depends on how much you have, but I mean heavy duty enough."
drysdale: (greatnews312)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-10 07:40 am (UTC)(link)
As suspicious of that as anything else. He's a believe it when I see it, and even then kind of guy, and—

"So far it's sounding to me like someone built a castle on an island to play out their elaborate fantasies. Granted," Ransom gestures at the whole goddamn ass castle, "it's impressive, but it's also complete bullshit."
pharmacy: (106)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-12 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
Quentin coughs up a laugh, mouth hanging open. "W--okay, so what you think this is...a con? For what? For you?" 
drysdale: (greatnews114)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-14 09:27 am (UTC)(link)
"For me specifically? No." He may be an arrogant motherfucker, but he's not actually delusional. He gestures. "But look around you. This is all for someone's benefit, and I'm gonna go with those of us who were kidnapped and brought here against our will. If everyone were really so gung ho about fucking for the greater good they would just get on with it, they wouldn't bother to fucking drug us to get us in on their sex games." He emphasizes that with a single ringing tap of his fingernail against the discarded mug.
pharmacy: (200)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-18 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Quentin huffs, pinching his cup between his teeth to hold it up while he rolls up his sleeve. Elaborate fantasy, his ass. Inside his right forearm, halfway between wrist and elbow, a Niez mark glows dimly. Glows brighter when he opens up the connection between them, speaks straight into Ransom's head, just below his temple:

Where's your mark?
drysdale: (greatnews258)

i'm so sorry quentin accidentally nominated himself to deal with this

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-23 08:01 am (UTC)(link)
Ransom takes an actual step backwards, and if Quentin's ever wanted to see fight or flight embodied in a rich white boy, he can mark that one off his bucket list. He looks like he wants to put as much distance between them as humanly possible, or find something sharp to insert in Quentin's own temple.

"What the fuck." Not his most eloquent. At the moment Ransom doesn't particularly care.
pharmacy: (189)

"accidentally" for sure, I wasn't....i wasn't TRYING to get him in trouble ha ha who would do that

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-23 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"Almost." Quentin admonishes, just a little meanly, and taps his head. Try it up here. "You can do it. You can do it too, try faking it."
drysdale: (greatnews327)

a'ight i see you

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-24 06:34 am (UTC)(link)
That's a little too close to taunting for Ransom's taste, so he's leaning toward choosing violence today, his neck positively taut with it — but Quentin's last words do filter through enough to give him pause.

If he thought Ransom seemed suspicious of him before . . . there's no expression strong enough for how much he fucking hates that. But he pulls down the neck of his shirt enough to expose the Diabel mark just below his left clavicle and then — fakes it.

—ly look like a fucking prick —too easy to guess —I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe— holy shit—

He's staring down at his glowing mark, then squints to Quentin for confirmation.
pharmacy: (108)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-25 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
It's full-on taunting, maybe inappropriate from a guy with a collar around his neck to one with a cuff in his pocket--but when Ransom tries and it clicks, Quentin's expression brightens to genuine delight. Pride, even, as he nods.

There you go. You wanna run through debunking theories, or...?
drysdale: (greatnews326)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-26 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
There's plenty here that Ransom considers inappropriate. Talking directly into his head is the first one, then there's the audacity of this kid showing him any brand of approval he didn't ask for. Very least among his concerns is some kind of caste system based on how you fuck. Consternation colors through the next thought like marble.

—I don't care. "I just don't want anyone in my head," he says aloud, because has it been mentioned he hates this? "How does it work."
pharmacy: (193)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-03-03 04:59 am (UTC)(link)
That satisfies Quentin plenty. He lifts his chin, hands coming up. You got me, you win. "I dunno how it works. It's magic, man. If you don't want people in your head, though? You have to accept it--and then practice."
drysdale: (greatnews107)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-03-04 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"Magic, Jesus Christ," Ransom mutters, though less like he's trying to wrap his head around it than that he still thinks that's a weak answer. It's not terrible advice, though, and is the part that actually answers his question. He relaxes slightly. "That's all I need to know."