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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?
seaboard: (⌜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞⌟)

wildcard

[personal profile] seaboard 2024-02-09 09:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ It hits her like lightning, a voice so familiar, so dear, that it runs through her body at once, even to break out of the heart broken stupor she had miserably existed in for weeks now. She cannot even console herself to get the words out.

That she jumps into her shadow in only her house dress, and in frantic searches from well to bathtub to puddle big enough as she scoured every corner she could. She barely even stops to explain when she runs into people she does know.

Every corner and place and space between as she frantically searches for her.

Until she spots her in the street, antlers proud and elegant, removed and aloof as all Stag-Knights were. ]


Gala!

[ She gathers up her skirts, and runs as fast as she can towards her, curls in every direction, and thuds into her as she flung her arms around her waist as tightly as she could. Held on tightly for every second she could, her laughter tearfully, wonderfully happy. ]

Gala, I am so happy to see you!
seastag: (pic#16841702)

[personal profile] seastag 2024-02-10 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ Gala's spirit knows Gilia's, and it hums to her before she even realizes why. Focused on Ianthe's guidance, distracted by her own thoughts, her worry, the anxiety she feels tight in her chest, the steady demeanor she forces to the front, trained to hide her worry the way an animal hides their injury lest they become a target -

And all of it, undone, the moment she hears that voice.

She turns, and everything, everyone else is forgotten. All that matters is- ]


Gilia.

[ Gilia, who crashes into her like a wave, yet throws her off balance no more than the sea shifts the shore. Gala is there for her, always, open arms that wrap tight about her charge the moment she has her, protective and warm, overwhelmed yet steady still, gathering her up so tightly that in her joy and relief that she lifts Gilia from her feet, effortlessly so with her strength and her height. She breathes in the scent of her, sea spray and sweetness, and hardly bothers to resist herself a moment of solace in her hair, soft curls against her cheek.

The promise, unsaid: I'm here, and I'm never leaving you again. ]


Forgive me, Tsarina. [ Still holding her close, ] I never intended to leave your side.
seaboard: (⌜𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚍𝚍?⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2024-02-12 04:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She holds on for every last second she can. Gripping her tightly, wrapped her right back, even as her feet were picked up off the ground. The warm earthen scent, the murmur of leaves. Never forgotten, only faded with distance, but yet coming back like a memory of home that panged so deeply she could not say if it was the tight embrace or the ache of longing that made it hard to breathe.

When feet are put down on the ground, but she does not part from her. Gilia's hands stay on her upper arms, her smile so big and wide, the faint sting of happy tears in her eyes as she looks up to her guard, the woman that had for one reason or another, put up with her, and was always by her side.

Perhaps the Void that governed this place was not always so cruel, as to give her this one comfort when she needed it most.

Her gaze is tired, exhausted perhaps, and there is a shake in her fingers that says of her state of late, but her smile is no less bright. ]


I forgive nothing for it was never your fault, my knight. You could not have stopped this place from taking me.
seastag: (pic#16992928)

[personal profile] seastag 2024-02-12 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Hardly here long enough to yearn for home, and still Gala feels the relief of Gilia in her arms. It feels like homecoming all the same, comfort found so easily in her princess, her devotion to her, and in knowing that Gilia will be safe now, because Gala won't allow it to be any other way.

(The fact that Gilia has been safe without her, mostly, doesn't seem to have been a convincing notion, no matter how many told her so.) ]


This place took me from you, first. Or- so I thought.

[ All of her roughness, the intensity in her stare, how sternly she'd communicated with Ianthe, Iggy, others who claimed friendship with Gilia - all of it, in an instant, disappears when she's with Gilia. Her voice is soft now, the tension in her shoulders loosens, and when she looks down at her, at last placing her princess back on her feet, it's with those soft, sad eyes of hers that betray her worry and softened heart, more fawn than stag. Tender, she lifts a hand to place gentle against her cheek, a calloused thumb wiping one of those happy tears from her cheek, when she notices the shake in Gilia's fingers against her arm, the overwhelming sense of relief, as though she's needed her-

The wound. Suddenly it hits her: where is Gilia's wound?

It should be a good thing that it's gone, but it's- how? Her brows furrow, clearly thinking, and gently she moves her hand from her princess' cheek to her neck, careful, as though it might hurt her if she dares touch it, as though there might be teeth there yet, ready to swallow her down to the depths, even though there- isn't. ]


You're... healed?
seaboard: (⌜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐)

[personal profile] seaboard 2024-02-17 01:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Her hand settles to Gala's cheek in sheer fondness and relief to see her again. This is how she has always known her, quiet, reserved, and giving.

Her shadow, her warm hand of support, silent and ever present.

The question makes her mouth pull, clearly unknowing that she laughs. ]


I see the others have been telling you about my troubles here of late. I promise, it is only that of my heart, and it shall heal better to know you here with me.
seastag: (pic#16992930)

[personal profile] seastag 2024-02-18 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's true, that others have told her - well, not details of what's happened to her here, exactly, but that she's had a difficult time nonetheless. But no matter how they promised Gilia is safe now, surrounded by people she trusts (names Gala doesn't recognize), it had done little to ease her anxiety.

Only now that she has Gilia again, under her protection, does she ease. But...

There's a tilt to her head as she observes her princess, those brows furrowed still, not following the words she's given at first. Thinking, remembering, considering, with a start: that Gilia doesn't know. If time here is as wrong as she's seen it to be, then it's possible that this Gilia's experience doesn't extend as far as Gala's, isn't it? ]


No, I- [ She stops herself from voicing the thought. Selfish as it is, Gala can't bring herself to admit her failure, not now at least, not when she has her charge again. ] Anything you need, it's yours. What can I do?
seaboard: (⌜𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2024-02-20 02:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She searches her face carefully, and presses her own sincerity there as best she can. Heartsick, maybe, but not hurt, not damaged, and that in turn, Gala had not failed her in any way.

Her guardswoman always took her duty so very seriously. ]


Well first, you can let me get you fed, properly, and make sure you have good winter clothes.

[ Everything had changed, of late, and yet, nothing, that instinct she could take solace was the same. To take care of those dear to her, no matter what. ]