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rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-06-18 01:02 pm
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SUMMER TEST DRIVE MEME

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ 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 coming 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: nudity, D/S mechanics, public sex, aphro, death, missing persons.

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 emerging from a temporary retreat from the wintry weather. 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, is running actively again as the weather warms back up from the recent snowstorm.

As you explore, 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, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.

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. Parts of the house still bear the dust of disuse, gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. However, it's already full of people! Anyone who's already appeared in the village just as you did today lives here. Once inside, you may notice patchwork repairs have been made, and some scorch marks still linger from a recent fire, and some furniture is still lying around in splinters.

Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions.

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.


writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



THE FESTIVAL OF SUMMERTIDE

Summer is in full swing, which means it's time to take advantage of the warm weather! Around the town, various games are being played, some sport-based and some more concerned with creativity, problem-solving, sex, or 'fun'. Each round begins with a prayer to the Duchess. Not bowing your head in prayer may get you a few stares from locals, or worse-- opponents may be extra motivated to defeat someone so disrespectful to her Grace.

Each Thursday, buildings are festooned with wreathes of wildflowers, tables are laden with food and drink, and everyone is given colored sashes to wear over their clothes. Festival goers are not allowed to enter the main events unless they wear a sash, and to get a sash they must reveal their curse marks. Those marked with the curse of Wilk receive blue sashes, Diabel get red, Skala receive green and Niez are as ever adorned with grey.



Summertide, the locals are eager to explain, is a festival about adapting to the needs of others, and accepting things as they are. What perhaps isn't explained nearly so well is the expectations placed upon festival goers. Each event has a goal to be achieved, balanced on the point of competition or participation.

Tables overflow with refreshments, especially drinks and chilled fruit to cool the summer heat. Rubeans traditionally spice their foods with aphrodisiacs, something that is so culturally normal to them that they don't feel the need to mention it.

  • An outdoor feast starts the festivities, with commanders, who are expected to give orders, and followers, who must follow the whims of commanders, whatever they decree. Who commands and who follows is decided by the curse-marked sash participants wear. But there's a twist-- every three hours, a horn blows, and the roles switch at random; commanders become followers and vice versa. Many festival-goers, now in a position of command, are eager to get petty revenge on the followers now at their mercy.


  • Fencing! For health reasons, any cut must be properly cleaned, and kept free of contaminants; for this reason, fencers are expected to compete fully naked. Otherwise, you might get some cloth in your cuts!


  • Wrestling! Wrestlers are well-oiled for the matches, making it hard to keep your grip on a slippery opponent. The winner of the match is declared when they have their opponent pinned... and at that point, the winner can do anything they like to the loser until they can get away, if they even want to.


  • A game going on throughout the town, regardless of whether someone consents to participation, is something the locals call Lock and Key. The rules are explained after you are grabbed and tied by your wrist (or ankle, whatever was available) to someone else: the locked binding tying you two together is blessed to be unbreakable until you each draw one another's blood... or find the key, stashed somewhere in the town. Good luck!


  • Anyone who refuses to play along will be ejected from the festivities, and made to run through the crowd while being whipped with thin wooden sticks.


  • Throughout all of this, some of the implementation of these games may occasionally come across as either overly cruel or overly kind. The common people of Rubilykskoye are of two minds when it comes to the treatment of newcomers: some think you are beneficent, sent to fix their problems and free them of your woes. These people, called Blackguards, will do their best to make sure your participation in the games is not marred by cheating, excessive violence, or pain. But others, called the Zlatniki, think little of the outsiders coming into their lands, and will do their best to twist their native traditions toward cruelty and vindictive unfairness when it comes to the Void-touched.

    writer's block?
    If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try participating in events, having your characters go against opponents, be drafted into the games against their will, or watching others perform!


    NIGHT OF THE HUNTSMEN

    Rumor moves through town quickly: two nights ago, a hunting party went out into the wood, and no one has seen them since. Anyone who wants to prove their worth to the community is encouraged to join the search parties going out to look for them; in Rubilykskoye, those who provide food for the community are highly prized, especially when they brave the woods to do so.

    You see, the woods aren't entirely safe. Near the town, it's nothing to be alarmed by, and of course the search parties find nothing there. They must delve deeper, and that's where you end up. 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.


    Many peel off, going back to the town proper. The searchers become fewer and fewer. Maybe some of them are going back home, but maybe they're getting lost. Eventually, you walk around a large tree, and you're alone. It's just you and 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?

    Yet the further you go, the more convinced you become that the missing hunters are near by. You're sure you can hear them on the wind, their voices calling out between the trees. Did you just see something out of the corner of your eye? You have to find them. You have to make all this darkness worth it.

    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! Feel free to find the bodies of the missing hunting party-- or hallucinate that you did.


    RELEASE YOUR INNER BEAST

    Something's wrong here.

    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
    Early one morning, alarm bells are rung. The people of Rubilykskoye are quick to explain while boarding up their windows and locking their doors: The Szymanskiy brothers have all transformed! Their inner beasts - duchozweirz, the natives call it - take the form of creeping, skeletal horrors. The beasts hunt and to kill, ripping their prey apart, but that's not all they can do.

    Those who are lucky enough to escape one of the Szymanskiy triplets will leave feeling... changed. The psychic residue these monsters give off cause the afflicted to seek out danger with reckless abandon; they will run toward the monster, into fights, and refuse safety when offered. They must be restrained in a secure location to wait for the pheromones to wear off.

    (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?
    boneblood: (003)

    🎀❔

    [personal profile] boneblood 2024-08-29 04:37 am (UTC)(link)
    [He doesn't know what the dewey decimal system is but he does have a little bit of his own system, which he'll show Noth how to sort by. They'll have to work on it when they have more books to add to rotation, too, but the demand isn't high enough these days to make Wesley worry any.]

    Sure, come here - I'll show you.
    abort: (☾ 091 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-29 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ Ava makes the change without comment: the sound of her voice is sweet and polite but otherwise entirely neutral. ]

    Today.

    Are all of your hobbies related to whether or not others enjoy the output?
    Edited (just suddenly came into my mind that i didnt mean this to be text lol) 2024-08-29 22:13 (UTC)
    angelhunter: (pic#16836663)

    [personal profile] angelhunter 2024-08-29 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
    You feel it. It touches on something inside you that you hold dear, takes on a shade of it. Maybe a passion or an axiom.

    Maybe a fear.
    minuteofangle: (022)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-30 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
    Audience participation is fun, what can I say?
    rosarianoath: <user name=messala> (I'll catalogue my doubts)

    [personal profile] rosarianoath 2024-08-30 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
    The transformation has slowed, but the hunt has not: Clive is up, trailing blood across his skin, his grey linen shirt blossoming with red. He stalks the Beast through the trees, onto over stone. The Beast is talking. Clive can’t reason with what: there’s a throbbing in his ears, a red hot glow rippling around him.

    “I told you run!” he snarls, and he hurls himself bodily against Khoriya, careless of any shadows.
    rosarianoath: (Default)

    Apologies! Busy week

    [personal profile] rosarianoath 2024-08-30 01:45 am (UTC)(link)
    [Clive makes contact with Javert’s ribs hard, and though his hands go to Javert’s sides to grip and drive; they slip. He compensates by digging his feet in to keep purchase without slipping off, but he doesn’t get nearly the impact he wants. Still, he holds fast, and pushes to try and drive Javert down.]
    angelhunter: (pic#16857740)

    [personal profile] angelhunter 2024-08-30 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
    A big stick. She might have asked for that while they were surrounded by them, but it wouldn't make the request any less absurd. From the looks of it, he'd have an easier time finding a pitchfork, and he's not going searching for one of those either.

    "You're not 'making' me do anything." Except want to take a bath. Hap shifts to be at her side, grasping her arm again. "Get up."
    poleaxed: tired; gent; smile; fight (on a telephone)

    🎀?

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-30 09:48 am (UTC)(link)
    Joan wasn't interested in being protected-- coddled-- before she came to this place, and is even more weary of it now that some have actually tried. This feels different. Hunter is doing this because it's the right thing to do, uninterested in her petty concerns. It's refreshing to be anonymous under the touch of another. He's not trying to convert her or save her. Her soul is of no concern; he is a doctor, and he only cares about her broken form.

    "Yeah, okay. Since you asked so nice." She's not gonna kiss the air, though. She takes as much weight as she can, unwilling to overburden him as they lope toward home.
    abort: (☾ 070 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-30 10:58 am (UTC)(link)
    Could you teach me how to do origami? I've never done it before.
    minuteofangle: (027)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-30 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
    Sure. What'd you wanna make?
    abort: (☾ 089 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-30 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
    I'm not sure. What's your favorite thing to make?
    abort: (☾ 124 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-30 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)
    What was it about the meaning of that song that resonated with you?
    minuteofangle: (014)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-30 05:23 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ He almost says dicks, just for the joke of it. Somewhat to his own surprise, Gabe answers honestly. ]

    Flowers. All kinds.
    abort: (☾ 109 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-30 05:24 pm (UTC)(link)
    Then I'd like you to show me how you make a flower. One that's simple, for a beginner.
    minuteofangle: (027)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-30 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
    That I can do. Ask around for the community center, people know where it is. I'm up on the roof most of the time.

    [ Avoiding his escort, as it happens. ]
    abort: (☾ 125 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-30 05:46 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ So Ava asks where the community center, and she makes her way there. It's a nice day, and she's squinting against the sunlight. The wig she was able to acquire is long and brown, and she was told by the proprietor that it suits the shape of her face.

    Outside the community center, she looks straight up, locating the figure on the roof. ]
    Hello. [ Her voice is only raised a little, but it carries. ] I'm Ava. We were talking about origami.
    minuteofangle: (129)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-30 05:51 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ Hey, stranger. Gabe tilts his head down toward the sound of her voice, giving a little wave. He's parked up in a corner, soaking up the sun and avoiding the locals. Today, unfortunately, has been a shit one for his tech. It keeps sputtering in and out, giving him ghosts. He can tell how far away Ava is, though, approximately how tall she is.

    It's something. ]


    Trellis is steady if you're good for it. Otherwise it's gonna take me a minute to come down.

    [ He has sunglasses on, his walking stick resting next to him. It begs certain questions, and certain conclusions. ]
    abort: (☾ 074 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-30 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
    I've never climbed anything before.

    [ She has sturdy shoes, and understands the theory. But looking up makes her feel small. She blinks, steadies herself. ]

    I'll try now.

    [ She makes slow process up the trellis, but it's slow out of precision rather than nerves. She has no reason to fear the height; fear of falling is the critical thing, but she trusts her limbs. They're hers, and they're stronger than she once thought. ]
    minuteofangle: (105)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-30 06:29 pm (UTC)(link)
    No?

    [ Well, hopefully she’s not afraid of heights. Gabe hums a little, then leans over and offers his hand out to her once she’s close enough. His fingers wear calluses and scars with resignation, the crosshairs tattooed on the back of his hand faded from time and violence. But his grip is strong, and steady. ]

    Made it up just fine. Good on you.
    angelhunter: (pic#16836671)

    [personal profile] angelhunter 2024-08-30 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
    The desperation, I guess. Of asking a question with no answer. It's a galvanizing melody, at odds with some very melancholy lyrics. It used to really fire me up.

    What's your favorite song?
    morozova: @shithouse (pic#16671736)

    [personal profile] morozova 2024-08-31 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
    ( the chevalier isn’t the first to think he could tame aleksander. plenty have tried; few have succeeded —a nd those who did only managed it because it aligned with aleksander’s own goals, not because of any genuine skill or care. he was a practical man, above all.

    that said, aleksander lets out a soft chuckle at the chevalier’s question, tilting his head slightly to the side. )


    Why? Are you thinking of tutoring me in the finer points of the art?
    clawandfang: (teeth ready for sinking)

    [personal profile] clawandfang 2024-08-31 08:30 am (UTC)(link)
    One golden eye flickers like a flame guttering in the wind; the shadows recoil from Ifrit's flames before unfurling like ribbons of black thread, winding clumsily around Clive's calves in a tangled, smothering web, soaking up heat and magic. The Beast is still yapping, but Khoriya pays no attention at all to the meaningless indignant noise coming out of his jaws as he braces, scorched and bleeding arms spread wide to catch Clive as he comes hurtling toward him and adding his own momentum to throw them both backward—

    —Straight into the river.
    marcas: (073)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-31 06:02 pm (UTC)(link)
    reckonings: (030)

    [personal profile] reckonings 2024-09-01 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)
    Yeah, no shit.

    [ kirsty follows her line of sight, narrowing her eyes to gather a better look into the shadows. ] Giant spiders, huh? [ she almost asks just how giant, but thinks better of it. if they're as real as she claims, she'll know soon enough. ]

    Guess this is the place that just keeps on giving.
    policier: 𝓭𝓷𝓽 (forty)

    [personal profile] policier 2024-09-01 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
    ( The blow to his chest does stun him somewhat, knocking the breath out of him for a few moments before he regains himself. His hands claw at the other's back, but not enough to tear skin — the oil far too wet, and his body far too slick for Javert to do anything but slip off.

    He lands on his rear before he realizes it, tossed onto the ground like a ragdoll. His teeth clench and he thrusts back against Clive's bulk, trying to regain the upper hand before the other can try to pin him. )