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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?
    littlemissfutility: (hnaGeUm)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-22 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
    "Yeah, I did." It's not the being in charge that's the problem. It's remembering the look in the guy's eyes, like he wasn't sure he actually wanted to be there, and remembering how she hadn't cared at the time. It had been so easy not to care. She's not sure why, in retrospect; now, she's horrified by it.

    Thinking of it makes the tea sit wrong in her stomach. She wants to talk about anything else suddenly, anything but the possibility that she betrayed someone else like that. After a pause, she says quietly, "You said you were drunk. Like, really drunk."
    poleaxed: anger ; sad (in the mirror.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-22 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
    "I was with these two guys, they, like," Joan makes another vague and meaningless gesture in the air, "kept pouring wine down my throat. And you know what they say about white bitches and white wine."
    littlemissfutility: (F6K08vo)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-22 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
    The tilt of her brows (and the scar above) says that she doesn't, in fact, have any idea what people say about white bitches and white wine. Everyone drank beer at parties at home.
    poleaxed: confus ; angry (at least the dark don't hide it.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-22 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
    Joan rolls her eyes. "I got drunk and sloppy after being spit-roasted, you happy?"
    littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-22 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
    "God." Her shoulders hunch slightly. That's something she can't quite fathom wanting to do, even when drunk to the point of being sloppy. "I just meant...maybe it means you shouldn't drink like that."
    poleaxed: static; gent; scx; emb (my my.)

    cw discussion of dubcon experiences.

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-22 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
    "They poured it down my throat, Beth." Joan puts her fingers over her eyes, more resting her head than hiding her face. "To- to wash- Mmh, never mind."
    littlemissfutility: (kVkpRGs)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-22 11:25 am (UTC)(link)
    "Oh. Oh, my God, I didn't realize you meant -" She's so stupid. Stupid and naive, and God, all anyone does in this place is hurt each other. Instinctively, she reaches across the table to touch Joan's arm. "I'm sorry."
    poleaxed: hand; shock; static; gent (let me go.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-22 01:46 pm (UTC)(link)
    "It's okay," Joan says. "I signed up for it. You would've been fine."

    She's not sure that's true at all.

    "This ain't about me." Her arm feels like it's made of lead under Beth's arm, like her touch radiates hurt. "I'm just saying... a lot of us get off on weird shit, here. You ain't a criminal."
    littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-23 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
    "This part is." No matter what else is true about the things Joan has done, the way she talks about getting passed around doesn't quite match the look on her face.

    Her hand doesn't linger, but it doesn't retreat out of any particular instinct. "And I...don't know yet, if I'm a criminal or not. I'm going to find out."

    It's something she decides only as she speaks, the words coming out slow but determined, her jaw set.
    poleaxed: tired; hand; sad; emb (at water)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-23 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
    "Go to the Moots. They got one every Thursday," Joan says, ignoring any implication that she might be a victim. Talking about tough treatment is something different. It's taking back control. People don't have to react to it. It mostly makes them uncomfortable, and that suits her fine.

    "If somebody presses charges against you, you gotta, like, comply with their judgement. But if nobody presses charges, they don't consider it a crime."
    littlemissfutility: (hnaGeUm)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-23 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
    "What if somebody's afraid to?" she asks, because isn't that the obvious question to ask? What if somebody wants to press charges, but they don't feel like they can? The same way they might not have wanted to have sex, but did it anyway.

    (She'd thought she'd find the guy and talk to him.)
    poleaxed: shock (but people like you)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-23 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
    "Then it's their fault." Joan's shoulders slump. "It's not a perfect system. I don't even think it's very good, most of the time. But it's their system, and it seems to work for them. I talk about everybody who screws with me."

    If she can remember them. If their faces weren't covered, if she got their names.
    littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-23 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
    She's quiet for several moments, watching Joan steadily. "Who screwed with you?"
    poleaxed: gent; emb (i have)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-23 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
    "There's this guy, Lyubov, who follows me around sometimes, but we have an understanding." Joan shrugs it off like it's nothing. "And, uh, Iakov kept licking me and... other stuff. Look, they're only weird about me 'cause I'm tall. You don't gotta worry about it."
    littlemissfutility: (lstNR0m)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-24 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
    "I'm not worried." She's vigilant, more like. Interested in making sure that whatever else might be true, she can avoid people who'll only be creeps. There's a pause, and then, with genuine curiosity, she asks, "People are weird about you because you're tall? That's...really weird."
    poleaxed: smile; gent; static (do what it did)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-24 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
    Joan sighs, but it's with a faintly fond expression. She rolls up her sleeve and curls her arm to show off the lean muscle she has, still much more than the average woman here or at home. (Not Rubean women, but she's not really interested in fucking Rubeans if she can avoid it.)

    "A lot of guys secretly wanna get bossed around by a girl, 'cause then it's not gay or whatever." She rolls her eyes. "But they only think big girls can do it. And they think it's the only thing we ever wanna do."
    littlemissfutility: (gsiX5bB)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-24 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
    That gets her to crack a smile, a small one. What a stupid thing to have to worry about, whether getting pushed around isn't manly enough. Of Joan's muscles, she mostly feels good-natured envy. She's stronger than she looks, but her biceps are nothing like that.

    "Do you actually want to?" she asks, since Joan seems willing to talk about this stuff. Not everyone is.
    poleaxed: smile; gent; static (on my plate.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-24 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
    "Sometimes," Joan shrugs. "Everybody likes being in charge sometimes, right? But all the time, it gets fucking boring. I wanna lie back and relax sometimes, y'know?"

    This is a very kid-friendly description of Joan's desire; she's mostly impressed she can turn down the dial so far and still feel coherent.
    littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-24 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
    Joan could be more explicit, and it'd be fine - but as it is, Beth gets her drift. She sighs, reaching for the pitcher of tea to pour a little more out for herself. "That's what everyone always thinks I want. Like I'm made out of glass."
    poleaxed: sad; tired; emb; gent (they don't know you well.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-24 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
    "Yeah, and everyone thinks I'm made outta rubber." She clinks her glass with Beth's. "If you tell a guy you want to boss him around, though-- I mean, just say it-- he'll probably be into it. I'm not kidding. And since you're small, they'll probably let you tie 'em up."
    littlemissfutility: (mmyJ5Gp)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-24 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
    No one's ever suggested that before, and her widening eyes say as much. "You think so?"

    At some point, maybe she would have thought the idea of tying someone up was messed up, and she still kind of does - but there's something appealing about it. She's not sure what, exactly, but she wouldn't mind finding out.
    poleaxed: hand; shock; static; gent (let me go.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-24 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
    "Guys love it," Joan says, sipping her tea. "And if he doesn't, he'll just say no. But everybody who's usually in charge secretly wants to lie down and let somebody else do the work. Mostly. I fucking promise you."
    littlemissfutility: (F6K08vo)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-24 01:40 pm (UTC)(link)
    She considers this, imagining the possibilities. It sounds fun, the kind of thing you can only get away with when you have time and privacy - and those are the things Beth likes best, when it comes to sex. Better than someone lashing her hands together, certainly. After a few moments, she answers, "Maybe all you need to do is ask, too. Someone'll want to do that with you."
    poleaxed: tired; gent; hand (see)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-06-24 01:53 pm (UTC)(link)
    Joan sighs, and makes a raspberry on the exhale-- not at Beth or the idea in particular, just a general, bored flapping of the lips. "I have. It's... different. I'm not trying to get all weird; we're the same species and everything. But the world is weird about tall girls the way it's weird about guys with slim wrists, you know? Not- not the same way- I mean, sometimes, but- ugh."
    littlemissfutility: (JTM0g3o)

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-24 02:01 pm (UTC)(link)
    "Then the world sucks." Which she already takes as a given, much of the time, but it's still worth saying. "Screw anyone who doesn't care about what you like."

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