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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?
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-08 03:48 am (UTC)(link)

    ((I'm the one that took my own clothes off. She didn't strip me.))

    [Setting her things down on a bench, Jordana started to put her clothes back on, covering the scars on her torso, though it did nothing for the one on her scalp or her throat. She was going to need to acquire some necklaces to hide that one. It bothered her more than the others. People asked questions about her throat more than the others. Oh, convenient; she loosely wrapped the blue sash about her neck like a fashionable scarf to cover the throat scar.]

    ((Are you going to offer to be the knight in shining armor to everyone in that line, or am I just special?))

    marcas: (046)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-07-08 07:49 pm (UTC)(link)
    ( I don't think you are special. )

    [ It wasn't a retort. It didn't even sound defensive. She asked a question and he answered, if only part of it, eye glowing as he looked at her again. ]

    ( And I'm not a savior. )
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-08 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)

    ((Then why did you bother?)

    [Jordana often found men that acted in these situations were looking to get something out of it. This one was definitely barking up the wrong tree for that on so many levels. But temperance was what allowed her to survive as long as she had, controlling her rage toward men in general. They belonged to Gaia, and had a place in her grand design. That was enough to keep her from being like she was as a cub.]

    marcas: (084)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-07-08 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ The eye went back to normal for a long moment. Maybe long enough to make her think he'd given up on the conversation. Then a simple answer that, to anyone who'd ever come to know his past, said so much. ]

    ( Scars. )
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-09 04:10 am (UTC)(link)

    [Ah. What a surprise. A man saw her scars and thought she was ashamed of them. Like they were a lament of her suffering.]

    ((In my culture, such scars are a testament to my survival.))

    marcas: (067)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-07-10 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
    ( Yes. )

    [ There would be no other interpretation for it, regardless of the presence of shame or pride. Scars were written history of what had gone far enough to make sure your body could never forget what you had overcome. ]

    ( So you aren't saddened by them. )
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-10 08:49 pm (UTC)(link)

    [Now that was the caveat. Two of the three battle scars she had saddened her to the point that she needed to watch that she didn't get too close to the precarious edge in her mind where the song of harano lived. Scars like hers were traumatic, a brush with death that would have killed anyone not fueled by rage.]

    ((That's a rather personal question to ask without having introduced yourself.))

    marcas: (056)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-07-10 08:52 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ Noth had had to learn some social concepts on his own, shying away from several, and this place certainly hadn't helped get a better sense. He could instantly recognize that she was right, though — introducing oneself was essential to most interactions. ]

    ( My name is Black-Eyed Noth.

    ... Noth. )
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-10 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)

    [Black-Eyed Noth. Jordana finished tying the blouse she put in shut, looking to see if the man had black eyes or if it was something akin to a deed name. That reminded her to keep her own to herself for the sake of the Veil.]

    ((Jordana Martinez. When you have your sash, we can continue this conversation like normal people.))

    [By talking instead of using Sept chat.]

    marcas: (058)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-07-11 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
    [ It had been the name forced on him by witches, the ability to give his real one removed; with it came some changes to his body that he could choose to wear or remove — Agate, once his owner, made him wear his black sclera, irises glowing in a gold tone, but now he only looked like a man with normal blue eyes. (Being called 'normal people' was something he always sought to hear, so long as he was being included in them for a sense of belonging.)

    If she looked at him, she'd see him nodding obediently. Otherwise, the sense of acceptance would come through, and later, Noth would be wearing a Niez gray. ]
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-14 12:17 am (UTC)(link)
    [Fully clothed with the blue sash loosely draped about her neck, Jordana waited a bit away from the line for Noth to come find her. She was a tall woman with a runner's physique that confidently made eye contact with him. She did not show submission to men that had not earned it, and even those were few.]

    Noth. Do scars sadden you?
    marcas: (054)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-07-19 04:47 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ He didn't make himself look submissive to Jordana either, though any sense of threat coming from Noth would have been accidental in almost every situation, let alone with her. There was some leftover guilt over the assumptions, but her question was helpful to make them fade. ]

    Yes, they do. We get scars when we're hurt.
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-21 02:11 am (UTC)(link)
    True, but not all hurt is sad. Pain isn't always something to be avoided.

    [This had a feel much like the lessons she had with the cubs.]

    I find the saddest scars are the ones that can't be seen.
    marcas: (105)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-07-21 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
    It isn't?

    [ He'd always learned otherwise. He couldn't think of any pain he'd suffered for a good reason. Some - plenty - of people in this small world enjoyed it, and he simply couldn't understand why. ]

    Inside scars?
    wyldfire: (Default)

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-07-21 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)
    Sometimes there are things greater than us as individuals. Beliefs. Morals. Purpose. When we get hurt standing firm in those greater things, it isn't sad. It's an honor to be able to withstand it, to not buckle, to take that pain yourself than let one who doesn't deserve it be hurt.

    Then, when you look upon the scar left behind by that, it's not sadness you feel but pride. It is a mark of courage and dedication.

    [This was Jordana's dedication to Black Unicorn's ways made manifest. Defend those that cannot defend themselves. It wasn't always easy, but the Fury could and would take a hell of a lot of damage meant for someone else to hold fast to those ideals.]

    But the inside scars - the ones on the mind, the heart, the spirit... those are truly sad. Those, I've found, are never honorable. Too many bear them.
    marcas: (106)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-13 03:15 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ She spoke of ideas much greater than Noth, who had only learned to survive by being on his own. The only family he'd been with owned him. He didn't belong, but he belonged to it. And yet, after escaping the witches, he always had that desire in the back of his head — to be a part of something that would be good to him, to which he'd be good in return.

    Magic healed the scars on his skin. Scars on the inside… he'd never thought of them. The way she described them; what composed them. Part of Noth wondered if he could claim such a thing. The other was firm on the belief that he had no right to do so. ]


    My scars are gone. Only the memory is left.

    [ And he went quiet, looking down, not knowing what else to say. ]
    wyldfire: (Default)

    /end

    [personal profile] wyldfire 2024-08-13 04:15 pm (UTC)(link)
    [He looked like a lost little boy in a man's body. That told Jordan there was hope that he could learn to not be awful. But it also meant there was a lot of power in the hands of a boy. Dangerous. She would need to think on how to proceed with him, but she didn't feel the need to write Noth off like other men. Or maybe it was just the Den Mother in her.]

    The memories are important. We need to--

    [Her attention was grabbed by the sight of a woman being tied to a man off toward the festival grounds. It got her hackles up and her focus shifted immediately.]

    We'll talk again, Noth. There is something I have to go deal with right now.

    [And with that as her parting words, the Garou went to go find out what was going on.]