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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?
    poleaxed: angry ; static (saved)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-07-21 12:20 am (UTC)(link)
    [Joan, holding a picture of a vividly illustrated strap-on, shrugs.] Six months? I'm not saying it's great. It's not even good. But it's livable.
    killer: (👻🔪 138)

    [personal profile] killer 2024-07-21 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Sam's eyes narrow in on the picture of the strap and she draws in a long, shaky inhale while trying to ignore the imagery it brings to mind. It could be worse, she tells herself. That shiny new shop could be selling Stab merch instead of dildos. For all that there is to be afraid of, she hasn't heard anyone warn of serial killers yet. No one knows the name Billy Loomis. It could be a fresh start for her.

    Livable, the woman says. Right.

    Belatedly, Sam remembers her manners, for whatever they're worth. ]


    Thanks for the save back there. I'm Sam. [ She drags her gaze away from the pamphlet up to the woman's face. It's only polite. ]
    poleaxed: angry ; confus ; shock ; joke (and by tomorrow i'll be too turned off)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-07-21 12:51 am (UTC)(link)
    Yeah. You're new, right? [Joan finally sees the image on the pamphlet, but she can't manage to throw it away. Hating how fucking transparent this will look, she folds it and shoves it into the bag slung around her shoulder.] First few weeks are the worst part.

    [I would have loved it if somebody looked out for me. She can't bring herself to say it. She thrusts out her hand again, open for a shake.] I'm Joan. You're from Earth, right?
    killer: (👻🔪 162)

    [personal profile] killer 2024-07-21 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Sam shakes Joan's hand and means to pull away right after, but she loses her fight against the overwhelming urge to drag her thumb against Joan's skin, brushing over that sensitive valley between thumb and index finger. Her touch lingers for a moment, then another, as obvious as a touch can be while still being ostensibly suggestive. Then she regains control of herself with a jolt and snatches her hand away. ]

    Yeah. Yup. Right on both counts. [ Sam confirms with a nod and hopes that Joan will ignore her little overstep like Sam is ignoring the fact that she kept that pamphlet. ]
    poleaxed: awk; joke; hand; emb (well if you want)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-07-21 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
    [Joan feels Sam's hand in hers, the smoothness of her fingers, the softness of her skin. It wouldn't be the first time someone comes straight from the forest to Joan's bedroom, or close enough, but she needs to ask a very unsexy question first.]

    Hey, Sam, how old're you?
    killer: (👻🔪 048)

    [personal profile] killer 2024-07-21 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Sam blinks slowly, the question catching her completely by surprise. ]

    I'm 26. Why?
    poleaxed: shock; angry (if the truth forgets about us)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-07-21 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
    'Cause some of the people here are fucking young. And you got that look like-- I dunno. Better safe than sorry.

    [She shrugs. What can you do!]

    But you're a fucking adult. You can come to my place if you wanna work that outta your system.

    [Joan is aware that even in Rubilykskoye, she's pretty fucking direct. A lot of people are still interested in romance in this place, which she thinks is bizarre, but whatever. That's their lives. Joan just wants to make sure nobody transforms into a monster or gets blue-balled-- and it was so hard to work her shit out when she came here, not knowing how to work past her hangups. If she can help somebody, that's not bad, right?]
    killer: (👻🔪 061)

    [personal profile] killer 2024-07-21 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Sam is torn between respect and defensiveness. Respect for the fact that Joan cares enough about not fucking someone inappropriately young, defensiveness because Sam is used to being the adult in her circle. Not to mention that Joan doesn't even look that much older than she is.

    The invitation back to Joan's place comes just as Sam was gearing up to ask about "that look" that she apparently has. She had planned to head back to the boarding house to rub one out, fingers crossed that her roommate would be out when she got there. Whether it's the drugs or just her neglected bicurious side, she can't deny that Joan's offer is more attractive. ]


    Yeah, okay. Let's go.
    poleaxed: static ; hands (you might be harboring a heartache.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-07-21 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
    [Joan is breathlessly relieved she isn't being rejected-- it's stupid, but here, the rejections hurt worse. Maybe it's because nobody here will act normal about it, call her a bitch and stomp off. It's always about her precious feelings, like they even care.]

    [She keeps walking, leading Sam down winding streets toward a prim residential neighborhood. The houses are well-to-do, or about as nice as one can have in a what's basically a barter economy, but one of the houses stand out because it's clearly the recent target of vandalism in the form of rotten produce thrown on and around the door. Joan walks past this like it's old news, kicking some red cabbage out of her way.]


    So, my big rule is usually that if you fuck my roommate, I don't wanna know, but he's gay so that's not a problem. [She flips the key out of her pocket, unlocks the door.] And secondly, I'm bad at giving head to girls, but I can make up for it with fingerwork. [Joan does not know how to be anything but upfront when it comes to sex.]
    killer: (👻🔪 178)

    [personal profile] killer 2024-07-21 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Sam spares a sympathetic glance at the vandalized house and reflects once more on the perk of a dimension where nobody knows her name. Sure, there's a lot— a lot— about the whole situation that sucks, but at least she doesn't have to be vigilant of strangers wanting to dump an entire Big Gulp over her head. The most that anyone has recognized about her here is that she is new to town, which is quite a step up from being known to her sister's classmates as "that psycho girl."

    She realizes as she snaps out of her thoughts that she has been standing in place and breaks into a jog, catching up with Joan in just in time to hear her disclaimer. ]


    Okay. [ Nod. ] As long as we're moderating expectations, I should mention that I don't do this often. Sex with women, I mean, not sex in general.
    poleaxed: angry ; static (saved)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-07-21 12:21 pm (UTC)(link)
    [Joan locks the door behind her. On the inside, the townhouse is made of smooth stone and Victorian frippery, mostly devoid of furniture. It looks like someone just moved in and is still getting everything together. More accurately, it looks like someone moved in two months ago and keeps having major life events which waylay the moving-in process.]

    [Briskly, Joan leads Sam through the foyer, up the stairs.]
    Me neither. Before, I mean. But- [She looks over her shoulder. Sam is really, really pretty. Joan forces herself to grin, make a joke. Get over the nerves that accompany being with women, the inescapable knowledge that they're prettier than her-] Don't worry. I won't leave a nasty yelp review on your pussy.