obsidianooc | test drive;

Entry tags:

test drive

test drive;

The game cap is 30 players. We currently have 22 players in game.

TDM Guidelines

1. We strongly encourage you to post to the AU Workshop before posting here, just to get your concept out there. Feel free to link to your workshop post in your tag for easy lookup purposes.

2. Threads can be game canon if both players agree to it.

3. No one is late! Consider this a permanent test drive (until captcha is hit, if that happens). We'll be tracking top-levels and drawing attention to new posts.

4. You don't have to use any of the prompts below; feel free to create your own!

5. Don't worry about cell block assignments for the purpose of the TDMm if you haven't chosen one - feel free to keep it vague or retcon the threads a bit later.

Prompt 1: Common Room

The common room has books, magazines, newspapers, cards, and board games. The television has been out of commission for a while, but oh! Look! It seems like a new TV has been mounted on the wall! And this one's a 32 inch flat screen, a nice substitute for the old broken tube TV someone broke over a Monopoly dispute turned violent.

If you decide to watch the TV, the screen cuts to static a few minutes after you start watching and a strange voice starts to speak. It's a soft voice, but with the occasional distortion as if spoken by a person standing too close too a microphone.

"Hello there! You must be [CHARACTER NAME]. I think it's about time you got to know somebody a little bit better. Why don't you..."

(Choose one of the following options:)

"Tell someone something you don't want them to know. It doesn't have to be terribly juicy, as long as you'd prefer not to have told them."

"Give one of your fellow inmates a nice hard slap across the cheek."

"Be nice. Ask somebody if there's anything you can do for them. Anything at all."

"Find someone with a snack, and take it away from them."

"Go up to someone you don't know, and ask them what they did."

"If you decide to ignore me, or you tell anyone you're not acting of your own free will, the guard beside the magazine stand will send you strait to the SHU for two weeks.. Your choice."

No one else in the common room seems to hear the voice except you - although the aforementioned guard sure seems to be staring you down. The other people watching TV continue to react to the show that was playing.

Prompt 2: Lockdown

Uh-oh. Something bad must have happened, because the entire prison has been put into lockdown without bothering to herd everyone back to their proper blocks. You've been herded into a cell with someone from ANY block, and who knows when you'll be let out.

You have a set of bunk beds, a table and chair, a toilet and sink, and two shelves where the inmates who actually reside in that cell have put anything that belongs to them.

Now's a good time to get to know your new temporary cellmate. Or pray that you're on good terms, if you already know them.

Prompt 3: The Yard

It's recreation time! Your daily opportunity for a couple hours of fresh air, if you choose to take it (or if the indoor guards are sick of you and decide you're going outside whether you like it or not). The guards here are primarily concerned with preventing your escape, so if you're not lingering around the fences you'll be watched less than if you were inside.

If you're new, weak, or don't have a solid group of allies yet, that also means it's less likely that anyone will help you if someone else decides to pick a fight. Be careful.

The outdoor guards to a careful, meticulous sweep of the entire area every night, trying to keep...something out. It seems they were slacking off a bit yesterday: the tiniest sliver of obsidian rock has made its way into the yard undetected and - ow - you've brushed up against it, embedding it somewhere on your body.

The shard has imbued you with one of the following effects:

The next person who makes eye contact with you can read your thoughts, and you can read theirs. Careful, it might get hard to tell who's who after a while.

You suddenly feel frightened and timid, as if everyone in the yard is bigger, stronger, and out to hurt you.

You are overcome with the urge to dig into the ground with your bare hands, looking for more of the rocks.

The next person you see fills you with rage, and you want to attack them.

You become exceptionally suggestible, and will do whatever you're told.

You feel a strange euphoria: regardless of how you felt before, the prison now feels like the very best place to be, as if you're at the center of the universe.

Regardless of the effect, the shard will slowly start to burn hotter and hotter, compelling you to remove it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1. Common room

TV is fine. It's a window to the outside world in a sense, a way to see what other crimes have occurred lately, a way to see the shift of culture. It has been two years since Alan (or AM as many have taken to refer to him as, given his company name and initials) was locked away here, life without the possibility of parole. No wonder; he had tortured and killed so many.

But as often happens, the world moves on. And part of him fears losing touch with that world, which is why he is watching an incredibly trashy talk show. It's mindless entertainment, at least, until it cuts out. AM frowns and looks to his side to see if anyone else is watching and is equally annoyed that The View is no longer there. But nobody seems to notice thus far.

Suddenly, the voice commands him, and he whips his head back to the television to see if the static has changed. At first he ignores it, assuming that it's some form of government subliminal messaging, but then that last part hits him: If you decide to ignore me, or you tell anyone you're not acting of your own free will, the guard beside the magazine stand will send you strait to the SHU for two weeks.. Your choice.

Well. Following the command is better than that, so he stands up.

What are you doing? Are you minding your own business? It doesn't matter. With a hearty grin, AM aims to slap you hard across the face. (It's such a mild thing in comparison to what he wants to do, after all.)

B. Lockdown

Well, that's annoying. Being able to roam the cell block is one of the small semblances of freedom granted in this prison, so to have it stripped away at a moment's notice is nothing less than frustrating.

But he's not alone. No, he has entertainment at the very least. Another person. A toy.

How he reacts depends on who is in here. If you're new, or he doesn't recognize you, though, he offers a toothy grin, a creepy stare that was captured by at least one sketch artist from a witness account before he was caught. "Well, what a pleasant introduction."

C. Yard

Despite being one of the older prisoners here, AM is in exceptionally good shape. Being rich and affording the top trainers certainly helped before he was incarcerated. And even though he's locked up now, he refuses to lose that muscular physique and strength he had worked so hard to build up. (After all, his strength is one of the things that enabled him to subdue so many victims.)

So he tries to use his time in the yard wisely. Anything he can't do inside he will try to do, such as back and forth sprints, chest presses, kettle bell swings, and the like. It is on one of his dashes that the shard brushes against him. He doesn't notice it at first, but his sprinting slows down, enabling him to stop in the middle of the yard.

All of a sudden, he feels vulnerable. Everyone seems to stare at him. Despite his impressive height, he feels so small. His heart starts to pound, and not just from the cardiovascular exercise he had been doing. For a unique moment, there is a hint of fear in his eyes as he starts to back away, hands clutched together over his chest.

He's not in shape. He's old. They can all destroy him. They can do worse than what he did to his own victims...

"Out of here... Gotta get out..." he whispers to himself, backing against the fence.

One of the guards yells at him, telling him to get away from the fence, and a couple of uniformed men with guns start moving toward him.

So what does he do? He screams and collapses to the ground, curling up into a little ball. Anyone who knows AM knows that this is precisely the opposite of what he would usually do.

D. Wildcard

[Anything else you're up for? His AU workshop is here. Basically he's a sadistic torturer and rich businessman and is somewhat of a leader type for Cell Block B. His icons are super outdated and were drawn eight years ago and need a serious update.]

Edited 2020-07-07 16:32 (UTC)

Abigail stumbles a little as the guard pushes her into the cell, balancing herself on the edge of the bed as the door slams shut behind her, the click of the lock echoing around the cell.

She shrinks back a little as she sees the way AM is staring, like she's the latest piece of fresh meat, smiling very nervously and keeping her distance as much as she can.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Of all the luck! AM gets paired with a pretty young woman for the next unspecified amount of time. It could be as short as a half hour, or it could be several long hours... or more. Who knows. In his two years here, though, they haven't gone on too long, but it's not as if he enjoys these lockdowns.

However, he does enjoy the prospect of scoping out a new subject. He doesn't recognize her, though. Sometimes he will recognize the higher profile criminals blasted all throughout the media, but it isn't always the case.

But it's easy to see how nervous she is. Does she know who he is? It doesn't matter; this prison has all sorts of nasty characters, so it's not hard to figure out AM is one of them.

"I suppose it's not an introduction though until I know your name." He doesn't move from his spot, not yet. After all, there's no reason to increase her discomfort yet.

While she doesn't recognise him from news reports and such, she's definitely going to assume that he's dangerous until proven otherwise. Her eyes dart around for anything she could use to get and advantage, if it came to that, but she knows that she'd be quickly overpowered.

Still, she decides to swallow down her nerves as much as she can. She has no idea how long they're going to be stuck in here, after all. She offers a tight smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Isn't it polite to offer your own name first?"

He probably could overpower her, couldn't he? A pretty young girl like her, though, will either draw protectors or attackers. Or... perhaps she herself is a force to be reckoned with. Her fear could be an act. But AM likes to think that with all of the horrors he has committed, he can recognize real fear.

He gives a slow laugh at her response. "My apologies. It is quite rude of me to not give my own name first."

He shifts slightly, uncrossing his legs. "Alan. But many here just call me AM."

She leans back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, mostly so that she can hide the fact that she's digging her nails into her palms to calm her nerves just a little.

"I'm Abigail."

She doesn't really want to volunteer more information than that , so she does what she does best, and tries to turn the conversation away from herself.

"You seem at more at home than most of the people I've met here. Have you been here a long time?"

Most of the people she'd interacted with so far had been newly incarcerated like herself.

"Abigail. What a pretty name," he comments, the delight in his voice almost on the verge of exaggeration.

"You speak as though you are new here. I certainly don't recognize you." He is a bit more at ease, perhaps, knowing what to expect. A daily routine in some ways. Does that mean that this prison life is pleasant? No. He was a powerful figure and now he's nothing.

"I've been in here for two years, sentenced to life. I supposed I might as well get used to it."

"You're right there, I've only been here a couple of days." That's probably painfully obvious, just from how she carries herself, like a deer in the headlights.

She's not surprised to hear that he has a life sentence - she seems to be one the few who doesn't - but it confirms to her that he's definitely as dangerous as she thinks he is.

"They say I'll be out in fifteen years. That almost feels like a lifetime in itself."

"Fifteen years... That isn't too horrible," he offers. Almost like he's sympathetic. But no, it's all an act, the act that brought him success in his business life for so long.

But add fifteen years to this girl's life, and she would still be far younger than AM is now. While he doesn't know her exact age, he would hazard she's somewhere between 18 and 22. He's almost envious.

"After only two days, perhaps fifteen years sounds insurmountable..." He leans back then, thinking on his own first two days.

"But really, your mid thirties are still young."

"Trust me, when you're nineteen your mid-thirties feel like a million years away," she says a little sarcastically, then feels a little bad when she reminds herself that she's speaking to someone who doesn't have the luxury of the light at the end of the long, dark tunnel, even if it is fifteen years away. Even so, the idea of going back out into a world that will have changed so much, with no place for her left in it, sounded daunting to her already.

"Is it as bad here as people say it is?"

"I know. I remember very well," he says with a half-smile. Oh dear, he is quite a bit older, isn't he? As if he's in another world, as if the youth can't even comprehend that a long time ago, he was their age.

"I was in college then, part of the ROTC." A small anecdote as if he can relate at all to this girl. But that's his businessman attitude; find something they can relate on...

But when she asks about how bad it is, he tilts his head slightly, lips slowly curling back into a smile. It's not his usual mischievous smirk, but more of an attempt to look sympathetic.

"It is... not pleasant, at the very least. Especially someone as young as you..." He trails off, looking over Abigail's body. Indeed, she could either draw crowds or protectors or crowds of attackers. Or both.

"What is it that you are in for again?"

AM (or Alan in this AU, whatever) | I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

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C. Yard

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