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

[ Cults are certainly a rough gig. ]

Once a criminal is locked away, they cease being a person to the eyes of everyone else. Only an inconvenience if they do have to think about us.

[ The biggest fallacy of all is that there's justice brought to being sentenced. Michael likens it to the pot calling the kettle black. There's no justice to be found when the person with the power is the one that strikes the gavel. As if they don't have their tawdry affairs and act in their own benefit. Those who shame their fellow man for living in poverty, but do nothing about it. Instead, lining their own pockets. Corrupt, unworthy. They should be the ones put on trial for their own misgivings, it would certainly save some of the bullshit. ]

And why would they? We would only make them feel guilty, or a misguided sense of a job well done.

Edited 2020-07-07 18:05 (UTC)

[ The man across from Michael is quiet, thoughtful, brow furrowed and gaze on the table. He nods, slow at first, and then, a more certain nod. His gaze flickers up. ]

Yeah.

[ It seemed like a mess. Everyone he'd encountered, all those people he'd tried to protect, who, once he had, looked at him like he was unstable, unsafe. Maybe he was, but who was going to save them when faced with evil like that? What good man could match evil without losing part of himself?

Not everyone had looked at him like that. Some had defended him, and maybe, would have until their dying breath. (One had done just that, when their death had been at Rook's own hands. So maybe, that meant nothing.) ]

Seems like the whole world would be on trial, then, [ He mutters, quiet. ] No one left to judge.

And isn't that better? With no one left to judge, everyone would be off their moral high-horse and see that really, they're no better than we are.

[ Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that people are selfish, cruel, and need little to no help to be downright bastards to their fellow man.

He can sympathize with Rook- caught in a whirlwind of people who ostracized him for doing the same thing they would have done in his situation and denying it. The ones who thought they were so superior because they would never fall to the temptation or be put in that situation. A dog-eat-dog scenario is too terrible for them to consider comprehending. ]

My name is Michael. [ He pauses briefly and adds as an afterthought: ] Langdon.

[ It's possible that Rook may know who he is- the case had been quite the scandalous affair. Either way, it doesn't matter to him, given their conversation. The way the world perceived him and his true nature were vastly different. ]

Maybe. [ Rook doesn't know what would become of society, then. He'd seen it collapse on a small scale, torn apart and left to burn. Men who would do anything for the man leading their holy crusade, and the men decent enough to wait for that to come knocking on their doors, as if they weren't chomping at the bit to commit the same violence, as if waiting for an excuse instead of making one made them better. Maybe he wasn't any better.

He thought the whole world had been left to burn, for a while. He tries not to think about that.

The name sounds familiar, he thinks, some vague recognition pinging in the back of his mind. He can't place it right away, and doesn't care to think too hard on that, either. ] David Rook. Nice to meet you.

[ Eden's Gate had been on the news, too, that violent cult, and the junior deputy that had been the spear point of a ragtag army fighting back to keep their homes and their lives, on trial for what some very delicately called 'excessive force'.

The sentiment is somewhat rote, nice to meet you, but maybe he means it, in some small way. At least Michael is honest about how horrible people are. Rook thinks there are good people. Or maybe people that contain their horrid nature. Maybe that was the same thing. Most, though... most are bastards. ]

It's always hard to know how humanity will react to any sort of stimulus. As predictable as people are, they always manage to have a few surprises.

[ Maybe it would be better if the world did burn for a while. Michael has some notion of familiarity with Rook, but he nods his head by way of greeting, holding out his hand across the table. Whether he took his hand or not didn't matter. They'd reached an understanding of one another. ]

The pleasure is mine, David.

[ Rook thinks of a man throwing himself into the blades of a helicopter because his leader had been arrested. He thinks of a woman that mistrusted him from the start, then defended him when he turned out to be as corrupted as she feared. ] That's about the long and short of it, isn't it?

[ He looks at Michael's outstretched hand, and reaches to accept it in a firm, though not aggressive, shake. ]

Thanks for uh. Entertaining my question.

Humanity is vile, people are fucking terrible, yet some of them can still surprise you. Sounds about right.

[ Michael pulls his hand away once they've shaken hands, leaning back in his seat. ]

Not what I expected of our conversation, but I appreciate your honesty. It's refreshing.

Edited 2020-07-08 23:44 (UTC)

[ Surprise both good and bad. Rook gives a wry smile at that, also leaning back, wrists resting on his thighs. ]

Yeah, I uh- can't say that's how I thought this would go, but... [ he pauses for a moment, thinking on his words. ] Likewise. [ Even if he doesn't know the specifics of Michael's situation, understands the charges he was convicted of would be horrifying to normal people, Rook appreciates the view that not everyone is good, or can be good. He appreciates the understanding that people use the justice system as an easy high horse to climb. Whatever secrets someone had, if they were able to judge their fellow man openly, then the judge was better than the judged.

Michael's view is a little more pessimistic than Rook is maybe ready for, but he thinks he agrees with it more than not. ]

Pleasantly surprising, if I may say so. Given the general populace surrounding us, it could have gone a multitude of ways.

[ People are disappointing and will always let you down. It's the one life lesson he learned on his own. Easier on the soul to assume everyone is a piece of shit and be pleasantly surprised when someone breaks the mold. ]

[ Rook eyes Michael, and can't seem to help the little grin that appears. ] Oh, you know, I'm sure most likely someone would've ended up with a punch in the mouth, at some point.

[ He's already seen it happen, (and nearly happen several times,) and he hasn't been here that long. ]

A punch, or something much more lethal? Plenty of people roam these halls that know exactly where to hit to incapacitate.

[ Or worse, but he can't judge. There's no one in these walls that he'd bother with doing it. None of the prisoners, at least. ]

In a place like this, tensions are high. The guards don't see everything, and I'm willing to bet it's mostly intentional.

Either or, I suppose.

[ Rook's brows raise slightly. ] I can't imagine they're paid that well, and who cares if a criminal kills another, right? We're just animals in a cage, or something like that.

[ Rook never thought that of prisoners before. He knew too much. That happens, when you're part of a group that sees grossly disproportionate incarceration rates. He wonders if that would've changed, being a cop. If slowly, his position would've gotten to him, made him think that he was high and mighty, too, that he deserved to judge.

The thought makes him uncomfortable. Shifting topics somewhat abruptly: ] So, any hobbies you've picked up here? Other than entertaining stupid questions from newbies and having philosophical conversations about the dim state of humanity, I mean. [ He quirks a wry smile. ]

It's only inhuman life they have to worry about, nothing consequential.

[ Michael waves his hand, dismissing the rest of that particular conversation just as Rook changed the topic. He laughs, shaking his head before pulling the pile of cards back toward himself, shuffling idly. ]

I've learned to become very good at cheating my way through solitaire. I'm not terrible at rummy if I put my mind to it. We don't have enough for euchre, unfortunately.

[ He sits back a little, head cocked in curiosity. ]

How does one cheat in solitaire? [ He chuckles at the idea. ] I never really learned rummy. Poker and blackjack are my go-tos.

When one is bored and also bad at solitaire, anything is possible if only you set your mind to it.

[ He deals cards between them, setting the rest in the middle and flipping the topmost card facing upward next to the pile. Rook has absolutely been shanghaied into a game. ]

I'll teach you. The object is to make matched sets of three or four of a kind, or sequences of three or more in the same suit.

[ That earns a laugh. ] Alright, that's fair. I can't say I'm any good at it either.

[ A card game is also something he wasn't expecting, but as far as asking stupid questions go, this is a pretty good outcome. He watches Michael deal the cards, and listens intently. ]

Sounds simple enough.

Quite. Now, you can either take the card in the discard pile, or you may draw one to add to your hand. If you have any sets, you may lay them down. If you don't, you can put one in the discard pile.

[ He lets that sink in before continuing. ]

Tell me something about yourself not related to your incarceration here.

[ He hums confirmation, picking up his cards to look at them. The question (command?) seems to surprise him. ]

Uh- hm. Well, I'm Blackfoot. I grew up on the reservation in northern Montana. [ As he talks, he picks up one card and moves it to another position in his hand. He glances up over the edge of his cards. ]

Your turn.

[ The surprise is turned back on Rook as Michael's expression changes into delight. It's more of an answer than he is anticipating, and to have it turned back on him is pleasing. He'd assumed that the conversation would end. Thankfully, he was wrong. ]

I've never been to Montana, only pictures and the occasional news broadcast. I'm sure the mountains feel different than they do in California.

[ Michael takes a card from the pile, discarding a two of clubs onto the pile. ]

My grandmother was the one that raised me. She was very into her Catholic faith- she called a priest to perform an exorcism on me when I was eight for my troubling behavior.

They're cold, but beautiful. [ Rook picks up the card from the discard pile, and puts down an eight of hearts. He raises his eyebrows. ]

Are we talking head spinning and talking in tongues, or killing small animals?

I'm certain she would have preferred head spinning and speaking in tongues. At least with that, it would have fallen in line with her beliefs.

[ He draws another from the discard pile, organizing his hand and laying down clubs four, five, and six. Michael sighs, looking troubled. ]

I just loved her so much. I didn't know any other way to show her. I never did manage to make her understand.

[ That sounds... ominous.

Rook instead peers at the cards. ]

So does that mean you've won the hand? [ Three cards doesn't seem like much. ] Or do you need a certain number of these trios?

[ It gets worse before it gets better. ]

No, you need to be rid of all the cards in your hand in order to have won.

Oh- oh, alright.

[ Rook looks thoughtfully at his hand, and draws a card. He's quiet a moment longer. He sets down a three of diamonds. ]

[ He lets the silence settle for another turn before he gives Rook a pointed look over his cards. ]

I know you're dying to ask- go ahead.

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