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

Oh, you know. Same old, same old.

[ Which was to say, he was up to no good, trying to get his fingers stuck in every pie that he could when it came to bad behavior. ]

Come on down.[ He reaches up to take her hand in his. ] We could be here for a while. You may as well have a taste.

[ He was surprisingly generous with his blood (at least when it came to Elizabeth), because he liked to live on the wild side and because he wanted to encourage her to keep doing it. People who indulged in darkness were more fun to be locked up with. ]

[ Honestly, she would expect nothing less.

Randall takes her hand and she squeezes his, making a small noise and taking her hand back to quickly remove her unwieldy rollers. Leaving the cans in a pile on her bed, she climbs down the bed with a grace that belongs to couture and red bottom shoes, not a prison uniform. On her feet, she's only as tall as he is sitting down. There's a brief pause as she goes to her shelf, reaching into a tiny gap in the back, where she stores her most precious contraband.

Drugs and hooch and the little luxuries have nothing on her blade. Stolen from the trash after a paring knife broke while she was on kitchen duty, it's been lovingly cleaned and cared for, the way one might treasure jewels. She can't incorporate it into a glove, but she can use it just as easily. It gleams between her fingers when she comes back. ]

Stop me if you feel weak. I wouldn't want to lose you.

[ Which is true. Randall Flagg is a friend, and she doesn't exactly have "get thrown in SHU for life" on her to-do list. She plants her knees on the bottom bunk, straddles his lap without much aplomb and wraps her arms around his shoulder, nose pressed to the crook of his neck. ]

You smell good. Copper-y, though. Have you been angry recently, dear? [ Her hand snakes up and she slices quickly, effortlessly, in the right place to get a steady flow without touching his artery. She would love to coat herself in a spray of blood but it's unfortunately not a practical thing to do, and certainly not the right person.

Countess latches to the wound like a leech, expecting him to converse while she drinks. ]

You'll need to cut deeper than that if you wanna lose me, darlin'.

[ He knows she doesn't, which is why he lets her get near him with that blade. Most people would find his hands around their throat if they tried anything like that.

But with permission? It's fine. He enjoys a little pain. He tilts his head to the side so she can nestle into the crook of his neck. ]

The Warden's been a prick lately. Says I can only have five books in my cell at a time. Where'd that shit come from? [ It was technically the rule, it just just never been enforced too closely, least of all for him. Seems like a few of the guards were tired of having to shake out every book in the little library Flagg had amassed in his cell to check for contraband. ]

[ It's still good manners to issue a warning! The Countess has impeccable manners, it's a point of pride.

She used to take blood for granted. Spent so long drenched in it at all hours that she never thought of what would happen without it. Mostly she thought she'd die another way long before the supply went dry. So now, his blood (all blood) is like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, bathing her in light for just a few brief moments before they are inevitably freed from lockdown and he leaves again.

Which is not to say all of this is about her. While she may currently be trying to gulp down half of his blood content, the Countess is still a good listener. She makes a soft noise into the side of his neck, then pulls away momentarily to meet his eye, her mouth stained red and dripping. ]

That's absurd. Punished for the only productive thing we can do in here. I'll keep some of your books.

[ She runs her fingers through his hair, and it's tender, because she actually can be quite a kind woman when she wants to. ]

You're so good to me.

[ He holds her close, both his neck and hands smooth as a marble statue and soft as a newborn. No matter how many times she cuts him, it always seems to heal up without leaving a mark.

His followers always used to talk about how nice it was to be held by him, this chiseled god without the flaws of man. ]

Some I don't mind putting back in the library, but there are a few I don't trust just anyone with. I'd hate to see one of my favorites torn into and harvested for rolling papers.

[ She is... cold. She's always sort of cold, actually, her body temperature wrong like it has been since she went through with a ritual nearly a century ago. But she is likewise free of marks, of any kind of age, a side effect of eternal youth. Still, she sees in Flagg some of what her husband must have seen in her, perfection worth throwing away the world for.

She can taste it.

Smiling, she kisses him gently with bloodstained lips. ]

You know they always go for the bibles first. Thinner paper.

[ He gives a loud, hearty laugh at that, licking the blood off his lips. ]

It's a nasty habit, but if someone offered me some of that junk rolled up with Psalms, I'd be tempted to have a few puffs.

[ Blasphemy is always good fun. He kisses her again, rougher this time. He doesn't mind the cold. It intrigues him. He's always been drawn to anything out of the ordinary. ]

Psalms is the least offensive of the books, they're just songs. Songs and a lot of complaints, but I'll take that over some of the other tripe they used to cram down our throats. [ She is old enough that she has occasionally heard mass in Latin. Psalms was a relief from hellfire and brimstone.

Laughing against his mouth, she grabs the lower half of his face, leaning into him. She holds off biting his lip until he bleeds again. ]

I prefer a bit of rock n' roll, myself. The devil's music.

[ He would not be caught dead singing a Psalm, least offensive book or not. Thankfully, he was never dragged to Church.

Blood starts to trickle down his neck and over his collar bone. Thankfully, they're in the block with the red uniforms so it won't show too much if it gets a little messy.

He presses his fingertips into her shoulder blades, kissing her with that carnal hunger that always rises in him when he gets going. Especially when he tastes blood. ]

[ Don't brag that you weren't born into a turn-of-the-century Catholic family, Flagg, no one likes a snob.

Wasting blood is a no-no in this parts, and she quickly licks up the flow before it can get lost on fabric, but with that done, works one hand down into his uniform like the absolute tramp she is. The worst part of prison was losing the incredibly ridiculous amount of sex she'd been having for decades, but Obsidian's most lenient area actually tended to be inmate relations (probably due to staff laziness more than anything), so things could be much more difficult. "Here, spend unfettered time in isolation with the dude who lets you drink his blood and gets you off", however will she survive.

She hasn't even swallowed the blood when she kisses him again, free hand in his hair. ]

[ Flagg doesn't have as much sex as he used to, either (how he misses the days when he'd have so many followers throwing themselves at him that he'd have to tell some to come back later), but he manages.

He has an easy enough time bribing a guard to let him have a few hours in the private visitation rooms when one of his followers that hasn't been arrested comes looking for a conjugal visit. And there were quite a few attractive people here, too. Might as well just go at it in the cells, every now and then. ]

Oh, doll, you know how to make a guy feel real good. [ He flicks his tongue between her lips to get a taste of blood, tracing a hand over her shoulders and down her chest, working his nimble fingers between her thighs to get her going. ]

[ It might be more of the "covered in blood during group sex" aspect that she's missing. Her sex had not only been frequent but also incredibly murder-y, which is not as easily come by as sex is. They've gotta work on that.

She laughs and licks her lips, rocks into his hand insistently. There's a sort of manic air to her after feeding on him in particular -- she'd known Randall was special since she met him, but his blood cemented it. She's never met anyone else whose blood smells like vetiver. ]

Right back at you, babe. I wish you could feel the way you make me.

[ If he could have a good old fashioned human sacrifice again, he would. For now, this is good, too. ]

I'm feelin' pretty fantastic, right now.

[ He leans in to kiss her on the neck, his stubble (the only rough thing about him) rubbing against her. ]

[ Look, they just have to work together to figure it out. They'll sacrifice someone, get all bloody, it'll be great. They can frame someone they don't like. What a good idea for date night.

She gasps and sheds her top before wrapping her arms around him, nails raking on his back. ]

Think lockdown will last long enough for us to fuck?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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