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

[ Abigail reaches up to take his hand, offering a smile as she shakes it. ]

It's a pleasure to meet you, Michael.

[ She means it, too, a little to her surprise. Who'd have thought she'd actually not mind being locked in a cell with someone. ]

The pleasure is mine, Abigail. It's good to know that manners aren't entirely forsaken in this place.

[ He lets go of her hand and straightens. ]

You may as well make yourself comfortable. We could get to know one another. All we have is time, right now.

Sure, I'd like that.

[ She hops up onto the table, sitting herself on the edge and putting her feet up on the chair. ]

So, what would you like to know?

Tell me something real. Not just something the reporters have crudely put together like they've connected something of importance.

[ He'll afford her the same courtesy unless there's something else she'd rather find out. ]

Something real, huh?

[ She pauses, thinking of what she could offer that would be adequate. She isn't sure how much of her case he's aware of from the news, and while she could easily just say something true but insipid, it's clear that he's trying to establish how far she's willing to trust him. She'd much rather make an ally here, if she can. ]

Well, a lot of the reporters said that my dad stalked the girls we killed, but that was a lie, I was the one who picked them. They said we ate them because we're monsters, but it was his way of honouring them - well, honouring me, anyway. And the media liked to paint us as backwood hicks, but I'd been offered scholarships from three colleges. I was almost out of there.

[ He doesn't have anything more than a passing knowledge of her case, but what can really be trusted in people who only paint a negative situation? He'd rather hear it from her.

Michael is surprised by that information, and it shows plainly on his face. ]

Eating someone is about as close as you can ever be to them. It's never about need like they may think.

[ He frowns, disappointed. ]

You had your whole life ahead of you. What were you going to study?

[ Abigail looks surprised by his response. She'd expected that she wouldn't get the same reactions of disgust in here as she had in the outside world, but his understanding is completely new, and an unfamiliar relief washes through her. She regards him with something akin to gratitude. ]

That's what my father believed. When we hunted deer, it was to make sure we used every part of them, otherwise it wouldn't be right to have killed them. But with this, it went deeper. They became me when he killed them, and eating them was the only way than that he could become closer to me.

[ She smiles sadly at the question. Perhaps she'd be able to study one day, when she gets out of here, but she's not counting on it. ]

Psychology and anthropology. I guess I've always like learning how people tick. I hadn't decided which to major in yet, though.

It sounds like you love your father very much, to want to do that for him.

[ He's a bit envious if he's being honest with that deep part of himself. There's always a craving for a deeper human connection, filling a part of himself that seems to have an endless depth that he can't breach. ]

I find anthropology more interesting. The psyche of an entire group as opposed to a single being.

[ She nods, though her expression drops a little. ]

Sometimes. Other times I hate him.

[ She'd loved him, and he'd done this to her. Even if it had been out of a love bordering on obsession from him, her life was ruined because of him. ]

I really like the idea of that, but the idea of being able to delve deep into one person fascinates me too.

His love for you certainly can't be questioned.

[ He understands, though. That much love and devotion can be difficult to bear. He'd ruined his grandmother with his love, after all. ]

Is it because you want to really understand him? Or is there another you've set your sights on?

[ Abigail hesitates again. It's the first time she's been asked that, and she hadn't really understood it for herself until she had to put it into words. ]

I guess I want to understand myself.

Do you want to know what I think? [ He won't pause long enough for her to answer, because of course she does. If she didn't, she wouldn't be entertaining his line of questioning. ] I think you understand yourself just fine. It's your place in the world around you that you don't understand.

What do you love most, Abigail? Not a person. Something that's important to you.

[ She doesn't let herself consider an answer, knowing that would end up with her deliberating too much and picking an answer that would portray a version of herself that's trying to fit a specific mold, which is entirely the opposite of what she's supposed to be doing. Instead, she just says the first thing that comes into her head at being asked that question. ]

Hunting.

[ Michael smiles when she answers so quickly. ]

What about it do you love?

[ She has to think a little harder about that one, especially as the fact that it was the world that she and her father had built for themselves was irrelevant now. ]

The challenge of it. Having to outsmart your prey, you can never predict how it's going to go - it's a game with different rules every time, but with one inevitable outcome. And--

[ She hesitates again, shifting uncomfortably. She didn't like admitting the rest, in her mind it just shines a spotlight on her guilt. Her tone is different as she speaks again, almost apologetic, afraid of this part of her. ]

--And having that power over another life, it's... incomparable.

[ She tries to rationalise it as that she's never had any control over her own life, so of course she'd enjoy it, but she knows there's a darker tinge to it as well, one that frightens her. ]

It's the same principle with humanity, isn't it? Unpredictable and challenging with ever-changing rules and the inevitability of death.

[ He slides down from the top bunk so he can sit across from her. It's a more intimate conversation than it was before, wasn't it? ]

I think it's quite poetic. You lacked power in your own life, so you made it your own when you were hunting. Did you get a rush from your kills? [ Human or animal, he doesn't specify. ]

I guess you're right there. I haven't thought about it that way before.

[ Abigail leans forward a little as he comes to sit opposite her, so she could lower her voice in case someone somehow is listening in - she's aware that the fifteen years she has to spend here could easily become life-long if it were known that there was a part of her that got a thrill from what she'd done. ]

Yes. Every time.

There's something thrilling about holding life in the balance, isn't there? By your mercy, you can end the poor creature's life and make it a part of something bigger than they can imagine.

[ He leans forward, adding to their secrecy. ]

How did you do it? Tell me everything.

[ There's something about him that makes her want to trust him. It's almost like the opposite of confessing - she's still admitting to her crimes, but in a way that makes her feel empowered rather than guilty. ]

Most of them we found on college open days. He'd start to fixate on one girl, whoever looked most like me. I'd make friends with them, get their trust, find out where they lived, where they went to school. One time we took her that day, but it was too easy to trace back to us. The rest of them, sometimes it could be the same week, sometimes a month later. He'd take them to our cabin out in the woods, our base for where we'd hunt deer.

[ Somehow that made it easier for Abigail. If she'd been forced to face murder in her home, maybe she'd have reacted differently, like how she'd assume a normal person would. But it was in a place that they'd built with their own hands for the purpose of killing. The only difference was the prey. ]

I didn't see them again until after he'd killed them. I'd come into the cabin and smell the blood, see them laying out on the table where we skinned the deer, all peaceful. And then he'd sit and watch while I did everything to them that we would have done to the deer - skinning them, carving them, cooking them.

[ Except it wasn't them, not really, it was her. As soon as her father had chosen them, they stopped existing in their own right. They were only a surrogate Abigail. And what had messed her up the most was that her father had insisted on her carving up what had become an extension of her own body. That's where it stopped feeling like an act of love, and became one of control. ]

It's pretty surreal, skinning what's supposed to be your own body. Sometimes I felt like I really was laying cold on the table, watching someone else dissect me. Sometimes it was terrifying, and sometimes it was almost euphoric.

[ Michael doesn't seek her contrition- he's not a priest, and he doesn't care about the crime. What matters to him is the reason behind it, the emotions associated with it and most importantly, the way it made her feel. She'd been reluctant to confess at first, but now that her empowerment is on the table, they can talk freely. And he is so utterly fascinated by her. Of course people underestimate her, see her as a victim, and write off her involvement. Her father is a large, driving force in her actions, but there are no bounds that a child won't go to prove their love for their parents.

Even if they've proven they don't deserve the devotion. Parents can be cruel and inhumane, but so can the rest of society. Abigail's entire situation fascinates him, and he listens with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving her face. ]

I can only imagine how disorienting it must have been. Watching what was essentially you sacrificing yourself for your father. What happened after?

We'd just carry on as normal, until the next time. [ Sometimes it could be weeks, sometimes months, but there was always a next time. If there hadn't been, it would have been Abigail herself as the next victim. ] We'd never talk about it between us, never plan it, it just ... happened. Right up until the cops finally came for us.

How did you dispose of them so thoroughly? Someone must have slipped up if the police managed to catch your trail?

[ Perhaps it's too invasive a question, but they're already in so deep and he wouldn't shy away were she curious about what landed him here. ]

We used every part of them. What we didn't eat, we used to repair and furnish the cabin.

[ As far as how they'd got caught, it was her father's fault entirely, valuing his personal code over their survival. ]

The last victim, she had cancer. We found out when we cut her open. We wouldn't be able to use every part, so he took her home, tucked her up in bed where he'd taken her.

[ It had been easy to trace it back to them, and everything else had been uncovered as soon as the FBI were on their trail. Abigail is still bitter about it, and it shows. Above all else she values her own survival, after all. ]

[ Michael wants to ask a hundred more questions about how they went about doing repairs with human remains, because it sounds so fascinating and he can't begin to understand it. Instead, he focuses on what she says next. ]

Why not dispose of her? He had to have known what would happen, right?

[ That's also difficult to know, but it had to have crossed his mind at some point, hadn't it? Of what would become of him and his daughter? ]

[ While he must have known what was going to happen, she wasn't sure whether he'd consciously acknowledged that, or whether taking her back had been some sort of impulse he couldn't refuse. Either way, Abigail is still angry about it even after her father is dead and gone. ]

It was one of the rules he had for hunting, the most important one. If we killed something, we had to find a way to use every part of it. Otherwise it would just be murder. And as he thought this was his way of honouring me, not being able to use every part was anathema to him. Maybe even worth getting caught over.

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warnings for: dismemberment, cannibalism

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