obsidianooc | 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

Do you think I'm gonna fuck you over?

[ Which hurts, actually, if Eliot's being honest. He knows that there's no room for emotions when you're at the top of the crime game, which is fine, he's very good at pushing down his feelings, but he'd never betrayed Quentin's trust. He paid Quentin his due for his work and then some.

Well. People can change, Eliot supposes. ]

Clearly you want something. What is it?

[ Quentin's gaze hasn't left, still looking pointedly at the other. He leans back, grabbing a book off the shelf, all while maintaining eye contact. He knows exactly which book he pulls, somehow, and after a slow grab he gently places it on Eliot's lap. ]

You read Fillory and Further.

[ Eliot looks down at the book, then back at Quentin, just to make sure that he's serious. ]

You're kidding, right?

[ Eliot picks up the book, already groaning at how many pages there are. ]

What if I'm too distracted to read it?

Do you know how much time you have in prison?

[ It's not that big of a book, Eliot. ]

Come on. It's just the one. I won't force you to read the others, and you don't have to do it all at once.

I don't think you understand the lengths I will go to so I don't have the time or desire to read.

[ And if Eliot was going to read, he'd rather it be some romantic adventure full of swooning damsels and dashing heroes.

Not kids travelling to the land of their bedtime stories.

He sets the book aside for now and stretches out on the mattress, almost as long as the bed itself. ]

What if they catch me with a book I'm not cleared to have?

[ Quentin shrugs, sliding to allow the other a bit more room. He picks up the book, too, a subconsciously protective gesture. ]

Just tell them I gave it to you. Guards like me, mostly. I mean they think I'm batshit, but I haven't murdered anyone and I'm polite. That goes a long way. You're going to make a killing here.

[ Wait-- ]

Are you here because you killed someone?

Look at me, Quentin. Do you think I could kill someone?

[ Obviously he could. Anyone can. But Eliot's, regretfully, on the softer side and he'd never be able to get blood or anything on his fine clothes.

He holds out his hand to brush against Quentin's arm, trying to coax him down to lie beside him, and ignoring the hoots from the guys in the cell across the hall. ]

Maybe. If the circumstances were right.

[ The hoots don't even register to Quentin--he's phenomenally good at blocking people out by virtue of the fact that he hates them--but it takes him a moment of looking at Eliot's hand to fully register what he wants. ]

Someone spills blood on your wingtips or something.

[ He moves down to lay down, too, grunting like he's about 80 years old. He's surprised they actually fit, and it takes a bit of finagling, but he manages to get his arm underneath Eliot. ]

Well. True.

[ Eliot might be long, but he doesn't take up much space otherwise, so it's easy enough for him to fit against Quentin once they find the sweet spot. ]

Anyway. I'm in here because of all the drug trafficking and federal bribery.

How big is the power vacuum you left?

[ It's a question he's only half interested in learning about--mainly, he's concerned with how this position is surprisingly comfortable, given that they're in a prison. ]

You were making a killing last time we talked.

I know.

[ And now it’s all gone, unless Eliot can buy his way out of here.

He exhales a sigh, tossing an arm around Quentin, casually claiming him. Maybe Quentin is already someone’s prison boyfriend, but Eliot doesn’t really care. ]

Oh well. Let someone else have some fun, I guess.

You'll get out.

[ He says it as a matter of fact, leaning to crane his neck over to Eliot once more, smiling softly. It's rare, but a genuine one, and he resists the urge to lean in and kiss him. Despite his feelings, he's fairly certain Eliot's in the camp of 'let's not overcomplicate things,' and when he really thinks about it, Quentin is, too. ]

Someone's just keeping your seat warm, so you can sweep in and take everything again. Like the king you are.

test drive;

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