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 opens her mouth to explain, then has second thoughts. It occurs to her that she's giving out a lot of information and getting little in return, putting the ball further and further into his court.

"How about we play a game, a question for a question." She sits up a little straighter, trying to pretend she's not intimidated, and feeling that by turning it back on him she's managed to claw just a little power back. "I'll tell you what I'm here for, then you tell me."

When she proposes the game, AM's smile returns - no longer the attempt at sympathy, but the catlike twist of his lips. He leans back again, folding his hands over his crossed leg.

"All right, that's fair, my dear." Why not? She'll find out sooner or later, so he might as well tell her.

"But you offered to go first." He gestures for her to explain.

"All right." She takes a deep breath, then sighs, trying to work out how much of the truth she wants to divulge.

"My dad loved me very much. Too much. He became obsessed with killing me, he thought it was the ultimate way to become close to me, to honour me. So I found him substitutes. Other girls, to become me, to take my place. Over and over. I lured them, he killed them, and we disposed of the evidence together."

AM listens, eyes fixed upon her. Of course, it's entirely possible that she's making this up, spinning the tale and exaggerating certain aspects to make herself look like the victim. She certainly wouldn't be the first to do so.

"So you did this to protect yourself," he comments. "What a shame... To have you thrown in jail simply for trying to protect yourself from your father..." He attempts to look sympathetic again, frowning with upturned eyebrows.

"I am sorry."

But of course, he promised her that he would tell his own story. It won't be hard for her to find out details from others, given the rumors that float around, but AM will tell her himself.

"I'm afraid I am someone who does deserve to be imprisoned, though." Once more he leans back, eyes half lidded as his lips form a straight line. "To continue our game...

I killed someone."

He killed many people, in fact, but he'll simply talk about the first one.

"I killed someone who was threatening me." In the loosest interpretation of the word.

"But it was not a self defense killing. No, I went a bit overboard, I'm afraid."

"Thanks." She'll take his sympathy even if it's an act, she needs all she can get after all. "The cops had to kill my dad when they were trying to bring him in, and someone needed to pay for the crime, so..." She shrugs, resigned to it by now.

She listens closely, finding herself morbidly curious about what the other prisoners had done to be sent here, with all the sordid details. "If they were threatening you, it's the smart move to step in and preempt what they may do to you."

Said as the part of her that identifies very much as the survivor rather than the perpetrator or victim, the trifecta of roles that war within her.

Someone needed to pay for the crime. Isn't that how it always is? Public debasement rules, actual law be damned. But many criminals will paint themselves as the victim, so AM isn't sure how much he believes it.

What AM won't mention is that the victims he killed only threatened him in the sense that he already captured them, and they threatened to call the authorities. At least some of them did. Others tried to obey his every whim in hopes of being shown mercy or sympathy.

"Indeed, it is the smart thing, but I suppose the manner of death would say otherwise."

He narrows his eyes slightly. "After all, it wasn't a simple self-defense gun wound... I tortured them to death."

Abigail's eyes widen and if it's possible for her to turn even more pale, she does. It's the way he says it so casually, more than anything. She's immediately aware that she could be in great danger, the longer they're locked in here. She swallows nervously, looking at him as though he's a bomb that might go off at any moment.

Still, despite that, to her surprise her curiosity is still there, and she's not sure what it says about her that she wants to hear more details about him literally torturing a person.

"Was it a spur of the moment thing, or had you always wanted to do something like that?"

That reaction of fear is something AM certainly enjoys. Many here would balk at what he had done, though others would probably roll their eyes or laugh. It really depends.

As much as he wants to reveal more and watch her unravel, he has more to get out of this conversation.

"Ah... Don't forget, my dear, we are playing a game, and you've asked too many questions."

His lips twist into a somewhat crooked smile as he leans forward, an elbow once more on his knee. But what question does he want to ask Abigail now? Since she knows a fraction of what he's capable of, she may be more reluctant to tell the truth. So, he'll start off with something that is less about her.

"So tell me... What did your mother do for all of this?"

"Nothing at all." She frowns a little - it's much harder thinking of her mother, the one person who'd been truly innocent in all of this. But as much as Abigail loved her, she'd always been an outsider to the world she and her father had created, and as far as Abigail had been concerned that was for the best. "She was so confused when the cops stormed the house, she thought there was some mistake, even after my dad cut her throat to spare her the pain of becoming known as the wife of the Minnesota Shrike."

The Minnesota Shrike... Now that name does sound somewhat familiar. Most of the big name serial killers that dominate the news are names that AM is familiar with. Curiosity, of course, to see what others had done in comparison to himself... As well as a sick fascination. He can't commit his crimes anymore, but he can almost live vicariously.

However, he can't think of the details off the top of his head. Just another serial killer targeting women, so it didn't register as much.

"Poor thing... To lose your father and your mother... and now your freedom." Again, he attempts to look sympathetic, offering a soft smile. "All thanks to him."

"Yeah." Her tone is flat, not trying to conceal how bitter she is to have had everything taken from her by the one person who was supposed to protect her. "There's times I forget that they're both gone, and then I remember.
That part sucks the most."

She's quiet for a moment, then pulls herself back as she realises she's starting to get mopey and introspective.

"So, did you always want to do something like that?"

It's a shame he feels no sympathy for Abigail. Just another poor fool, another victim of circumstance. Someone like her would have been one AM targeted; she has no one left who will miss her, no one who will fend for her, and she is very pretty. An easy and enjoyable victim for him.

The more AM talks about his own crime, the more apparent it will likely be that there was no element of self-defense at all. Sure, one of the first ones he killed he did legitimately do so out of fear that they would tattle on him to law enforcement, but other than that...?

He hesitates for a moment, taking a breath, before finally admitting, "...Yes. Yes I did."

After all, what's the harm in admitting it? Many prisoners know him and fear him here, know what he was capable of.

"And what about you? Did you enjoy your role in helping your father?"

It takes her a moment to respond. She could easily deny it, maintain the image of the poor victim. But while that facade has its advantages with some of the other prisoners, and certainly with the guards, she doesn't see that it would get her much here. If anything, it might make him see her simply as a potential victim, now that she knows a little about his nature. She decides the best bet is to let him see a little of her own nature, even if it still scares her to have to face it.

"Yes, I did."

He expects her to deny it, in fact. She paints the perfect picture of a victim of abuse, one who was failed and punished by the very establishment that was supposed to protect her. But no, she admits it. Is it to lie and get his respect? Perhaps. Many prisoners will try to act tougher than they are, after all.

AM listens and watches, his lips finally curling back into a smirk as she admits her role.

"Well. I don't have any more questions then."

"Really?" She's relieved, though also a little disappointed, as it means she won't be able to get much further information out of him. She knows she should use her last question to ask more about him, but now she's curious.

"Is that really all you wanted to know?"

That is her last question, and it's a decent one, but a sad waste of one. Sure, there's plenty more AM wanted to know, but he got the important details. But perhaps it's good; he doesn't have to divulge anymore details of his own crimes. She got enough of them, got a taste of his sadism, and she can learn more with time.

"For now," he finally answers, letting his eyes narrow slightly.

There's a promise in those words, or is it a threat - Abigail isn't sure. Either way, she's relieved to hear the click in the lock as the guard comes to get them out of their confinement.

"Well, you know where to find me if you want another round of twenty questions."

Thankfully, that lockdown was comparatively short. Sometimes they are short, sometimes they are painfully long. It depends on who he is with sometimes.

But at least now he has his eye on fresh meat. "Of course." He doesn't move at all, preferring to stay in his cell.

"Until next time, Abigail."

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