spherememing | June/July Test Drive Meme

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June/July Test Drive Meme

June/July TDM

Welcome to Sphere's June/July Test Drive meme! This is a great place to get a feel for the game and how your characters might fit in here. Explore the setting, and get your samples and some starting CR all at the same time!

Applications and Reserves are always open!
Threads on the TDM are considered game canon if both parties agree to it!
Threads on the TDM may be considered for Activity Check if need be!

Time to shine, sparkle and become renewed.

So the fighting has finished, the filtering system is turned back on and the water has retreated. Of course, all that water rushing in and having been there for so long means that there is a giant mess in most parts of the Sphere, where water alternated between coming up to one’s ankles, all the way to one’s knees. Even the smaller private domes were affected with lesser amounts of water, leaving dirt and sediment and kelp behind along with an assortment of other sea life.

Now we all remember what happened last time something grew inside the Sphere right? Thankfully, there’s been a fair amount of supplies that have been accrued, and it involves gloves, face masks and a good damn amount of bleach to go with those large scrub brushes. There’s also huge pails of soapy water that are used to clean up things from the bleach. Everything is wet and it smells a bit like an indoor swimming pool, but it’s definitely safer to be safe than sorry.

So pick up a brush and pitch in. Those who do may find a little extra something from the Council delivered to their homes in a basket. Those who don’t may find themselves a little bit on the Council’s unofficial shitlist. And given that Max runs the Black Market, it’s not a great place to find yourself. Maybe you were sort of shoved towards this and were doing it haphazardly. Maybe you give a damn. Either way, food and water will come to you, and everyone will be better once this place is cleaned up.

Or so people keep telling ya anyway.

about that bucket of water that you’re wearing.

Of course, if there’s one thing that history and eighties movies have taught us, it’s that where there’s giant buckets of soapy water around, and hoses, and big sponges, then there’s bound to be one thing that happens: a water fight. And a big one at that. Kids (or kids at heart) have been not so subtlety wandering around with buckets filled with cold water, or sponges dipped in them and a few of them have hoses. There’s no bleach in them thankfully (because it’s all fun and games until someone gets a chemical burn) but the water fight is a good way to let off some of the tension that the folks in the Sphere have been getting up too.

So are you a victim, or are you a perpetrator. Do you care either way? But it doesn’t matter because this fight is huge and when there’s this much water flying around, there really isn’t any space for anyone to be a bystander here. Sorry.

with a suitcase full of summertime

Do y’all know what we happened to miss while we were underwater?! The summer solstice. And once things are all cleaned and cleared up, your resident summertime goddess ain’t gonna let it pass without knowing it, and it’s something the inhabitants of the Sphere take to like ducks to water. Wine and dancing is flowing all around and there’s a few fiddlers and jazz musicians dancing around. Because when the queen of the underworld prods ya gently, you get up and do it.

As the night and people’s alcohol levels rise, people start to become more daring with the fire. After all, everything is all cleaned but probably still slightly damp from what had happened, so there’s no problem with people swinging poi around, or using hula hoops set alight. There are even some among us who happen to be going out and jumping over bonfires in order to create good luck for the new year to great cheers of the people around them.

and baby you should see me in a (flower) crown

Do you know what else is a thing during this? Flower crowns. There are tons of flower crowns and various people are sitting around and teaching people how to make their own. The materials, including fresh flowers of all varieties are scattered around the field in the agricultural dome, and people are sitting criss-cross applesauce in order to add ribbons to the stems. For those people who are loathe to wear them, it almost becomes a game for other people to plant them on those resilient folks heads. People use magic or guile or just plain old tossing them in order to make it so that they land on people’s heads. More than that, a group of people will audibly cheer each time one lands. (And of course jeer when they lose one.)

exploration: teeth and bones.

After what had happened, there really is no putting back the seals on the doors to the places that were opened up, even though the council has tried with some of them. There are some doors that are deemed too dangerous to let anyone go inside of (lava and ghosts are not good things to let loose inside the Sphere, no matter how fun it would be at the time) but the door in the infirmary (in the morgue) needs to be open for practical purposes. Which may not be great for people who work in the infirmary, but there it is.

Once people drop through a hatched hole in the floor of the morgue, there’s tunnels extended out for several hundred yards, into the dark. If you have a flashlight, it’s clear to see that here and there the walls are etched with Latin, carved into the stone of the tunnels themselves in what looks more than a little bit like scratches rather than anything that resembles tool marks. The words are repeated at first, over and over: ”cave veniunt!" And "ossa et dentibus illius ruminandum!" Along with the repeated: “cave.”

The skeletons inside are supposed to have been all taken care of, but you can’t help the uneasy feeling that moves down your neck in the darkness, or the way that you can swear you can hear more than a little bit of a hiss of bone. There are things discarded here on the floor of the hallway, gathering more value with the deeper that you go, but is it worth being down here in the dark with the dead for that?

mechanic: memory share.

Too see the full updates on how memory shares work, please visit here

Memory shares are experienced over the networked, and beamed directly into the other person's brains as if they are experiencing it themselves.
Shares do not need to be written a certain way, but here is a mod example: Too see the full updates on how memory shares work, please visit Max Tinder memory share.
These memories are things that they are watching through the experience of the person who's memory has already happened. It's like seeing a recording that feels very real. However, there isn't anything that they can personally do within it. These are things that have already happened to the character and are fixed points.
These posts are responded to like a message on the network, and not in the memory itself.

wildcard

This is a good place to test out something like the network or an idea of your own! Remember upon waking in The Sphere, each character is fitted with a small golden circle behind their right ear. This is how they are connected to the network through a neural link. Touch and hold the button to create a broadcast of one of three types:

Audio. Your character thinks audible words onto the network.
Writing: Your character thinks text into the network.
Video. Your character projects a broadcast of a video of themselves onto the network.

Replies are determined by the player. The network needs to be accessed by choice, so character broadcasts are not automatically beamed directly into people’s heads. The Sphere isn’t that rude.

Private messages are allowed by pressing and holding and pressing and holding again as you picture the person in your mind. This can be an image or a name, err more on the side of things being more accessible than less.

photo inspiration

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The crown fits so naturally atop her head, Sansa cannot help but to smile. The woman who had crafted it for her was beautiful, as was the crown itself. She gives her a kind nod in thanks.]

Thank you, Laica. [A mercenary. That gets a slight eyebrow raise, a flicker of judgement before she remembers her sister and Brienne. They were the fiercest fighters she knew, so why would a female sell-sword be so different?]

I'm Sansa Stark. Flower enthusiast and queen.

[ She notices the eyebrow. And keeps her chin up, a pleasant smile on her face. It's nothing new, and really not as bad as it can get. The sneers and dismissals of the upper crust, like if they were seen speaking to her they would be forever stained by associating with a refugee.

She's had worse, is the point. She takes her hand back, because royalty wouldn't be interested in shaking hands with the likes of her. It's just not done. ]

A queen? Maker. You're the second royal I've met down here. Do you think they're trying to start a collection? Some kind of... living chess board or something.

[ She's seen stranger. ]

[A royal by her own making, but a royal all the same. Still, she doesn't expect people bowing to her anytime soon. These are not her people. She doesn't demand that. She's see what happens when people show up and demand alliegence.

Perhaps here she can enjoy being a carefree young woman. Or as best as she can. Like when she would spend time with Margaery in King's Landing.]

Perhaps- Who is the other?

[ Laica's not about to swear allegiance or obey anybody who isn't her own liege. And even then. Viscount Dumar is such a dolt she's as apt to argue with him as she is to actually do what he wants. And King Alistair has, for all intents and purposes, abandoned the refugees to their respective fates in whatever shores they managed to wash up on so he can sodding go to the Void for all she cares.

But still. Propriety is propriety and she'll show the respect due a woman of her station. At least until she expects her to do anything and/or she reveals herself to be as useless as some of the others Laica has encountered. ]

His name is Loki. I didn't recognize the name or the style of his dress but he's some sort of prince, or something? [ She shrugs, her smile apologetic. ] Perhaps that name means more to you than it does to me.

I haven't met any Loki yet, but I will remember the name.

[The best sort of fealty is earned, respect without fear.]

The only other living royals I know of are my brothers. [living was the key term here. Bran was King of the Six Kingdoms, and Jon had given up his claim to the throne. The rest dead.

She couldn't help but believe her parents would be proud of their children.]

[ One eyebrow raises slightly at the "living" part but Laica opts not to ask questions. Getting and holding power is a bloody business, after all. One only need look at Sebastian's extended family, all slaughtered to remove them from power to know that much. ]

Lot of work to keep one's head connected to one's shoulders when one's arse is planted on the throne, eh.

[ She says, her tone and her expression wry. ]

Oh, you should know that Loki is also a terrible flirt. Forewarned is forearmed.

[ She winks. ]

[Sansa nearly snorts. Laica has no idea how on the nose her comments are.]

Let alone surviving long enough to take it.

[She raises an eyebrow] A flirt? I can stand a flirt. [It'd been a while, but a bit of harmless flirting couldn't be bad.]

[ Laica almost makes a comment about all the other blood shed in the royal musical chairs. The armies full of fathers and brothers and husbands and lovers who are never going to capture that glory, have any power for themselves. Torn from their families and left to rot in the fields no matter which side wins. The families back home struggling in their absence with deprivation and hardships too numerable to count, never seeing their loved ones again. Sometimes not even knowing if they truly died, or simply couldn't cope with returning. Their minds and spirits broken by what they had to do to win somebody a fancy hat. Because that's honor, or whatever.

But that seems like an easy way to destroy a fledgling friendship. And Laica doesn't like to strangle babies in cribs. The flirting is a safer topic than politics. She grins broadly. ]

Oh, is that so, my lady? [ Laica props her chin on her hands. ] Perhaps I should tell you then how your fiery hair has set my heart alight.

Edited 2019-07-17 09:18 (UTC)

[Excuse you, it was about a really cool chair. Not a hat.

She looks at Laica with a bemused smirk. She reminds her of someone- Margaery. Though her hair is blonde, she's still a beautiful young woman, filled with what Sansa can recognize as a bit of mischief, the same that ran through the other woman's veins.

At her flirting, Sansa blushes, not used to such complements from other women. Most women she knew were not friends by a long shot. They were competition, someone to watch and be careful of. It's refreshing that there's no need for that here.]

According to my brother, the Wildlings say it means I was kissed by fire. [There's a warm smile there, thinking of Jon.] I new a woman once with hair like yours. She was beautiful. Terrible, but beautiful.

You're far more beautiful than she was.

[ Laica giggles, low and throaty at the Wilding term. And the blush, which is charming. She definitely gets the sense that people aren't quite so bold with the young queen very often. ]

Is that a fact?

[ She lifts her hand and a tongue of flame appears in her palm, swirling a moment before she closes her fingers and snuffs it out. ]

I've got a talent for such things. Though I try not to be too terrible with it.

It is- I've never met a pretty corpse.

[Cersei Lannister had been beautiful. But her ugly heart had corrupted her.

Sansa's words though, are met with a kind smile. The joke was at Cersei's expense, not Laica.

She gasps as the flame appears in her hand, and almost reaches to touch it. Almost.]

You can summon fire?

[ Laica blinks, pausing a moment because that's a rather intense thing to say, isn't it? ]

I'd try to come up with counter examples, but that would be rather morbid, I should think.

[ She laughs a little and very carefully does not think of Bethany's limp body, not even cold on the ground. If it weren't for the ogre standing over her one might have thought she had just fallen asleep.

Magic, for once, is the safer topic. ]

Yes. Ice, too. Some other things that are harder to describe without demonstration, and I'm also a rather skilled healer. [ She laughs a little. ] Father thought it important, since my native magic was fire, to be able to treat some of the inevitable disasters.

Too morbid for today's weather.

[Fear was for the winter. This was Spring and Summer.]

Really! [It's fascinating. She hadn't seen the Red Woman light the trenches at Winterfell. She'd seen dragons breathe fire, and the dead come back to life, but this was different.] Could I see the ice?

[ Laica nods. ]

Hm. Ice is...

[ She looks around for something to demonstrate on. And then remembers her own flower crown. She pulls it off her head and smiles. ]

Ah! Here we are. It's harder to just... make ice. Unless I'm making a lot of it and that's usually for. You know. Fighting.

[ She laughs apologetically. And then falls silent. Ice takes a little more focus, doesn't come as easily as fire. But before long there's the soft, scratchy sound of ice crawling over the flowers, frosting them over like sugar. ]

There we are!

[The ice crawls from Laica's fingers and up the flowers. She can hear it, like the deep cracking of ice. She can't help but think of how quickly the storm had approached Winterfell, brought on by the Night King.

It's beautiful. But terrifying.

How often the two seemed to go together.]

That's... absolutely amazing. May I? [She hesitates to touch the crown.]

[ "Beautiful but terrifying" might as well be Laica's tag line. People getting hung up on the first bit is what lets her be the last bit.

Use every advantage you've got, right? ]

Of course! It's not much, just a hoar frost.

[ She laughs, a bit wry, as she hands it over. ]

Maker, the winters back home in Lothering used to be absolutely brutal.

[She accepts the crown, letting her fingers gently trace the edge of one of the flowers.]

That's the most beautiful sort.

[She tries not to laugh about the idea of hard winters.]

My home is called Winterfell. I believe we have much in common when it comes to the winters.

[ Laica makes a face and groans at the thought of winter. ]

Maker's balls. So I take it you know what it's like to get up and need to use the loo first thing in the morning only to find a rim of frost thicker than this around the seat. Sodding torture is what it is. If there's one thing I'll never miss from Ferelden it's a chapped arse.

[She laughs lightly, surprised by the vulgarity from the other woman. It fits her, oddly and Sansa doesn't mind it.]

I do- even with the castle built on hot springs... Our winters are long, years long, with snow as high as the castle walls. It's beautiful. But that doesn't make it any less terrible.

[ Laica can be the proper lady and keep her language and topics clean. But when she's comfortable she tends to revert to farm girl behavior, which is anything but. ]

Oooh, no kidding. Hot springs? Maker, I'd live in the bath. [ She starts gathering more flowers for another flower crown, picking them from around her and dropping them in her lap as she chatters. ] I live in Kirkwall, now. It's so much warmer. It rains a lot in the winter and sometimes it gets cold enough to ice which is a right sodding mess because the entire city is made of stairs but I'll still take that over listening to the trees explode because they've frozen solid.

[Sansa nods in understanding, handing the crown back to Laica.]

I understand- there are a lot of stairs in Winterfell and any sort of quick thaw... I've tumbled down a few stairs in my time.

[ Laica laughs and coos in sympathy. ]

And you've got such a small arse with hardly any padding to break your fall. Maker!

[ She leans forward, her tone dropping to conspiratorial. ]

That's the other thing I can do, by the way. [ She lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers, blue magic flaring. ] I'm a healer. If you end up with anything too unsightly or uncomfortable to deal with I can clean it up for you.

I beg your pardon! [She looks at Laica, aghast. The look soon breaks into a smile as she laughs. She's not wrong- she'd always been skin and bones, growing taller than her brothers.]

A healer? [She leans backward, looking at the blue magic.] Just... just like that, you can heal things?

[ Laica giggles so hard she snorts. And then shakes her head and calms herself. ]

Hm? Oh, yes. Father thought it would be good for me to train in healing since my native magic is fire. [ Something they discovered when she set fire to the north pasture. She tilts her head and looks at Sansa. ] You're not scared of it?

Is native magic what you are born with? [It seemed to make sense.]

It's unusual but I have seen the dead walk. Little surprises me with regards to magic anymore.

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