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

Oh for Hea- Someone's sake! Crowley will never understand his hangup on simply performing a miracle for his own convenience. He does it enough with other things. He offers a shrug and closes the distance between them and snaps his fingers. Aziraphale will find that his clothes have dried and the smell is at least diminished, though it may not make him completely happy, it at least helped?

"Might want to consider a different wardrobe in this place."

As if Aziraphale would ever.

Aziraphale would much rather be discorporated than ever sacrifice his aesthetic. At least he could always rely on the demon to help him out in times of need, which he may had felt guilty about at some point of his life, but this was not one of those times.

He hummed happily at the sensation of dry clothes, taking a moment to adjust his waistcoat and straighten his tie. His dimpled cheeks felt warm when he looked up to catch Crowley's gaze.

"Thank you."

Oscar Wilde would be proud that at least someone would die for the aesthetic. Aziraphale can always count on Crowley being around at times he needs him most- it's some sort of odd sixth sense he's developed over the past 6000 years. He may even be a bit inclined to do miracles a little more frivolously when it comes to the angel, though he'd be loathed to admit it.

"'course." He inclines his head toward the general vicinity of the dome they're in. "Been here long?"

"Oh heavens, no." he replied, surveying the area. "I'd assumed this was some sort of punishment and I--" he trailed off, pursing his lips together for a moment.

"Well, I just thought I'd better get this over with."

Aziraphale wasn't sure what he'd done now to deserve such a punishment. He'd done a lot of things outside of the rulebooks and certainly played his own game when it came down to it, but he had been feeling confident that neither heaven nor hell cared much about what he was up to anymore.

Crowley immediately looks startled at the idea that this was punishment, though he can see how Aziraphale got to that conclusion. The Sphere itself is rather dim, and the view outside the thick glass isn't very promising.

"If it is some sort of punishment, I'd say it's more than likely my lot. Your lot aren't exactly creative."

He makes himself comfortable leaning on a nearby wall, watching part of the community clean up the mess not too far away.

"Thing is, this beyond us. Them, over there? Most are from different places entirely. Completely different realities, even."

Crowley's words were not giving the angel much comfort.

"You don't think..." he hesitated, voice wavering slightly. "I haven't fallen, have I?"

You'd think such a thing wouldn't matter since he'd been cut off by his head office, but it did. It mattered to him. He had always been an angel, for thousands and thousands of years. Change wasn't his favorite thing and he really disliked the atmosphere hell provided when he'd been there, even if it was only for a few hours.

Maybe averting the apocalypse broke something and reality had fragmented, maybe this, and those different realities Crowley had mentioned, were all just a result of that.

At least he wasn't alone.

"You're not fallen any more than I'm forgiven. I don't think any of that matters much in a place like this."

His words are stern, mostly for his own sake rather than Aziraphale's. It's not something he'd considered when he'd woken up here alone, so it's best to just put it out of both of their minds. They were very much on their own side and it was likely they wouldn't hear from their respective higher-ups for a long time.

"You'll get used to it. Not awful, but their wine selection is absolute shit."

Aziraphale nodded, Crowley frequently reassured him of himself, putting his mind to ease, and his answer settled the angel's stomach more than he'd know.

The wine however may be a problem. Granted, they were spoiled by the thoughtful collection that Aziraphale kept at his shop.

"Tell me there's at least a half-way decent pâtisserie."

The wine situation is a constant problem, but at the very least, the black market had a decent scotch- he was just too lazy to make his way down there.

"Eh. It's alright, though there are a few neighbors who do a bit better. I'm sure you could charm them with your angelic wiles."

"My wiles." he echoed, tone very unimpressed.

"Are you suggesting temptation?" He eyed Crowley, the corner of his lips curling up.

"What do you take me for, angel? I'm merely suggesting that you can be persuasive."

The smirk he's wearing makes it obvious he knows what he's doing, but how can he not tease?

Aziraphale smiled almost coyly. He knew that look and he knew exactly what the demon was suggesting.

"I don't think that is what we should be focusing on right now." he replied, looking around him. "I am concerned for our current predicament."

"Really not so bad once you get used to it."

Granted, about eleven years ago, he'd said the same thing about being damned. It's the honest truth, though. Despite everyone being privy to memories every once in a while, this place was mostly tolerable if not entertaining.

Aziraphale had been wearing the same coat for one hundred years. Change wasn't something he was very fond of.

"Yes, well, we'll see about that."

That was something he certainly knew about the angel- in 6000 years, he'd never really changed his appearance save for when he was posing as Brother Francis. Crowley on the other hand, changed with the times and when the mood suited him.

"Seeing as how there's not a way out of here that I've been able to find, we'll have to."

Not a way out meant no more old bookshops in Soho, no more dinners at The Ritz, no more of any of the delicacies he'd become accustomed to. Aziraphale looked as if his soul had been crushed.

At least there was Crowley

"Nothing we can't handle." he replied, forcing a smile.

"We've certainly faced worse with the odds stacked higher against us."

They'll just have to make do with what they have. If everyone he's talked to is correct, it will be as if they never left London in the first place.

"My point exactly."

Aziraphale's smile wasn't so forded anymore, but he didn't really know what he was up against. He trusted Crowley though, so if he said it wasn't bad, it probably wasn't.

"Anyone told you what's going on, yet?"

It's hard to tell what they're truly up against- the sentient orb can't be it. There's a purpose for everything, they just have to figure it out. In the meantime, it's easy enough to gather information the others have found on their own.

"Absolutely not," he started, seemingly a bit frazzled. He supposed anyone would be in his position, but the angel had a certain tittering anxiousness about him when he felt vulnerable.

"Perhaps you could fill me in?"

"For starters, we're at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. The thing that brought us here is a sentient sphere of sorts. Haven't seen it myself, but plenty of people talk about it. I haven't seen any signs of our respective sides, and miracles and temptations are easy enough to perform down here."

Tittering anxiously, indeed. Their situation is unorthodox, but at least they're not completely cut off.

"A sentient... sphere." Aziraphale repeated. He briefly thought of higher ranking angels, shuddered for a moment, then continued.

"And we've traveled over ten kilometers down under the ocean how?"

...by miracle, perhaps?

"Sounds absolutely mad, but yes. Sentient sphere."

Crowley offers a shrug in response.

"Your guess is as good as mine, angel. I woke up here same as you."

Aziraphale nods, nervously. It sounded a bit otherworldly and unlike anything he'd heard of, but he didn't know Crowley to lie.

"You've been here how long now?" he asked, concerned.

“Going on two months, now.”

It’s not a long amount of time for them given their history, but Crowley was starting to get a bit stir crazy, and he hadn’t touched his Bentley since then either. He knows Aziraphale may be a bit worse for it without the distraction of his bookshop- at least Crowley could sleep for months at a time if he felt the inclination.

June/July Test Drive Meme

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