TEST DRIVE ∞ May 2025

[thediadem]

Test Drive ∞ May 2025

The First Collision

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Jump ⇅ :: Arrival — Panorama — Fringes — Invite Request

The Diadem is an invite-only panfandom game set in a retro-futuristic world where uprooted souls find themselves deep within an eerie wasteland of roads and highways frequently assailed by cosmic storms. Three united strongholds keep the population. Its capital is Panorama, a large metropolis at the planet's center.

Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Calling themselves fluxdrifts, the "locals" have similar stories to you, either for themselves or their ancestry. You speak to an old woman who claims she hailed from another star. You meet a young man who says his great-great-grandfather knew a strange language everybody spoke "back home." As you explore, you stumble across a coin you recognize or your sister's locket. How did it get here? What does this mean? That's for you to discover.

But first, you need to find a ride.

No invites needed to play on the TDM. Everyone's welcome! Use the Invite Request thread below to request an invite from another player.

∞ Summary ∞

IC-wise, arrivals are scattered throughout the month. Events described on the TDM are also ongoing throughout the month. If you'd rather jump right into the action, you're free to begin in media res with your character having already been on the planet for several days.

Post-impact, characters will wake up in a med tent by the Scrapyard. From there, they must accept a vehicle on loan and make the 2-hour drive to the nearest city, Panorama. If they refuse the car because they don't want the loan, they'll be in debt for medical bills instead...so just take the car. It'll come in handy.

Some things to keep in mind when bringing in your character:

• Pick an injury. At minimum, they got knocked out; at most, whatever they can recover from. Medicine is decently advanced so they'll heal faster if not painlessly.
• Decide items kept. Reasonable items on their person only: photos, keys, clothes, costumes. No pets or animal companions. Wildly out-of-place tech and personal cell phones will be damaged beyond repair.
• Select a weapon. Do this only if eligible. Guidelines about weapons and powers are on the FAQ.
• Choose a vehicle. Decide whether your character gets 2-3 options or if they're stuck with something they hate. Players can pick directly from our collection or source their own images. Anything under a similar aesthetic will work. If your character needs accommodations for driving, they can have them. Ask us for details.
• Get a phone. Characters have to obtain a phone (and a SIM card) themselves. If they've got one from home, it's damaged beyond repair. Phones are cheap. It'll only take a couple of weeks to afford one. You need to know the number before you text or call anyone. Read about phones and the Forum before you hop on it.

TDM threads can be canon if characters are accepted. Top-levels made to the TDM should be open to all.

TDM Questions? Here — Game Questions? FAQ

Setting — Taken — Reserves — Applications ::: ⇅ Top

Fluxdrift

Arrival & Introduction

Date: Throughout May

You've tumbled over a cliff. You were fighting for your life. You're on the cusp of death. You slipped in the shower. Whatever the catalyst, you struggle to cling to consciousness. As darkness overtakes you, a swirling vortex warps light and shadow in a way that defies all physics. A dark wail etches into your very bones. You couldn't describe it if you tried. You can barely comprehend what it is.

Then you open your eyes.

Through the figure's mask ©, you swear the face is grinning down at you. The tent you're in smells of antiseptic, and scratchy blankets line your cot. Injuries you've sustained have been bandaged. In the corner, you spot a MedBot that's fixed you up. Depending on the extent of your injuries, the doctor on duty might give you some painkillers before you go. Thankfully, your belongings are by the exit. Sorry if anything's damaged. Your landing was pretty rough.

You follow the figure outside. They are Yom Crook, here to lend a hand to fellow fluxdrifts like yourself. Their car's parked beside them. Actually, there are lots of cars around, but Yom Crook's stands out with its painted shark mouth. They explain they found you, unconscious, in a diffusion zone and brought you here. The nearest city is a 2-hour drive northeast. Forget about walking. You'll never make it. Also, you owe the doctor a lot of money for patching you up. But you're in luck: they've got some wheels for you and if you accept the vehicle on loan, Yom Crook will cover your medical bills. That's a good deal, right? It's not the shiniest car or motorcycle, but it'll do. If fortune favors, you'll get to choose between two or three options. Plus, if you need accommodations to drive—like adjustments to your seat height or modified controls—you'll receive all that for free.

Take the vehicle. (And the loan.) Yom Crook assures you that you'll have six months before collectors come around. Any time you're ready to pay a part of it down, return here to the Scrapyard. You'll get a receipt and everything. Paying off the loan in six months isn't impossible, but it will take a lot of work. Just don't get too lax. There's a good chance you'll be juggling multiple loans as you try to get by.

You either know how to drive, or you'll have a bare-bones manual to get you started. Road rules are more a suggestion than enforced, so just hit the pedal and go. The car has some basic features. The built-in compass will help you navigate.

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: a flat tire; a body on the road (is it a trap?); a fender bender

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Panorama

Explore & Settle In

Conditions: Warm spring temperatures, light showers

After 2 hours on the road, you find civilization. The largest of the strongholds, Panorama is where the economy thrives. Massive power plants glowing red make it visible from a distance. The city is divided into three districts. For now, you can access the Pavilion and the Blocks. Don't worry about the Sanctum; they're not letting you in.

You only need to know two things about Panorama: 1) it's big, the size of a modern metropolis, and you'll need your car to get around; 2) anything goes as long as you don't pick a fight with the wrong person. Street smarts will get you far. Despite its geographical size, the population isn't huge. With roughly a million people in a city designed for over twice that number, Panorama is far from deserted, but nor is it overcrowded. It's a good thing. Resources are limited as it is.

The Pavilion: Free Samples

©

Like any large city, Panorama features a couple of supermarkets. The stock's not as consistent as a proper supermarket. On occasion, shelves can remain cleaned out for a week or two. Regardless, the long tradition of free samples remains. If you're not already shopping, you'll notice the crowded parking lot and clusters of lines inside.

Try samples, push through the crowds as you shop, or give yourself a five-finger discount. If you're cautious, you can pocket a few small items without consequences. The Pavillion doesn't have the infrastructure for surveillance; unless someone sees you, you won't be caught. Steal from the store or pilfer someone's wallet. Maybe you even make a new friend if you bump into another fluxdrift. Or, start a fight with somebody who cut you off in the cheese line. Don't make too much of a ruckus, or you'll be thrown out.

As you look around, you'll see posters advertising temporary positions for the cash register or graveyard shifts in the warehouse. Seems they might've lost several employees recently (how'd that happen?), which is good for you! It's just a 6-week position, but it'll get you on your feet. The city has temporary positions like this all over. Permanent ones are harder to come by when you're new.

Samples include: steamed cabbage dumplings, synthetic cherry juice, cheddar cheese, and chocolate-covered alien eggs (it's crunchy and weirdly tasty). They're served in the usual throwaway paper cups with little toothpicks.

The Blocks: Power Outage

©

Power's finicky in Panorama, especially in the Blocks. Saint Margery's Hospital, located in the same area, has priority for power so the first to go are the motels. Maybe you've been in your room for a couple of weeks, maybe you just got here—and by the way, every motel desk is happy to put the fee on your tab if you don't have the money upfront—but all the motels on the east side are in a blackout, leaving only the west side motels up and running.

What do you do? You have three choices:

• Risk leaving your room and head to the other side where there's power. Knock on some doors and negotiate with another to share the room. They might shut the door in your face, ask for a favor in return, or be nice enough to help you with no strings attached. There's no guarantee your unattended room will be untouched, though, and you'll be on the hook for any damages an intruder causes.
• Sit in the dark and deal. It's not the worst idea, but the TV's down, the vending machines are powered down, and with the entire place plunged into darkness, you risk getting robbed. If you struggle with defending yourself, you might want to find some trustworthy company. You can also sneak out of there and let them take your leftover pizza. It's not like you've got a ton of valuables, right? Plus, clobbering someone in the face with a frying pan sounds great until you realize you've gotta do something with the body. And what if this person's got a friend waiting?
• Get in your car and drive (or grab a friend for a road trip). If you scroll the Forum, you might notice reports on diffusion zones southward. Besides, these motels are hardly your forever home. The city can only provide so much. Why not go for a ride and see what you can find out there?

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: clean up on aisle 3 (what is that goo?); a knock at your door but no one's there; you hear screaming or a commotion down the hall

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©

The Fringes

Quad 3: Lockdown

Conditions: Stormy, with flooding roads

Felix Bjurstrom
> Date: 125-05-17
> Time: 02:15:57

> Emergency road lights have been reported in Quadrant 3! Please, can someone go see what's there? When last we chasers investigated emergency lights, a whole truck filled with sour candy had tipped over. Our stores were stocked for weeks! Oh, be careful - reception looks bad in that zone.

Whether you end up here on your own or you were following a tip on the Forum, the outcome is the same: you come to a stop in front of a 2-story office building that's flooded several inches deep. Emergency lights from a roadblock flicker through the stormy night. Stepping out of your car, you're soaked within seconds. When you check your phone, you don't have any bars. No calls in or out.

Through the open windows, a computer awakens and displays a cheerful smile. The lights inside switch on.

Pick your scenario role below. Your thread partner doesn't need to take the opposite role! They can join you in the same scenario (i.e. trapped together). Players are also free to create a generic NPC for the other side to facilitate the thread.

After characters escape, they'll find one bottle of antibiotics in their pocket or car, whether they remember taking it or not.

A: Sealed In
As you peer through the windows, you see crates of medicine floating around. Antibiotics in the diadem are valuable. Hospitals and doctors are always buying. You can keep it for yourself or make a quick buck. Or maybe you're compelled to help somebody back in the city who's in need. Whatever the reason, you decide to take the risk and step inside.

Water splashes around your ankles. The lock buzzes behind you. If you try to break the windows, you discover they're unnaturally resistant to shattering. With the whole place locked tight, the water begins to churn. Then the computer lights up again.

Warning, it flashes in large, bold text. Quarantine in progress. Release code required for exit.

• To find the code, you'll have to search. Duck under the water, go through sopping envelopes and sticky notes or pick the locks on the filing cabinets and desk drawers. You can also try hacking the computers. Use your computer knowledge or fall back on the age-old trick of seeing who wrote down their password.
• The files, notepads, and emails start innocuous, but as you look through them, disturbing phrases jump out at you—a dark thought you've had or a cruel taunt from someone in your past. The longer you're fixed on the terrible words, the higher the water begins to rise. Only another can break you out of your trance.
• With the rising water comes fear. And the more you're afraid, the more the water also rises. You begin to see faces in the water, bobbing like balloon heads. Do you recognize them? If you move to take a closer look, they will sink back beneath the surface as if never there.
• If you manage to swallow your panic, you can eventually find a triple-laminated binder with the release code and instructions. Bad news: you need someone on the outside to punch in the 6 strange symbols in order. The instructions explain that the code panel is located at the back of the building.

Let's hope a friendly face comes along.

B: Set Free
As you peer through the windows, you see not just the crates of medicine but someone trapped inside. They look like they might be in trouble, and from your vantage point, you notice that the water is bubbling strangely. It's definitely not normal rainwater. As you watch, the water rises unnaturally, stopping and starting. It's as if the water level is responding to an external stimulus.

• The glass is soundproof. You can't hear what the person inside is saying, so you'll have to communicate with each other another way. Try charades, typing on your phone, or whatever you think of. Eventually, you determine that they're stuck and that you need to enter some sort of code onto a pad located—according to your trapped partner—at the back of the building.
• Around the back, shadows swallow your surroundings. The panel must be pried open, but a slippery substance makes it hard to get a good grip. Each time the substance touches you, you grow uneasy. You swear you see eyes watching you, though when you turn around, nothing's there.
• You can't seem to keep the instructions in your mind. And those symbols...they burn into your retinas. Through them, you glimpse an incomprehensibly massive figure unfurling in the darkness, pulsing as if in a deep sleep. When you snap back to reality, you realize you've injured yourself, slicing your hand on a sharp edge or a bruise you can't remember getting.
• Once you manage to release the doors, the water inside the office drains upward into the sky as though sucked out by a giant hose. The darkness spreads. Get out of there fast before the shadows drag you or your partner into the void.

Of course, you don't have to help anyone. You can leave the individual there, make a deal, or outright extort them. But remember, you're not the only person on these roads. You might want to play your cards carefully, even if altruism isn't your first instinct.

Main Navigation ::: ⇅ Top

Comments

[oomfies]

[ Lottie immediately stiffens. Her eyes go wide, cheeks heating up because she genuinely did not even think far enough to consider this type of reaction (let alone a reaction— if this happened to her she wouldn't say shit!!). He did not need to call her out like that! Rude?! Sorry she wanted to watch Spongebob all by herself.. Who knew hot people could be cruel to their own kind! ]

Sorry..

[ She apologizes lamely, like the coward she is, because she doesn't have the gall in her to say sunglasses inside a dark theater would just destroy her eyesight (also, weird suggestion?!). ]

I'll, uh.. [ She begins to stand, awkwardly juggles her popcorn and drink. Moving like she very much doesn't want to, but can't find another solution to this conversation so in a way she kinda has to— ] Just go?

ii

[longtooth]

[ Fern is all too used to sneaking around in the dark, and with her sharpened vision she isn't struggling too much to navigate through the corridors of the motel. At first it's almost eerily quiet, and a moment later it's decidedly not.

There's banging of some sort, a yelp — clearly the signs of a scuffle, or worse. Fern's ears twitch in the direction of the noise and she rushes around the corner toward it, just in time to watch a man get thrown through the door by a surge of magical power.

It almost looks like an Eldritch Blast, and she briefly wonders if it's Adrian. Except that he wouldn't attack someone like this unless given little other choice, and surely he would have told her he was staying here.

Soon after the man runs off, the perpetrator of that blast pokes his head out, and it is decidedly not Adrian. Fern tenses and bends her knees, lowering her stance in case he decides to attack her next, but then he simply questions her as if what just happened was little more than an afterthought.

She frowns as she straightens, but her hand remains near to the dagger sheathed at her hip. ]

What was that about?

[widows_kiss]

[ That twitch of her lips gives way to a full-blown grin now, completely unrepentant. ]

Oh, no way. More like I’d know to stay out of your way. Or enjoy the entertainment of watching you learn. At least there’s not much to hit, way out here, once you get out of the parking lot. Probably.

[ She’s hardly the epitome of fashion at the moment either, considering she’s still kitted out in the black tac suit she’d worn into space on her mission to Vormir. It was still in good condition, considering everything and exactly how that mission had ended. But she’d kill for something a little more comfortable right now. ]

hello sciel

[betenoir]

[The danger in this world is different to the hazards of the world he calls home. Whilst some of the environment is as perilous as the plains and mountains with which he is familiar, most of it comes from the strangers walking the streets. People who all have their hopes and dreams. People who appear friendly one minute before stabbing you the next.

So perhaps the danger here is familiar, after all.

One final strike of the cane against the pavement. The final sound before the act begins. He tightens his grip upon the handle and rests his second hand across the first. He chooses to remain silent as she continues to wait. But eventually he gestures with his arms.]

I'm sorry you're surprised to see me. But I cannot say I was expecting to be here.

[Life is full of difficult moments. This is just another step along the way.]

c:

[swedge]

[ and she's there because of the medicine. it hasn't been too tough to figure out just how familiar these supply runs ends up being, how close it is to a hunt it can be. but they're necessary, too much like most of the towns her mom and her ended up in in those last week months leading up to the end times, and now?

now when she sees the forum post, she goes. partially to get whatever might be out there, but also partially because the sorry sons of bitches that end up out there and in out of their league keeps growing, and growing.

so jo gets in her car and drives.

the rain is what clues her in first, the the heavier rain, and then the downpour. by the time she gets out, it's torrential, and weird, but that's not what catches her attention. instead, it's the figure off near the building, whatever building this is, pounding away at what jo would have assumed was glass, but given it hasn't shattered yet... she grabs her gun and her knife out of the drivers seat and runs over to help, not quite knowing what she's about to get into. ]

Hey! [ she yells as she runs up, trying to get the guy's attention so he doesn't turn and swing at her, too. but he's still going, too determined, to focused at trying to break what is obviously not going to break. she can tell there's something wrong, the water inside is moving in a way it's not supposed to, and there's someone in there, but- ]

Shit. [ she says more to herself, running up and throwing her hand on his arm to try and jerk him back from it, trying to force him to stop. ] It's not gonna work! There's got to be some kinda lock-

[ jo freezes to the spot when she sees him, the rain still pouring, and the water inside still rising.

but even if she wanted to, even as everything in her screams get moving, you're running out of time, her focus holds on him. ]

Dean?

[righteously]

( Okay, so definitely not human. She can't be. That's the forward feral stalk of a creature that isn't afraid to die of bullets — either because they don't know the bullets in this gun have silver in them, or because they're a thing that only dies by beheading, salting, burning, a coin in the mouth, something, anything other than a projectile.

Shit. Alright.

He makes a call.

When he pulls the trigger, it's not to unload center-mass like he normally would. He quickly lines up his shot, and he squeezes. The bullet sails straight for her grip on the meat tenderizer. Either it'll take a couple of her fingers off or it'll just knock the damn thing out of her hand, he hopes — either one's a win if it means that thing stays far, far away from his skull.

Dimly, distantly, he registers the sound of shouting behind them. People are scattering, ducking for cover, running the hell away from the scene the moment gunfire fills the air. )

[reverso]

[Yes, good. An agreement. And for what it’s worth, Verso might not truly know this man, but he doesn’t intend to leave him twisting in the wind. A favor for a favor is simply the building block of a useful relationship in a world such as this one.]

I’m stronger than I look.

[And while Verso doesn’t appear weak, there’s no getting around the fact that her looks scruffy with a side serving of Tired.]

You finish up your dealings with Monsieur Crook, then, and I’ll haul her into the back of your lovely, er. Transport.

[He offers Emet a lopsided smile and a little parting wave, then hops off his bike and begins to roll it towards the truck. He has manners enough to part with gratitude.]

Thank you.

[And it’s sincere! Doubly so because this man seems… grumpy.]

[churnback]

[ The thoughts in his head that follow her words go like this: someone screamed, probably needs help, and it really isn't his business, but the girl he's suddenly bumped into here in the dark has decided it should maybe be her business, at the very least, and — maybe — their business.

We should go.

His attention was caught by the sound, of course, that's why he got out of his car to begin with. He hadn't really decided what he'd do about it, if anything, except to stay alert, scope things out. Some people — the hero types — they run right away towards that, do anything they can to help. For Amos, his sphere of being compelled to act extends to the people he knows, trusts, has decided to align himself with.

Currently lacking all of the above in this place he's just ended up in, for the moment his sphere of being compelled to give a damn extends to the person who's suggested they might need to help. That's not his first instinct, but it seems to be hers. He could walk away, but he won't. She doesn't know it, but she's made his choice for him. Made it easy, in a way. She wants to go towards the sound, and what he feels certain of in return is following. To have her back. At least for now; it's not about any loyalty to her specifically, but rather, to her choice, a choice that feels familiar in the way it reminds him of Holden and Naomi.

He has no weapons — he'd had to forfeit everything at The Pit when he'd gone to visit Peaches. Descended ten floors down to see her, in a maximum security prison. Nothing left with him but the clothes on his back, shoes on his feet. But if shit goes down here, he doesn't need a weapon. ]

Guess we should hurry.

[ If they're not already too late, honestly. He decides he'll position himself at her flank in case anyone or anything decides to pop out from behind, but he'll shift accordingly, and he starts to move forward. ]

[hexcurse]

[ The likelihood of someone(s) jumping out of her jeep to assault him seems to be going down in the time she takes to respond. He offers back a smile and a nod. ]

Okay.

[ Jayce glances at her vehicle, then back at her with a faintly sheepish look: ]

Fair warning, this'll only be the second time I've changed one of these.

[ He has a jack and wrench if she needs, too. He'll grab those from the cab of his truck just in case, before stepping out from behind the door and towards her with a slightly uneven gait. ]

What's your name?

[valle]

( She hasn't been a kid for a long time. Sure, yes, by most metrics at nineteen she definitely still is in terms of strictly age, but... if she was ever a kid, they trained that out of her before her earliest memories. It was made abundantly clear to her the moment her brain started to solidify into real thoughts that she was meant to be an object, "a thing with patents and copyrights".

There was a time, briefly, for a few days, where she might've been a daughter. A granddaughter. Even if it was just pretend. She maybe was a kid then, for a while — but then it was over, and she's been fending for herself nearly ever since. A few pleasant years in Canada, and then came the Void, entirely on her own for a very long time. Her allies came later, and slowly.

Surviving independently is a way of life. Kindness is rare.

That's why she's suspicious when that voice drifts up to her, the words taking a moment to process. She'd noticed he was there, it's hard not to with the way her senses work, but she hadn't been paying attention. Certainly hadn't noticed that he was paying attention to her.

And it sounds suspiciously like he's offering to buy something for her.

I won't feel as awkward doing shopping by myself; she doesn't believe that motive. Not at all. And so the first thing she says to him is a simple, mistrustful: )

Why?

( What are you really expecting out of this? )

[pse]

[ The bullet, mercifully, goes straight through her hand. There's a grotesque spray of viscera and appendages as part of her hand is blasted off by the force of the bullet at this close of a range. Only her thumb and the bottom half of her palm remain attached to her wrist. The meat tenderiser drops to the floor with a loud, metallic thud.

Even as her face contorts with pain, fresh fingers are beginning to grow out of her hand. She cradles it close to her shoulder as this disgusting process occurs, glaring at Dean with deep scorn.

Remember our friend from earlier? Up close, it's even clearer he's closer to eight feet tall than seven and commands a presence like thunder, with a magnificent beard to match. He bellows— ] Enough!

[ Then, with a very manly nod of distant fraternity to Dean, he adds, ]

Say the word and I'll put her down. Always wanted a dark haired one on my wall.

[ Needless to say, Kimiko's glare swings around. She starts to kneel down, reaching for the tenderiser with her good hand... ]

fringes

[occulti]

<sub>[ Unfortunately, backup for Megumi happens to be an awkward looking guy who has been in quite a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions since arriving here. He's been separated from his one and only friend, and his mind is racing through all sorts of outlandish scenarios that could have explained his arrival here, but.. alien abduction is definitely at the forefront of his mind. It's not like it hasn't happened already, anyway.. both aliens and youkai messing with him.

Ken adjusts his glasses, unable to look at Megumi directly. ]</sub>

Ready? For.. um.. for what?

_{[ He can see the danger, he can see what could possibly be done, but Ken is used to being directed. He's not Yuuji, but he's still a cursed teenager with supernatural powers at your disposal, Megumi. ]}

[unsunder]

[ Well. It was an Eldritch Blast after a fashion, if one were to count Emet-Selch as something sort of eldritch himself. As it is, though, he looks like nothing more than a man, only slightly unique in the eyes, which glow faintly in the dark.

Eyes that give her a once over, landing squarely on that hand hovering near her weapon. Apparently, the darkness is no issue for him, either. ]

That fool thought to try and rob me. I pray you are not a fool, yourself.

[alwaysme]

[Hmmmm Yom Crook, you really gotta get a better name.] At least he's upfront about it. I don't know. Machinery's easier to get a look at and make sure it's got all its necessary workings. You have better luck fixing an kinks.

Who knows what their robot doctors did to us.

[valle]

( Only the second time... not exactly reassuring, but it's one more than she's done so far, so... no real room to judge. He seems confident enough anyway, and it's not like things can go any worse than her having no fundamental understanding of how to use a jack.

When she accepts the tools, it isn't with a smile — but there's something almost reminiscent of one playing about her mouth. The way her lips pull back into a kind of line, just a hint too straight and too flat to count. There's appreciation in there, if you squint. Hard to see, though. He couldn't be blamed if he missed it.

She hesitates, but she does answer. )

Laura. ( The only name that really matters, even if the answer's more complicated than that. ) Yours?

[mechatheism]

[Viktor's grip is firm, indicative of his new strength, though of course the last thing he wants to do is use it. He waits for Jayce to stop before he steps out in front of him, either not afraid of what Jinx might do, or wholly believing that he deserves it. Jayce wants to explain, but Viktor knows it's not worth it. Every ounce of anger that she's feeling is earned. He doesn't know what happened after they vanished, all the souls in his automatons released. If Vander was among them--he hopes, for her sake that he was, but he also knows of the beast, and how difficult it was to untangle those two consciousnesses.

He makes no further move to approach, only stands between them.]

Jayce ended it. [With a little help, of course, but he kept his promise.] It's not him you should be angry with.

[The only thing he can do is take responsibility. On some level, he understands his own corruption--that he wasn't necessarily in his right mind, the moment he left the laboratory in Piltover--but that's no real excuse. It will not bring back the lives he took, or heal the wounds he caused.

Viktor bows his head, his arms slack, deferential. If she wants to harm him, now, he will not stop her.]

I cannot ask you to forgive me.

mild spoilers

[betenoir]

Translating data into art.

[Part of his motivation is personal interest. But part of his personal interest is distraction. Or perhaps the opposite. His mind gains traction towards what he needs, to feel connected to his family. But his family have already been broken and scattered.

He hides his fears to defend one member in particular, someone who is now without his protection.]

Easier to understand what I'm doing, if I'm familiar with the fundamentals.

[For all the austerity inherent in his appearance, he does possess an artist's mind. And absolutely no understanding of what a car is.]

[reverso]

[A horse would have been acceptable, yes. It wouldn’t have gone nearly as fast as a motorcycle, and thus he’d have taken far longer to reach his destination…

But at least he would have gotten there in one piece.

As it stands? He barely registers what he thinks is a furred(?) woman on a motorcycle, too, reacting with impressive speed to rebalance herself. It spares her of a nasty collision, and if only Verso could be so lucky. But he’s already sealed his fate, swerving so hard that his bike tips over — the foreign smell of burnt rubber fills his nostrils, and sparks from the bike scraping against the road fill his vision. His arm feels like it’s on fire, the asphalt tearing through a sleeve and skinning his forearm.

And then he (and his bike) tumble straight into the ditch, out of sight.]

[nadine_he_loves]

"Uh...yeah."

Nadine blinks, but she doesn't ask any questions. Just gives the paintbrush a glance and figures there's a good reason he's got it. It's not like he's waving a flamethrower around or anything.

"Someone was just being...loud, outside my door, I think. Probably just causing trouble with the blackout." Maybe it had been a kid. Kids get restless and stupid when this kind of thing happened.

"Did you see anybody?"

Foggy Nelson | MCU

[motiontocompel]

FLUXDRIFT - BREAK IT DOWN

"Neutral, clutch down, shift, accelerate, handbra— No, clutch grab, handbrake, rev—" The dust-up caused during this recitation travels on the stale wind and at its source, Foggy Nelson paces on the passenger side of a brightly painted car, clinging to a wrinkled piece of paper held tightly in his hand.

When he'd left the Scrapyard, he hadn't known quite what he was getting into, but Yom Crook had assured him that all the cars were essentially the same, and while his name was awfully tragic for someone Foggy had no choice but to believe, Foggy took his word at face value and chose the color he liked the best. Of the three available he found himself getting his first driving lesson behind the wheel of a shiny, eggplant colored Nissan Skyline.

Getting started, he'd had a guide that patiently recited the steps until he mastered the art of not immediately stalling out, but once he shifted from first gear to second, and then second to third, his tutor was already in the rear-view mirror and Foggy was just as suddenly all alone.

He drove for almost the whole two hours, invigorated at first by this newly developed skill. But a need to stop outside Panorama set him back when, upon returning to his loaner, he realized he hadn't quite mastered the art of getting going again.

Twenty minutes outside the city, with a scribbled mess of directions from what he remembers from the Scrapyard, he keeps trying. Grinds the inner workings in a painfully reminiscent way, while the light of the sun rapidly deteriorates. He can see Panorama's glow and if he felt like leaving his car, he'd walk. But the debt is already hefty and Foggy's not about to double down by needing to obtain a second car to survive this landscape.

Frustrated, overly warm, and considering staying the night with the driver's seat tilted all the way back, Foggy decides to try one more time. He follows the steps as he says them aloud: "Neutral, clutch down, shift, accelerate, clutch-grab, haaaaaaandbrake—" The gnarly noise makes Foggy's eye twitch and he hisses as the car stalls yet again, head coming down against the steering wheel with a comically chipper beep!

"Why can't I just call a cab?" He grumbles to himself. Exhausted, filthy, and still reeling from waking up somewhere else, Franklin Percy Nelson could sure as Hell use a break. And maybe another driving lesson or two.

PANORAMA - BLOCK PARTY BLACKOUT

Days into his new life in Panorama, and Foggy has tested the food offerings to keep himself fed, and taken a very temporary position at a... delicatessen counter giving out samples. The offerings aren't entirely inedible and the pay is barely enough for his east side hotel room, but beggars most certainly can't be choosers, especially after what he's learning about the state of the city and its surrounding areas. Besides a place to park his car and somewhere to lay his head, it gives him an opportunity to meet other people in the neighborhood, as well as a chance to keep an eye out for others who may have found themselves here like Foggy.

Right about when the lights go out, he's settling for the evening, hoping to crash into his shitty, uncomfortable bed for as long as humanly possible. Struck with the most immediate sense of concern-slash-panic, he's quick to gather up the only weapon he's managed to obtain: a baseball bat with a concerning crack. Foggy reckons he can still do some damage if needed, but even as he pokes his head out into the hallway to squint into the darkness, he's hoping to find no one and nothing that may be interested in starting a fight.

Somewhere down the hall, a door opens and closes almost immediately. In the other direction, footsteps retreat to the stairs and stamp upward to the next floor. Foggy can feel his heart racing, hammering away in all his aching parts. He can only hope this isn't a common occurrence, but given the uptick of noise in the streets and the rooms surrounding his, he suspects this won't be his last brush with a startlingly pitch landscape.

Trying to control his breathing, he creeps forward in his socks, wishing he had night vision or a sixth sense or a flashlight. Another door opens, this time across the hall, and Foggy makes his best attempt to warn the bad actors while preserving the innocence of those just curious like him.

"Don't worry," he says, "if there's trouble, I've got a bat and I know how to use it."

THE FRINGES - BRACKISH WATERS

Was it stupid to volunteer? Absolutely. But having spent time enough within this new society, there are few things to keep Foggy from finding a reason to be helpful.

The medicine wasn't simply enticing, but absolutely imperative from Foggy's understanding. Forced twice now to deliver to Saint Margery's Hospital, he'd noted the poor conditions and lack of supplies and couldn't ignore the way those left suffering were truly people who could be saved sooner with better provisions. Hell, he doesn't even mind the feeling of his socks soaking through as he digs into a nearby crate and comes up with a handful of vials he immediately shoves into his jacket pocket. Score.

But then the buzz of the lock heralds chaos, and very true to its word, the room begins flooding.

Inside, Foggy gives in to the sinking feeling. "What the hell?" As he asks, the notice on the computer screen glares at him, providing direction that feels very much like a taunt. Feels very much like it's personal.

As he searches, folding over papers and opening drawers, certain things begin to stand out. Familiar names, to start, with Foggy's eye failing to find them when he looks again.

A list of names. Was that Ed Nelson? No. A file folder of addresses and he doesn't recognize the format but wasn't 468 W. 51st Street there a second ago? With each glimpse of something awry but nothing useful, the water crawls farther up his legs, almost inklike in quality, and Foggy descends deeper and deeper into his own dense desperation.

Clacking at the computer gives him e-mails— thousands of e-mails and when he scrolls, the computer lags past unfamiliar addresses and subjects, but seems to zip over a section that looks to be sent to Foggy himself (an on-going string titled "last will & testament") that stretches into the dozens before disappearing never to be scrolled back to again.

The determination that had turned to desperation now morphs fully to panic and Foggy doesn't blame himself because the water's up past his hip and he's almost certain he felt something moving below the surface.

"C'mon, Fog, you're alone, there's no one down there," he grits, turning to dig into a filing cabinet. "You can do this. You've got to do this," Foggy tells himself, but Christ he's so sure that out of the corner of his eye, something is moving.

Afraid to look, but more afraid to be taken unaware, he turns slowly, expecting to see some gnarled creature, but instead sees a form on the other side of the mist-speckled glass. Charging ahead, struggling against the churn, he balls his fist and slams the side of it against the large, fogged window. But it's unrelenting and he can tell from the lack of recoil that it's essentially pointless unless the person is looking for him and right up against the glass.

"Jesus, Jesus, come on," he croaks, voice high as he fumbles fingers over a slick plastic binder, attention split between continuing his search and trying to get the person on the other side to help him. "Hey," he yells, eyes stinging, heart in overdrive, adrenaline testing every bit of him. Foggy calls again, "Hey, help me! Come on, you have... to..."

Spread in his hands, the binder reveals the code, but Foggy's gaze has drifted to the water now threatening even higher than before. It brings with it a pale face — familiar, one of the people he misses the most — and seizes Foggy's attention like an icy grasp around his entire being.

"No," he tells himself, disbelieving but seeing with his own eyes. All around him, the water surges, churning heavier and more aggressively. He doesn't move, even if he wants to reach out and touch that face...

The answer's in his hands. It's right there, ready to be shared with whoever is on the other side, but the grief built over the last few weeks makes it hard to focus, makes it hard for Foggy to lift his gaze once more towards the light.

It's really going to take a team effort if he's meant to survive this.

OOC + ADDITIONAL PROMPT IDEAS

You can check out my EMP for more information on Foggy, as well as some of the optional ideas that I've found myself interested in. Feel free to use any of these ideas to build a starter! I'm especially fond of threads in medias res and anything that could have a humorous bend, while still remaining faithful to the tone being built around the game.

Some things you are welcome to assume:

• Our character have met and introduced themselves. He goes by Foggy Nelson, he's from New York, and everyone is encouraged to steer clear of him on the road.


• Foggy has served your character samples! Everything is setting-appropriate, and without much prompting, Foggy will gladly slip a couple extra samples to those looking a little more hungry than usual.


• While his driving has improved, Foggy is still a menace on the road. Accidents are unlikely, but he will drive too slow, stall out, or simply suck at observing the unwritten rules of the road.


• Several times, Foggy has talked his way out of trouble. Generally speaking, these would be NPC interactions, but your character is welcome to have observed Foggy using his lawyerly ways to preserve his innocence and his face.


• Foggy is better at pool than he acts, and while fairly ethical in most ways, isn't beyond hustling money or utilizing an infrequent five-finger discount if it means he can sleep under a roof without a rumbling belly.

Canon: MCU
Canon Point: Daredevil: Born Again - S01E01 Heaven's Half Hour
Content Warnings: Potential spoilers for Daredevil: Born Again. All headers should be appropriately marked with content warnings, as well as any relevant spoilers.

[longtooth]

[ The stranger doesn't move, and while that's an annoyance, Fern isn't going to go so far as to shove him out of the way. It's not like she has the free hands to do so in any case, and so instead her eyes flick to what he's holding (she doesn't actually know what it is; cardboard is new to her) as he explains.

It's not a bad idea, and while she still eyes him with some suspicion — as if this might be some sort of ploy to steal her samples from her — after a beat she nods, and once he holds the cardboard piece flat, she starts to balance some of the cups on the makeshift tray. ]

Hold it steady.

[ She sounds doubtful that he'll actually be able to manage this. ]

●●● the blocks ;

[diplomatiste]

[ These days the Darkness has come to mean something more of a blessing and a balm. It provides the much-needed balance to overwhelming, destructive Light. Of course, in a more practical sense, while the darkness is suitable for sleeping in, it's harder to discuss strategy and come up with worthwhile plans when you can barely see the person you're speaking with in front of you.

Even if they are essentially mirror images of each other.

The Leveilleur twins decide to be proactive in the face of the power outage. Splitting up to see about the possibility of returning power to their current room, and to check on others around them (an outage may also mean that those needing help might not be able to find it so easily in the dark), Alphinaud makes his way down towards the motel lobby. It's an exhaustive attempt and well-worth effort, but restoring power is deemed to not be in the cards. And rather than wait for some ruffian to rob them blind, Alphinaud suggests they travel to a place with light instead.

So now he waits for his sister to arrive before he spots you: ]

It seems the wisest idea now may be to move out and onwards. There's a place with power closer still to us — south, I believe.

power outage

[occulti]

<sub>[ Considering all of the horseshit he has been through, it is just his luck that not only has Ken been bullied most of his life, now cursed by a youkai, abducted by aliens.. it is just his luck to be stalked by a vampire after ending up in this weird ass place. He's aware of the looming presence that has been following him around and he's not against using his ability to out run this scoundrel, but.. he's going to try to be diplomatic. For now.

After a moment of increasing his speed at a normal, human rate, Ken finally turns around and jabs a finger at Laszlo's direction. ]</sub>

Okay, man. You need to back off. I'm serious! If you're after my nut, you're not going to get it! I just got it back!

_{[ what ]}

the archivist (jonathan sims) | the magnus archives | ota!

[eyesite]

I — PANORAMA | THE PAVILION

( do I even need to eat at this point…?

a thought that likely no one else among the thronging crowds drawn to the supermarket finds themselves thinking, and yet it’s why john had decided to stop by in the first place. drifting slowly among the half-empty shelves and occasionally stopping to peer at the stranger samples on offer, he attempts to search the current status of his physical being to figure out… well, if he’s hungry. if food like this would even properly nourish whatever the hell he is at this point. the hours since his arrival to this place have at least slowly informed him that he’s more… him, or at least more “him” than he’s been since the world ended, but that’s not necessarily a comfort. because, just as assuredly as he is no longer a treasured passenger to the apocalypse (and not to mention the oh-so-brief stint as the pupil to the Eye itself), he knows he is also not human. if he was, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to walk off what should’ve been a fatal stabbing…

so… what? he would still have to be an avatar, then. but to what, exactly? it has to be something, because if there was nothing to keep him together, from beginning to fade away entirely, then he doubts he would’ve been able to wake up and recover at all.

if that was the case, his casual decision to go to the shop could have a sinister undercurrent without him even realizing it; that had been the case before he realized what it was like for him to “hunt” for the stories of trauma that might satisfy the Eye (and, through it, himself). with this thought looming in his thoughts, his gaze drifts upwards to set on someone else, be they trying out one of the samples, browsing the limited selection of goods, or waiting in line—just as he’d been trying to sort out of his sense of “hunger,” he tries to feel out for that indescribable “pull” that had, at several points in the past, brought him to his former victims.

for the individual that he’s focused his gaze on, the effect is immediate and obvious: the prickling sensation of being watched, magnified in intensity to where john himself stands. the subject of his scrutiny looking back to see what’s going on seems to bring him out of his head and back to the present; he straightens up somewhat, averting his gaze elsewhere as he pointedly clears his throat and attempts to the defuse the mild confrontation with a, ) Pardon me.

( it’s probably not as defusing as he might hope; that feeling of pressing observation lingers even after he looks away, a pressure as strong as if everyone in the supermarket had turned to stare. )

II — PANORAMA | THE BLOCKS

( john had left his motel room before the combination of nightfall and the blackouts endemic to the east side of the Blocks plunged it into near-perfect darkness. he avoids sleep. it’s something he can do now, though it comes as little convenience or comfort. his dreams are… strange, confusing—not what they had once been, and while that should be a good thing, he finds it harder and harder to discern what would be considered “good” or “bad” at this point. his dreams are different, and since they had been static for so long, a procession that he understood even as they weighed him down with guilt, it’s that change that frightens and unsettles him. and so, he doesn’t sleep all that much—something which writes itself in deep shadows beneath his already-unsettling eyes.

the thing about thoughtlessly roving neighborhoods steeped in opportunistic darkness is, well, it’s thoughtless. and therefore stupid. john’s restless steps come to a hurried halt as he finds himself face-to-face with exactly the type of rough, malicious types that would treat a rolling blackout as an opportunity. he can sense their intention before any of them speak, so he heads them off before they can, tone of voice brittle and dry, ) Gentlemen, I’ve only just arrived here recently, so I don’t have anything for you to take. ( a beat. ) Unless you want debt.

( oof. that little “joke” doesn’t go over well. the scrawny, rather unassuming-looking man might need some help, even if he believes he has ways enough to deal with the likes of these vultures. )

III — THE FRINGES | QUAD 3 (SET FREE)

( as soon as john cuts his car’s engine and opens the door to step out into the driving rain, he feels as though he does so into a memory. it’s strange, to feel such an acute sense of déjà vu for something he hadn’t even experienced himself, but at this point it’s common enough to almost feel rote. he still carries them all, of course—each statement given, taken, or recorded a living testament of fear, just as much a part of him now as his limbs, the rhythm of his heart, the breath in his lungs. this one—the endless droning of the rain was the same, but the water had been warm. the levels had risen, drowning a first floor and then more of a beloved home; it had reached slowly up the staircase to where temporary sanctuary had been found on the second floor. looking out the window across a featureless world of endless water, broken only by the bloated corpses which drifted past, beckoning for another to join them—

this memory possesses him for only a fleeting moment, but when he focuses once again on the office building before him and begins to approach it, the fear that it leaves behind lives and dwells within him. before john can even begin to get a lay of the land, it gives him the seeping sensation of dread that someone might be inside, trapped. he tries the front door first, in vain—locked. that selfsame dread begins to build as he begins to move along the exterior of the building, searching through whatever windows he can find. the occasional bobbing crate of medicine, while a useful enough find, distinctly feels as though it’s not what he’s looking for.

that feeling, he doesn’t find until he comes across a shape in the interior gloom of the building that’s not a box of lost supplies. his brow furrows, and he leans closer to the pane of glass to confirm his suspicion. yes, the shape is undoubtedly human, or at least humanoid. john raises one fist to knock against the window, doing so again until he can gain their attention. ) Hello? ( another thud of his fist against the glass; the window certainly does feel sturdy. ) Are you alright?

OOC —

( notes:
1) threads will likely contain spoilers through to the end of the magnus archives.
2) as the archivist, john has abilities which can occasionally give him preternatural insight into other characters’ current thoughts or backgrounds. in general these abilities will be opt-in (with the justification that recent massive changes in his state and circumstances have made them much more unreliable), but if this is something you would like to play with in the thread, please let me know!
3) feel free to slightly adjust prompts or wildcard as you see fit. )

[longtooth]

[ If nothing else, Fern appreciates that brief moment where the woman is startled isn't followed by a yelp or anything else that would alert others to their presence. Not that Fern has any reason to think she can trust this stranger, either, but she's also aware that she's unfamiliar with much of the workings of this place. It leaves her with little choice but to learn from others.

Cheap... seats? Fern tilts her head at that, but quietly walks after the other woman, even if she's not certain where she's headed. The stranger's eyes are oddly bright, which is strange given that she looks otherwise human.

At a distinct knocking sound, Fern halts and turns to look over her shoulder.

No one there. She tenses, then draws her dagger from the sheath at her hip just in case. ]

Bill? You mean you must pay for the lights to stay on?