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

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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

[vestments]

( most of the time, marc's aware that his sartorial choices are considered a hindrance in his line of work, but he likes being seen. he likes the fact that by now, after this long, everyone knows what it means, even if they don't know which moon knight they're going to get — the one that dangles two-bit thieves over wood chippers just to frighten them and leaves it at that? or the one that takes his time, carves crescent moons into flesh to serve as reminders? the message has never been pretty, he's not proud of most of it, but all he's ever left himself with is the fallout, and he's had to make do with it as he will — and in that respect, he can't deny it's been effective.

and besides— the moon's white. who'd he be to wear any other colour?

he doesn't assume that's why jason takes point, but given jason's own choice of attire, marc can guess it's played a part, at least if he's on the same side of things as marc as implied. if not, then jason's leading him straight into the sort of interesting that marc enjoys the most, and he's confident — arrogant — enough to think that he'd come out of it on top.

and so, as he follows jason, keeping pace a half-metre behind him, even as his gaze slides from jason's back to the stairwell. up. it's quieter here, colder —less heat, less use, little but the sound of footsteps breaking the silence between them.

—that is, until there's another thud and here, it's easier to tell it's the sound of something hard hitting something soft, whatever follows disguised by a series of yells. marc inhales sharply through his nose, no hesitation present as he shifts to a run, sharp and sudden, straight at the door that leads onto the landing of the next floor up.

(he keeps track of jason, of how he reacts, what he responds to, but he doesn't demand, ask, or tell. jason isn't reese, he's not soldier, and he's certainly not mogart's boy. what he does of his own accord will inform marc's choices.) )

[tirejacked]

[Sounds like it makes for horrific laundry days, godspeed marc.

He starts at a decent clip, taking the stairs two at a time. Until the sound of shouting echoes down toward them. And yeah, that's a good a cue as any to pick up the pace.

Once upon a time, it was Robin’s job to be quick and bright and annoying. Scatter and distract the rogues while the big guy swoops in and manages the big guns and mops up behind. Now, he weighs his options and makes the deliberate choice to let Marc overtake him.  Hangs back half a step when he clocks him picking up speed. Lets him take the door, first.

There’s more light, up top, but barely. The emergency EXIT signs flickering weakly here above the doors to the stairwells, casting most of the the hall in dim lurid red and long dark shadows.  Not far down the hall is a likely culprit on the subject of problems—the broad bent shape of a man dragging a woman out of her room and into the hall, shouting something about what he's owed.  Holding her by the wrist with one hand. The other fisted into her hair.

Doesn't take a genius to start working this one out.

The guy stops to look up, and his eyes find the most apparent offender—Marc, all in white, backlit by red. Opens his mouth to say something—probably to tell Marc to mind his own damn business.

So he doesn't see what's coming until it's way too late. Whatever he was going to say, it's cut off pretty abruptly. He drops the woman entirely to stumble backward, cursing a blue streak. A long, waved blade suddenly embedded to the hilt in his shoulder, his hand spasming.

Sure answers the question of whether or not Jason was armed. It's a pretty good throw at this distance, in this light. (Or, y'know. Lack thereof.) Also apparent: he's a lot more agile than he looks at a glance.  With the element of surprise still (barely) on their side, he darts forward. Kicks off the wall to gain altitude and plants both of his boots on the guy's chest to drop him onto his back. The resulting crack sounds like it hurts.

The woman, wisely, takes the opportunity to stumble back away from the scuffle.   There’s still movement, though, clearly audible through the open door.]

SOZ FOR SLOW fight threads are both !!! and also oh god how do i even

[vestments]

( it truly does, his dry cleaning bill is so expensive. here, with its lack of anything consistent, is going to be a horrendous shock for a man used to a wardrobe consisting of the same suit at least five times over.

marc had been ready, prepared to slam into the man, body and fists blunt and disregarding of impact, but jason beats him to the punch (heh), and he can't help but think knew it! when a knife — dagger — sails past him into the shoulder of a man who deserves it. for the briefest of moments, marc thinks of peter alraune, of the dagger he'd tried to use to kill raul. it's not the same, but it's similar enough, and the flicker, the momentary memory of something infrequently revisited, is buried deep.

(now's not the time.)

and so, whether it's the knife throw or the surprisingly agile two-footed slam into the man, marc's attention rests on jason for a beat, brief, but long enough for vague appreciation, the sentiment of nice! flickering across his features before he decides jason's capable of handling himself, and he disappears into the room. jason has the corridor taken care of, the woman's backed away, out of apparent harm, and so—.

he doesn't have his crescent darts (shame), but he has his truncheon, the one jean-paul pieced together from — as always — instructions that leant towards impractical and inconsiderate of logistics. it's thin, designed to separate into two, and as light in weight as it is white thanks to the adamantium it's made from.

there's at least two more, and the room's clearly been turned over in search of valuables, sentimental or otherwise, anything worth cash. the man closest to him, presumably a lackey to whoever jason had focused his attentions on, gets one half of the truncheon directed at a kneecap, abruptly followed by a shoulder slamming into his chest, the other half of the truncheon pressed tightly against his throat. for marc's part, there's not a flicker of hesitation nor of doubt, whatever gets directed at him in response — punch, kick, stab — ignored.

more than once, marc has been asked if he considers defence a suggestion, if he's ever contemplated dodging and the answer, in truth, is no. his approach to this is both pathological and deliberate: getting hit and refusing to back down is an advantage.

it's a muttered, low remark, then— ) I'm sure your pal promised you a good time, ( punctuated by a shifting of weight, a tighter press against the wall, and then an abrupt lean back, a swipe and a thwack of metal against flesh. ) So let's have fun.

( jason will earn his attention again once he's decided he's finished. the woman isn't quite forgotten, but she's not where his focus lays — once the problem's dealt with, he'll think to check on her, if she hasn't (smartly) made her escape already. )

HONESTLY THO...same. action my beloved, and yet.

[tirejacked]

((that said lmk if anything ever needs an edit! gestures vaguely, we'll stumble through this part together, dw))

[Things happen fast after that. Gratifying, at least, to hear Marc follow behind and straight through the door. Even more gratifying to hear the subsequent impact as whoever's busy ransacking the inside hits the wall. There's a little nag at his attention in the moment. Some old ghost of the habits one picks up working with a partner, the long-disused impulse to wonder if Marc's having trouble in there. A glance through the door doesn't immediately dispel it, given Marc's not exactly choosing which wound he'd rather take so much as choosing to take...all of them, in favor of barreling forward uninterrupted.

But. Can't argue with the results. And maybe he can't necessarily pick up everything Marc's saying to Dirtbag Numero Dos from out here, but he gets enough.

Nice. Okay. Great. He can work with that.

With the first offender safely underfoot (for the moment) and Jason looking though the door, the woman takes the chance to ask who the hell are you. Jason throws one more glace back over his shoulder at Marc and his new friend backed up against the wall inside. With no small amount of irony—]

Housekeeping. [Apparently.] Heard you had some complaints about the accommodations.

[Ought to do something about that. He considers the options for a split second but in the end—reaches for a pocket to lob her the key to his room a floor below. Should be quieter down there. And if he hid a few things in a corner of the drop-ceiling, well.  He’ll just have to swing by to collect them later. She seems like a smart girl. She can figure out the rest.

Of course, here is about where Dirtbag Numero Uno decides to reassert himself. He makes a wheezy noise of protest about being ignored and starts to buck up against the boot still pressed against his chest. Jason drops into a crouch, grabs for the hilt of his dagger, and twists.]

I'd stay put if you ever want to use that arm again. [He'll have to find a pretty good doctor, pretty fast. Or.] Or, I could pull it all the way down and save us both the trouble.

[Rather than take this very generous advice, the guy reaches for something at his belt with his good arm. Pulls a heretofore concealed handgun and takes aim kind of wildly. It's knocked to the side with the knife once its out, but bullet goes off and goes wide, embedding into the drywall somewhere close to the ceiling. The gun gets twisted out of his hand and cracked quickly against his temple to drop him for good.

Louder than he'd like. But progress. How are things inside?]

[vestments]

( the avengers have not often agreed with marc's methods — the reasons why he'd quit (several times) and the reasons why he'd been kicked off the team (several times) amount to much the same thing: a difference in opinion with regards to how much is too much.

marc will be the first man to admit that he has a documented tendency to take it too far, but he'll also argue that he's not always wrong. that sometimes, someone like him's needed so that the good guys — the hawkeyes and the captain americas — can keep doing what they do without blurring any lines.

that jason seems unbothered is — well, marc wouldn't call it a blessing, per se, but it's something he's grateful for nonetheless. it doesn't yet put him in mind of jean-paul, or jeff, or even greer, but it's a detail that sits at the edges of his awareness, filed away for later.

of course, he doesn't catch what jason says, only that he's speaking and it doesn't sound like he's in trouble (good), before there's the notable, singular, loud noise of a gun firing, and both marc and his new friends attentions are pulled towards the hallway. it's fleeting, but just enough time for marc, the man he's got pinned against the wall, and the to-date unthreatened, unhurt third asshole to pause and recalibrate.

marc doesn't speak for the moment, merely grunts and, with what almost borders on disappointment, swings his truncheon back for a swing that results in a resounding thwack, metal against skin, punctuating it with a headbutt that his nose is going to be less impressed by come the morning.

the third, up til now seemingly undecided in whether to give marc or jason his attention, has opted for marc, and thrusts a knife towards marc's torso. it's nothing so elegant as jason's dagger, and not wielded with as much proficiency. while it lands, and while marc is dressed in a suit, it's not his first rodeo: the material's tougher than it looks, and though red blooms stark and bright against the white, it's not rapid enough to imply that anything important's been hit — or at least not deeply.

buddy two left slumped and unconscious against the wall, marc spins round. for a second, he looks ready to retaliate, mouth twisted in sharp displeasure, before a beat, and his gaze shifts slightly beyond and into the hallway towards jason.

quite suddenly, apropos nothing, he smiles. it's not pleasant, but it is sharp, edging towards amused. sardonic. testing. he holds his hands up, truncheon held loosely between fingertips, the white smudged with red.

quietly, oddly level— )

Don't look behind you.

[tirejacked]

[That’s the thing about teams. Always with the limits.

He drops the first guy and stows the pistol just in time to watch the rest of the show. For all he’s going to be cleaning that blood out of his ridiculous white suit, it doesn’t seem like Marc really needs the help. Far be it from him, though, to pass up a teeup like that when he's handed one. He’ll take it from here.

In the meantime…the threat in Marc’s little word of advice sinks in. The man’s eyes have just enough time to widen in realization before he’s hauled unceremoniously back by the collar, out into the hall, and slammed flat into the opposite wall. Lets have a conversation, huh.]

If I had to guess, I’d say your buddy over there has about twenty minutes before he bleeds out all over the floorboards.  

[Give or take. Maybe longer, since the medical systems here are better than baseline.  He hasn't quite put them to the test just yet.   But he sounds pretty confident in his assesment.

He lets up to spin the guy and shove him back toward the stairwell. Makes a point of flipping his knife in his hand, gesturing at the prone shadow beyond them with the tip of it.]

All the same to me, of course. But I’d suggest you use that time wisely.

[First guy definitely must have been the brains or the bankroll of the outfit, because he’d been the best armed of them, and their last man standing does take one look at his options—first at Marc, who had just scared the crap out of him and dodged all his swings to boot…then at Jason, to do the math about what had happened out in the hall. He figures out it’s best to cut their losses, and scrambles forward together grab for the ringleader to haul him toward the staircase. Unconscious asshole number two inside does get abandoned in the process.  No honor among dirtbags, it seems.]

[vestments]

( here! )