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

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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.

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Comments

[terrorisms]

( He recognizes the guy. They're not on silent nod of greeting levels, but Frank's consistently aware enough of his surroundings to spot the face every day. Familiar enough that it pings as normal, with a first impression somewhere along the lines of not likely to be a pain in my ass. That's about as close to camaraderie as he had any intention of getting with just about anybody in this city, and he's been having a great time not talking to the man, or meeting him, or exchanging words, in what feels like pleasantly mutually agreed upon silence.

Until today. Until he parks his piece of shit minivan around the side and rolls up, keys in hand, mind already on his cup of coffee and short stack order, only to find himself on the receiving end of a look, and a point.

He looks.

Clocks the sign. Under his breath a slow, annoyed: )

Ah, shit. You kiddin' me?

( It's exactly the level of patience you'd expect from a New Yorker. Namely: almost none at all. Two seconds spent debating, and then he shoots a sideways look at the man waiting by the pole. Further breaks their unspoken agreement of everybody should always leave everybody else alone forever by asking: )

Hey, buddy, you got the time?

( He hasn't dropped cash on a watch yet, and his phone's in the van being a paperweight, seeing as he doesn't have anybody's phone number and there's absolutely no reason to bring it inside. )

[carcajous]

[ Yup. Just their luck. Honestly? He gets the annoyance. Not a ton of places for a guy to go sit unbothered with a decent cup of coffee. (Unbothered is the key word.) He's been in nowhere towns with slim pickings and giant downtown cores with a million diners, but never a city so haphazardly slapped together as this one. Not without some kinda war going on.

As far as he can tell, nothing like that's happening. Not yet, anyway. Guess there's still plenty of time.

Logan digs into his pocket, though it's not for his phone. He sticks a cigar between his lips. Took him two hours and a too-cheerful kid stocking the barely full shelves, but he managed to scrounge up a pack the other day. ]

'Bout twenty past. [ If his sense of time is right. He digs for a second longer. ] You got a light?

[terrorisms]

( Forty minutes, shit. Too long, not long enough. Just the right amount of time to be a pain in the ass — and if he takes off, it'll take him all forty of those minutes to find another place with coffee half as good that isn't full to the brim with assholes in every direction, no breathing room where a man can have a little god damn space to himself even though this city ain't half as crowded as it's designed to be. This is the first place he's found that didn't ask him if he wanted a venti but also doesn't taste like it scraped the grounds off the bottom of somebody's shoe.

Fine. This guy's waiting, Frank can wait, too. Besides, he sure would love to know what in the hell fishin' means. He moves to the front stoop of the joint, lowers himself down onto it with a grunt, and settles in with his elbows on his knees. Could he wait in the car? Absolutely, but what is he, twelve?

Got a light?

Frank doesn't smoke. That doesn't stop him from fishing around in the breast pocket of his jacket for a minute, fingertips seeking out cold metal. When he finds it, he tosses it under-hand Logan's direction. It's a zippo, freshly filled, and it ain't intended for cigars but rather the half-dozen Molotovs he's got packed away in the rear storage compartments of his minivan. Ammo's been hard to find; alcohol with a proof over 80's been easy. You never know when you might need a different problem in a hurry, and a Molotov's one surefire way to accomplish that. Literally. )

[carcajous]

[ Logan catches the lighter, rolls the tip of the cigar in the flame, and tosses the zippo back with a mild Thanks. From the heavy tobacco drifting into the air, it's obvious these are no Cuban cigars, just the cheap shit that costs less than three bucks.

He's not polite enough to move away. He is polite enough not to blow the smoke in the stranger's direction. That's about the limit of it. He goes back to not bothering the man. Maybe one day, he'll learn the guy's name.

Ten minutes later, another car pulls up, exhaust pipe puffing black smoke out the ass. A third regular. She looks at the sign, mutters Not this again, and immediately takes off. Not 'til the fourth car rolls in does he finally glimpse a face he hasn't before. Two, actually, coming out on either side of an old pickup with a pair of filthy neon-green dice dangling from the rearview mirror and one of those glow-in-the-dark plastic skeletons.

Doesn't look like they're here for waffles.

The last thing he wants is to get dragged into somebody else's bullshit. He can't care enough to actually walk away, though—and there's always gonna be a part of him that doesn't like turning tail at the drop of a hat, anyhow. Logan ends up not moving one way or the other. His gaze flicks to his silent loitering buddy to see what page he's on. ]

[terrorisms]

( He catches the toss-back one-handed, and the silence they lapse into is a beautiful thing. Rare to find somebody that knows how to keep their mouth shut for longer than ten minutes at a time. Rare to find someone that doesn't have any interest in making idle small-talk with a stranger, too. Guy must be from New York, huh?

He sits there with the idle ease of a man that hasn't had his attention span ruined by doomscrolling syndrome or social media. That old man brand of patience where you don't have to be doing anything particular while you're waiting, you can just goddamn wait like a fucking adult.

First lady comes. First lady goes. Nobody greets anybody, and Frank's liking this diner more and more by the second.

Fourth car rolls in, and Frank's eyes are trained on the newcomers immediately. There's no shift in his casual posture, not even a hint that he's tensing up, but his eyes stay sharply pinned to both individuals as they pile out of their piece of shit pick-up with chrome spray-painted rims, like that somehow improves the resale value of the thing.

The guy from the driver's seat smiles without his eyes, like a shark. He greets them both with a crisp, "Howdy, fellas."

Frank says not a single goddamn thing. Logan smokes his cigar. The silence is awkward. Shark pushes past it, undeterred. "Looks like the big guy's closed up shop today, so you two may wanna clear out. We got a little remodeling to do in the back."

Guy's got a pack slung over one shoulder, and underneath the flap, an inch or two of the head of a crowbar peeks out.

Here Frank was foolishly thinking there wasn't a city he'd ever set foot in that was scummier than Hell's Kitchen, once upon a time. He knows better than that now. This place.... it's one big walking robbery waiting to happen, it's filth in the streets, every street, all day long. It'd take an entire fleet of street sweepers to take out the trash here. )

Not today, pal. This is the only place in a five-mile radius that serves a decent cup of coffee. Take it somewhere else.

( Consider this a rare, generous opportunity to decide not to make a huge mistake. Contrary to the reputation news outlets might imply about him, Frank Castle's first reaction to everything isn't immediately murder. Granted, it ain't that low on the list either, but it rides somewhere around a comfortable third place when it comes to a couple low-stakes low-life petty thieves. )

[carcajous]

[ They always open their mouths.

Logan checks the time. He could handle this in about thirty seconds and go back to waiting. Give or take, depending on what the stranger beside him brings to the table. Look—they came marching in, he didn't go searching for it. The thing is, he likes the owner. Maybe if the guy was a dick, he'd have no problem letting whatever was gonna happen, happen. But as far as he can tell, the man hasn't done anything to deserve his place getting smashed up.

And there's free refills here.

He watches the men out of the corner of his eye. Tries to decide if he wants to make the first move or let them dig themselves a deeper hole. The tension sharpens. Couldn't tell you what brings him to their attention when he hasn't spoken a word—though that might just be the reason, that they've found him too silent—but somehow, he's got a crowbar in his face. He can feel his patience rapidly evaporating. Part of his brain thinks, how about don't escalate, but not only is that part lagging a good ten miles behind, he's also not too inclined to listen to it in the first place.

Instead, he says: ] You're gonna need a bigger stick.

[ And is promptly smacked between the eyes for it. The blow should drop him—should've cracked his skull, actually—but there's a distinct lack of any crunch on contact. Mostly, it just makes his ears ring. Goddamn it. ]

[terrorisms]

( When that crowbar comes out is about the time that Frank begins to finally, slowly, rise to his feet.

Here's the thing: Frank can look at a person, measure them up, and walk away with a decent understanding of what they're all about. These two punks are a couple of opportunistic thugs more interested in the cash than a fight, but they're desperate enough for the local currency they're willing to swing. The only violence they know is the haphazard, chaotic kind that comes with two untrained men getting into a bar brawl.

This other guy, though? The one with a cigar? Took him all of about thirty seconds to peg him for a vet. He knows a soldier when he sees one, and he's not exactly in a hurry to go intervening on that guy's behalf. Nah, he can handle himself just fine — although, Frank does spend a moment second-guessing that assessment when he lets himself take a crowbar to the face.

Seen a lot of shit, but he's never seen a man take iron like that without so much as flinching.

Huh.

Anyway —

It's not much of a fight. All eyes are on Logan and his ringing ears, the solid dense thwack of unforgiving metal on unforgiving flesh. Passenger's Seat, with his waning attention span and absolute incredulity at what he just witnessed, doesn't even see Frank move. He's upright one second, horizontal the next, body slumping gracelessly to the sidewalk.

He leaves the other one to Logan, and scoops this one up on one shoulder to start casually marching him around the side of the building. There was a dumpster in the alley. This asshole's getting unceremoniously dumped into it, and Frank doesn't even give enough of a shit to check if he's alive or dead first. )

[carcajous]

[ Can't even call it a fight. One solid headbutt knocks the chattier asshole out cold, and in that time, Frank's already halfway around the corner to the alley. Can't say that surprises him, from the looks of the man.

It takes all of five seconds. Guess he overestimated. For a second, he debates leaving the crumpled form there. If he planned on walking away, he would've, but he does still want to see if Ronnie's coming back from his, uh, fishing trip. It's only another five minutes 'til noon. At this point, it's not even about getting his coffee. He just really wants to know about that sign. Specifically, he wants to know if it's about what he suspects, and if there are gonna be more idiots with crowbars showing up tomorrow.

He meets the other guy at the back and takes advantage of the same dumpster to slid his own body right in. A plump, bedraggled rat peeks its furry nose over the edge. Logan pauses, dumpster lid held up a bit so he doesn't squish it. They stare at each other for a sec before it finally hops to the ground. There you go, bub.

As for the humans, he supposes their buddies'll come find them later. They've both got a pulse going still, so...they'll wake up.

Probably.

There's a faint smear of blood on his temple where the crowbar must've split the skin, though no wound's visible—not even the beginnings of a purpling bruise. Like he might as well have not gotten struck at all.

Speaking of. Logan offers over the crowbar. Y'know. If the guy wants it. It's not like Logan's got any use for it. ]

[terrorisms]

( He dusts his hands off on his thighs, something that absolute does not erase whatever germs are crawling around on the lid of that dumpster, but nonetheless makes him feel a little bit better for a second. Two bodies in, the lid slams shut, and then two assholes meander their way back out of the alley again.

When Logan holds up that crowbar in offering, Frank's lips turn down vaguely and one hand comes up in tandem with the shake of his head. Like he's just been offered a smoke, and nah no thanks I've been tryin' to cut back. It's the exact same energy. He's good, he's got better options in the cargo compartment in the back of his van. Got a crowbar in there, too, but it's for the car, not for people's faces — generally speaking.

And that's it. He doesn't bother asking for the guy's name, or shaking his hand, or even making the slightest bit of a big deal out of the whole affair. He just posts back up on the stoop, casual as you please, until Ronnie shows up some three or four minutes later.

"Hey guys," says the big man himself, casting only a brief second-glance back toward the abandoned truck a few meters away from his diner, "I miss something important?"

Frank answers with a pleasant, unconcerned— )

Nope.

( —and then gets the fuck out of the way so the man can unlock the door. )