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

[vestments]

( the more she speaks, the more he feels her accent is familiar — sure, it's distinct and not quite placeable, but nostalgic, not entirely dissimilar to how he remembers his father's accent had been when speaking english. eastern bloc. it's odd, jarring, discomforting, and it takes him a minute to process her remark.

elias had never taught marc czech, so he can't test the theory — hebrew and yiddish, certainly, whilst arabic and symkarian and french had been languages marc had learned whilst working, thanks to their usefulness, their ubiquity. czech had never entered the equation, and he knows himself well enough to know that if his father had ever offered, he'd have turned him down to make a point.

he sticks with english then, chicago-accented, blunt and brusque— ) Only works as a warning if everyone else knows what happened and why.

( a beat. )

This whole place is a mess. Could've been anything. ( a sharp glance. ) Could've been people paying off their debts and moving on.

You're making up stories.

[carmesi]

( she looks away with a shrug when he glances sharply back at her, crossing her arms now. the sleeves of her shirt ride up towards her elbows, showing the marked burns around her wrists; they're healing slowly. )

I don't like stories.

( wanda remarks, petulantly, wanting to be contrarian just because of not liking the accusation, but realizing that she can't beat this guy at tossing believable conspiratorial theories at.

eventually, she huffs, and undoes her crossed arms to grab at one of the posters for herself. )

—whatever, it was just a thought.

[vestments]

( his gaze tracks the movement of her arms, rests on the burn marks on her wrists for a singular moment before he lifts his eyes back to the posters. marc doesn't do soft or gentle, not naturally, but he edges a touch more towards it when he says, ) Stories have their uses.

( it's a concession of sorts, overlapping with wanda unfolding her arms and reaching for a poster. marc doesn't move, instead remains pointedly still, his mouth pressing into a quick, thin line before— ) You just need to know what you want to do with them.

( he looks down to the poster in her hand, a pointed shift of attention as he adds, ) You want a job. You're not put off by— ( the corners of his mouth twitch, just a little. ) The potential risks. But it's a temporary position. Implies the previous employees were temps too.

You're not wrong to have concerns. Suspicions. ( a beat. a studious, considering glance. ) But if you want them shared, you need to make sure they're about the right things.

( then, quite abruptly, he waves a hand. dismissive. ) I don't do working with the public.

[carmesi]

( wanda notices, the way he softens a touch, the edge in his words easing. for her sake? his own amendment to how he approaches this? she'd rather not be pitied, and yet he hooks her in with what he continues to say. wanda is so certain that she needs no one, that she can figure this shit out all on her own, but she really does listen, to anyone willing to offer her an ounce of kindness.

she is willing to not be immediately dismissive, at least.

which is why her answer to his non-questions are as honest as she can make it, even if she works on not giving too much away. )

I've never had a job. ( she looks down at the paper on her hand, still uncertain by its proposition, but not because of her 'suspicions' of any 'risks'.

she shrugs, considering what he says about having suspicions, concerns, about the right things. ) Maybe I should be concerned I'll be really shit at it and barely last a week before I get fired — or fired at.

( wanda folds the paper and pockets it with a shrug, only just a hint of dark humor in her tone. now following his dismissive wave, she quirks an eyebrow at his statement. )

So, you're "special"?

( whatever that means—he can elaborate if he wants. )

[vestments]

Neither have I, ( he admits, meeting her gaze. he wouldn't want to put an age to her, but he'd guess she's somewhere in mid twenties. at least a decade, maybe fifteen years younger than he is, so he knows how it sounds when he admits that. ) Not like this. ( is the addition, the clarifier. it doesn't quite segue into answering her question about being special, although that does earn a glance that lasts a beat too long, the kind where it's obvious that marc's deciding how he wants to answer that.

yes and no. both have their merits.

he's not sure if special is the word he'd choose — difficult, definitely. troubled, perhaps. unmanageable. untrustworthy. ) Temperamental, ( is what he settles on, inclining a shoulder in a vague approximation of a shrug.

finally, at length, he reaches out for one of the posters advertising a warehouse position, a brief flicker of displeasure punctuating the movement. ) I'm not a people person. ( 'more used to hurting than helping' is the unsaid sentiment, but is that true these days? he's not sure. he's certainly trying the 'helping' thing, but he's been trying that for a decade now, and it's always ended up accompanied by the former. people getting hurt — the wrong people, even alongside the right.

the mission — well, his little corner of manhattan seemed to appreciate it, more or less, seemed to consider him a help. (no, mr. knight, not marc, and that's the problem here—.) )

I would get fired, ( he adds, and there's a small, thin smile at that. ) Every employer I have had, has tried to kill me.

[carmesi]

( well, isn't that promising? )

It sounds like I shouldn't be listening to any advice you give.

( if he's temperamental, not a people person, every employer has tried to kill him. there is something genuine, though, about how he expresses all that, and him taking one of the posters advertising for a job makes her feel a little less — what? alone? in the fact that someone else who seems just as bad as her is doing something she decided to do first. even if he's not entirely pleased about it.

she's not a kid, sure, and she's on her way to her thirties in five years, but wanda has never really had the chance to grow past the angry teenager phase, always treated as a kid.

she glances at the poster. )

So... if I see a position opening up at the warehouse, I'll assume you were killed. Or they tried to kill you, and you're on the run.

[vestments]

( he makes a noise, short and perfunctory. it sits between acknowledgement and consideration, before— ) Not about cashier jobs, ( is as far as his agreement goes. ) But the rest of it— ( he gestures with a hand again, as if to say 'maybe'. ) I know what bad decisions look like.

( but as for the rest of it— )

No. ( there's a brief glimmer of amusement, sardonic, like there's a private joke that only marc's in on. ) Trying to kill me hasn't worked out well for anyone that's ever tried it. ( except— no. not even plesko. marc might have died, but the black spectre hadn't got what he'd wanted, either. plesko had lost, marc had won. and going on the run? he hasn't done that in years, not since raul, not since bullseye, not since norman osborn and his thunderbolts, "avengers", whatever he'd been calling them. )

You'd see more than one position.

[carmesi]

Hmm...

( wanda hums at that, a little uncertain, not sure if he's offering to be someone she could go up to for advice, or if he's just letting her know that he's some sort of 'i know bad decisions' guru. still, she'll be a little skeptical.

it works as her response, too, regarding him very likely being the reason others would be killed, instead. )

Should I be worried about talking to you, alone? Do I need to be in a crowded place— ( she glances about; yeah, there's a healthy flow of people here. she's mostly just teasing. ) I don't know many people that would just admit to something like that. Killing others—kind of a dealbreaker for some.

( but she's not afraid of him, nor is she looking for exit strategies. he's interesting, because this is totally a different perspective to what she's been around before here.

not to mention being condemned herself for messing up and killing innocent civilians. )

[vestments]

If you should be worried, do you think I'd tell you? ( is the immediate response to her question, lightly challenging, as close to open teasing as marc gets. he's used to a certain reputation, used to having that be his introduction — or rather, he's used to not having to introduce himself at all. he doesn't need to be liked, doesn't need to be known as someone kind, someone good. moon knight's — marc spector's — reputation wasn't one that he'd enjoyed, but he'd leveraged it to have use.

here and now, he's starting again, and while he could use that opportunity to reinvent himself, the thought hasn't occurred to him. he knows what he's good at, and so—. )

I did private contract work for a while. ( mercenary, he means. it's not his favourite euphemism, and he swiftly follows it up with, ) Did what I was told for money. These days, I'm more ( mm ) discerning in my approach.

( then, pointed, almost a question— )

It should be a dealbreaker.

( "is it not for you?" )

[carmesi]

( she shrugs again, but ultimately catching his drift. private contract work means something akin to the military, but she is aware of mercenaries; did a few simple missions with the avengers to tackle some rogue ones. people with a specific set of skills need to get money somehow, too.

at least he's not boasting about it. )

I come from a dangerous country. We walked with death every day, and violence. People who talk about it like you are, you do it only if you have a reason for it. Not for the fun of it.

( wanda lifts her chin up at him. )

I took self-defense classes. ( pretends to study him for a moment— ) I could take you.

( no she couldn't, but now this has genuinely gotten into a more amicable type of conversation—easygoing. she wants to think that he won't go out of his way to hurt her. )

[vestments]

( you do it only if you have a reason for it, not for fun. that hadn't been true for him, not really — sure, it hadn't been what he'd started out as, that'd been the corps, but he'd got kicked out of that for erratic behaviour that couldn't be overlooked sat alongside an argumentative nature, one that'd seen him decking his commanding officer.

he might have managed to work for the cia for a little while after that, but he'd lasted even less time. sure, in a lot of respects, he could try and frame it as him not having many options lefts, but that wasn't what it was: he had enjoyed it. he'd enjoyed — needed — the violence. raul might have gone too far for marc by the end, but it hadn't been the first time, and marc had committed atrocities all of his own.

he didn't manage to become a war criminal by chance. didn't end up with raul by happenstance. he'd been as bloodthirsty and as low as the rest of them.

his silence, the way he meets her gaze, should be answer enough. it's a nice enough sentiment, but it's the wrong one.

he's accepted the fact that he'll never be able to make up for it, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop trying. where he owes khonshu a debt, where he has a duty to khonshu — to protect the travellers of the night — that's not all it is. )

I've been to countries like yours. ( he doesn't need to know where she's from or if she even is from earth or not to be able to make that statement, to know it's the truth. he doesn't think he needs to specify where, and given their conversation, he knows he doesn't need to specify why.

he watches her size him up — or pretend to, anyway — and though he doesn't smile, he gives her a beat before retorting with, ) I was a boxer. ( before quite abruptly— ) Your accent is like my father's. ( the slightest, vaguest of backtracking. 'I come from a dangerous country.' )

[carmesi]

( when he says that he's been in countries like hers, wanda sighs, because it sucks knowing that it's not a unique plight. that while she escaped with her life, so many don't, and the world promises they'll never let this happen again, and yet it does—again and again and again.

she spears the last one of her dumplings and chews into it, moving a few steps to the side, closer to the wall, to toss her trash away, see this man now at a different angle, facing him. a few people walk by past them, but the rush for food has quieted down significantly since their conversation started.

(even if he's a boxer, and whatever else, wanda still thinks she could take him on. telekinetic powers and all would give her an unfair advantage, but she's not also considering he may be gifted in some way, too.)

averting her gaze again at this sudden personal admittance, wanda isn't sure how to react to that. she shrugs, nonchalant, then lifts a hand to scratch behind her ear. )

And yours isn't like my father's.

( it's neutral enough, to mirror each other like this. her heart thunders in her chest as wanda, for a moment, struggles to remember her father's face. she glances up at his, if just to make sure she remembers him, later, in this sea of strangers.

she offers him this: )

I don't like talking about where I'm from.

( not casually, not unprompted. it's too painful. )