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The City of Rapture Moderators ([personal profile] rapturemod) wrote in [community profile] rapturefree2015-09-15 09:36 pm
Entry tags:

baby you can drive my car

It's anticipated. It's expected. We're all about expectations, aren't we? Sort of? Maybe? Regardless, it's the first official

TEST DRIVE MEME
 
You probably know the drill by now. If you don't, here's a quick rundown: test drive memes are a game's way of gauging interest and such. It's a way to play around in the environment without the commitment of apping, maybe see how well that character you're considering gels with the setting. This one will be open indefinitely, or at least until further notice. You don't need to be apped to the game to test drive a character, or even reserved, or even want to reserve. However, if your interest is indeed piqued, reserves are thisaway, applications thataway.

As of this writing, we don't consider anything that happens in the TDM canon unless you'd like to transfer any threads that happen here to the main comms (provided they don't interfere with pre-established game events, of course). TDM threads are just a way to get a feel for a game, or in case you need that pesky writing sample for an app in progress. We don't recommend you do a standard intro post, however - save that for the game proper!

We don't have a set entry date for the game proper just yet. Once we accumulate some interest, we'll be sure to let you know!

Some resources we recommend that you check out if interest continues to abound:


PROMPTS:

i. do you hear the people sing?
You've heard the rumors circulating about Atlas and his bandits for months. Even the upper echelons of Rapture's high society were having trouble burying their concern under the careful veneer of professionalism. What you didn't expect was an open attack. You'd just been passing by, but the poor souls who lived and shopped and made their living on this street have just found their entire livelihood set aflame. People are saying it's a bombing, while others protest that it must have been something down in maintenance.

Right now, it doesn't really matter one way or the other. The homes and storefronts have been reduced to sheeting flame as hairline cracks go cobwebbing up the glass, the only thing separating the city from a watery grave. Whether you choose to get the hell out of dodge or help the wailing survivors is up to you, but regardless of what you choose to do, this section of Rapture is rapidly coming apart at the seams.
 
ii. who's your daddy?
You've no clue whose bright idea it was to tail the Little Sister. It might have been some gang of spliced-up nobodies thirsty for some extra ADAM. It might have been your best friend's idiot plan. Hell, it might have even been yours. All you know is that no matter how appealing the thought seemed at the time, you and yours are in for a world of hurt. The Little Sister just had to shriek once and her armored protector came barreling into the scene, drill humming to life with a sinister whine. Guilty as charged or caught in the crossfire, you're in for the fight of your life with a Big Daddy, one of the most dangerous things in Rapture. Good luck.
 
iii. a part of the masterpiece
Fort Frolic, they say, is the hub for creative artistry. Sander Cohen is either a wildly inspired artistic genius or a madman depending on who you ask, but the alcohol runs the same no matter how you slice it. For tonight, the Fort is yours to enjoy at your leisure. Take a gander, gamble everything you've got, have a drink, maybe sit in for a show. The only thing Cohen loves more than his exclusivity is rampant attention, and tonight he's on full display. He's even torturing - er, entertaining a lucky pair of dancers in Fleet Hall! Don't mind the wires threaded in and out of their clothing, doubtless unspooled over all those important parts of the nervous system and ready to unleash a burst of fatal electricity at a moment's notice. They've got to be just for show.

One thing is certain about the possibly-deranged Sander Cohen, after all: he certainly keeps you on your toes!
 
iv. wild card! make up your own scenario

We prefer third-person, present tense prose, but if you're just in it for the fun you can write in whatever floats your pontoon. Have fun!
 

postictal: (im going to punch you in the taint)

[personal profile] postictal 2015-10-11 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
The water's crashing into the metal of the bulkheads as it funnels in steadily from the weeping gash in the glass. He hooks fingers around the metal of the wheel that's icy to the touch, anchors himself to it even as the current threatens to tear him away.

Not out of the woods yet. Not ever, not really. He'll always be snarled in one thing or another. He braces his feet against the floor with the water sloshing up to his chest and pulls, throwing all of his weight onto the wheel that groans and shrills as it resists his attempts to turn it.

"C'mon," says Tim, whispered desperately from between clenched teeth. "Come on, come on, come on - "

But it won't give and he can't keep straining to crack the damn thing open. He casts about wildly for something, any kind of tool, anything, and with a sick lurch of guilt to his gut his eyes land on Elliot.

He left him behind.

He didn't mean to, really, he didn't, he just assumed he hadn't made it or that they'd been separated but instead of stopping to look he'd just forged mindlessly ahead and he left him. No better than Jay. No better than any of the self-interested bastards here under the sea.

He tightens his grip on the wheel and reaches out, fingers outstretched as far as they can go.

"Grab," he calls. "Come on."