There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the
screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.
It's also the
last thing you remember from before you wake up here.
When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed – the nursing staff greets you with a cheerful smile.
Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.
option one | WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES |
The hospital staff had seemed very friendly, but ultimately unhelpful when it came to answering your questions, insisting you shouldn't worry about such things, and that it was smarter to just rest until you'd fully recovered.
That was some time ago. You've since managed to leave the hospital – either via escape, or simply by waiting patiently and filling out paperwork until they finally agreed to release you. Now you've found yourself in the small but hearty town of Wayward Pines, Idaho. It's a charming little place, and the people there are all friendly enough, more than willing to greet you on the street, or give you directions if you need them.
Unless you're asking for directions
out of town, of course.
Some will simply smile and give you a hearty pat on the shoulder and ask why you'd ever want to do a thing like that? Others will get quiet for a moment, and direct you to the nearest
sign posted near the doorway of every building.
Don't bother taking the road, either. Whether you walk or get your hands on a vehicle, you won't get anywhere. The road simply takes you away from town for a short while
before looping around and bringing you right back in.
There's no use questioning things, and it seems pretty useless to try to leave. So really, why not stay a while? Everyone's convinced that you'll find something to love in Wayward Pines.
(For the purposes of this test drive, you're welcome to handwave the existence of basically any local business or activity.)
You've just heard a scream from the woods.
I mean, it could've been an animal. There's bound to be some kind of wildlife amongst the trees, right? But then again, it did sound awfully...
human.
Though all of the locals nearby conceal a flinch at the sound, they'll assure you it's nothing, if you ask them. Why, you're probably just hearing things! (But with an anxious undertone of
stop asking questions.) If you're curious, though, and brave enough to go see, they won't make any move to stop you from going into the wooded area surrounding the town.
The trees are tall, and their branches are thick enough to block out a significant amount of sunlight from breaking through the canopy, leaving the forest floor a little dimmer and cooler than the streets of town.
Whatever the source of the scream was, you won't be able to find it out here. An experienced hunter might notice some signs of a struggle, and a few faint boot prints, but they don't really seem to lead anywhere in particular.
What you
will find, if you walk far enough, is a fence. A
big one - at least 30 feet tall, made of metal and concrete. It goes on quite a ways in either direction as well; follow the wall far enough, and you'll see that it connects with the steep, sheer cliffs that surround the rest of Wayward Pines, effectively boxing the town in.
In actuality, you'll probably feel it before you see it. A full 500 yards from the wall, when it's hardly a shadowy smudge through the trees, you start to feel a little bit tired, a little bit weak. Trouble is, the closer you get, the weaker you feel - like the wall itself is sapping the strength out of you, and the closer you get, the worse it feels. Any powers you may have had grow weaker in kind as you make your way to the fence, but even ordinary humans will find their strength sapping away. By the time you're close enough to
read the signs and to feel the crackle of electricity radiating from the thick wires criss-crossing the wall's metal surface, you're too weak to stand.
Do you crawl closer still and risk electrocution, or do you crawl
away and assess the situation once you're far enough from the fence to be able to stand?
option three | PTA BAKE SALE |
It's that time of year again. The time when everyone digs into their wallet, ignores their diet, and spends a little time supporting the local school bake fair. You know, for the good of the children. And it doesn't hurt that Linda's Blondie recipe is honestly to die for. The school PTA has pulled out all the stops this year in the hopes of encouraging a good community turn out, posters advertising the sale plastering every street corner and stuffed into every mailbox for a solid week leading up to the event, and today is finally the day.
There's at least two dozen different tables set up with all manner of delectable treats, even one or two offering vegan alternatives for those inclined, not to mention a few others catering to some of the townspeople's more...
unique palates.
Maybe you've got your own table set up with your wares, or maybe you were simply lured to the park today by the appetizing scents wafting through the air. Either way it seems like the whole town has come out to show their support today and why wouldn't they? Children are our
future, aren't they? Or maybe it's just Linda's Blondie recipe.
Yeah, that's probably it.
option four | ON THE NETWORK |
Though it's not as high-tech as you might be used to (or hell, maybe you're ren faire and it's centuries beyond anything you've seen), but Wayward Pines does in fact have a network to accommodate its citizens.
Go ahead, post a network post! Just note that the network currently has two basic functions. The first is
audio-only and can be accessed from the telephones in each character's home. If an audio-based medium doesn't suit your needs (or aesthetics), be sure to take advantage of the Wayward Pines Message Board from your
brand new laptop for the chance to communicate with your fellow townspeople in a text-based format instead!
( a few notes )
Welcome to our third test drive here in The Pines! Just one important thing to note:
Upon arrival in Wayward Pines, characters find themselves struggling to remember entirely who they were or where they came from. Memories return progressively over the next two weeks. You're welcome to play with this mechanic in any of these prompts, but it's definitely not mandatory! For more details on this temporary memory loss, see our FAQ.
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bumfuckidaho2017-04-17 06:22 am
TEST DRIVE MEME
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That's the most important part, obviously.
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"I hope he writes a strongly worded letter to whomever decided to outsource her job to me because obvious that was a bad idea." Honestly, just looking at her and that is apparent. She doesn't look like a PTA member, she looks like a street urchin college student who is morally opposed to hair brushes.
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(This is where, in his best old man voice, he says she reminds him of himself, but the truth is that she doesn't at all. It's the spirit that catches his attention.)
"Poe Dameron. Pretty sure none of these actually have my name on them. What d'you say we outsource them to somebody else?"
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She looks like she doesn't know what a smile is, much less that she knows what happiness is.
She also doesn't tell him her name.
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He knows her type. He's recruited her type (for the Navy, his memories say, for the Navy). They take time and work, but they're worth it.
He balances the undamaged basket in her arms, and (attempts) to place the damaged one on her head like a crown before going over to the nearest table and buying a few different baked goods that won't get crushed easily - and getting separate plastic bags for each one.
He returns to Jyn and opens up the first bag, his purchases still inside. "Here, dump 'em in. I'm not taking them, the whole thing's yours."
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To be fair, she doesn't trust anything.
"Why are you helping me?" Give her a second, her arms will get tired and she will give in.
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Yeah, he knows, that's not really an answer. Poe shrugs. "I've got no reason not to."
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Jyn can think of at least five off the top of her head and she is definitely concussed. 1. they're strangers, 2. she is clearly committing a small act of theft, 3. she has admitted that fact, 4. he isn't asking for anything in return and that is shady, 5. serial killers exist. Jyn is very capable of defending herself, but she also has a healthy wariness of strange men, it is just a fact of life.
"I'm not sharing these with you." She offered him one and a half, that's it.
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He's pretty sure those meats and cheese are preserved in their own grease, and while he's fine with eating what's available, well. Better than that is available, and easy to get, at that. Might as well let her have them if it means that much. He's known people who get anxious about food, has a number of them in his squadrons, and he's not about to get between her and some sense of security.
So there he stands, bag open, mildest of mild expressions on his face. "My arms are gonna get tired."
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Humor is shot through the comment like a tiny thread, but it is there. She is capable of mirth, dumping a couple baskets into the bag in case he decides to suddenly scarper with her stolen goods.
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And there he stays, holding the literal bag, with its couple of baskets and a brick of fudge. Poe might not seem like it, but he's had plenty of practice cultivating patience. Sitting alert and simultaneously bored out of one's mind on scouting or intercept missions made sure of it.
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She also realizes immediately and coaxes her expression into it's practiced disinterested again, but there was a definite smile. She will never admit to this, however, so no one will ever believe him.
There's just something so weirdly familiar and oddly comforting about his patience with her bristly attitude. She piles a couple more into the bag. Slow and steady will win this race.
"You look it. You're quite wispy."
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"As frail as a flower in a desert wind." He wrinkles his nose as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Even for a joke, that was... well. Flowery.
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"I've still got sand in my hair from the beach." Her disheveled hair halos out around her as she shakes her head like a lost puppy dog. She doesn't remember why she was even at the beach. Which is annoying. But she still has sand in her boots and her pants and, she swears, in her hair every time she showers.
"We need another bag."
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Even from here, the tops of the cliffs are visible around them. "...Where's the beach? I mean, not that I'd ask you to go back."
Don't want to get sand in more uncomfortable places.
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She drops the last basket in the new bag before crouching down to scoop up the now mangled mess of the one she'd kicked at him and dump that in the bag as well.
"I'll let you know when I find it again."
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He offers her both of the bags. "That's happened to a lot of us, not just you. Don't worry too much. It comes back, I'm told."
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"Apparently I needed the warning that none of what I get back will be good." She takes the bags without thanks because she's as opposed to gratitude as she is to apologies. He's not getting his fudge back, she wonders if he realizes that.
"So see you."
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"You're not the only one with that problem, either." He's not going to offer a sympathetic ear. She'd probably bite it off, for starters, and he likes his ears. But putting it out there that she's not alone can't hurt.
He snaps a salute, somehow managing to make the motion respectful and teasing at the same time. "See you, basket-girl."
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Cassian will know, she knows, but she doesn't think she will ask him. She'll remember eventually. She's not avoiding anything.
And he's still not introducing herself, though now it's just because she refuses to give in, not because he doesn't deserve it. His salute does pull a flicker of that ghost of a smile, however fleeting she forces it to be, memories tugging at her mind but not quite coalescing into something firm.
"Later, flyboy." With an exaggerated wink, she turns and disappears into the crowd.