There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the
screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.
It's also the
last thing you remember from before waking up.
When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed, and the nursing staff greet you with cheerful smiles.
Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Where is here? Why, home in Wayward Pines, of course!
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 | TRACK AND FIELD DAY |
With the current school semester coming to a close and summer vacation on the horizon, school administrators have elected to end the year on a high note with an invigorating Track and Field Day at the park, in order to better foster fitness and health in the children (outside of their government mandated physical education classes, anyway).
The event is, of course, open to the community at large, whether you have a current affiliation with the school or not. Because, well, everyone could stand to get up off their couches for an afternoon of running around in the sun. Or, in the case of residents with a particular sun allergy, under the shaded tarp canopies that dot the field here and there with healthy snacks, drinks, and some of the less expansive games available today (such as, oh, a nice sedate beanbag toss).
Wayward Pines thrives on the inclusion of all varieties of people, after all. Even those that aren't, strictly speaking, people at all.
All of the most recognizable games are available, of course: sack races, relay races, three-legged races, any sort of race you can think of, really; flag football and dodgeball with soft spongy balls to keep anyone from getting
too competitive (the school nurse is on hand just in case though); a massive tug-of-war rope that spans nearly the entire field; and water balloon and blanket tosses. If you're not too sure what the latter is you can ask Linda at the makeshift juice bar and she'll be all too glad to explain for you.
Actually, on second thought, don't ask Linda anything. Don't give her the satisfaction.
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), 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!
( a few notes )
Welcome to our fourth 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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bumfuckidaho2017-05-17 09:14 pm
TEST DRIVE MEME
no subject
"Tugging the threads of the universe." He says it quietly, thoughtfully, and with a certain distance that implies that even he's not entirely sure what it means. Nonetheless he's said it and it feels right, plucks at some of his own threads with a sensation he can only interpret as familiarity even though that makes absolutely no sense at all. It must be somewhere in there, hidden in the fog. He shakes his head as though to shake off an insect, something buzzing in his ear.
"I've only ever been able to follow them," Dirk adds apologetically, as though that's actually something to be sorry for. Maybe on some level it is, but only if the apology is actually for himself. "I'm a bit fuzzy with the details at the moment, but I think that's right. An accident, apparently. Lots of accidents around here, have you noticed?"
no subject
He's interested now, though. It's almost always a little bit obvious when it's a fellow accident-haver (for one, nobody who hasn't had an accident has an accent like he does), but it helps to have it confirmed. The issue is, he still isn't entirely sure what he is and isn't allowed to say, based on all the ominous fliers. He rebels against the notion of them, but it doesn't hurt to be a bit safe.
"I've been thinking of organising some sort of road safety event," he says, a bit flippantly. "Or walking safety. General, everything safety. The town obviously needs it. Perhaps more of the budget should go towards padding all of the sharp corners, that might help."
no subject
Wait. Yes. Rewind. "Threads, I mean. Sharp corners too, though."
Why he says that so fervently he's not entirely sure, but it seems correct. The universe definitely has sharp corners. Unbidden, the memory of a crossbow bolt punching through several layers of clothing and into his right shoulder arises and he shoos it away with a gesture.
"Then again it might not be the very best idea to gather a bunch of accident-prone people into one place. Sort of feels like... tempting fate?" Or tempting something, anyway. Maybe he doesn't mean fate so much as tempting... well, yes, the fliers, and whatever's behind them. They make his skin crawl, tug at the peeling wallpaper of his mind, but it's not loose enough to pull away just yet.
no subject
"Pamphlets, then?" he suggests. "Or I could fill the room with pillows before holding the conference. Seminar. Educational safety event! You know, it occurs to me, I've yet to introduce myself, even though I'm sure when we're both less brain-damaged it will turn out we're actually cousins or something equally embarrassing to forget. I'm Anders--" apostate mage...is what he wants to follow that up with but that's...he doesn't know. He doesn't know about that. So with only a minimal pause, he goes for, "--general layabout and jack-of-several-trades."
no subject
"I'm Dirk. Dirk Gently. I do..." He sinks into a slow shrug, performing some facial acrobatics - thinking, uncertain, thinking again, still uncertain, dubious, faintly apologetic, shouldn't have to apologise for himself, is anyway, back right around to uncertain. "Things? Probably. Almost certainly."
It seems like a safe bet, insofar as the prospect of not having done anything for as long as he's been alive (however long that actually is; perhaps he ought to've checked his chart at the hospital) is slightly horrifying. He doesn't think he can even handle not doing something for a week; that's why he's here.
"I'll let you know what they are once I've figured that out." Interest optional. Actually, best not to think about that. Back to the... other nonsense. He licks his lips, another crossbow bolt punching into his shoulder in yet another memory.
"I'm not sure pillows are enough," he decides, fervently.