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 | FOURTH OF JULY |
If there's one thing to be said for Wayward Pines it's the town's resilience and staunch refusal to give up on the image of a picturesque little town, and July 4th this year has the community putting it's best foot forward in this regard with its annual 4th of July picnic and fireworks spectacular.
To hear anyone (Linda) familiar with the town talk (complain), this year is a much more sedate affair than any of the years prior, but in a lot of ways today is a very good opportunity for people to reconnect with their neighbors; chat quietly at a table, share a recipe, play some catch, or argue with Jerry over the proper way too cook a burger. Jerry never listens, of course, but thankfully the whole event is a pot luck so there are plenty of other, far more edible options for those with a more... discerning palate.
The day passes pleasantly, and the night? The night brings the fireworks. A beautiful cascade of bright colors and lights in the sky. Sparklers are handed out like party favors while everyone is strongly encouraged to play safe by a long-suffering and weary looking sheriff. After all, the town has had quite enough excitement by this point, don't you think?
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 fifth 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.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
officialnotice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bumfuckidaho2017-06-17 08:38 am
TEST DRIVE MEME
warden-commander amell / dragon age
[ The nurses and doctors don't seem to want to let her leave yet, bleating soothingly about recovery and her memories and needing time to set up her housing. Cosette Amell is very good at playing along, settling back in her bed, looking tired, letting her eyes fall closed as if it's simply too much effort to keep them open.
As soon as the room is empty, however, she leaves without hesitation. Perhaps other people may resort to sneaking out of the hospital in nothing but a flimsy gown and the skin they were born in, but Cosette is inclined to neither sit around and wait for permission nor embarrass herself by acting like a shifty criminal.
No, she steals a set of nurse's scrubs and walks out the front door, the hospital gown still tucked under her arm, to offer as... proof, maybe, of having really been a patient, or to elicit sympathy if necessary. There's very little she understands about this situation, which is why she's preparing for every possibility she can think of, but she lets none of her confusion show on her face. She does remember doing something similar not too long ago though, passing through a set of doors she didn't think she'd ever see the other side of, head held high and heart soaring with the knowledge that she would finally be... be...?
The very nature of her uncertainty flashes a suspicion through her, that if this is not real then that makes it only one possible thing — the Fade. Is this what nonmages experience when they dream, this lack of conviction, this muted grasp on their own mind? Not being able to see past the seams of the construction?
The thought tries to flit away, but she seizes upon it fiercely, like a dog with its jaws around elusive prey. The Fade. Malleable dreams and immutable reality. If this is not real, she must find the thread that will unravel it.
An accident, they say? Maybe — the enormous array of scars along her arms and over her body certainly suggest she's no stranger to physical trauma — but something feels off about the smiling, reassuring faces that greeted her when she woke up. Of course she's been knocked out before, that much she can tell is true, but it isn't nurses that should have been at her bedside. It should have been her healers, should have been... should have been...?
Names flicker through her, and faces, though she struggles to piece them together in a way that connects. Red hair, a vibrant accent, a crooked smile, a cat, a frown. Morrigan. Anders. Alistair? ... No matter. She'll find them. Whoever they are.
Hence her approaching every passing person with an expression of battle-worthy determination, searching each face intently and dismissing them when they fail to elicit a response. Despite her clear confidence, it's perhaps very obvious she is not, at least as far as she knows, from around here. ]
iii. (picnic)
[ With the absentmindedness of someone clearly accustomed to eating anything put in front of her, Cosette grazes along the various tables and barbecue pits, keeping her lemonade cold in one frost-flaked hand and her brats hot in the other, glowing with warmth and faintly smoking. For the most part, she spends the afternoon snacking, half-certain that everything is her favorite but equally sure that she's never eaten most of this stuff in her life.
By now, she's realized that this isn't the Fade — too well-structured, too consistent, and not a single spirit around to poke — but it still clashes so poorly with her memories of a world that warns of false images and projections that she has no intention of trusting it.
... That doesn't mean she can't have a little fun, though. When night falls and the fireworks go up, Cosette watches them for a while with a critical eye before deciding that they're simply not exciting enough. With a sharp gesture and a ribbon of concentration, Cosette sends up an electric-purple flare of lightning into the air along with the fireworks, the burst of it eclipsing the fizzling red, white, and blue sparks, and treats anyone who glances over at her with a smile both smug and playful. You're welcome, Wayward Pines. ]
wildcard. (surprise her)
PICNIC
[Anders steps to just off to her side, slightly behind, looking approvingly up at the lightning. He has a burger in his left hand so his right can be free, just in case, but he hasn't stopped eating all evening. He's taking advantage of this properly catered event, even if he couldn't care less about the holiday itself. The last time there was free food it was all health garbage, and he has some standards.]
Do you think they'd appreciate a small flurry? Would you appreciate a small flurry?
[He's GOOD at cold spells.]
I guess I could make a person explode. It would certainly be very festive!
no subject
[ (Though, be careful not to get it too close to her lightning storm. That might have consequences.) ]
If you have to pick someone, I think you'll get fewer complaints if you hit Jerry.
no subject
Mmm...best not. He might get on the food.
[Twirling his hand completely unnecessarily, he sends up a burst of blue magic, which comes down again as a sudden rush of tiny snowflakes that melt rapidly over the gently confused festive crowd. It's a very muted blizzard because he wants to do something impressive, not give partygoers frostbite in July.]
no subject
Well, that would ruin the burgers.
[ At the little shower of snowflakes, she shoves her bottle of lemonade into Anders' free hand and raises her own above her head, tosses out a similar burst of snow with the same degree of unnecessary flourishing. She has no sense of restraint or scale herself, and the snow she creates sticks around a little longer, dusting their hair and clothes.
Challengingly: ]
Do something bigger!