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.
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bumfuckidaho2017-06-17 08:38 am
TEST DRIVE MEME
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[ Strangely enough, it's meant to sound a lot more like a suggestion than an astute observation about a complete stranger. ]
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[Come on, he started drinking young. Who was he to deny kids the opportunity to make a right ass of themselves? He wasn't interested in pedophilia charges.]
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But... ]
I'm a cop. That's probably not something you want to admit to me. That's all I'm getting at.
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I'm not doing anything illegal, officer. I know the rules.
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Does this mean I don't get to see the diagrams?
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Want to continue? Or we could call it a "missed" connection if you'd rather not. o/
[ Because in this town, everything is right around the corner, let's be real. ]
Yeah! Want me to write a starter at the pub?
Sure, thanks, that'd be great~
[Action]
Under his arm was a roll of paper one typically saw in classrooms to be pinned to the wall and in his hand was a single banana that was still more green than yellow. His hand clasped a couple of pens and a black permanent marker.
He came to a stop in the middle of the pub, glancing around at the tables for someone that would recognize him based on the description of the items that he brought. It wasn't as if they were in a picture sharing mood before this, even that network could even handle it. Seemed old, like when he was a man in his thirties and sat-phones were still a legit means of communication.]
[Action]
Rumlow, of course, is not hard to spot. For all the variety that Glug Glug's offers, few people show up with such large accessories of their own.
Closing the distance between them, Blake approaches with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Dressed casually, he sports a solid tee and a flannel shirt, exactly the kind of attire expected of a long-time resident of somewhere damp and occasionally chilly. He's just a bit over thirty, well put-together, and not at all uncomfortable in this setting. ]
Good to see you weren't kiddin' 'bout the diagrams. [ He laughs despite the comment. ]
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He smirked and shifted the roll of paper under his arm in a casual shrug. He too wasn't uncomfortable, but he had already searched out the obvious exits and counted the number of possible threats.]
Pal, I say what I mean. [But not necessary mean what he says.] You got a table you already?
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[ John wouldn't be a regular much of anywhere in town outside the diner, despite his history in Wayward Pines. If anything, he tends to roam like a ronin, never quite favoring one place over another.
He picks a booth and gestures for Brock to take a seat across from him. Once seated and settled in, he offers his hand across to the other man. ]
It's Blake, by the way. John Blake.
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He followed the cop to a booth and casually set his items down atop it before sliding into the seat. He arranged his items so that he could easily unroll the paper and get started into the apparent meat of why they were here. He paused to take and shake Blake's hand, a good firm handshake.]
Rumlow. [He took the banana off the table to set it beside him. That was for later after they potentially played pictionary.] But I guess since you seem like a fine and upstanding citizen, you can call me Brock if you like.
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Well, Brock, you've got at least some of that right.
[ He is fine and upstanding, thank you very much. ]
You up for a beer while all this project takes off? I'm buyin'. Least I can do for givin' you a bit of a hard time.
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Seems like we'll get along just fine. How long you been with the force? A friend of mine was with the NYPD for a lot years.
[He looked over towards the bar, considering his options and then shrugged. What the hell. It wasn't like he was going to get slammed and turn into Broctopus.] Sure, I'll have what you're having then. Let's see if you have good taste for a country bumpkin like me.
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Strange as it is, he doesn't remember Rumlow and he thought he knew just about everyone in town. Of course, since his accident, John's memory hasn't exactly been doing him any favors, has it? One day he might have a complete set of memories, but that day is not today, apparently. ]
Joined up after high school, actually. Didn't see myself makin' a career of baseball, y'know?
[ Their beers show quickly, dropped off at the edge of the table. Blake distributes them, setting Brock's drink down in front of him, and then taking up his own. It's just a regular old beer, nothing fancy. ]
How 'bout you? What d'you do? Other'n criticize avocado toast as a breakfast replacement, I mean...
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