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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There's the briefest hesitation as Jefferson decides on what to say-- most would miss it, except for perceptive sorts like Rumlow. If it's true that Brock remembers nothing of his false life here (which Jefferson isn't certain of), then he won't remember Kenzi. Mentioning her would be a mistake. Whatever happens, he won't put her back on Rumlow's radar. ]
We used to be friends. Then we had a falling out. It's that simple. [ It's not a complete lie, at least. ] You can be kind of a prick, you know.
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This whole experience only increased that as an itch to the back of his brain. Like he should guard himself from all sides. There was plenty of information to be had without saying everything.]
By the way you say it, the falling out was my fault. What did I do, huh? [He almost laughed at the name slinging. He'd been called much, much worse.] Sticks and stones, pal.
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[ Then, straightening up, he smiles thinly. ] But at least I won't make that mistake again. So we can just keep our distance from each other.
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[Rumlow smiled right back, showing his perfect teeth and tucking his hands in his pockets on purpose.] You sure you want to do that, Jefferson?
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[ About trusting Brock Rumlow, that is.
That smile is a touch unnerving, and it seems to make Jefferson's newfound bravery waver, just enough to have him taking a step back. But he recovers with a scoff. Is he sure? Of course he is. ] What could we possibly want from each other?
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[Rumlow stepped forward to keep the space between them the same. His advantage. He wasn't about to lose it after all. How far could he push this man?] Ever heard the phrase: keep your friends close?
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[ He shoves his hands in his pockets, ducking his head for a moment, casting a furtive glance around. There are enough people around that he doubts Brock will try anything, but that doesn't stop the rising panic he can feel whirling inside like a sickness. This was a mistake. He should've played stupid and run off the second Brock failed to recognize him. ] I'm not your friend or your enemy.
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Rumlow knew that most people were watching the fireworks, but he wasn't so stupid not to think eyes weren't on him. This was too public, and he had no reason to be menacing. This weed could be blown over in a strong wind.] Then what are you?
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[ Which is, in a way, true. Kenzi's the one who deserves an apology-- a real one, though, not this. ]
Somebody who wishes to be left alone.
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[He leaned down a little, looking up into Jefferson's face. He was still smiling as well, a tad knowing. He was looking for a reaction to base his hunches on, since he honestly had no memory of anything but a relatively normal and boring life.]
I can do that. Alone, that is.
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[ Time to back up another step. ] Good, then. You go about your business, I go about mine. [ He's hoping the implicit promise that he'll leave Rumlow to his own plans and devices will be enough to win some kind of truce. Let Rumlow be a problem for others, as long as he and his people are left alone. ]
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[He nodded at the same time that he shrugged, standing up again and tucking his hands into his pockets. He was definitely looking into this.] Oh yeah sure. My problems are my problems and yours are yours. There will never be any cross-over, but you know what, it was good meeting you, Jefferson. I always like to have a name to go with faces. You're a pal.
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Good. So... [ He doesn't sound like he really thinks any of this is good. If anything, the way this is going has him even more uneasy, and he swallows and nods. ] Bye.
[ A hasty goodbye, and one that he knows sounds utterly limp, all things considered. But he can't help that distinct feeling of discomfort prickling at him, like it's making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up or something. So he backs up one more step, then turns on his heel to walk away. ]
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He was looking forward to it.
He threw a mock salute to Jefferson's back and then turned and continued on his way out of the crowd. Screw the woods and the fence. He had a tea shop to find and case.]