TDM - OCTOBER 2020

[robbies]

TEST DRIVE MEME - OCTOBER 2020

Everyone's entitled to one good scare.
CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors

---

“Help me. Please, help me…”

A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.

It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.

When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing baseball outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—

Something is horribly wrong.

---

OCTOBER 1st.

It becomes very clear very quickly that this isn’t a simple kidnapping. If you’re twenty years old or older, the bedroom you wake up in is very clearly a couple’s bedroom — with separate beds like a modest, modern couple of course! A similarly lost and confused stranger is in the other. They are your counterpart, for everything in this room has a matching counterpart — the nightstand and lamp each of you have beside your beds, the framed pictures on the wall, even your pajamas. If you’re under twenty years old, your room is smaller but more personalized, filled with comic books, model kits, stray baseball cards littered around the floor. Dolls, fashion magazines of people dressed from a bygone era, stacks of vinyl records neatly arranged next to a record player. And then there are the pictures. They’re everywhere in the house — in a frame on your nightstand, hung on the walls, stuck in the photo albums and scrapbooks lying on your desk or tucked away in drawers. Here you are on your wedding day, exchanging vows with your partner. Here’s you sitting in a fishing boat with one of the younger members of your house. Here’s a picture of you at ten years old getting ready for the first day of school. All of the photographs are aged, sepia, even yellowed and dusty in frames hung for a long, long time. By the time you make it down to the living room, you’ll notice that the television is on; someone must have forgotten to turn it off before they went to bed. On it, a cartoon pack of cigarettes and accompanying cigarette dancers prance around a black and white pumpkin patch, joined by dancing skeletons, ghosts and witches as a cheerful little earworm blares: ”Thirty days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, thirty days til Halloween—“

---

GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS.

As you get acclimated, you gradually begin to learn more about this strange new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re in a neighborhood on the east side of a town called Santa Rosita located… somewhere in California (wherever or whatever that might be). The year is 1961. If it wasn’t clear enough, your neighbors are more than willing to humor you if you ask. Even if you accost them with questions and demands. Sure, you and your family are a little kooky, and you have a very overactive imagination, but the key to any good joke is playing along! And how could something like “I’m from the future, from another world” be anything but a joke? A. AUNT MYRNA'S PARTY CHEESE SALAD. Over the course of the week, your neighbors will come by unannounced, each with a new homecooked meal to welcome you to their cozy little side of town. Meatloaf, potato salad, lamb chops. Gelatin molds — lots of gelatin molds. Someone even comes by to drop off a gelatinous yellow lump of pineapple, green peppers, celery and yellow cheese swimming in a soupy mixture of sour and whipped cream. “It’s my aunt Myrna’s recipe!” they gush once they drop the casserole tin into your hands, proceeding to rattle off every ingredient. Well, at least you won’t be starving anytime soon. When you bring it back in to your kitchen - and its cheery wallpaper and its floral patterned Pyrex dishware, you and your new...family(?) all stare at the cheese salad, the gelatin, the curiously frosted meatloaf spread. A smorgasbord courtesy of the insistent generosity! Who will take the first bite?

B. DON'T BE A SQUARE!

You can only avoid the cheer and the neighbors for so long, even as you sit inside enjoying all the amenities of your new home. The television can only turn its volume up to five, after all! One bright and sunny Saturday, the weather crisp and clear, news broadcasts and reruns of The Ed Sullivan Show are drowned out by the music in the neighborhood. Eventually it’s too much to bear — you simply must put on your shoes and go discover the source of that infernal racket.

Why, it’s the block party! Haven’t you seen the invitation — with instructions — sitting in your mailbox, silly? Wear a badge so everyone on the block can know you’re new and welcome you to their extended family!

Well! Each neighbor was supposed to set up a table with snacks and drinks and entertainment on their front lawn. Carter Mayhew, one of your Robbie neighbors, has a whole ring toss obstacle course set up for boys to play with, and his wife is cheerfully and blandly instructing a group of girls on jump rope rhymes. Colorful streamers hang from every lamppost and mailbox, balloons and party favors galore. Like you, there are even a few newcomers to Santa Rosita that are caught just as unaware of this event — though others are being welcomed in by husbands and wives and children, caught in conversations about building decks and the upcoming Halloween festivities.

Before you can decide if returning home or joining the party is your choice, a plate with chips and dips and yes, more gelatin is shoved into your hands and a party hat snapped on to your head.

“The guest of honor has arrived! Come and meet your neighbors, neighbor!”

---

THROUGHOUT OCTOBER.

Life falls into a peaceful haze for the next several days. Dull, unassuming, tranquil. As the month drags on, the spirit of Halloween begins to manifest in Santa Rosita, from the pumpkins people start putting out on their doorsteps to the smiling faces of paper skeletons pressed against their windows. And then, towards the end of the month, something terrible happens. You hear it first through word of mouth, rippling through Santa Rosita like a wave, dark murmurs accompanied by sad sighs and downturned eyes. Soon, you start to read about it. Grim business, they say. A tragedy. How could something like this happen. People stop talking about it by the end of the week. Best just to forget about it. Every day, that cigarette commercial comes on. It’s impossible to escape it. And every day, the number of days in the song changes, counting down. ”Thirteen days till Halloween—” “Eight more days til Halloween—” “Three more days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween…”

---

HALLOWEEN.

CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors

October 31st. It sneaks up on you whether you like it or not. When dawn breaks on Halloween day, things are as serene as they’ve ever been as men do yard work, raking leaves as their wives bake fresh pie and cookies in the house, the spicy scent of cinnamon, apple and pumpkin wafting through the neighborhood on chilly October wind. There’s a smile on every child’s face as they skip off the school bus in the afternoon, running into their houses to get their costumes ready. As it begins to get dark, the residents of Santa Rosita start lighting their jack-o-lanterns. One by one, little balls of light flicker to life on every porch and doorstep, jagged smiles grinning in the dark. For the entire night, nobody blows the candle inside their pumpkins out. It’s a tradition, a very old one, and traditions are just another way of saying rules. And Halloween in Santa Rosita, as it turns out, lives and dies by the rules.

A. ALWAYS CHECK YOUR CANDY.

Halloween isn’t just for the kids, although they certainly make up the bulk of who you’ll see out and about on the streets. Walking through Santa Rosita, your neighbors are as generous with handing out treats as they are with handing out gelatin molds and pot roasts, and they don’t discriminate. Adults are received just as warmly as children; the worst one can expect is a quirked eyebrow if they show up to a house without a costume.

Apples, packs of gum, homemade cookies. Chocolate bars, nickels, popcorn balls. Your neighbors hand out all sorts of treats, most of them homemade. The Robbies are no exception, and it’s their treats that seem a bit more high quality than most, some of the candy they hand out being obviously expensive, brand names. The good stuff. They drop each treat into your bag with those same pleasant, mild expressions and too-tight smiles you’ve grown used to in your short time here.

Eventually, as everyone winds up doing at some point in the night, you decide to start digging into your treat bag to sample some of your well-earned goods — maybe in the comfort of your home, maybe outside on the streets. And that’s when the fun begins.

Maybe you bite into metal, the razor sharp end of a blade embedded into the apple or candy bar you’ve picked out burying itself in your gums, or splitting your tongue. Maybe it’s a needle, impaling itself straight through the roof of your mouth or a cheek. Or maybe it’s nothing that obvious. Maybe the realization that something is wrong comes moments after you’ve devoured that chocolate bar or cookie, the bitter aftertaste of rat poison hitting the back of your throat along with bile and the rest of the contents of your stomach as they rise up and out of your mouth.

Or maybe you’ll bite into plain, sweet chocolate or fresh fruit. That’s also part of the surprise. You really don’t know what you’ll get until you start eating.

B. ALWAYS RESPECT THE DEAD.

At ten o’clock, all the television sets in the neighborhood turn on, blaring to life right in the middle of that omnipresent cigarette commercial. The volume begins to rise of its own accord as your television starts to pick up interference, bursts of static squealing amidst the rising, screaming chorus of ”HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN!”

Breaking through the static, garbled and tinny, a child’s voice cries out.

“Can’t— I can’t hold them— back— Pumpkin— don’t blow the— out—”

And just as quickly as it cut in, the voice cuts back out. Commercial jingle notwithstanding, you’re alone once more. But not for long.

The doorbell rings. You can see them outside from your window: costumed children. Their masks and clothes are grimy and ragged from the muddy, slimy water they’ve been decomposing in for over a week. When they come to your door, squelching wetly as they shamble up the porch steps, they ring the bell or knock, as all polite children do. If you don’t let them in, they’ll find their own way, always by force. And once they find you, all they can gurgle in their reedy, waterlogged voices is, ”Trick or treat.”

From there, they attack.

With superhuman strength and speed, they tear and rip at anything they can get their hands on — clothing, skin, muscle, face, eyes. Being short and small, despite their strength, they're at a distinct disadvantage. They can even be thrown off, with some effort. But they don’t stay down for long, and attempting to hurt or mortally wound them only stalls them for a few moments, if that. How can you kill something that’s already dead?

Some in the neighborhood are willing to try and find out.

The only houses they seem to ignore completely are the ones with lit jack-o-lanterns still outside. They’ll loiter outside these houses, staring straight ahead at your door or window like they can see exactly where you are. But sooner or later, they’ll pass by and move onto the next house.

As long as the candles in carved pumpkins stay lit.

---

OOC INFO

Hello, and welcome to We're Still Here's first TDM! Here's a few things we'd like you to keep in mind:

The TDM is canon. You can treat this as the game's first real event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream. Upon awakening from it, characters will find that time has jumped ahead to December 1st. You may also feel free to use similar reality and/or time distortions to explain why the family members your characters have in the TDM aren't the same as the ones they may be assigned to in the game proper.

If you would like to have Halloween content in your relaxed housing prompts, please feel free! You are not beholden to follow our prompts exactly so long as the spirit is maintained.

There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.

Although the TDM is canon in the sense that characters are free to remember its events when they app into the game, it does not count as an official plot heavy event, meaning that characters will not receive regains from participating in it.

With regards to the dead trick-or-treaters: you may NPC them however you'd like, but keep the details we've listed in their prompt in mind. They are supernaturally fast and strong, will ignore houses as long as they have a lit pumpkin on the porch outside, and will try to enter each house the moment the candle in the pumpkin goes out. Additionally, they can't be killed, but they can be momentarily stalled by injuring them. By November 1st, 6AM, they will disappear the moment the sun comes out.

---

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Comments

korra 🌟 atla/tlok.

[bearcat]

october 1st.

[ everything is wrong and nothing is familiar. korra wakes in a bed that isn't hers in a town that isn't republic city, and as the grogginess wears off she feels her pulse start to race. it's bad enough hearing the call of that poor child, but the strangeness of the world arounds her makes her stomach churn with nerves and anxiety. outwardly she tries to stay as calm as possible as she trots down the stairs, past the television (they'd only just gotten movers, now they're small and people can have them in their houses!?) and out onto the front lawn. there she pauses, taking in slow, deep breaths to steel her nerves and calm her heartrate. she had thought perhaps getting outside and getting some air would make it easier for her to process all of this, but seeing the uniformity of each house down the street continues to ply at that uneasy feeling at the pit of her gut. the last thing she remembers — a mountain top, platinum cuffs; she was in the middle of something very important, but this place... ]

You new here too?

[ she'll call out to whoever her neighbor is, across the street or over the fence, pressing her hands against her hips, still wearing her simple pajamas. geeze, you'd think if this place was actually hers, her family's, they'd have a dog for her to pet right now!!! ha ha!! hahaha.... spirits, she misses naga already. what's more unnerving to her is the slow realization that her energy feels stagnant, like she's just had another run-in with amon's chi-blockers. ]

block party.

[ in the time since her arrival, korra has spent very little time indoors, choosing instead to familiarize herself with the town as much as possible. korra had heard stories from ba sing se about the joo dees from aang's time, and their relentless cheer is enough to remind and unsettle her. after a while, she'd stopped trying to get answers from them and instead turns her attention to the ones who looked as lost as she did. that feeling of unease never quite left her, but she can swallow it down long enough to head out to the gathering and mingle with all the newcomers.

and honestly... she is pretty hungry. the gelatin molds and casseroles disagreed with her, so you better believe korra is going to just gather up some stuff that doesn't seem to be as offensive; fruits if she can manage it, some chips and any kind of meat dish available. she'll casually be snacking on it as she wanders down the street, the party hat askew on her head. it's not that korra's against parties, it's just that she hasn't been to many in her life, so there's a slight look of bewilderment on her face as she takes in the sights and sounds of this strange town.

however, she does keep an eye out for wallflowers, approaching them with a friendly grin. ]

Parties not your style?

respect the dead. (CW; zombie children)

[ halloween is a weird holiday, okay? parts of it remind her of the glacier spirits festival, but the whole dressing up in costume and going door to door to ask for candy isn't anything she's experienced before. not wanting to be too rude, korra had agreed to go along with it, but it's not until 10 that things really start getting interesting.

this is more her style; a fight to protect those who can't. the sight of decomposing children is frightening but korra won't let that get in the way of her helping people. ]

Hey, hey! Back off! [ she might not have her bending, but korra's an ace with her fists, jumping into the fray in order to get people to safety and incapacitate the attackers. but they're fast, faster than korra is without her bending and she has to keep her mind on what's in front of her to keep from being overwhelmed. they move like the dark spirits she's faced before, and korra tries to keep pace but— ] Tui's gills! [ she finally curses and pulls off her costume... in the middle of the street... to more easily move about.

thankfully, korra is wearing something period-appropriate underneath it all, in her familiar blues and light browns, but trying to fight these kids in strappy sandals is not her idea of a good time. ]

wildcard.
( go wild!! i'm 100% here for weird new family shenans; korra's 18, so she'll be the coolest daughter/big sister ever. hmu via pm if you want me to write a custom starter for you! )

block party.

[helled]

[ Sam's smile is tight-lipped, but still genuine enough for someone who currently feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

He's a (very) tall man, and in this crowd he feels like no matter how many thick-knit sweaters and perfectly pressed trousers he adorns, he's never gonna really blend in. It might also be the generally quiet, suspicious look he gives everything in this neighbourhood. And he just doesn't seem to move like someone taught to be a gentleman of the 1960s, so there's that too.

He holds out his plate of chips, dip and carrot sticks someone had pushed onto him a few minutes back if she wants to share in his misery. ]

Not exactly, no. And I think I've had enough gelatin molds to last me a lifetime and then some.

[bearcat]

[ huh, this guy's a bit taller than mako, but by now korra's used to being the shortest of her krew, so looking up isn't a problem. ]

Is that what those are? [ her confusion is genuine, glancing at a passing table with several gelatine dishes set up. happily though does she take the offered carrot sticks, munching them quickly before continuing. ] What are they made of?

[helled]

Nothing good.

[ Sam is just so done with just about everything in this picture perfect neighbourhood, which is a little bit funny because this? Is kind of what he thought the ideal life was supposed to be. You know, the goal for when he finally managed to escape a life of hunting.

The joke's on him, clearly. ]

Kind of a novelty thing, I think.

[ Because, look! It can be formed into non-food-like shapes! ]

respect the dead

[hoshikiri]

[A small region overrun with monsters who resemble or were once human. Though he doubted these were being controlled by a "higher" power like the sin eaters in the battle for Laxan Loft, Takame was reminded enough of it that he leaped to action without order, providing back up for anyone else who may be fighting.

Korra may be aware of her front, but her flank and rear were very exposed. A fact two of the mindless zombies sought to take advantage of.]

Watch your back! [Just because he lacked his scales didn't mean he lacked his strength, taking both zombies by their heads, digging nails deep into decomposing flesh and slamming their faces into the hard concrete, spilling what contents of blood or brain they had behind leaking behind tattered masks.

Must mean they're dead right? Very violently dead, right? No, Takame has been at this most of the night and he's seen how fast they recover.]

This will only stop them for a moment, but if you wish to fight them please allow me to join you.

[bearcat]

[ korra's head whips around in the direction the call came from, just in time to see takame take out the two zombies heading right for her.

there's a loud gasp, a horrified sound escaping korra as blood and gore splash onto the blacktop after the kid's connection to the ground. altercations and korra may not be the best of friends but they're certainly not strangers, yet seeing such violence out of the corner of her eye is enough to set her teeth on edge. especially to a kid, and korra can't help but feel her heart go out to the poor thing. ]

You didn't have to do that! [ korra snaps on instinct. even if they can't be killed, they're kids, and for the moment she can't get her mind past that fact. ] Couldn't you just put 'em on ice?

[hoshikiri]

[Had they not been in extreme danger, guilt would have set in much faster for Takame. It's true they were children. Were. No longer, all they were now was a threat. One that couldn't be afforded mercy or empathy.]

Hesitation will not help us defend.

[He shook his head at her, swiping his hand through the air to be rid of any excess gore left behind. How clean he was able to get his hands in one swoop each showed that he was well practiced in the maneuver. Despite that and his cavalier words, his voice went quieter as he looked down at the zombies he felled. The volume was the only indicator that he cared at all, as his tone remained dry and matter of fact.]

These children are long dead. They could not be saved, but we can save others.

[bearcat]

[ those words hit korra like a freight train, dropping heavy bricks into the pit of her stomach, twisting her up with dread and anxiety. the only thing she can see in front of her is jinora, ikki, meelo; the airbender kids she sees as family. kai, the young street urchin they all took in. the orphans in republic city left to the whims of uncaring streets.

hands cover her face as the backs of her eyes burn. pull yourself together, korra, she tells herself, fighting back those tears and finally looking at takame with forced, uneasy determination. ]

You're right, [ but even her voice sounds wet, and it's not something she can easily move past, but she'll try. the guilt she feels over all of this quickly becomes dread all over again as the squelching sound of the children pulling itself up from the blacktop meets her ears. ] Let's scram; we can't do anything else here.

[hoshikiri]

[The short reprieve they had as well as Korra's reaction to his words brought his battle high down. He couldn't help but see Alisaie in her, putting on a strong front to do what she must, trying not to shed tears in front of others. This young lady is a person of great virtue, he thought.

But he... the Warrior of Light couldn't afford to falter in his home world, and he'll keep that mindset here. Title or no. This was necessary to keep any other casualties to a minimum, it was better that the man who's seen what he has did this. It meant he was calm, collected and most importantly efficient.]

I'll not expect you to approve of my methods. [His indiscriminately violent methods. The closest thing to an apology he can offer before the gurgling groans of the zombies emerging could be heard.] Mm. If you lead, I will watch your back.

October 1st

[miaoudel]

[Hearing someone yell outside makes Adrien jump violently, and he's quick to rush over to his window and throw it open to look down at the front yard, and the girl standing in her pyjamas, looking across the road. Somehow she's familiar...

He looks back in his room, and at the nearest photo hanging on the wall. Huh.

He leans out the window again, and waves down to her.] Um-- you should come back inside. Isn't it rude to yell this early?

[bearcat]

[ brushed off by the neighbor, korra feels a flash of frustration before the call from above breaks her concentration. her dark hair is down in a wavy mass about her face, and her blue eyes search for the source of the voice. ]

... What? [ no, no. collect yourself, korra. a deep breath settles her nerves and she pulls her hair back with the elastic at her wrist (when did it get there, she wonders for a moment before deciding there are more pressing things to be concerned about). stretching her arms over her head, she makes her way back inside, quietly ascending the stairway. ] Sorry, I'm not usually a morning person, [ she finally mutters, a delayed and somewhat distracted reply to the boy's (her little brother???) question as she passes his room, ] so I wouldn't really know.

[ she halts her steps, crossing her arms and leaning against the door. ]

[miaoudel]

[Adrien is waiting in the middle of his bedroom when Korra makes it upstairs, stiff and looking nervous - but she might notice how there's a baseball bat in arm's reach.]

Yeah. I kind of figured. I guess you're not used to this place, huh. [He lifts a hand and rubs his neck nervously.] Neither am I.

[bearcat]

[ the baseball bat doesn't escape korra's notice, though she wonders for a moment what it could be used for. not a lot of baseball games in 1920s fantasy asia. ]

Well... [ find the silver lining, ] at least we're not alone, [ in being alone, lost, and confused. tension runs from her shoulders and down her spine, keeping her posture stiff. ] My name's Korra.

[ a name is important if they're supposed to play family. ]

[miaoudel]

Adrien. [He likes not being alone. Anything is an improvement on alone. So despite himself there's a small smile on his face.] It's nice to meet you. I suppose.

[bearcat]

[ the sad thing is, korra's gotten used to being alone, having been raised in a compound from the age of four and sequestered away from the world at large.

doesn't mean she likes it either, and she very much appreciates the company. ]

Yeah, you too. [ the smile she offers is soft, an attempt at comfort for the both of them. ] So, um... Do you know anything about where we are?

block party

[frozenbird]

[Ibis returns the grin with a smaller smile, although it looks more than a little forced.]

Nothing like that, I like parties fine. I've just got a lot on my mind these days.

[bearcat]

Trust me, I doubt you're the only one.

[ for one, she absolutely has a lot on her mind, too. ]

I'm Korra.

[frozenbird]

Ibis.

[Might as well get some useful info while we're here.]

Does this place seem strange to you? Aside from for the obvious reasons, I mean. Culture, architecture, et cetera.

[bearcat]

[ there's a flicker of recognition at the name this young person gives; ibis? the animals of avatar-verse are numerous and absurd and you cannot tell me ibis-hawks don't exist!!! ]

Yeah, nothing about this is familiar. [ if ibis cares to look, they'll be able to notice that korra's nametag is written in decidedly not english. "柯拉" is written in easy strokes of a pen, a desperate cling to her home universe. ] I mean, I get the houses and stuff, but they've got small movers in their living room? How?

[frozenbird]

[They did notice that. Looks like it might belong to some kind of dead language, but Ibis never studied linguistics too deeply.]

What's a mover? It sounds like the technology here's a bit more advanced than you're used to... compared to where I was born, it feels downright primitive. [But compared to where they lived before coming here, it's pretty advanced... what a complicated life journey. Pick an era and stick to it!]

block party

[bisexualdisaster]

[Alex straightens up, looking mortally offended. Okay, yes, maybe what he's doing could be considered sulking. He is kind of lurking to the side and scowling. But him!! Not liking parties!! What sort of question is that to ask ultimate party instigator Alex Claremont-Diaz??

Ugh, he never knew he'd miss being famous so badly.

He waves a hand towards the festivities.]

I love parties. This isn't a party. This is just sad.

spider-man points at your username

[bearcat]

[ oh.

korra's a little taken back by his tone, but it's not enough to put her off trying to talk to him. she just wasn't expecting a reply so .... bratty? so korra blinks in surprise, before lightening her tone. ]

It's more of a party than I've been to. [ she's been to like... one ... and that was thrown in her honor to pressure her to join some stupid task force. it's fine, she's fine. people are just a little overwhelming sometimes, especially in huge gregarious crowds like this. ]

BISEXUAL DISASTER SOLIDARITY

[bisexualdisaster]

[Alex turns his horrified look onto her, pressing a hand to his heart. What sort of horrible party-less world is she from?]

I am so sorry. If I had access to my music collection and decent drinks I'd turn this thing into an epic rave in no time. With no jello.

[He never had a strong opinion of jello before, but now it's slid distinctly into the dear god why category.]

HELL YEAH let's make t-shirts and start a club

[bearcat]

[ korra is learning so, so much in the few hours she's been here. ]

... "Epic Rave"? [ she has never, ever heard this term before, and she looks a little cautious. mostly confused, but there's definitely some caution there. ] Is that safe?

[bisexualdisaster]

[Well this party is already more enjoyable. Even if it's by explaining better parties.]

Not really. But that's part of what makes it fun.