THE SKY WENT OFF-WHITE.

[wastemods]

WHO: Anyone and everyone.
WHAT: Our inaugural test drive meme.
WHERE: Anywhere in the world core.
WHEN: Whenever your character arrives.
NOTES: Expect surreal horror and possible violence. Please use common sense when warning for other content.

Art by Basile Godard

THE SUNLIGHT SPLINTERED.

You reach the end of the ash-gray hall at a run, hands fumbling for an antique door handle. And then you stumble, fall, tumble—any number of adjectives, depending on where, exactly, the door opened—into a radio station.

The equipment is old and dusty, but devoid of cobwebs to the observant eye. And it's dark, save for whatever light makes it through the windows. They display disjointed locations; perhaps one shows an upside-down tower, while its neighbors frame the crumbling pavement of a rotting car park and the stripped out interior of a sewer. Whatever the case, peering through one window reveals a landscape that impossibly doesn't connect to the next.

The door is still there, the only exit to this grubby room. It opens somewhere, anywhere else in this distorted world. And once you leave, it no longer leads back whence you came.

Where do you go?

THE LIGHT, DIVIDED.

A sun on one horizon, a full moon on the other. They're luminous but unreal, like they were plucked from a sky and pasted to a flat, starless backdrop. You can see only one, depending on which side you entered; it's essentially random. Both "sides" overlap like alternate dimensions and you can't see anyone who isn't on the same side as you. Light or dark, you walk in the light of a muted sun or an overbright moon. It never feels quite real.

Neither star nor satellite seem to move from their position. The passage of time is at a standstill.

Regardless of which side you're on, you'll find signs that you aren't alone. What someone does on one side affects the other, so moving an item or writing something down will translate to floating items and mysteriously appearing letters. Speech doesn't travel...unless there's a radio. Radios may turn on and off, with voices audible through the white noise. And if you walk past a mirror, the reflection isn't your own. Instead, it acts as a window to the other side.

In-character observations:

• Anyone sensitive to time, space, and related dimensional shenanigans will feel they're distorted. And it isn't something they can fix, at least not with powers.
• It's possible to cross dimensions if a character has related powers, but they'll suffer backlash and significant stress from the transition. Successive jumps aren't gonna fly.
• If a character is affected by the sun or moon, they'll find neither holds sway over them here; e.g., vampires can walk in daylight and werewolves won't shift in the full moon.

TL;DR: Whatever this is, it isn't natural.

THE SHADOW REALM.

Outdoors, there are shadows on the prowl.

Silent and eerily insubstantial, they trail after you like blind spots given form. Staring at them too long is unsettling but, for the most part, they're content to watch you back...if they can watch. They don't seem to have eyes.

When that isn't enough, however, they attack. Stealing the shape of monsters from other worlds, they may lack special powers, but that doesn't keep them from being dangerous. When in doubt, you're safest indoors.

But maybe that isn't good enough for you. Or maybe you just fucked up. Either/or.

RADIO WAVES.

If you aren't wondering how you got here, you're probably at least asking why. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be anyone around who can answer your questions. Everyone else is as clueless as you.

But, some time after you arrive—whether it's days, hours, minutes, or seconds—the dead air stirs. The atmospheric pressure drops and playhouse lightning arcs across the facsimile of a sky. It's a storm that warns of what's to come, as an earthquake shifts the ground beneath your feet. Around you, buildings flood, and water pours out in falls only half aware of gravity. Wind hurls debris at such high speeds, it turns into shrapnel. Rain pelts you from above and below as the temperature plummets. It starts to snow.

Somehow, the sun and moon remain visible through the turmoil. A collection of mirrors scattered through the world don't reflect their light; instead, it passes through them and illuminates the other side. These specific mirrors, all set in ash-gray frames that match the halls, are untouched in the unfolding natural disasters, and standing before them will shield you as well. Consider them havens in the chaos, proverbial eyes in the storm.

In the dark, a radio turns on of its own accord. Is someone—something—talking to you?

INTO ALL OUR DARKEST FEARS.

Welcome to THE WASTEYARD's first test drive! Some quick things to remember:

• Our TDMs tie into the game plot. As such, any applicants can keep their TDM threads as game canon.
• The network is exclusive to in-game characters. TDM characters can only use radios.
• There is a language barrier, so please mention what language your character speaks somewhere.
• We don't have a fixed day ratio; instead, you pace yourself at your discretion.
• Characters may face backlash when using any powers.
• Mark if your character is on the sun or moon side of the divide. The choice is yours as the player.
• If you have any questions, please direct them to our FAQ!

And that's all, folks. So take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!

NAVIGATION.

PREMISE
RULES
FAQ
ACTIVITY
APPLICATIONS

TAKEN
HIATUSES & DROPS
CANON UPDATES
REWARDS
TPC CLAIMS

WORLD
EXPLORATION
DEVICES
QUESTS
INFORMATION

CALENDAR
SUGGESTIONS
MOD CONTACT
SETTING INBOX
CODEBOOK

Comments

octavia blake | the 100 | moon

[gonplei]

a | radios

[ If Octavia wasn't sure she believed in Hell before, she is now. It's the only explanation for a place like this, and she certainly isn't going upstairs when she dies. She's all alone in the dark, desperately trying to find answers and getting nothing in return. Even the damn food packets yield no information. It's ironic that the only piece of info she's found so far is the 'EUREKA' sign; she's not going to be exclaiming that any time soon by the looks of it.

The more she walks, the more it begins to feel like the walls and ceiling are closing in, cramping. And every time she leaves a building, it seems like the landscape has shifted and she's no longer where she was. She doesn't deal well with enclosed spaces, and even less well with frustration. Octavia has never been one for emotional regulation, perhaps because she never had to learn. Now that she's in the real world with no one to comfort her at every little upset, it's come back to bite her.

If you happen to be listening to the radio, you might pick up her own radio transmitting the sound of a frustrated ] Ugh! [ and a loud kick, followed by the sound of something knocking over and shattering. ]

b | shadows

[ The shadows take the form of men with shock batons. The sight makes her fingers curl and her blood rush in her ears. It should scare her... does scare her, deep down, but it also makes her angry. These are the men of her nightmares, her own personal bogeymen. Guards whose job was to protect everyone but one little girl whose only crime was being born. It makes her blood boil, even now.

Without thinking about the dangers of unknown, shadowy creatures — without thinking at all — she begins to slowly unsheathe her sword. It's not true vengeance, but it certainly won't make her feel bad to slash into them.

Before she gets the chance, though, she picks up on the sound of footsteps behind her. Reflexively, she whirls around, sword jutted out in a threatening manner. She's been wandering alone for so long now that the sight of another human being has her wary, to say the least, and she isn't particularly friendly even when she doesn't feel paranoid. ]

Stop there, [ she commands, confidently, like she's used to it. ] Identify yourself.

[ You might want to hurry. It looks like the shadows behind her are getting a bit agitated by all this excitement. ]

c | wildcard

[ Obligatory wildcard option! Octavia speaks English (and a canon conlang, but she defaults to English). Extra info about her can be found here if you're interested. You can contact me at birdlaw if you've got questions! ]

b. shadows

[calculo]

( this keeps up, robbie's gonna start getting jealous. first the kid with the shiv and now this girl with a sword. everyone's got a weapon but him even if he, technically, is a weapon. the rider's not doing a damn thing to help him though so it's him and his fists if this decides to go bad.

but, he doesn't want any trouble so he stops, holds his hands out to the sides, gloved palms face up. )

Robbie.

( probably doesn't help much, does it? )

Are we gonna do introductions while there's a bunch of shadows behind you? ( doesn't seem very smart. )

[gonplei]

[ Robbie. Octavia doesn't know any Robbies; this is troubling, because she knows the names and faces of every last living human being left. There aren't exactly a lot of them. She doesn't give him the same courtesy of her own name. Something feels wrong.

Her first thought is you see them too? followed by a wave of relief that she isn't entirely insane. She keeps this inside, though, and squares her shoulders, raising her chin. ]

They're just shadows.

[ They're not; she knows that much. Shadows shouldn't be able to shift like that. Shadows shouldn't form out of nothing. She spent enough time entertaining herself with home galanty shows as a kid that she knows that.

The grip on the hilt of her sword tightens, but she lowers it, glancing back at the shadow men. They're everything that frightens her in an unobtrusive package, not so much scary for what they are but what they represent: the ever-lingering threat of confinement and death. She thinks she can take them. ]

What, are you afraid of the dark?

[calculo]

You and I both know that's not true. If they were just shadows, you wouldn't be holding that sword. ( he nods at it but keeps his hands up and out so she doesn't get agitated and try and run him through. he's got no idea what his healing would do in a place like this. the rider's still there but he's quiet. robbie's pretty sure he wouldn't be left to die, not with the deal still in place but he doesn't want to end up with a hole in his gut anyway. )

I'm not afraid. But I'd rather avoid a fight with a bunch of shadows.

( he doesn't know how you'd fight them, for one. ) You think that sword of yours is gonna work on them? Feel free. I'll sit back and watch.

[gonplei]

[ Well, she doesn't like that at all. Just reading her like that. Most people she knows don't — either they can't, or maybe they just don't care to. It makes her self-conscious to be called out on her bravado, and she falters a little. ]

All right, what's your plan, smart-ass?

[ That's better. ]

[calculo]

Get away.

( he's run into these things already. he's tried rocks, wood, anything he can find and nothing's done much damage to them at all. they falter and sometimes even disappear but they don't die. he hasn't found any evidence of that. )

You ever fought a shadow? I've faced something close to it and the weapon I used, I don't have here. Nothing's working here.

( strategic retreat time. ) Stop holding the sword on me and start thinking about them.

radios

[wontgraham]

[ Will does, eventually, leave the shelter of his bus stop-merged-with-the-bus. And, in keeping with everything else that's gone on here since he arrived an uncertain amount of time ago, Will makes it seven steps away, turns around, and sees a staircase that leads to nothing in its place.

So. Looks like he's going forward again, then. Or at least hoping his sense of direction under this strange, fake moon means he's not going in circles.

It seems that mirrors and radios are the one constant he can find here, in the end, because Will runs across another one of each as he travel. This radio is portable and scratched up, but he carries it with him.

And promptly nearly drops it when the rattling white noise is interrupted with a voice and then...a crash? ]

Hello? [ Wow, it would probably help if he actually hit the 'talk' button properly on his radio! He's gonna keep going and try again, with the next thought he has: ] —Whoever's there, are you— okay?

[gonplei]

[ O hasn't been able to reach anyone with the radio all day. She'd just about written it off as a hunk of junk, but kept it around in case the parts would come in handy; she's no mechanic, but she figures shoving parts in and hoping for the best isn't the worst idea.

When the sound of a man's voice comes through the radio, she fumbles for it, the clunky (and broken) television forgotten for the moment. Why now? Her natural paranoia sets in, and when she speaks, her voice is husky with antagonism. ]

Who the hell is this?

[ Perhaps it's not the best way to start the conversation, but this place has her on edge. This could be just another trick, a fake voice to disorient her, or something more sinister— someone real, someone who wants to harm her. She's not taking chances. ]

[wontgraham]

[ There's a thrill just to hear a human voice at all, but it's...definitely not a welcoming one. Aggression comes through that crackly walkie-talkie. And, if Will can go ahead and stretch his proficiency at reading tones a bit, he's going to assume fear. Maybe he's just projecting, though, and assuming everyone would react the same way to all this mess. ]

...My name's Will.

[ Unfortunately, he's tired and hungry and compassion is also apparently a limited-quantity item. So he continues with a snapped, ] And who's this?

[gonplei]

[ Octavia pauses, hesitant to give him her name. There's little he can do with it, sure, but she's paranoid all the same. After a brief moment of silence, she replies, ] O.

[ Bellamy used to call her that, before she became what she is now. Before he wanted her dead. When he loved her, and when she was a sister worthy of being loved by her brother. A wave of sadness and nostalgia rushes over her when she says it.

Can't go back. Can never go back. ]

You speak English.

[ A rare occurrence here, apparently. ]

[wontgraham]

[ The fact that it's not really her name couldn't be clearer, and Will scoffs to himself about it, but he doesn't think to press down the talk button to share the fact that he's feeling a bit too rattled to be polite.

Not that he's that much more polite when he isn't rattled. Anyway. ]

...I do. [ Will's spoken to a small handful of people, and written with two more, and so far, everyone has. That's sounding like it's not the case for everyone. ] Spoken to a lot of people who don't?

[ And then, riding the surge of adrenaline and relief that bloomed up when he heard another human voice after walking solo for a while, Will just keeps talking. ] And are you-- okay? Injured?

a

[louwoda]

[Madi is used to being alone, so it's not that she's particularly bothered by how empty this whole place seems to be. She's also pretty comfortable around other people, all things in her life considered, so that's not it either. But hearing someone in distress over a walkie-talkie (which she thankfully is familiar with) gives her pause; that's not being alone and it's not being around people. It's something else entirely.

It takes her a little while before she "answers," just holding the walkie and mulling over what to say in her head for a few long seconds before she settles on something that didn't even need a lot of thought anyway.]

Are you okay? [And, for good measure, because in her limited experience, people are just as likely to speak Trigedasleng as they are English,] Yu ste laksen?

[gonplei]

[ The sound of Trigedasleng makes her heart race. Wonkru? The chances of a Wonkru member wanting to kill or help her are about 50-50, and she's not certain she likes those odds. She likes the idea that this is all some horrible trick or hallucination even less.

Still, the words hang heavy in the air. She is not alone.

Goddammit. Octavia picks up the radio, careful not to identify herself. If this is one of the defectors, there's no telling what they'll do once they find her. (She's sure she can take them, but she'd rather get the drop on them.) ]

Yu chich Trig op ai. Chon yu bilaik?

[ "You speak Trig to me. Who are you?" Or, you know, something like that. Don't grammar police my Trigedasleng. ]

[louwoda]

[Okay, good. That means this is someone she can count on as an ally (in theory). Madi fumbles with the walkie-talkie a little, just because it's weird to speak to someone she can't see; it's not a question she'd expect to get if this person on the other end could see her.]

Ai laik Heda.

[Which heda is self explanatory. Because the idea of canon points is, you know, not a thing she'd consider.]

Weron yu kamp raun? ["Where are you?" Also not something she's considering: that it's impossible to answer that question in this place.]

[gonplei]

[ Heda? —Madi.

She breathes a sigh of relief that it isn't someone with a poorer opinion of her. Madi is just a little girl, one who has no intention of turning on her. If she can be sure of no one else's loyalties, she can be sure of a 12-year-old girl's. ]

Ai laik Bl— [ Blodreina, she almost says. She's not anyone's red queen anymore, not even Osleya. ] Okteivia.

[ As for where she is, that's a damn good question. She knows Madi speaks English as well as she speaks Trigedasleng, so she switches over. ]

Hell if I know. Everything keeps shifting. [ There's one landmark she's found, and one alone— ] Can you see the 'EUREKA' sign?

[louwoda]

[She thought the voice sounded familiar, and she's glad it's someone she knows. Some stranger speaking Trig would be scary, and Octavia has always been good to her. Even loyal, in the few instances she's had to prove it.]

Um. [She doesn't say that over the walkie, obviously; there's a short pause as she finds a window and sticks her head out.]

I think so. [She doesn't know how to spell eureka. But that looks close enough.] Are you outside?

B

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar is definitely not subtle as he limps forward on his archaic leg braces and the hand brace he uses to move along with. When he sees Octavia brandishing a sword towards him, the teen immediately pulls the axe he has out of where it's strapped to his back. There's nothing scared or fragile about Ivar despite being a cripple. His eyes, startlingly blue, focus in on Octavia.

He holds his weapon in a position ready to throw if she makes a move towards him. Ivar is fast enough to throw with in only a second to act and accurate enough to hit almost anything he aims at. He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, asking a question.]

Hvat ðu yðr segja?

['What did you say?' His eyes flicker towards the shadows behind her. They look like even more of a threat then this unfamiliar woman does.]

[gonplei]

[ ...Well, that's an issue.

Octavia falters, just a little; she doesn't recognize this language. Perhaps another dialect? 'Hvat' and 'yðr' sound similar to words she recognizes. Maybe he speaks Trigedasleng— she switches over, still pointing the tip of her sword his way. ]

Ai nou na get em in chit yu tel ai op.

[ "I don't know what you're saying." It's clearly a different language than before, although no more understandable. ]

Bak op. Chon yu bilaik?

[ "Stay back. Who are you?" ]

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar cocks his head as he listens to Octavia and then shakes it. No dice on understanding that one either. He switches to Old English, acutely aware the whole time of Octavia's body posture and the way she holds her sword.]

Dost ðú stefn Englisc?

['Do you speak English?' There's more familiar words in that sentence, but the way he pronounces them makes them sound more like German then the accent modern day English speakers have.]

[gonplei]

English? [ she asks slowly, unsure if she's understanding him correctly. Finally, she throws her hands up; this is really killing the momentum of her threatening him, and it's starting to frustrate her. ]

I speak English. You don't.

[ At least not any form of English she's ever heard before, not in the year 2155.

She sheathes her sword, only for the sake of communication. Octavia doesn't doubt she can whip it out in a millisecond if he tries to attack her. While the shadow guards behind her begin to advance, she points at him roughly. ] You. [ She then puts her hands up in a questioning gesture. ] Who?

[ragnarsson]

[To Ivar, it sounds the same way: as if she almost speaks English the way he knows it, but not quite. Small wonder that the language had evolved to being near-incomprehensible in the 1,336 year gap between their time periods.

When she asks who he is, he thinks for a moment, the word sounding close to the Old English word 'hwa'. He answers slowly, hoping that he guessed correctly. He doesn't put his axe away, still considering her to be a threat.]

Ivar. Ivar Ragnarsson. And ðú?

['And you?' Again, sounding similar, but spoken with something almost like a German accent.]

b. shadows

[mofi]

[ Murphy has died once already. He had been planning on staying alive for forever, immortality. He had been so close that he touched it, sat in the palm of his goddamn hands.

And now? Now he doesn't know what happened. Who he pissed off. Doesn't remember anyone trying to kill him. There was no eclipse. Murphy knows he's alone, somewhat. Shadows are lurking, creeping at him. They all take very familiar forms, silhouettes of his past. He had faced his demons before, scared him more than anything had ever been in his life (even with all the shit he's had to endure).

Murphy feels a little more prepared but only just a little.

Staying indoors is safe, keeps the shadows from trying to bite at him. He also knows he can't keep himself cooped up in here forever so he bolts outside. He has no idea where he is running to, only that he is running from the shadows.

Then a voice calls out to him and, for a second, he thinks it's familiar. But it's talking to him, not like the shadows. ] Human [ , Murphy calls out, slowly turning around on the heels of his boots. His arms are raised high in defense. ]

[gonplei]

[ Just her luck. Octavia purses her lips, shooting Murphy an annoyed look he's surely come to know as the look pretty much everyone gives him. ]

Hm, [ she says, sheathing her sword and thinking over that 'human' response. (At least she isn't on edge anymore; she's 101% sure she could take him. He's not exactly a valorous warrior.) ] Not so sure about that.

[ She raises an eyebrow. ]

Isn't 'cockroach' more like it?

[mofi]

[ Let's be real, a lot of people can take out Murphy. Killing him is a whole other matter. He's a cockroach as she so plainly put it. ]

All hail Blodreina. [ He bows, mockingly and when he straightens himself back up he's got a grin smeared across his face. ] How long have you been out here? What is here?

[rpms]

[ Raven stops as she is instructed. What is she doing to do? Run faster than the person behind her? Before Raven says anything, she slowly turns around on the heels of her boots. ]

I'm -- [ She squints, shocked to see who was behind her. ] Octavia?