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

[wontgraham]

[ Will's watching it for a change, this time, and it's...whimsical.

Intelligent, even.

Okay, so...ghost? Will thinks of the mirror earlier and how he'd been able to see but not hear through it. Is this...another variation on that, or...is the scenery sentient?

Will's no artist, but he can manage a quick stick-figure of a person, right next to that smiley face.

They're rapidly running out of room on this arm, unfortunately. Hopefully the other one's just as dusty. ]

[ascocarp]

[Ellie laughs quietly to herself.] Neat.

[She wonders how this works. It's a bit of wonder she'd like to maintain. Some things in the world are just... precious and rare. They need to be kept. She doesn't let herself question the impulse, knowing Joel wouldn't approve, and she'd have to acknowledge that fact. She doesn't want to.]

[She grabbed a lot of shit earlier, mostly with the intention of making shivs and bombs. Nails and scissors and tape and tin cans, mostly, but she did have a few pens. One of them even has ink in it. She wonders if the phenomena is only subject to the chair?]

[Only one way to find out. On the peeling wallpaper behind her, she writes-] my name is Ellie ☺

[wontgraham]

[ Will's so busy watching the arms of the chair that he doesn't look anywhere else until he hears something behind him. He jolts and turns and can already see...lines appearing on the wall, in red.

Any threat from that fact disappears when Will approaches, close enough to see that it's the uneven, pointed effect of a ballpoint pen. It even scratches clear through the wallpaper at one point. Will stares at the incredibly normal detail of it, even if it's scrawling itself across the wall with no other human visible.

Will has no real-world basis to make guesses, here. Bits of movies and pop culture filter in, in that gap - people separated by time, writing passed between the past and future? Ghosts trying desperately to communicate? Maybe Will is the one who's dead, in fact, which would possibly explain everything else going on to him lately?

Absolutely none of those possibilities are things he actually wants to confront and deal with in any way, of course, but--

And then he's distracted, because that's...a child's handwriting. With another smiley face. Something tender and concerned clenches in his chest.

Will doesn't have a pen. So, in true slasher-movie fashion, he's going to just carve his own words into the wallpaper, using the fork he finds in the corner after a moment's frantic search. ]

Mine's Will. [ No smiley face, sorry. :( ] Where are you?

[ascocarp]

[As trusting of supernatural bullshit as Ellie is-- it's not real, just impossible to register as a threat when the worst things in her life are so much more tangible-- she still knows better than to answer directly. She writes back, smiling to herself, and quietly scoffing.]

that's not creepy at ALL :P

you first

[wontgraham]

[ That's fair. And slightly reassuring. Will's taken by the sudden worry that this Ellie is alone, wherever (whenever?) she is.

He goes right back to scratching his reply into the wallpaper, although he's limiting his words more than he would if it was as simple and clean as writing in pen. ]

a room with an armchair and faded floral wallpaper

[ascocarp]

[Ellie looks around. She peels a long strip of wallpaper off the wall. Oh.]

carving stuff into walls?

[wontgraham]

yeah.

[ And also watching someone peel off some of his writing surface. That's...okay. Is Ellie in his past and he's communicating with her anyway, somehow? Is she dead, is Will dead?

All these wild theories, but it's the shared jerky that makes Will realize none of those ideas really make as much sense as...

Maybe they just can't see each other. Or hear. Will very deliberately passes his hand through the air by the wall, but he definitely can't feel anything, either. Concern flickers again. ]

are you okay?

[ascocarp]

are you?

Ellie keeps dooling, a little flower and then a spiderweb. This is all weird and strange, but none of it's dangerous, so long as she's careful with her information. It's not like the other guy can get to where she is, anyway. If he could, he'd have grabbed her by now.

[wontgraham]

Wow, well see, now Will has to balance his need to be completely Extra about everything, and the fact that he can only carve into wallpaper so fast.

Also, the continued drawings are really making Will assume whoever he's talking to must be, say. Ten or so.

still trying to figure that out.

[ascocarp]

are you bleeding or starving or dying or puking your guts out??

[What the fuck is an existential crisis. Instead of figuring that out, Ellie draws a tiny face blowing a raspberry.]

[wontgraham]

[ Will laughs. Which sounds weird and ominous in a room as empty as this one - mostly it just reminds him that physically he's completely alone, and that none of this makes any cohesive sense.

Leave it to kids to simplify things. ]

none. thankfully

you?