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

[swordliest]

Hard not to. Can't get anywhere out here without getting turned around every five minutes. Like a bloody labyrinth.

['Radio' is the word she used. He studies it, even if he's careful not to touch it. The Wardens have taught him to give magic a longer leash than he used to, and maybe this is a case where the benefits outweigh the risks.]

Figured it was magic. Not like any magic I've ever seen, though.

[The floating stuff, sure. The inconsistent doors, less so. This, definitely not.]

[ascocarp]

[Wait, wait, wait. Her huge eyes somehow get huger.]

You've seen magic?

[swordliest]

Sure.

[Casually, like it's something you see at the dinner table. Which it kind of was, for him. His brow pinches a little, confused, but maybe she's from somewhere the Circle actually did its job?]

Comes with the territory, I guess. Don't know how much of a chance normal people get to see it.

[Between his family, Kirkwall, and the Wardens, his life is decidedly not normal.]

[ascocarp]

[Her life... isn't normal either, but she kind of loves the assumption that it is. That, and this entire conversation.]

The territory? Of being, like, a knight? Do you fight dragons and stuff?

[swordliest]

[That pulls a laugh out of him, surprised and a little incredulous. He gives the radio a double-take, like maybe it translated wrong.]

You think I'm a knight?

[He's not offended, basically the polar opposite of that, but still, it catches him off-guard.]

[ascocarp]

I mean- [She catches the incredulousness in his tone, and puffs up in response, not really defensive so much as rushing to explain herself.] You've got a sword and fuckin' armor, man! I saw you out there; it was so awesome!

[swordliest]

[She's... really enthused. It buoys him, turns his smile sharp and proud.]

That's my territory. Taking down what crawls in the dark.

[Preening, him? A little. He's genuinely devoted to what he does, lives and breathes it with every fiber of his being— but that doesn't mean he's above bragging about it, or spinning it for glory points.]

I'm not a knight. [He touches the front of his breastplate, emblazoned with the seal of a winged griffon.] I'm a Grey Warden.

[Usually that speaks for itself. Maybe not so much, in this case.]

[ascocarp]

[The tiny crease of a frown tilts her smile, and she admits, after the delay from the radio,] I... dunno what that is. It sounds fucking cool, though. You- you fight monsters?

[She doesn't want to admit total ignorance of what he's clearly proud of. Ellie can be cruel, but even she knows that's a shitty thing to do. It feels worse because it's earnest.]

[swordliest]

[It takes some of the wind out of his sails, but not as much as it might have, years ago. Mostly because of how earnest he is; everyone forgets the Wardens a little, when there's no Blight to be saved from. That doesn't make the mission and the purpose it gives him any less real.

They don't usually forget this literally, though.]

We fight the darkspawn. The Blight. [The Blight is so ubiquitous that it seems bizarre she wouldn't recognize it; she's certainly old enough to have felt the effects of the last one. But everything here is bizarre, and she's... clearly different than the kind of people he's used to.] If we're not around where you're from, then... maybe that means we did our job right.

[ascocarp]

I dunno where you're from, but nobody fights with a sword where I'm from. [She shakes her head, a little woeful. Talking about her shitty life in the presence of a... not knight, but something even cooler, that just feels like a waste.] Believe me, you're not from there.

[More importantly (anything to change the subject)-] Do they call you Carver because you, like, with the sword- [She makes a chopping motion with one of her hands, a crude approximation of his skill.

[swordliest]

[Unfortunately for her, the subject of his name is kind of like stepping off one landmine and onto another. It's not painful, though, just... weighty.]

What, because I sprouted up with a sword in my hand? [Droll sarcasm. He gets why she laughed at him now, har har, carving jokes, very creative.] Be a shitty nickname if it was. It's just the name my father gave me, that's all.

[That's all he wants to say about it, anyway.]

Carver Hawke. That's the whole thing, if you were wondering. Seemed easier back there just to give you the one.

[But he's proud of that, too, the Hawke name. That might've also been enough for her to recognize, maybe, but he almost likes it better if she doesn't.]

[ascocarp]

[Ellie is happy to leave the subject of her world, the life she knew, behind. Her enthusiasm renews at hearing his name.] Bad. Ass. That's such a knight name. I totally bet you've fought a dragon.

[There's no flicker of recognition on her face.]

[She looks over her shoulder, down the long hallway before them. They've stayed in one place for pretty long; it's probably safe. That was a stupid move, though, just assuming. She got way too caught up in this, but it's still pretty fucking cool.]

[She's not relinquishing it, though. She keeps half an eye on Carver as she gently jiggles the handle of a locked door, listening carefully for sounds of movement before she pulls out a knife, shimmying it in the space between the door and the frame, a novel approach to lockpicking.]

[swordliest]

Once or twice.

[Offhandedly, or at least as close as anyone can manage when they're actively trying to brag.

He's interested to see what she can do, though. He's having trouble narrowing down what her skillset is, exactly, but there are threads of it in how she approaches things. The way she hoards her food, keeps her profile low, waits and listens and waits some more.

And now, as an example: he'd be more inclined to just break the lock and try his luck with whatever's on the other side.]

Have you been out here on your own this whole time?

[ascocarp]

I knew it. [She's bragging about his bragging; it's a horrible cycle, really.]

[When he asks his question, she looks up a little sharply, but she recovers quickly enough. He just meant- right, right.]

Here? Yeah, but I know how to take care of myself. [The door finally opens, revealing what was clearly once a child's nursery, the pink fading into that same lifeless grey. Still, might be worthwhile stuff inside. She walks in slowly, checking every shadow for an attacker, before she starts opening drawers.] Was it a big dragon? Did you kill it?

[swordliest]

I can see that.

[Her being able to take care of herself, he means, as the door swings open. The sight of the room isn't as sobering to him as it maybe should be; it's a relic, like anything else.

He takes a lookout spot at the door, while she picks through what's there. He holds his weapon between his feet, both hands on the hilt, ostensibly relaxed but ready to engage if he has to.]

Didn't have much of a choice, anyway. It was trying to kill us. [That's a yes, they did kill it.] Decently big, I guess. Slim pickings compared to some of the nastier ones out west, maybe, but it's hard to compare when you've got one trying to take your head off with its tail.

[ascocarp]

[She grins a little at the compliment-- it's a rare thing that someone acknowledges her skill without an ulterior motive. And- well, yeah, he might be a bad person after all, deep down, but she's pretty sure she can outrun him if things go to shit. And as much as she's all to willing to be suspicious of others, she just... he's a knight. With magic and dragons. She wants to believe that's all true.]

[She finds a hidden compartment in a bookshelf.] Score. [More jerky and, holy shit, water bottles. She slips the bottles into her back.] Boil you laterrr. [The jerky, she checks individually, running a finger over the packaging to make sure there are no rips or tears or signs of tampering.After that, there's a plastic baggie full of coins, which will make a great distraction if she needs to throw it. Awesome. Between this and the radio, her luck is looking up. Now if only she could find a bow and some arrows... or a gun, shit.]

Us? [She says while sorting through her find, absent minded but cheerful.] With your other Grey Warden friends? You're not the only one, right?

[swordliest]

[A snort.]

There's less of us than there should be. But no, I'm not the only one. [A beat. He watches her pack her bag, weighing how much he wants to say.] This wasn't Warden business, though. Not a lot of dragons underground. It was— before.

[Before, when he was still getting dragged into his brother's wacky shenanigans every hour of the day. It wasn't all bad, back then, even if it seemed like it at the time.

He gestures to her bag with his elbow.]

Got what you needed?

[ascocarp]

[She shrugs.] It's only enough for four days. But... more than three days, I guess.

[She stands, and turns the corner, expression friendly despite the dire words.] What d'you mean, underground?

[swordliest]

You ask a lot of questions, you know that?

[There's not really any heat behind it. It gives him an excuse to talk about the Wardens, anyway, which he always likes to do.]

Means what it sounds like. Sometimes the only thing to do is take the fight to the source.

[ascocarp]

I dunno shit about dragons, man. Gimme a break! [But she says it with a smile, beaming up at him. It's companionable swearing.] When you wanna know the glorious history of single-serving jerky, lemme fucking know.

[She considers his words a moment, trying to puzzle it out herself, before letting out a huff.] Yeah, I got no clue what that means.

[swordliest]

It isn't a riddle. [Though, like, yeah, any exposure to the Wardens will make you more prone to vagaries than average.] The things we're meant to be killing like to hide out underground. So we go down to kill them.

[That's a MASSIVE oversimplification, but he's also not actually allowed to talk details, so it's what she gets. Vagaries, and all that.]

It wasn't bad, anyway. The [what'd she call it?] single-serving jerky. Weird, for certain, but not bad.

[ascocarp]

Oh, I didn't know dragons were your side hobby. [She says sarcastically, but still with evident cheer. As she makes her way down the hall, she continues to search everything, every openable door, behind bookshelves, in literal holes in the wall.] So you guys, like, burrow underground to fight monsters? Weird, but very cool.

[She laughs at his appraisal of gas station fare.] You're not gonna hurt my feelings, man. I just found it here. All this food sucks, none of it's fresh.

[swordliest]

It's meat. Plenty good enough, you ask me.

[The kind of rations you take on a weeks-long trip into a hell pit of monsters are not exactly five star quality.

He'll follow her down the hall, content, for now, to play lookout while she scavenges. Incidentally, he doesn't seem that concerned about supplies himself, though he will peek into closets and around corners. What he is looking for, though, isn't immediately clear.]

You're talking about it like we're gophers. [Burrowing makes it sound like the darkspawn are just a few inches in the ground, waiting to pop their heads up like snarling, blighted daisies.] It's all dug out already, has been for centuries. They're called the Deep Roads.

[ascocarp]

Yeah, I mean, you won't starve. Rations still suck, though. [What she wouldn't give for a rabbit to shoot... or a bow to shoot it with.]

[Arm halfway inside an end table, she looks up with bright eyes.] Deep roads? That sounds fucking spooky.

[Which is of course an entreaty to tell her more. Pleeeease? Look at those huge eyes.]

[swordliest]

[It's back again, his slanted, proud little grin. His ego really doesn't need the help, Ellie.]

They're not so bad. [This is what we in the biz call a humblebrag, except he's not very good at the "humble" part.] Really were roads, once. Dwarves used them to connect their cities. These days they're just ruins, but Maker they're massive. And they go on forever.

[He likes being on the surface better. Not that he'll admit that to her.]

We go down there every so often, see what we can flush out of the dark. Darkspawn are like rats down there. There's always more you don't see.