etcelsior | WAKE UP IN THE MORNING FEELING LIKE

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping into MASK OR MENACE? Want to dip your toes into the setting and get a feel of whether your character will fit into it? Or maybe you're just cruising and want to play around? Then you've come to the right place!

Pick any of the following scenarios below or feel free to make up your own, but don't be afraid to throw yourself at someone else's thread, either!

And remember there's only one rule in Test Drive Meme Club: have fun!

01. The city of Heropa is what one might expect from a small, bright and cheery place, where locals are friendly enough and local shop owners might offer a free drink to welcome you to their fair city. Some of the locals might thank you for always lending your service to the nation, while others might not say anything -- but if you have something nasty to say, better not say anything at all, right? But on closer inspection of these Silent Stanleys and Stellas, you might notice that some people actually back away from any imPort who quite obviously looks like they aren't "from around the neighborhood". Once in a while, you may hear a voice raised:

"Did you see how visible their elections have become? They're just trying to grab power! Have you seen the homes they live in?

Of course, for every claim, there's a rebuttal; you may well hear a competing voice arguing, "They deserve to have a say in things too! You know it's different for them!"

ImPorts are a divisive issues, even in pretty Heropa.

02. De Chima, Virginia, is a large city with a healthy economy, and though it's quieter, there are just as many citizens awed at your very presence. Look at you! Organic wonder! Science and technology are the lifeblood of this city, so you're likely to come across a good many locals taking your picture with the newest of devices. The imPort craze is at an all-time high, and considering the ambition of many of De Chima's residents, you may find yourself cornered by overzealous imPort fans, media wannabes and opportunists alike, shoving cameras in your face.

Their questions are less politically charged than they are mundane, however; get ready for an interview about your taste in romantic partners, personal underwear choices, favourite foods, and more!

03. Maurtia Falls, Pennsylvania, is having a rainy day. The streets seem to be running with water, the sky can't seem to stop crying. You might want to check out some consumerism-inclined shelter, be that a smoky and dart-eyed bar full of grumbling locals, or a grimy and industrial coffee shop (full of grumbling locals). Watch your step, newly minted imPort, because if you let on that you're fresh meat then you're bound to find a few people who decide that the only proper welcome for an imPort is a nice set of knuckles to the face.

One or two more cowardly locals may hesitate before giving you such a greeting, however, with a muttered, "Wonder if the new guy in office is gonna do more than the last one."

Ouch. Look at the political savvy on this guy!

04. Nonah, North Carolina, is the liveliest of all cities; loud, busy and there's some kind of energy in the air that gets everyone buzzing with excitement. You may find yourself in the midst of a few closed-off streets for some occasion or another - whether it be a food cart festival, no-car day, or something else! - and surrounded by the hum of people, the waft of food being served on the street, and plenty of attention

Look there -- someone's demoing a VR roller coaster! Won't you give it a shot?

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[the Corinthian stiffens, focus disrupted. For a moment it's only the patter of the rain - against the walkway, Chilton's umbrella - before he finally looks back over his shoulder to take in the stranger. Another pause.

He smiles.]

"Sunglasses at Night". Clever.

[not really. It's only been three years since his creation, but already all the jokes that could be made have been. (Mostly Merv's doing, happy for a new audience for his older material, although Matthew was also happy to do his part.)

He turns to face Chilton fully.]

Who are you?

[If Chilton were to bristle at the brusqueness, he'd have had his skin worn thin by now. People -- especially young, attractive men -- tended to demand more information than what the psychiatrist ever felt comfortable giving. But that was the price of company, of course.

Well, maybe the lesser of costs.]

Frederick. Doctor Frederick Chilton.

[A beat, and Chilton lifted the lip of his umbrella up a bit more, at a sharper angle. Better to see the fellow in full.]

And you must be...?

[He looked like a Blake or a Justin.]

I am known as the Corinthian.

[delivered entirely without humor or gravity, as normal as any Blake to the nightmare. There is no point to hiding himself in this small, false world; he detests the thought of it.

A beat follows, and the Corinthian's smile falters, turns curious. His brow furrows.]

What happened to your eye, Doctor Frederick Chilton?

[Immediately Chilton's hand flies to cover his left eye. The shock, the concern over exposure, that clouded any humor to be found in the Corinthian's name. No one except Jeff Winger and Raina had seen what that blinded eye, with its milky blue hue, truly looked like. No one had known the colored contact was a facade.

No one except this man.]

Is -- is that your power? Do you see through things?

[Chilton distinctly did not answer the Corinthian's question.]

I would appreciate a little warning.

I have always seen through things. [a hint of humor now - for his private joke, for the doctor's surprise.

No prosthetic, no glass bauble or fitted mechanism, could ever fool the vision behind those lenses; a predator would always know its true prey from a substitute.]

What would warning you have done? [he shrugs.] My question would remain the same. Would you find it so much easier, Frederick Chilton, to know it was coming? Would it make you so much more inclined to answer me about your ruin?

[There was something in that tone -- perhaps the delivery, perhaps the implicit sneer -- that caused Chilton to stiffen his spine.]

You wear those sunglasses better than you do imprudence.

[Hell of a comeback, halfway soaked in a compliment as it was. But Chilton had found himself too invested in this Corinthian's insistence, and his interest, to complain.]

I was shot. In the face. The impact crushed my inferior and lateral rectus muscles. And my optic nerve.

What a pity.

[a waste of a perfectly good eye.]

Was your shooter also an imprudent sort? I have to wonder. But you did survive. Broken but whole. Not quite a paradox, but... mm, enough for a story.

[thunder cracks, and the Corinthian finally frowns up at the sky, the falling rain. He counts the seconds between the boom and the inevitable flash.]

You speak as a medical doctor. Are you?

I am more specifically a psychiatrist.

[Chilton kept his wary set of eyes above, at that lightning crackling sky. The darkness, the wetness -- while the atmosphere might have suited this Corinthian's aesthetic, it was beginning to gnaw at Chilton's nerves. The whole circumstance was vaguely anxiety-inducing.]

My shooter had mistaken me for someone else. Difficult to blame her -- [Although part of him still did.] -- she had been brainwashed.

What is your interest, anyway? Do you enjoy human paradoxes?

Sometimes. Mostly, I enjoy stories. Yours sounds a good one. But perhaps - somewhere drier.

[the Corinthian looks off down the street, considering; night has fallen quickly. Even nightmares of the Dreaming can eventually be annoyed by the feeling of wet fabric.]

Will you accompany me, Frederick Chilton? Or are you waiting for something?

[This was a peculiar fellow, and Chilton was intrigued. He took only a moment to consider the invitation before nodding -- with a small smile -- and took a step towards the Corinthian.]

I was only in transit, actually. I have a little time to kill with fresh company.

[His consent.]

Where were you thinking?

[the nightmare shrugs, already walking.]

I wasn't. I don't know this city. If you've an idea, dreamer, speak it.

Supposedly my new home is somewhere around here. [a twitch of a frown, his hand curling in his pocket - he's keeping it there for now, if only because the wound on his wrist hasn't fully weaved itself together from his attempt to carve out his unwanted tattoo.

Now he finds the glow of it mocking.]

[The nickname of dreamer was odd, but Chilton had long grown used to eccentricities. He considered his company for a moment, and then decided that the man probably favored whiskey over wine, and wine over coffee.]

I know a pleasant bar. Scotch and whiskey all at least a decade old, aged appropriately.

[-- A teasing glance was shot.]

You prefer older things, don't you? Drink, company. And so forth.

WAKE UP IN THE MORNING FEELING LIKE

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