003 ⟡ MAY TEST DRIVE

[bayhelpers]

⋆✩ test drive 03 ✩⋆

The day begins like any other.

Routines, eventful scenes, and boring errands — no matter what you were in the middle of, there's a moment where everything begins to feel wrong. A searing pain tears through your body, so intense that it feels like every nerve has been struck at once. Muscles spasm, joints scream in protest, and as you double over, you find yourself clawing or clinging at anything within your reach. As your attempts to maintain composure fail you, your bones begin to twist with an agonizing force, the pain rising in a crescendo until it becomes unbearable to even breathe. Then, as quickly as it began, everything stops.

For a single, terrifying moment, there's nothing. No sight, no sound, no touch, no taste, no smell — just the weight of nothingness swallowing you whole. The absence of sensation might even be worse than the pain, leaving you adrift in a void you can't escape. Hopelessness threatens every fiber of your existence, and try as you might to fight it, your darkest thoughts begin to surface, flooding your mind in an onslaught of suffocating feelings and ideas.

In the darkness, you hear a voice.

It's faint, a gentle flashing of something warm along the edges of your mind, like sunlight itself. It's a voice, but you can't identify who or what it comes from, how it sounds, or what it means — still, you know it's directed at you. Something tugs at your heart, a powerful ache that throbs once and ripples outwards. You can feel the aches again, like fresh sores throughout your body. You feel off, like something isn't quite right, like you're not where you should be, or who you should be. But the voice continues, whispered just beyond your understanding. The sound is warm like hope, and it wraps around you, distant yet intent, before you wake up.

i. arrivals

FROM TUNNELS DEEP

The scent of must meets your nostrils, perhaps more strongly than it normally would. To open your eyes is to meet the dark — though if you're fortunate it could be that something about this new body, or perhaps the body of another, leaves some faint illumination to see by. Either way it soon becomes clear that where you are is somewhere underground. They are deep and sprawling tunnels, with corners of some unknown civilization storied away in their many carvings and ruined pottery. Portions of the cavern walls even bear the appearance of old structures and dwellings, as if the earth itself swallowed a city whole.

Trickling through the tunnels in quiet streams are tendrils of fog. It's difficult to see, but not in the least hard to feel. The mist is damp and cloying, clinging to every inch it finds on you to the point that it seems to grasp at the very soul; and the longer one lets it have its way, the worst it feels. You begin to question your body. Your mind. Your very memories — are they really yours?

Staying underground may be unwise anyway. Diglett and Dugtrio soon make themselves known to the weary arrivals here, and unlike these newcomers they have had far too long to succumb to the mist. They will attack without hesitation, and the only options are to fight or flee above ground.

The forest above unfortunately is not much better. The fog here is thick, even if some light somehow makes its way through the canopy above. What could have once been helpful landmarks become sources of dizzying misunderstanding, and the gnarled trees seem to move when no one watches. Rescuers from the city will have their work cut out for them once it becomes clear how many could be stranded out there, and time will be of the essence. The sooner that these wanderers can be brought to the clinic to be treated, the better!

CAUGHT IN THE BRAIN FOG

⟡ While the fog does not cause illness specifically, it is still incredibly dangerous to spend extended periods of time within it. Disorientation, hallucination, as well as mental and physical dysphoria are all symptoms noted from the fog and it is vital to remove oneself from its presence. Fortunately, the symptoms fade quickly once exposure ends.

⟡ The severity of the above varies; characters may feel that time is moving too quickly, or simply become incredibly aware of their inhuman limbs. Players may increase or decrease symptoms as they desire, at this time.

⟡ In addition to the above symptoms, memories become scattered across characters in the fog. The longer one remains within it, the more memory they lose to it — and the more foreign memories they gain. Players are encouraged to offer memories within their top-levels for others to use, but unlike other symptoms, characters need to come in contact with the memory's source to be free of them.

⟡ As many within Bottlecap Bay can guess, the location of all of this is the Southern Forest; which means all the dangers discovered in earlier quests apply. In addition to the disorienting fog, this particular branch of forest is rife with time and space distortions, making it difficult to navigate safely through.

ii. under the weather

RAIN RAIN, GO AWAY

The first thing anyone will notice as the month of May truly sets in, is the rain. Light or heavy, sunny or cloudy, a near constant rain pours down upon Bottlecap Bay and its surrounding areas. There's no escaping it; it pours, and it pours, and it pours ever long, until it becomes impossible to do even basic tasks outside one's dwelling without getting soaked to the bone.

While it's not unusual to receive rain at this time of the year, the amount of rain is unnatural according to the Guild Leaders. To ensure no one suffers any more than they already have, all three are quick to open their doors to these new Pokemon in their midst. Or at least, they're quick to offer other foreigner's doors. Pokemon who originated from other worlds soon find themselves with new bunkmates and housemates, and with the rain as bad as it is there’s no good way to refuse.

It's best to remain in similar company after all, and until there’s time to sort out who fits where, it’s all these newcomers have.

RAIN CHECK

⟡ Though the epidemic from earlier in the year has now passed over, Dr. Denne does not let his guard down. New pokemon are herded to the clinic for mandatory check-ups, to be absolutely safe. The clinic will house pokemon exhibiting any sign of illness, but otherwise send them off to rest in their temporarily assigned housing.

⟡ Unfortunately, many of the offered Guild rooms belong to those recently admitted into the fold. At these lower tiers, rooms are often exposed to incoming water. Rain causes floods to rise up within Oran Guild, bringing at least an inch of rainwater along the shared ground. In the Cheri Guild, it pours between leaves and over walls during particularly stormy weather. The only guild with surefire methods to avoid the rain is Lum Guild; all of these buildings are fully enclosed.

⟡ Even if Pokemon are able to avoid getting wet while sleeping, this won’t spare them when they go outside; it is at minimum drizzling at all times for the rest of the month.

THE WATER CYCLE

While Pokemon begin to settle into their new lives at Bottlecap Bay, the rain continues to fall. On some days it’s harder — hard enough to bring sheets thick enough to blot vision, sharp enough to leave unprotected pelts stinging for minutes after retreating inside. Thunder booms, and lightning flashes, a clear message to all within the city when they see it. These storms are bad. Dangerous. And the danger is in more than just the weather itself.

At first the signs are subtle. Those same symptoms from the forest can be felt, lasting only as long as a Pokemon is damp from the downpour outside. Even the gentle drizzle causes absent thoughts, an empty mind staring into the distant grey skies as you forget.

Staring longer still, as you remember. But is what you're remembering actually yours? Something about the concentration of forest mist in the form of raindrops changes the effects as the days go by. The body and mind rebel against what it knows doesn't belong, and it finally comes bursting out with a shout! Those memories you've seen, they aren't yours! They're someone else's!

And the world needs to hear it!

STORMY MOODS

⟡ After May 10th, the rain for the rest of the month is constant. Severity of the downpour is up to the player to decide, but it never stops drizzling at the least.

⟡ While symptoms from earlier prompts can still be in effect, additional consequences are caused by the rain. Light drizzle carries lighter memories; happier thoughts, caring moments. Pokemon capturing these from the rain are drawn to quietly whisper their opinions on such memories, and can pass them to the original owner in this way. Raging storms bring the opposite; Pokemon will inherit despairing, or wrathful memories from another in the rain, and feel compelled to instead shout their opinions to cast the memory aside.

⟡ Despite the above, Pokemon do not need to pass the memory to their original owner to get rid of them. NPCs can be used as well, and it can be assumed the memory eventually made its way home.

⟡ Side effects of the rain carry over into any puddles formed. Sleeping while soaked in water will cause effects to manifest as sleep-talk, and potentially affect their dreams.

iii. the archives

RECORDS KEEPING

The longer the rainfall persists, the more clear it is that staying outside is unwise. Not only is it dangerous to non-water type Pokemon's health for the most part, but the full scope of side effects only increase the risks. After one too many shouting matches caused by vitriolic memories, Polteageist offers a simple but beneficial solution. The doors of the archives are opened up, as senior members in the Lum Guild offer up their time as temporary librarians.

Polteageist's solution is as follows; instead of training their bodies out in the rain, everyone will be training their brains. There have been many questions raised over the last number of weeks, and now is the time for everyone to investigate the mysteries. Entering the Archives means entering a building of clear splendor, filled with couches and beanbags for sitting and beautiful flowers and plants to accentuate the green hues within the halls. The shelves are well stocked with records kept on stone tablets, and the additional guides within the guild are eager to help everyone find what they're looking for.

The illustrious leader of the Lum Berries is well aware however, that not everyone is willing to spend all their time reading. As it would be counterproductive to expect anyone to sit twiddling their thumbs (or tails, or ears) he has thus arranged for a few of the archive meeting rooms to host additional activities. They are simple things; there's classes on recording writings properly in clay before firing, minor history lessons where newly arrived Pokemon can share in what many others already know, and even community building exercises. They're nothing like the escape rooms organized during the last two months, but they're good for passing the time.

And eventually, the rain will hopefully calm down. A few skilled Psychic Pokemon are offering their services to keep others dry until then however, at least so that everyone can get home safely.

SHUSH!

⟡ The Archives, while acting as the base of operations for the Lum Berries Guild, additionally acts as a library. Players are encouraged to come up with their own available texts within these halls, but should keep in mind that not all knowledge is publically available. If a player is unsure about whether or not something can be easily accessed, please comment about the topic under questions.

⟡ Examples of available topics include general folk tales and fairy tales (with examples given here), as well as non-fiction matters such as pokemon types, species, and moves. As a note, paradox pokemon and canonically synthetic pokemon such as Type: Null are not included.

⟡ The history of Bottlecap Bay is no different from what is noted within the game's premise; guild members teaching the history will explain that the settlement came about when a number of Pokemon escaped from human lands, seeking refuge where no humans could be found.

⟡ Players may be creative with team building exercises, provided they would not cause damage to their surroundings; examples include bonding activities such as 'two truths and a lie', '20 Questions', and even scavenger hunts within the public Archive limits. The focus is always upon getting to know one another.

✩ OOC NOTES.

⟡ TDM CWS: body horror, disorientation, hallucinations, dysphoria

⟡ TDMs are game canon and act as events for the month they are posted.

⟡ New characters can link to their top level beneath the NEWBIE DIRECTORY

⟡ All new arrivals are not assigned to any one guild. However, if they participate in the Archive's bonding activities, they may receive a unique reward.

⟡ Remember that at least one thread for your application must come from the TDM! There is no comment minimum, but we will be looking for engagement, as well as for players and characters who take the time to delve into things like character thoughts, emotions, morality, and other deep themes. Take this time to engage with the setting as you would in game!

⟡ As a reminder, reserves and applications are permanently opened. Please see their respective pages for details on processing time.

⟡ Have any questions related to the TDM? Ask here! If your question is more general for the game, please make sure to direct it to the FAQ page instead. Thank you, and happy threading!

FULL NAVIGATION

Comments

From Tunnels Deep

[ibalsamina]

[The cries echo through the tunnels, traveling far through the sprawling dark until they reach another also lost in the fog. That fog felt like a sanctuary to Lusamine once, when she was here last. She had been convinced that it held all she could ever want: memories of the happinesses that had been stolen from her, frozen in time for her to stay in forever. Only phantoms, perhaps, but better than the nothingness she had left. In the moments the fog did not show her those beautiful things, it was instead stripping the ugly memories from her mind—and that, she decided, was just fine, too.

Now, the fog has done just that, leaving her with no memory of it. In this moment, all she knows is that someone—a child, alone in the dark—is calling for her, and she can't hope to ignore him.

Something she does manage to remember after she starts her search, moving unsteadily on her four legs, is that the body she's in is built for burrowing. Despite the complexity and foreignness of the caverns, on instinct, she knows exactly how to navigate them and where to go to find what she seeks.

Soon, she comes slinking out of the dark toward him, the glint of her sharp Yungoos fangs and claws surely menacing—but when she speaks, her voice is sweet and soothing.]

Oh, you poor dear... Shh. It's all right now. I'm here, I have you...

[friendlyflower]

[For a minute, he's sure that some type of ferret is here to finally put him out of his misery-- then it starts coddling him. He's not sure which is worse.

The voice isn't unwelcome- it's reassurance that he'll be able to continue eking out a wretched, soulless existence- but it doesn't stir up any filial affection, either. The memory of butterscotch cinnamon pie is just at the edge of his consciousness, and he remembers the woman he stopped seeing as his mother a few hundred timelines ago. Fear gives way to anger.]

I- I wasn't crying! Stay back, lady!

[He gives a little sniff as if he was crying, which he wasn't, thank you very much. Ugh. This new body already has him off his game. But if he could go to hell when he died rather than succumb to nonexistence- he's soulless, remember- then he's sure it would look exactly like what he just experienced: lost and alone, forced to relive his memories on loop.]

What, a-are you just out looking for lost kids? Weirdo. Just show me the way out of this dumb place. [There's a pleading edge to his voice despite the harshness. There's nobody he's ever cared about that he hasn't killed, so why shouldn't he lash out against the first person to show him kindness in this hellhole? But if she actually leaves him, he's not sure what he'll do.] I'll watch your back too, but don't try anything funny.

[ibalsamina]

[Acting on some distant impulse from another lifetime, she very nearly reaches out to him, to hold and soothe him—but when he demands that she stay back, she does, startled into stillness a small distance away. Was she expecting a different reaction?]

Ah... [As she looks him over, she understands: proud, is he?] Why, no. Of course you weren't. I only...

[As he continues, she tilts her head and narrow her eyes, her mouth a thin, white grimace. Something about his tone, though she dislikes it, helps to clear her head and root her back in the present.]

Now, that's awfully rude... There's nothing weird about helping someone in need. [Her grimace turns into a smile—still full of sharp teeth.] But I understand. In a place like this, it can be difficult to know who to trust. In any case, I was looking for you and you only. [No other lost kids... Or so she thinks, though the thought that she has lost someone else does nag briefly at the back of her mind—only to slip away from her again, lost to the fog.] You were calling out for help. Did you expect no one would answer?

[She doesn't expect an answer from him on that question, and she won't wait for one. Once he's demanded that she show him the way out and promised to watch her back, she nods her head and starts to move.]

I'll be counting on you, then. Do stay close. [She won't ask if he can walk in his new form, instead keeping her steps slow so she can see the answer for herself.] May I have your name?

[friendlyflower]

[Her words strike at his very core: "Did you expect no one would answer?"

Nobody did before. Why start now...?]

It's... Flowey. Yeah. [For the briefest second, he almost slips and uses a name that he shed long ago. He curses the fog.] Just call me Flowey.

[With no other choice, he finds himself hopping after Lusamine. How humiliating. The phantom limbs that the fog brought on are gone, at least for the moment. Transformed again, but still limbless-- either this is some kind of punishment or he's the subject of a great cosmic joke.]

L-look, I'm not trying to snap your head off, okay? Anyone else would've just finished me off. Those mole-looking things aren't messing around. So, thanks, or... whatever. [He huffs, well aware that he sounds more petulant and childish than usual.]

Who are you, anyway?

[ibalsamina]

Flowey, then... What an interesting name.

[As in flower? Plant-based names are extremely common in the world she is from; perhaps it is the same case for him.]

There's no need to explain. [But she seems to appreciate his effort, rewarding it with an amicable—but still toothy—grin.] I understand completely. It's a pleasure to meet you, Flowey.

[Fortunately, though the mist has sapped many memories from her, her name was not one of them.]

I am Lusamine. [Stepping daintily forward at a pace that keeps her close at Flowey's side, she begins to guide them, occasionally lifting her head to sniff the air or listen closely to the distant sounds traveling through the tunnels, round ears perked. It all comes naturally to her, at least for now; was she ever anything other than a Yungoos?] These "mole-looking things" you speak of... They tried to hurt you?

[friendlyflower]

Yeah, those things aren't like you or me. They just attack, no matter what. [Oh, the irony. Now he's the one facing relentless killers, and he can't even reset to save himself.] If you see 'em, then-- watch out!

[A Diglett pops out of the ground and tries to Scratch Lusamine. Flowey takes the hit instead. The force knocks him over, slamming him into the dirt. He imagines his health bar cutting down by half just from that alone.] Agh! Cheap shot! This is such total crap!

[He must be an idiot to try and protect this... senile old lady. For some reason, he just jumped in the way. He did tell his friend, back before he came here, to 'not kill and not be killed'-- but he didn't expect to have to act on his words so quickly.]

[ibalsamina]

[How dreadful, Lusamine is about to remark. Were they Pokémon? These tunnels must have been made by something, after all. Perhaps they are intruders in someone's home, opening themselves up to retaliation from its residents.

She gets her answer before she even has time to voice the question. Something emerges from the dirt (a Diglett, her memory supplies through the fog), and suddenly Flowey is on the ground, collapsed at her feet. He shielded her. That realization sends a sudden, murderous impulse through her, along with a dizzying surge of tangled memories: she is the one who protects—her children, her family, all that is hers—and keeps all things in order. She has to fix this. Kill or be killed.

It's as if a switch has been flipped; in an instant, the kindly, harmless woman is gone, and in her place is a vicious animal. With a vengeful hiss, she springs on the attacker, jaws open, and encloses it in her Ice Fang. It squeals in alarm, slashing at her with hidden claws... to no avail, because ice begins to form on its body, slowing its movements until it stills completely, frozen solid.

It isn't dead, of course, or even fainted; only rendered temporarily immobile. Lusamine knows because this moment makes her remember something else, too: the collection room behind the mirror in someone's (her?) bedroom, where hundreds of beloved Pokémon slept lined up in numbered shelves, frozen in time, kept safe forever. She remembers it suddenly, in a jarring flash, before it slips away from her once more.

Releasing the Diglett, she staggers back, shaken by her own behavior and suddenly hyper-aware of her overlarge fangs and the grit between them. That... was hardly proper. She abhors violence. But her baby was in danger and pain; as a mother, what else was she to do?

But... Flowey isn't hers, is he? Not really. She only just met him today. With a shake of her head, she skitters back to his side.]

Oh... Oh, Flowey, are you all right? [Resisting the urge to clean the dirt from his face, she looks him over from a polite distance, searching for any visible injuries.] You defended me... Thank you.

lusamine used iceshock! lusamine became stronger!

[friendlyflower]

[When he looks up, Lusamine has finally shown him what those incisors are for. She's relentless- brutal, even- and soon, the Diglett is nothing but an ice sculpture. She really was just playing nice, wasn't she? This is how she really is.

It looks like it must still be alive in there. Is it conscious? Flowey wonders. Not dead, not fainted, but forced to watch and contemplate its mistakes in the clutches of ice... oh, this is fun.

And yet... she shakes her head and suddenly, she's back to being gentle. A part of him thinks- or wants to think- that her concern for him wasn't entirely a lie, after all. So now what should he do? Maybe take a few more hits, see how horrible she can really get...?]

...

... Yeah, I'm fine.

[No. He can't just treat people like toys anymore. Maybe he can't feel, but they can. ... But he'll definitely keep this information in his back pocket.]

It was hardly a scratch. [This is clearly a lie-- he winces as he gets back up. A scratch runs across his outer shell.] And don't even worry about it! Your pal, Flowey, was looking out for you! After all, you were just a sitting duck... or so I thought. Hee hee. [He winks. The Diglett's eyes are frozen in a look of shock, watching the two of them.]

LICHRALLY

[ibalsamina]

Yes, hardly... [It's worse than that! His poor shell...] But thank goodness I have you at my side...

[She isn't sure what a sitting duck is, but Flowey really was looking out for her, watching her back... Though it ought to have been her looking out for him, she's genuinely touched.

She eyes the Diglett disapprovingly for a moment, before her expression softens into something more apologetic.]

This one will thaw out soon enough. [And the sounds of her fight with it could very well have alerted others to their location.] We must keep moving. [After a pause, she brushes close to Flowey, suggesting,] I'd be happy to carry you the rest of the way, if you'll allow me. I won't have you aggravating that cut...

[On her back, she means. She's never attempted it before, truthfully, but as long as she moves in a controlled fashion, she should be able to keep him balanced.]

[friendlyflower]

[On one hand, letting her carry him might be useful for manipulation later on. She'll continue to think of him as pathetic and in need of protection.

On the other hand, he's not supposed to be thinking about things that way and also he hates being babied.]

No, I've got it! See? [He hops once and visibly flinches.] I've... okay, fine, sure. [In the end, his physical discomfort wins out.] Guess I'll just hop on!

[Fortunately, Flowey is smaller and lighter than the usual Sunkern. He most likely is able to get on Lusamine's back with minimal discomfort for her.] Thanks for the ride! So... what's your story, anyway? You must've had an interesting life before coming here, huh?

[ibalsamina]

Please do. [Holding herself low to the ground and slinking artfully under him, Lusamine soon has him securely on her back.] There now. Isn't that better?

[There are certainly worse ways to travel; at least for the moment, she has a graceful control of her form and her fur, though slightly mussed from the misadventure through the tunnels, is also luxuriously soft. In another life, she had been fastidious about maintaining her appearance, and it seems that this world has allowed some fraction of the time, effort, and money she had spent on it to follow her through.

Something else from her past has followed her through, too. While sitting on her back, Flowey may notice the faint, wispy scars that wind over her back and down her sides: long, tentacular things, like the stings of jellyfish.

She chuckles, seeming pleased.]

It isn't a problem at all. [An interesting life, he says... Was it? She remembers her name, Pokémon, and a family that might have been hers... But something about thinking of any life before this one unnerves her, makes her want to not think about it at all.] Oh... Well, I'd be happy to indulge your curiosity, but I'm afraid I wouldn't know where to start...

[friendlyflower]

What, too many stories to pick one to start with? Or, more like... you don't remember?

[He does notice the scars. They seem too old to be recent, and he doesn't know if the Digletts could do that, anyway.] Hmm... you don't have a cool story for these scars? They look like they hurt. You sure I'm not causing any discomfort up here?

[ibalsamina]

I only mean to say that it would be difficult, wouldn't it, to summarize an entire life in just one story? [She laughs under her breath.] I do not intend for us to stay here for much longer, after all...

[But she also doesn't remember, which might become clear a moment later, when Flowey brings up the scars. Lusamine stiffens, her steps abruptly slowing.]

... Scars...? [What scars? Her skin has always been unblemished, perfect, without a single wrinkle or mark. Any wounds she received from the frightened Pokémon she worked with were quickly treated and covered up. Flowey must be confused, she thinks as she returns to her previous pace.] Oh, no—I'm quite all right, I assure you... I'm not in any pain at all. Truthfully, I'm not sure what you're even referring to...

[Memories slither in the dark. As they miss their intended destination and reach instead into Flowey's mind, a series of moments weave with his own memory in disjointed flashes, thrown in out of order: light spilling from a fissure in the sky; scattered papers and broken glass on a white floor; the scent of the ocean; unfurling, white tentacles.

A voice, then—or many voices, likes the overlapping, excitable whispers of children:

MotherMotherMother...
We see you, Mother. Your pain, your loneliness...
We can take it all away from you. We can give you him. We can give you love, power, Paradise...
Won't you come and see?

Lusamine seems not to hear it.]

What... sort of scars do you mean, sweet Flowey?

[friendlyflower]

[He huffs at first. It feels like all of his life has just been one stupid story in a stupid game. But, this is some old grandma, he supposes, so--

So--]

I... What? What is that? Do you hear that?!

[The memories coil around his own. He remembers absorbing the six human souls and finally feeling complete as venom sinks into his veins; he remembers them turning on him, tearing him apart from the inside out like her ungrateful children who ran away from home; he remembers being cast back into his true form but she can still hear them--]

Stop it! You're freaking me the hell out!

[He tumbles off of Lusamine's back and starts hopping away, only stopping once he reaches a dead end. When he turns to Lusamine, there's a look of terror on his face.

The memories slip away into the fog, but not unaltered. Lusamine remembers soullessness. Lusamine remembers the aching desire to feel something about anyone-- and then she remembers the feeling of six heartbeats at once. The rush of apotheosis, the all-consuming joy of finally making it all worth something. The voices in his head don't promise Paradise, but bend to his every whim like good children should, because he'll make their existence hell if they don't.]

Hah... was that a nightmare or something? Is this a dream?

[It all goes foggy in her mind, but she remembers the pain when the souls rebel-- and much worse than that, the cavernous emptiness when his soullessness returns.]