bopbay | 003 ⟡ MAY TEST DRIVE

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003 ⟡ MAY TEST DRIVE

⋆✩ 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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[....and now he's coming back. Maybe he was only startled, still caught up in some memory or another? But Ingo has a sinking feeling that may not be entirely the case. He remains where he is, allowing Emmet to approach at his own pace.]

....are you alright?

[ ... Rather than answer verbally, Emmet just hesitates for a moment, then brushes briefly against Ingo's side as he approaches, shoulder to shoulder, flank to flank.

He doesn't think he'll be able to say anything right now. But he'll lift his head a little, still not meeting Ingo's eyes, and try to indicate... somewhere. Not here.

They should get out of the rain, probably. This can't be good for a fire type. ]

[The lack of reply concerns him, but it also doesn't feel like anything shocking. Ingo doesn't think much about it, just nods and glances around. The rain streaming over the fur of his face makes seeing a little more difficult, but at least his isn't as long as Emmet's.]

The archive, then?

[He starts herding them both along without waiting for a response.]

[ He doesn't resist or protest being herded along, at least? The rain really does make him look half-drowned, honestly, the ghostly tendency of the ends of his fur to sway and billow of their own accord not enough to counteract the physics involved in being completely waterlogged. With the way it falls— one eye ends up obscured by fur, and the other has all the rain to deal with.

In any case, he'll follow quietly along. ]

[Ingo will hurry them along, then, and pause once they've entered the archives. The Lum member manning the front looks at them. His immediate instinct is to shield Emmet from view, so he directs him down a side passage, walking until it feels like they're alone.]

You - here, let me help you dry.

[He heats up his collar, warm enough to glow but not quite bursting fully into flame yet.]

[ Emmet shivers, a bit, but doesn't fully try to shake the water all out as the warmth reaches him. Maybe he's just being conscientious of their surroundings, considering they're indoors rather than otherwise. Or maybe he's trying to avoid getting any more than is necessary on the Typhlosion, considering its effects, which is why he'll let Ingo hover but doesn't make any move of his own to come closer to or take advantage of the heat.

He can't say it, and he's still avoiding eye contact, but there's gratitude in his eyes all the same for both the warmth and the way Ingo put himself between the Lum member and Emmet when the latter is decidedly not up for addressing anyone else right now. ]

[There's so much fur. Ingo's own fur is thick, but at least short; it feels as though he's drying out far quicker than Emmet appears to be. At least the flooring here is bare. He shifts a little closer, increasing the flames a little.]

Let us at least press it out a bit! It is probably little different from continuing to wear wet clothes.

[In terms of health ramifications, anyway? It feels different, at least to him. Anyway - he's suddenly unsure if he ought to try to wring some of Emmet's trailing, sodden fur out for him, and ends up hovering awkwardly halfway through starting to do so.]

[ He isn't soaked completely through, at least. Small mercies. The dense double coat helps in that regard, but that doesn't stop Emmet from looking or being any less drenched on account of the long trailing fur of his mane and collar. He'll try to tilt his head a little and adjust himself for a slightly less awkward angle, pawing at some of it himself at Ingo's suggestion ... but lets out a quiet huff of breath as he does. ]

... might be a little hard ... for me to get all of it like that. Attached to me.

[ Unlike a heavy coat or jacket or some other form of clothing, which would be removable. His volume is quieter than normal, but his tone is steady, at least, for what few words he can manage.

Still, at Ingo's hesitation, he just cants his head further, blinking unsurely when the other just ends up hovering. It's... okay? It's okay. ]

I suppose you don't want to shake it off?

[Rhetorical question; he's made that much clear. Ingo still hesitates, then decides to lower his paw and just press his whole body up against Emmet's instead, shoulder-to-shoulder. He's always run warm, as a Typhlosion, but now his body temperature is noticeably higher. He angles his neck a little to keep the glowing embers of his collar from actually touching.

It's the most he's ever initiated physical contact with Emmet. To be fair, he doesn't tend to do that much with anyone. But it's for the sake of warming him up, and - and Ingo can't quite shake the echo of Emmet's own feelings, upon being unable to find Ingo.]

Let us just try this.

[ Would be rude. Someone else's space, he doesn't manage to say. And a library, even, even if they're keeping away from where the records actually are kept. The closest he can approximate to the appropriate sentiment; a chagrined, non-committal, four legged half-shrug, faint smile pulled tight. What can you do.

—Startle, apparently, when the Typhlosion presses up against him. Because it's true. Any physical contact has for the most part been initiated by Emmet, and haltingly, sparingly at that. Fleetingly, always retreating before anyone can say it's overstayed its welcome. But the unexpected warmth is a relief after both the first and secondhand cold of earlier, so while Emmet is tense and frozen in place to start it doesn't take long before he lets himself lean into and against the other ghost type. ]

Let us lay down.

[He starts to do so, hoping Emmet will follow. This isn't a place Ingo would normally ever think to rest. Out of the way or not, it is still very much a public corridor! But he doesn't want to brave the rains again just to return to their quarters. This will simply have to do.

Once they're down, though, he's reached the end of these tracks. He's getting Emmet warm and comfortable, as one ought for someone who's cold and soaked. The rest of it, the memory visions...well, he does not know what to do for that. When he does finally speak again, his gaze is firmly on the floor.]

I, ah. I am - sorry for whatever you saw.

[ Again, he'll let himself be guided down without issue. The lingering tension in his frame slowly unspools, the more the warmth sinks in, but comes rushing back when Ingo eventually says what he does.

Because oh. Right. His ears pin flat again, head lowering even as he chances a glance at Ingo. But Ingo isn't looking at him, and while he isn't eager to try to put any of his thoughts to words right now, letting Ingo blame himself for something that is not even remotely something he should be doing so for is also decidedly not on the schedule. And Emmet has no idea how he'd manage to convey any of it wordlessly, not the way he is right now, outside of pressing his side against Ingo's a little more firmly in response to the apology. It's a couple moments longer, Emmet working his way through a few soundless tries and false starts, before he manages, quietly: ]

... nothing to be sorry for.

But. I get why you don't like Zoroark now.

[ Zoroark, or Emmet, or both. The way he looks, rather. Whatever he's a reminder of. His gaze also turns away and down. Whatever Ingo's reaction to that admission might be, Emmet doesn't want to see it. He'd understood before, academically, in the abstract, that something happened.

It is much worse to have seen his own face do that firsthand, and feel for himself the visceral reactions to its visage. A stomach-turning smile, gleeful malice written in the jagged slash of teeth across a familiar face. They're not unwarranted. It's understandable. He knows his mirror was deliberately being cruel, mocking— but in the end, it is, still, a mirror, and those feelings were true.

It is fine if other people do not understand him. But if that is what Ingo thinks about or is remembering those times Emmet's caught him hesitating a moment too long or startling when sighting him in the wrong light, at the wrong angle, out of the corner of the eye...

Well. Emmet gets it. But he still can't look at Ingo. He does not think he'll be able to bear it if he should see Ingo flinch away from him when he realizes or remembers what it is Emmet must have seen. ]

.....oh.

[Ingo's ears pin back. None of his experiences with Zoroark are good ones. And...

And he doesn't remember the first time he met them.

He knows it happened. He remembers having to take care of the arm while it healed, and the frustration of being out of commission again. The lingering fear that they would decide he was too much of a burden after all. Being scared to venture away from the group for some time. But he doesn't remember, exactly, how he got hurt to begin with.

He's had other encounters. He can imagine broadly what may have happened. It's nothing he would ever want Emmet to experience, even without all of the...other context. He thinks he has gotten better about not flinching when Emmet comes up from behind him, or stands over him. But if Emmet hadn't noticed before, he will now.

He lays his chin down on his paws, flattening himself as much as he can without pulling away.]

...I am sorry.

[ Emmet's quiet for a long moment when Ingo lays his head down. In all honesty, Ingo has. Gotten better about it, that is. It's just difficult for Emmet to not notice these things.

... he's going to run out of words, like this. Oh well. It's worth it. 'Stop saying sorry, there is nothing to be sorry about' isn't going to get him anywhere, probably. Ingo would do something like get someone out of the rain, act as a shield from unnecessary social niceties, go out of his way to make sure they dry off properly and get warmed up, and then apologize for something that he has little control over or is objectively not his fault.

Of course he would. ]

... Sneasler seems nice. Verrrry scrappy.

[ Emmet drops his head onto his own paws, mirroring Ingo even without any real intent to. ]

But I am the one who should be sorry, I think.

I do not see why!

[He doesn't even know what Ingo saw! Granted, that was not a happy memory in the least, but he suspects it still wasn't as bad as getting attacked by a wild Pokemon.]

Mm. Sorry that I am something that could be used against you.

[ It's like getting the worst of both worlds! Don't even remember who it is calling out in the snow, but it's still there enough to be taken advantage of and work anyway. ]

That is nothing to apologize for! I - I think it would be rather sad, if someone had nothing that could be used against them.

[It is, really, the same as having nothing at all. That's what Ingo always thought the smiling mirror-shape meant; he, with no memories, having only spent a few months with the Pearl Clan, had nothing, no one dear enough to bother imitating. So it just took his own shape, but twisted a little. He...he does remember something of that, now that he thinks of it. Himself, in white and smiling, blood dripping from his teeth.]

That - was that supposed to be you?

[Even after learning that they were identical twins, he'd sort of dismissed the notion. He's not...sure why, exactly.]

Don't see what else it could've been. You are not conceited enough for it to be you.

[ If the point is to lure people out with those they are wanting to see, then, well. Even for those who might not remember anything else, what sort of narcissist does that imply. ]

Maybe can't say for sure. But if it looks like you. But is white and won't stop smiling. Then it is probably me.

Ah - well, I always thought, since I did not really know anyone else...

[Would that be narcissistic? He's never thought of it like that.]

The first time I met a Zoroark was...not all that long after I arrived in Hisui, I...think. The memory is still a bit fuzzy. [Though it's coming back to him now that they're discussing it, and Emmet is going into a bit more detail.] I supposed I had just given it very little to work with. That could still be true!

[Though it. Sort of sounds like it isn't.]

You were there for. A few ... weeks? Months? There was no one you'd respond to if they called?

[ No one at all? That sounds ... lonely? ]

... Well. I guess. It being you but wrong. Easier conclusion than an evil twin you didn't know about trying to kill you.

[ That honestly just sounds like the plot of an extremely cheesy b-movie, when he says it out loud like that. ]

Well, of course! But I would not say I was precisely close with anyone yet. The first month or so was...I was not well.

[Not exactly in a state to be bonding with others, even as Ingo's very social in his right mind. Anyway...he hums a little awkwardly.]

Yes, I'm not...sure I ever would have thought of that. Though, if it really was trying to be you...

[What does that mean for him? For his memories? But it feels too selfish even before he's fully voiced it.]

[ An ear twitches, Emmet letting out a mildly questioning, unsure noise of his own when Ingo trails off. Too vague, open-ended. Multiple things it could be. He can't quite tell how Ingo meant to finish that sentence.

... oh. He can't, can he. ]

Maybe it was on to something. [ He offers instead, considering what he is here and all. (and what does that mean for him, really.) There's a sloping, rolling motion in his shoulders that's probably meant to be a shrug, or whatever passes for one when they're both lying down, shoulder to shoulder.

(He could stop making himself talk. If the memory is fuzzy for Ingo, that means Emmet's still holding on to most of it, isn't he? ... That isn't fair though, is it? Is he trying to relieve Ingo from being weighed down by the worst of this one memory, or is he just being selfish?) ]

But whatever it was trying. Whatever it did or didn't see, and decided to recreate. What it thought would be a good idea to copy. I am glad Sneasler made it in time. I am glad someone came at all. I am very, verrrry—

[ Ah, it's getting harder to get the words out. They catch in his throat. It didn't happen, but voicing even this much still makes that horrible alternative feel more real, like it could have happened somewhere far away in another time. And Emmet might never have known.

With effort, he manages to force the rest of it aloud. ]

I am glad you're still here.

[Onto something? What does that mean? But Emmet's moving on, so Ingo goes along with him.]

I - thank you. [Is that a normal way to respond to that?] I am as well.

[He's not sure any of that was right. But he can sense some kind of strain in Emmet, and it makes him think that perhaps they have been focusing too much on his memory. Ingo has things he's supposed to share, too. Let him take his turn.]

...I saw the day that I went missing. Not myself, just - the immediate aftermath, I suppose.

[His eyes stay on his paws. There's a scar on his right foreleg, a ring of jagged tooth-marks. Yes, yes, he remembers how he got that now. (Did Emmet really look like that as a human? Surely not?)]

Mm? ... Oh.

[ A day involving such major upheaval, introducing the paradigm shift involved in having to define a new before and after, that he feels like it'd be impossible to forget, except ... he can't quite grasp it right now outside of the vaguest outlines of it. The fallout and aftermath, certainly, and some of the morning prior, a carefree cheer that carried over into receiving that first call (over ... radio? xtrans? he can't remember).

That he can't remember that now is actually pretty unsettling. ]

So you saw how I got there too late to do anything.

[ Or know anything, really. And then nearly made a mess of things because everyone was panicking, and he didn't do enough to tamp it because he was right there with them. Emmet thinks he remembers that much, at least— those frantic several hours after, suddenly trying to manage twice the workload he normally would and riding a manic high as they tried to conduct their own searches while not letting on to the public just yet that something had a significant number of the Gear Station staff in a state of agitation. ]

What? No, not at all!

[Technically, yes, but what on earth was Emmet supposed to do about it? There was no way for him to even know anything was wrong until after it had already happened.]

You handled it as well as you could have! I was the one who went off alone. I suppose I must have felt that place was safe enough.

[It didn't necessarily strike him that way from the memory, but that's in retrospect. Ingo supposes he walks around in Wayward Cave alone with his Pokemon often enough. Maybe the subway tunnels felt just as familiar to him back then.]

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