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February-March 2025 Test Drive Meme
February-March 2025 TDM
Introduction
Welcome to Folkmore's monthly Test Drive Meme! Please feel free to test drive any and all characters regardless of your intent to apply or whether you have an invite or not.
All TDMs are game canon and work like "mini-events". For new players and characters, you can choose to have your TDM thread be your introduction thread upon acceptance or start fresh. Current players are also allowed to have in-game characters post to the TDM so long as they mark their top levels ‘Current Character.’
TDM threads can be used for spoon spending at any time by characters accepted into the game.
Playing and interacting with the TDMs will allow characters to immediately obtain a canon item from home, especially weapons or other things they may have had on their person when they were pulled from their worlds! There will always be a prompt that provides some sort of "reward" to characters who complete certain tasks.
🦊 New Star Children meet the Fox still in their worlds, and she brings them into the new realm of Folkmore. As you follow her, your body begins to change and new characteristics emerge. These may stay for a while, or perhaps they will hide away after. And during all of this, the Fox explains to you where you will be going: to Folkmore.
and then... you fall like a shooting star, falling to the land in a burst of starlight.
🦊 Experienced Star Children are already familiar with this time of the month. There are shooting stars all across the sky, and some fall to the land, which means the Fox has brought new arrivals. These newly arrived Star Children will face some tests, but Thirteen wants the more seasoned residents to participate as well.
Perhaps you follow the falling stars on your own, or perhaps the Fox simply teleports you there, but it appears you too will be part of this.
Content Warnings: Forced Emotional Effects, Trapped in a Location, Potential Forced Sharing, Potential Violence, Potential Death-like Experience
New Star Children arrive as motes floating in light to land on a bar stool, in a booth, or in a chair at a table in a dimly lit bar. It's a lonely place of few patrons and a sole proprietor: a red fox… or a woman in a red sweater and autumnal colors. Blink and she will remain what someone first saw. There's little decor in the place, mostly plain polished simple wood, but there are more dark corners than anyone can count. Tucked into those corners, under tables, and anywhere else vaguely discreet are plain weapons: guns, daggers, swords, and the like. Empty and still as the bar may be, that 'decor' may rouse suspicions, among veterans and newcomers alike.
Those already in Folkmore will find an entrance to the bar whenever and wherever they feel lonely, perhaps missing someone in particular. A half-hidden door will appear pressed between buildings in Epiphany, built into a hill in Willow, etched into the bark of a grand tree, and so on and so forth. Once patrons have entered the bar, the exit fades away into the background. It doesn't seem to have disappeared entirely, so much as always being just out of sight, around a corner, hidden in shadows, or otherwise out of reach. Looking for it, or trying to leave already, will bring the proprietor's attention to a Star Child, and she'll ask them to place their order.
She's hardly received any requests for drinks. What's missing more than anything else in the bar are patrons. Anywhere from thirty to a hundred people might fill the bar to capacity, but there's no more than a handful of other people present at the moment. What fills the rest of the place to the brim are shades. Born of Lore and regret, these spectral spirits start off thin and wispy, but they feed on the loneliness, regret, and other negative emotions people bring with them.
The longer people stay, the more shades crowd around them and feed on those emotions; the more solid, colorful, and real they appear. Not only that, the shades take on the appearance of those tied to someone's regrets: those they miss, those they've hurt, or those they've failed in some way to help. On the other hand, Star Children dim, lose color, and fade. Their energy and their ability to care what happens to them drain away to strengthen the shades surrounding them. Tempting as it may be to drown one's sorrows with drinks, that course is a dangerous one. Fade away long enough, and Star Children risk turning into shades themselves—and losing themselves into being someone else's regrets. If a Star Child turns into a shade, their shades rapidly fade back to their original ghostly form and seek out their next source of energy.
The way to quiet these ever-hungry ghosts is simple: connection with the living. Ordering a drink or greeting someone will grant a brief reprieve. Speaking with someone at length holds the shades at bay. Speaking about one's regrets? No matter whether Star Children receive simple commiseration or an objective, grounding response that suggests a path towards personal growth on the subject, the interaction will cut the connection with the shade, and it will fade away. Should that shade be a recently-faded Star Child, they solidify in their seat, a real and solid person with the chance to connect again.
There's more than one way to form a connection, so whether it's a newcomer who'd rather fight than talk or an old hand who knows weapons lying around come with a catch, patrons who pick up a weapon (or two) and fight each other's shades together can also vanquish them. But beware: taking up arms to fight sends one's own shades into a frenzy, surrounding their patron and draining them faster. There's no requirement to aid each other, and others can ignore what terrible end comes to that person… but if they regret failing to help? That lost person becomes their new shade. Better hope someone's more helpful and generous of spirit then.
Anyone who makes a solid connection with another bar patron will find that they can see the exit. Freedom, at last. Furthermore, when settling their tab, the bartender passes one last item over—an object from home, tied somehow to one of their regrets, even just the simple regret that it hadn't come along for the Star Child's original journey to Folkmore because it'd be so useful now. This item may even be a weapon or magical item.
New Star Children arrive as motes floating in light to land on a bar stool, in a booth, or in a chair at a table in a dimly lit bar. It's a lonely place of few patrons and a sole proprietor: a red fox… or a woman in a red sweater and autumnal colors. Blink and she will remain what someone first saw. There's little decor in the place, mostly plain polished simple wood, but there are more dark corners than anyone can count. Tucked into those corners, under tables, and anywhere else vaguely discreet are plain weapons: guns, daggers, swords, and the like. Empty and still as the bar may be, that 'decor' may rouse suspicions, among veterans and newcomers alike.
Those already in Folkmore will find an entrance to the bar whenever and wherever they feel lonely, perhaps missing someone in particular. A half-hidden door will appear pressed between buildings in Epiphany, built into a hill in Willow, etched into the bark of a grand tree, and so on and so forth. Once patrons have entered the bar, the exit fades away into the background. It doesn't seem to have disappeared entirely, so much as always being just out of sight, around a corner, hidden in shadows, or otherwise out of reach. Looking for it, or trying to leave already, will bring the proprietor's attention to a Star Child, and she'll ask them to place their order.
She's hardly received any requests for drinks. What's missing more than anything else in the bar are patrons. Anywhere from thirty to a hundred people might fill the bar to capacity, but there's no more than a handful of other people present at the moment. What fills the rest of the place to the brim are shades. Born of Lore and regret, these spectral spirits start off thin and wispy, but they feed on the loneliness, regret, and other negative emotions people bring with them.
The longer people stay, the more shades crowd around them and feed on those emotions; the more solid, colorful, and real they appear. Not only that, the shades take on the appearance of those tied to someone's regrets: those they miss, those they've hurt, or those they've failed in some way to help. On the other hand, Star Children dim, lose color, and fade. Their energy and their ability to care what happens to them drain away to strengthen the shades surrounding them. Tempting as it may be to drown one's sorrows with drinks, that course is a dangerous one. Fade away long enough, and Star Children risk turning into shades themselves—and losing themselves into being someone else's regrets. If a Star Child turns into a shade, their shades rapidly fade back to their original ghostly form and seek out their next source of energy.
The way to quiet these ever-hungry ghosts is simple: connection with the living. Ordering a drink or greeting someone will grant a brief reprieve. Speaking with someone at length holds the shades at bay. Speaking about one's regrets? No matter whether Star Children receive simple commiseration or an objective, grounding response that suggests a path towards personal growth on the subject, the interaction will cut the connection with the shade, and it will fade away. Should that shade be a recently-faded Star Child, they solidify in their seat, a real and solid person with the chance to connect again.
There's more than one way to form a connection, so whether it's a newcomer who'd rather fight than talk or an old hand who knows weapons lying around come with a catch, patrons who pick up a weapon (or two) and fight each other's shades together can also vanquish them. But beware: taking up arms to fight sends one's own shades into a frenzy, surrounding their patron and draining them faster. There's no requirement to aid each other, and others can ignore what terrible end comes to that person… but if they regret failing to help? That lost person becomes their new shade. Better hope someone's more helpful and generous of spirit then.
Anyone who makes a solid connection with another bar patron will find that they can see the exit. Freedom, at last. Furthermore, when settling their tab, the bartender passes one last item over—an object from home, tied somehow to one of their regrets, even just the simple regret that it hadn't come along for the Star Child's original journey to Folkmore because it'd be so useful now. This item may even be a weapon or magical item.
- New Star Children arrive in a dim, mostly empty bar.
- Kuma Lisa is the bartender, in fox or human form.
- Shades feed on Star Children's negative emotions, draining them, and taking the appearance of people they miss.
- Connection is how Star Children ward off shades. Talking about regrets makes one safe from shades.
- Star Children can also take up weapons and fight shades. It sends your shades into a frenzy.
- Star Children can turn into shades if they are fed on long enough. When others connect, it can de-shade them to try again.
- Those who form connections can see the exit and leave. They also get an item from home related to one of their regrets.
Content Warnings: Forced Relocation, Forced Body Modification, Forced Conversation/Revelations
Not every bottle in the bar is full of alcohol, a mixer, or even a far weirder spirit. They don't contain Folkmore's spirits at all; Kuma Lisa has skipped straight to bottling Star Children. Each bottle contains a single Star Child, and the label's design reflects what they might taste like, were they alcohol. Those inside experience a soft place to sit and reflect on their lives surrounded by thick glass walls that permit light through while distorting the view into indistinct shapes. There's no way to break the glass from within, and no way to tell which bottles are for bar service and which bottles contain Star Children from without. There's no way to signal someone outside to provide a direct rescue, but never fear: there is a simple way out.
Everyone inside the bottle has their Relic, even if they usually don't have it on their person. Sitting in this round or round-esque room with no exit, messages about missing someone begin to be exchanged—the first message each Star Child sends ghost-written (rather than willingly sent) about someone they miss, and signed 'the true thoughts and feelings of one [Star Child].' As advertised, the message is true. It also resonates with the recipient, some similarity between them and the missed person. Perhaps it can be the start of a beautiful friendship (or the world's most awkward exchange, but who's counting?). At least the Star Child behind this message is predisposed to like something about the recipient, however grouchy their exterior. If a conversation goes well, a system message will pop up asking each person if they would like to talk face-to-face. Should they both agree, they are poured out of their bottles to land safely on the garnish in a drink. The drink isn't massive. The Star Children are tiny!
That's right, these tiny Star Children float on a garnish-raft in a cocktail at the lonely Bar None above. They have a nice umbrella to provide them shade, and it's all set for a cozy conversation if they so wish. As these tiny Star Children talk, the drink around them will show related memories reflected on the surface. These reflections stick around until the conversation is over or someone, preferably someone with a bigger stomach, drinks it. Spills continue to reflect memories and cannot be mopped up so much as cleanly pushed into a fresh glass. A larger patron cannot drink the tiny Star Children. Kuma Lisa will stop anyone drinking from a glass with Star Children still on it.
Star Children who decide that 'no, they shall not discuss this matter after all' may attempt to flee, but being an inch or so high has its own problems. The bar is massive, the shades may become violent, and they are but a small, small person. Even those who can normally shapeshift or alter their size find they cannot make themselves any bigger! At the end of the day, whether with their original partner or another tiny Star Child, the only way to get bigger is to be the bigger person… and talk about those feelings.
Star Children who remain tiny by closing time, whether they stay locked in their glass prison or scattered around the bar, will be tucked back into bottles (as needed) and those bottles laid gently on their sides, which reorients the space inside to a tiny bedroom. Each bottle warms to the temperature to help its resident sleep comfortably. Larger patrons join them. Kuma Lisa shrinks any larger patrons who cannot leave and deposits them safely in bottles away from the shades. No one is missed, so there is no free rein in the bar overnight. Bedtime (bar) snacks will be provided, as well. The bartender takes good care of her patrons regardless of their size, with the only damper being that one remains in a bottle to hope for better results the next day. Star Children can take as much time as they need. Kuma Lisa is patient.
Not every bottle in the bar is full of alcohol, a mixer, or even a far weirder spirit. They don't contain Folkmore's spirits at all; Kuma Lisa has skipped straight to bottling Star Children. Each bottle contains a single Star Child, and the label's design reflects what they might taste like, were they alcohol. Those inside experience a soft place to sit and reflect on their lives surrounded by thick glass walls that permit light through while distorting the view into indistinct shapes. There's no way to break the glass from within, and no way to tell which bottles are for bar service and which bottles contain Star Children from without. There's no way to signal someone outside to provide a direct rescue, but never fear: there is a simple way out.
Everyone inside the bottle has their Relic, even if they usually don't have it on their person. Sitting in this round or round-esque room with no exit, messages about missing someone begin to be exchanged—the first message each Star Child sends ghost-written (rather than willingly sent) about someone they miss, and signed 'the true thoughts and feelings of one [Star Child].' As advertised, the message is true. It also resonates with the recipient, some similarity between them and the missed person. Perhaps it can be the start of a beautiful friendship (or the world's most awkward exchange, but who's counting?). At least the Star Child behind this message is predisposed to like something about the recipient, however grouchy their exterior. If a conversation goes well, a system message will pop up asking each person if they would like to talk face-to-face. Should they both agree, they are poured out of their bottles to land safely on the garnish in a drink. The drink isn't massive. The Star Children are tiny!
That's right, these tiny Star Children float on a garnish-raft in a cocktail at the lonely Bar None above. They have a nice umbrella to provide them shade, and it's all set for a cozy conversation if they so wish. As these tiny Star Children talk, the drink around them will show related memories reflected on the surface. These reflections stick around until the conversation is over or someone, preferably someone with a bigger stomach, drinks it. Spills continue to reflect memories and cannot be mopped up so much as cleanly pushed into a fresh glass. A larger patron cannot drink the tiny Star Children. Kuma Lisa will stop anyone drinking from a glass with Star Children still on it.
Star Children who decide that 'no, they shall not discuss this matter after all' may attempt to flee, but being an inch or so high has its own problems. The bar is massive, the shades may become violent, and they are but a small, small person. Even those who can normally shapeshift or alter their size find they cannot make themselves any bigger! At the end of the day, whether with their original partner or another tiny Star Child, the only way to get bigger is to be the bigger person… and talk about those feelings.
Star Children who remain tiny by closing time, whether they stay locked in their glass prison or scattered around the bar, will be tucked back into bottles (as needed) and those bottles laid gently on their sides, which reorients the space inside to a tiny bedroom. Each bottle warms to the temperature to help its resident sleep comfortably. Larger patrons join them. Kuma Lisa shrinks any larger patrons who cannot leave and deposits them safely in bottles away from the shades. No one is missed, so there is no free rein in the bar overnight. Bedtime (bar) snacks will be provided, as well. The bartender takes good care of her patrons regardless of their size, with the only damper being that one remains in a bottle to hope for better results the next day. Star Children can take as much time as they need. Kuma Lisa is patient.
- Star Children are transported into a bottle at Bar None with their relics.
- Ghost-written messages start conversations between bottled Star Children about people they miss.
- Star Children who agree to talk about it in person get poured out safely onto a garnish in a cocktail. The cocktail reflects related memories.
- Star Children can get up to chaos when tiny but cannot grow or escape. The only way to get big is to be the bigger person (and talk).
- Star Children, large and small, who cannot leave by closing time are returned (or kept) in bottles. Bottles are turned sideways, have bedrooms, and bar snacks are provided.
no subject
That... was in his? Or yours? Why?
[He doesn't understand. Will context help? Who knows, but he'd really like some more.]
no subject
You want me to get all psychological, it's probably mingling his terror at the idea of seein' anyone he cares about getting Krangified and the guilt he feels where you're concerned. You know. Two for one special, courtesy of Thirteen.
no subject
[That tracks, though it's hard to let the logic of it drag him away from the cliff's edge that is seeing his own greatest fear playing live in front of his own eyes. He presses his face in his hands for a moment, scrubbing at it as if that might drag the image away. April's fingers in the liquid does more than his flustering gesture ever would, but as he drags his hands down, he feels a little more put together. Just a nightmare. He's no stranger to this one.]
Sensei had them, too... we all did. It was the scariest thing that could happen to any of us. There was no way back, and it was worse than a death sentence. Every time we had a close call, or someone went out and never came back... for weeks after, we'd dream about them, or us, as one of those monsters. [He hesitates, and then adds more quietly,] And now we know for sure, they aren't monsters. They're like Raph. Trapped in their own bodies... forced to fight their loved ones... and we couldn't help any of them.
[They'd fought so many. They'd killed so many. It was supposed to be a mercy, but he feels more like an executioner.]
no subject
You still have 'em now? [...] Dumb question. Do you have them less?
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The midori is more than happy to indulge her curiosity, images shifting (while Casey's focus is on her) to a vision of him and his scouting team, that final day. One of them stumbles on some debris, an unlucky moment in an unlucky world, and fell right into a previously-unseen puddle of Krang goo. It latches at once, crawling, consuming. Their partner tries to pull them out, but they too are swallowed in what is swiftly transforming into a horde of eyes and claws and hunger. Casey flees alone, helpless, abandoning them to their doom, and a pair of mutated hands stretch out towards his back.]
I had them more after the invasion in your time, which is weird? It wasn't even that bad, compared to what I'm used to, and we won. But everything that came before just kinda compounded, and…
[Probably being torn away from home and watching the last of his family die did the extra damage that saving the world only partially offset. Yayy…]
It got better after Hunter moved in. I think just having somebody nearby makes a big difference.
[He's just not built to live alone, really.]
no subject
Way I hear it, your brain kinda goes into overdrive decompressin' once you've actually got space to think about things. I don't think it's weird. And there was probably a whole element of, y'know, how close things came to bein' bad. [And then, you know, having time to grieve his whole extended family. Makes perfect sense to her.]
I'm glad he helps. It's always better not to be alone with this kinda stuff.
no subject
[The good, and the bad. No time for fun and non-war-related learning or caring about aesthetics, no time to sit down and stop compartmentalizing a decade and a half of collected trauma and other mental issues. The good outweighs the bad, he'd never wish to go back to a life of war. But...]
I'm glad, too. It's still hard, when what's going on in my own head is sometimes scarier than aliens. But everything's so much better than it was.
no subject
[She's still gonna go after Thirteen with a steel chair at some point though. Probably.]
no subject
[He only has stories, but that was the vibe he got, hearing from everyone else.]
no subject
[Exhibit A, all around us.]
no subject
Well. It's not like he didn't understand what Donatello was going for. It's exactly what would solve so much anxiety about their being here. And if it wasn't the science at fault - hard to say if it was or not, since the research is in Donnie's hands or lost - then it was Thirteen who stopped it. That's... a whole other issue.]
Um... about the others. [Circling back, now that he's remembering.] You really got Donatello to agree to therapy?
no subject
Kickin' and screamin' maybe, but yeah. Turns out turnin' into a popsicle makes for great emotional blackmail.
no subject
Makes sense that he'd agree, yeah. But, uh, have... you done therapy before? Blackmail isn't really going to make somebody talk. Will he?
no subject
The only person who can do that is Donnie. You can lead a horse to water, blah blah blah. I got him to go. That's the best any of us can do, short of somehow takin' his free will. Which I wouldn't do even if I could.
no subject
Anyway.] As for Leo... we tried with me, Rue, and Peter before, and it didn't do any good. Might do better one on one. He's so good at pretending everything's okay, or turning the subject on somebody else, like whatever he's going through isn't as bad or important.
[Which is dumb, but if that's Leo's way of coping, they have to acknowledge it. It's also why Casey likely isn't the right person. When he tried, Leo knew exactly how to derail, and Casey has plenty he can shift gears towards. Plus, even if he's better about not just following Leo's lead like he's sensei, he's still very easy to, well, manipulate, even if it's usually done kindly.]
Maybe a stranger would do better, they wouldn't have that kind of ammo to use for deflecting. Or maybe like, one on one, with you or Rue. A group was too much.
no subject
A group can be intimidatin'. [...she remembers the talk they had after MJ.] I'll try talkin' to him. Maybe it'll help if he knows Donnie agreed to try, but I think he really would do better talkin' to anyone that's not us. He worries too much what we think of him.
no subject
[He sighs, weary and woeful. Why does it always have to be so complicated...?]
Wish this had been more obvious like a year and a half ago. Maybe if I'd been more of a stranger to him it could've helped.
[Though if Leo is from April's time and thus months in the future, maybe he was never a stranger to the others in this world.]
no subject
[If she can get them all into therapy...
...well, leading a horse, etc etc. She oddly thinks Leo would probably take to it the best but be the hardest to get there. Still, what's life without a few challenges.]
Be nice if we could just have like a group therapy session. It can double as an intervention for half the family.
[Yes, she's kidding. Mostly.]
no subject
[He's pretty sure it won't get them anywhere, and yeah, she's probably joking. BUT LIKE. MAYBE? If they get desperate...]
no subject
...I wonder how much we have to talk to pass Thirteen's trial.
no subject
Oh. Yeah! What the hell, we've been talking for ages. Why haven't we grown yet? Do we have to try to leave? Is anybody else here...?
[He stands up on their raft, pausing for a moment to balance carefully, then uses the tiniest grapple ever to zoom up to the top of their umbrellas, peering out across the bar to see if there are others trapped nearby. Thankfully he's small enough that two umbrellas hold his weight well enough, albeit with some wobbling.]
...Are they... just drinking? [He flips his mask down to zoom in.]
no subject
I mean, you're a repressed person who's being forced to talk by a magical fox and you're surrounded by booze. Seems like a fine option B to me.
no subject
Casey watches the other glass for a long moment, shamelessly lurking on whatever they've got going on. At least this angle doesn't let him snoop on their shared memories, so he's not being that rude about it. Okay, they stopped drinking. Now they're talking.]
Huh... I think they-
[And that's all he can manage to get out before he suddenly grows several inches, wobbles, and falls right off the umbrella, tumbling past the glass's edge and onto the counter below. By the time he makes an impact, he's growing big enough that the fall was much shorter than it would have been as his tinier self, and he lands on his ass with an oof! rather than a broken bone or something.]
Whoa! I think it worked? Uh, maybe it just took some time...
no subject
Uh oh--
[GLASS TIP. She goes sloshing across the bar a few inches before she suddenly grows, flails, and slides right off the bar and... onto a stool. Wobble.]
...totally mean to do that.
no subject
[ 10/10 success rate for both of them, hurray! Casey slides off the bar and onto a stool next to her, peering around.]
So... we did the thing, right? Can we finally leave? Because if not I'm gonna start knocking expensive-looking bottles off shelves.
[Tempted to do it anyway, but he doesn't want to get tossed back in a glass and minified again.]
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