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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
She's glad to be rid of the image of her younger self reflecting the same way she spends so much of her time now, replaced with a new scene... Ohio? She's not sure why that surprises her so much that she had spent part of her childhood in the US.
And it's stranger to see somebody like the infamous Black Widow, Agent Romanoff, long before she earned such a reputation. Just as awkward and gangly as the rest of the young girls had been, nothing visibly setting her apart as one day an Avenger. And Yelena, so small, not knowing at all that her family wasn't really her own.
"And so... your father. He gave you over. Did you ever see him again? Did he. Visit? Or was it simply over when the cover was no longer needed?" Alexei had been entertaining, charming in his own way, but-
And then Yelena speaks of a far worse evil of a father, because it was hard to imagine that a man that was capable of such unspeakable cruelty to so many innocent children was capable of having a family of his own. "Even his own daughter wasn't spared? What a monster."
no subject
"He went to prison, shortly after that. I am not sure exactly when or exactly why, but I did not see him again until we were breaking him out for information. I would not have seen him again anyways, it would not have been allowed. Too risky. Melina - she had been our mother, an older Widow - she was still working for the Red Room after, and I never saw her."
This shifts Yelena's expression, away from the careful blankness that came with her previous reply, to a possibly more troubling vicious sort of glee. "He was a monster. And I blew him up into a million bloody pieces. The only worthwhile thing I have ever done, probably. The most worthwhile thing I have ever done, for certain."
no subject
"Never realized any Widows had a chance to get older." Because as soon as you're no longer useful... She frowns. She can't imagine what it's like to put children that looked up to you as a parent through the same horrors. Yet she also knows through her own horrible life, stuck playing out the same sad patterns, all you know is all you really can know.
"Good. That's how people like that deserve to end up. I hate this idea that... somehow we're all meant to be above revenge. That people like that can destroy so many lives, order the deaths of so many more... and yet wanting them dead where they belong makes us the villains." A bitter edge to it.
no subject
Even if it lasts all of thirty seconds. "No, it is a very rare thing," Yelena agrees. "Generally we do not even make it to the age I am now. Well, the age I think I am now. But she is a scientist, by nature, and that kept her useful. She was a very large contributor, to creating the mind control. That bought her a good deal of privileges." If she says this matter of factly enough, will it actually make her unbothered? It has not worked yet, but she keeps trying.
Break is over, it seems. This prompts another scene change, that damned "meal," the sheer ridiculousness of food out on the table as if it were some normal gathering, opening vry pointedly it seems with the damned pig slumped over on the floor and Natasha's "that's enough." Yelena watches it for a second and then, also very pointedly, turns fully to sit facing away. She does not need to watch the replay of her own boiling over and loss of control. She is going to pretend it is not happening while she can, and reply to what Ava said, instead.
"Yes, I find that idea very stupid as well. How could it not be a good thing, that he could no longer do all that harm? This is one of the main issues I have with those hero types - either they would make the same decision and claim it is somehow more moral because it is not personal for them, or they would try some other means and ultimately let him keep doing harm. Prison would not have reformed or controlled him, not a man as manipulative as that. There was only one actual solution."
Soapbox aside... "Personally, I would have liked to kill him more up close, you know? And less quickly. But he was very slippery and very paranoid and had a million contingencies, and he had managed to survive being blown up before, so speed was necessary."
no subject
It's a grim reality. But no amount of mourning or saying it's unfair will bring back all those young girls now. It's the survivors like her and Yelena that have to shoulder that. She just didn't expect having to do so in an oversized cosmopolitan. A nod, "it makes sense that those aging out of the system would have to find another way to remain useful..." And Ava was very aware her own was going to run out when her health gave out. Being an experiment wasn't as lucrative as the scientist doing the poking.
"Mind control," Ava winces. "Nasty work." But she has no idea quite how nasty until watching the next scene play out, looking horrified as the pig slumps over. Not just for the sake of the pig, but the wider implications... and mostly for Yelena next to her, turned away and refusing to watch. Ava hesitates, before placing a gentle hand on Yelena's shoulder in an attempt at comfort.
"I always envisioned revenge as being more satisfying. Watching someone suffer even a fraction of the pain they inflicted upon you. It never feels quite enough, though. Does it. Even taking their life doesn't even bring yours back. But god, if nothing else it's worth knowing they can never do it again."
The liquid shows the bodies of fallen Hydra agents strewn about as alarms blare throughout the basement of a SHIELD facility, smashed equipment, Ava violently shoving one's head right through a cabinet.
no subject
Nasty work, indeed. That look of horror makes her want to pull a runner, but of course that's impossible right now. Ava's hand on her shoulder the next second does help, some sort of anchored feeling, lessening how much she feels like she needs to crawl out of her own skin. It's beyond her to say out loud, though, so she just drops her head to the side, cheek pressed to Ava's hand, hopes that conveys enough as a response and catches the next image out of her peripherals.
"No, it's never quite enough. Never can manage to make them feel everything we did." There is still some fury that rises up in her for that, even given the rest, "But yes, it is worth it to know they'll never do it again. Never do anything again, ideally. Breaking some furniture with their face is a little bit satisfying too, though. Better than nothing."
no subject
And the way Yelena tilts her head into her hand is such a strange, remarkable thing, that she turns it just barely to caress her cheek in her palm to further explore the feeling. Tender, she thinks. So strange to share between two women discussing revenge.
"And we're safe now. Maybe not in our own heads," she's afraid the memories will always haunt them. "But. You're not alone, Yelena."
no subject
She's alright with the lapse, once she's mostly through it, those are not small statements even if the words themselves are simple, and she is not sorry for the weight she gives them. She does, instinctively, hate the wobble she knows is going to be in her voice when she speaks again, but not enough to wait it out or put in the effort necessary to overpower it. It's fine. "Neither are you. I understand why you felt safest in solitude then, but I intend to - earn you feeling just as safe with me. You will not be put and left in a room like that again, not while I am breathing."
That was. Also a lot. Yelena exhales again. "I like what I get, for liking you, and you do not know the half of what I would probably let you get away with."
no subject
Because she does, does feel safe with Yelena, in knowing that for all their differences there's so much about them the same. A shared misery, but also hope for better if only they'd allow themselves to have it. She shakes her head, with a small sad laugh. "Somewhere between stealing your spoon, and killing your family, is where I'd guess the line is drawn." Which is a fairly broad spectrum, so no, she has no clue at all.
no subject
She'll come back to where the line is, in a few minutes.
no subject
Then Ava nods. "You can."
no subject
After a moment for settling into that, the lack of eye contact making it a bit easier, she speaks again, offering a confirmation and a sort of exchange. "You deserve better than the way they were treating you. And I..." Now, a hesitation. "Need to un-give up on thinking of myself as an actual person that matters. Again."
Moving right along. "Yes, that is about where the line is. Although if you end up feeling the need to teach Alexei a lesson here, since it does not stick... I understand. The humbling will not hurt him."
no subject
She doesn't respond, not verbally, just a shuddering as she slips in and out of focus, and a dampening of Yelena's shoulder with her face buried against it. The crying is completely silent, after years of practice. Until she lets out a very small sob, because there's nobody to hide it from anymore.
no subject
"It's okay. Make all the noise you like, Ava, it's okay. I have you." If she's tearing up again as well, oh well. No one but the two of them is ever going to know this happened, it's okay.
no subject
cw mention of murder
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She presses a wet, sad laugh against Yelena's throat, nodding in agreement.
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Once she has regained control over herself, she resumes rubbing Ava's back, having not even realized she stopped for a minute. "Fuckers. Every single one of them. Actually, maybe I would light them on fire. That seems better."
no subject
"At least they can't take this from me, too." If nothing else, the shared tragedy between them gives her something to latch onto.Even if she always thought being alone was solid self-defense tactic, she doesn't realize just how much it hurts until she's suddenly less alone.
no subject
"No, they cannot." Yelena makes a short, humorless sound that almost resembles laughter. "Even if they were here. They would very greatly regret even trying." Although it's clear from her tone that she would not mind at all what she would do in that scenario.
no subject
But seeing the source of it, play out into the sickeningly sweet drink, makes it a lot easier to unravel, and let go of. She sighs out, a bit exhausted emotionally. "Thank you. For... understanding."
no subject
She shakes her head, not inclined to do more digging into things today than she has to in this bizarre situation, and gives Ava a little squeeze before she continues, a little quieter. It's strange, for this to feel like an awkward thing to say after everything they've talked about here, but she has to push herself to get it out. "I'm glad... I'm glad that I could be of some comfort."
no subject
"I..." she opens and closes her mouth a couple times, trying to figure out the slightly uneasy feeling. "Didn't..." She pauses, looking a bit guilty. "Mean to make this. All about. My problems." Had she managed to provide Yelena any comfort in return? Or had she just pushed her into that position of ignoring her own pain to take care of Ava who couldn't-
She stares at the liquid, again, but there's no answers.
no subject
"No, you didn't. You didn't do that at all. That isn't -" Okay. Carefully, this time, with actual thought behind it. Not that thinking always saved her from saying something wrong, but... "I did not mean to imply that, if it sounded like I was implying that. Really, sincerely, I am - I do not think I am particularly naturally talented at being comforting, and obviously it was not something I was taught, and generally I have only tried to be with other Widows. So the opportunity... means a lot to me. Especially, well, a couple minutes ago I felt like I was being pretty needy, so."
no subject
"But you being good at it just reminded me, I think, that I barely no how to do the same in return."
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