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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.
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[He peers down at it briefly - ooze coloured, how lovely - and scoops up a handful to try it himself.]
Whoa, it's really sweet! Is this even alcohol? [Wait wait BURNS A BIT-] Nevermind, there it is.
[...Takes another handful, though. It is tasty.]
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[Surely getting drunk while one inch high in a bar full of creepy lookin shades is perfectly sensible!]
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[He's still drinking, though. If there was ever a time to rampage with a stolen sword and a molotov, it's now.]
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Eh, call it liquid courage. Maybe I'll stop bein' full of homicidal urges if I drink enough. [So is she, lmao. She'll stop before she gets too tipsy. Probably.]
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That's good, because our homicidal effectiveness might've downscaled with us.
[They can probably chew on someone's finger. She might have to eventually stop him before he drinks too much, he still has poor judgment on his tolerance.]
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[She does not want to get drunk at this time. Uh, not in that way, anyway. Sssip. Don't worry, if he looks like he's getting tipsy she'll stop him. Being drunk and tiny is very much not the way to go here.]
So assumin' we have to talk. Which... no offense, is kinda dumb, because I'm pretty sure you hear all my talkin' lately already. [She doesn't exactly hold back, Thirteen, what is this. (She doesn't think she does?)]
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[He'd rather not get swallowed, that's for sure, even if he could take whoever it is down with him.
He settles back onto the little floaty raft, flopping onto his back with his knees tucked up so he doesn't dip into the Midori or whatever. He's quiet for a moment, besides an indecisive noise as he mulls over their options.
...Well, the pop-up to bring him here had been triggered by it, so...]
Did he say it before? Master Splinter... the whole "this isn't about you".
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First time I remember him sayin' it was when Raph got taken by the Krang.
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Maybe it started after the invasion. I heard it come up here and there... it was one of the last things sensei ever said to me.
["It's not about me"... even to save himself, or to give a kid hope that they could go together, it was too much.]
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But leadership changed and I don't think Leo wanted the job, not really. He was messin' around, Raph was gettin' stressed. Makes sense the invasion is when it got used to smack him upside the head.
[She's not saying Leo didn't deserve to be taken down a peg, because he did need to take things seriously. But the invasion was overkill. Unfair. And--]
...man. I'm just thinkin' how he would've felt in your timeline. But you'd know that way better than I would.
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Sensei didn't really talk about it... not when he thought I was listening, at least. Considering how Leo still blames himself for what happened in the new timeline where we won, though, he must have felt so much worse, thinking he caused the end of the world. I wasn't there for the start of it [obviously] But by the time I was old enough to understand the state of the world, it was real grim and not getting any better.
[Just like Leo, though, he was great at putting up a strong front and making everyone (or almost everyone) think he was fine.]
He was... a really good leader. He knew where to assign people, when to charge and when to back off, where to make sacrifices. His plans kept us alive way longer than we should've been, and he worked with everyone to make them better. And the way he talked to people... he knew just what to say, to make you feel strong. [His voice softens, going quiet for a moment and folding his arms behind his head.] ...Strong, but not invincible. If you took unreasonable risks, put yourself or other people in danger, he really let you have it. He thought everyone was his responsibility... Uncle Raph once said he was the one with the "Raph chasm" now.
[Looking back, he probably thought every life that was snuffed out after the invasion was on his hands, so it was also on him to keep them alive. What a terrible burden that no one could take away from him. But Casey knows exactly where he got the "buckle down and step up" attitude he'd thrown at Leo in the subway tunnel. Sensei got it from Raph, he got a slice of it from both of them, but in his timeline Master Leonardo had definitely taken over as chief of The Lecture.]
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Casey.
[Thirteen just gets ruder and ruder, she thinks. Because the surface of their drink is playing bits of Casey's memories out right beneath them. She thinks it was better when it was just midori, but she can't help looking at them anyway.]
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[Casey rolls and scoots over to peer into the liquid, spotting what she sees. Sure enough, there it is: scattered bits and pieces, following what he'd been sharing.
Sensei standing over a table with a map spread out, surrounded by the resistance leadership, tapping several spots as he assigned various teams to their next mission. Everyone is serious, their eyes fixed on him.
Leonardo in front of a crowd, prepped for battle. It's almost like that moment in New York before they retaliated against the Krang: Leo in his element, standing tall and confident, working with his team to boost their own confidence and point them in the right direction, helping them to be brave.
Master Leonardo lecturing a wounded group after a mission, Casey included- he looks so much like Raph in the moment, angry, but scared for what was nearly lost.
A young Casey catching Master Leonardo alone in a corner of a storage room, scraping at his eyes and trying to smile, pretending like he hadn't hidden himself away to cry.
That's the one Casey reaches out for, his fingers brushing over the surface. It causes ripples, but the image doesn't disappear, merely wobbles as Leo accepts a hug from his little self. He remembers that day.]
Are we... supposed to tell stories?
[Instructions unclear, Thirteen...!!]
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[She's not going far! Just vaulting next door to, uh. Steal this cocktail's little umbrella and bring it back, and now she's going to plant it alongside the other one to cover more of the glass from anyone who looks down at them.] Private showings only.
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A+ idea, thanks for that. [It'll be good for both of them.] I guess this is a good thing to talk about, at this point.
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[So there. Once the umbrella is sturdy enough she flumps back down again crisscross to peer over the side of the drink, watching the last of the memories flicker out of existence.]
He was real good at it, wasn't he?
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He was. Probably better than he ever thought. [Considering Leo's fears and doubts in the current timeline, it's likely even sensei had his moments where he doubted his abilities. Especially considering how many people died on his watch.] It must've been so hard on him, every single day. The more we lost, the more he pushed himself to do better. I dunno if he ever realized that we only made it as long as we did because he never gave up. Never let us give up.
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Leo's always been good at seein' the flaws. Not so much on the better things. [If he blamed himself, it was probably the least he thought he could do, helping them all limp along. He wouldn't have seen it as giving people those extra years of life.] An' he's always had a self-sacrificial streak. [But, you know. Until the invasion, it was always smaller things. Nothing she'd ever really paid attention to, until the invasion had made the pattern stand out so very starkly.
The images ripple and change to show April and Splinter listening in to Leo on the comms at the end, dead silence, not saying a word. The Sister laughing at them. Splinter dropping like a string-cut puppet. She pulls back from the surface and makes a face.]
Didn't need to be reminded, actually.
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no, it's not about m-
Oh god, he's even doing it now. Hastily he looks away from the memory.]
And people like to say he has such an ego... so much of it is just a front.
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--which means the surface probably shifts to a scene of them both hanging out under her bed and she pulls back hastily, sending her fingers splashing through it. That's Leo's privacy she's protecting.]
He was still well loved in the future, though, right? All of us. An' you.
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Mm... he was. We all were. I hope he remembered that, as long as he could. I... wish I could've told him again, right before the end. Him and Master Michelangelo. Feels like we didn't say it enough. There was never enough time.
[Life was just... hard, all the time. Sometimes they were too tired for words, sometimes all you could do was flop against your family, huddle together, and try to forget the hard parts. But the midori is all too happy to give him that visual, something gentler: all of them gathered up into a big turtle pile, exhausted and wounded and falling apart at the seams, but still able to show they were a family that loved.]
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You ever talk about the invasion with our Leo? [She has vague recollection she's asked something like this in the past, but she can't be sure. She certainly isn't sure of what the answer could have been.]
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He makes a wobbly hand gesture, noncommittal.]
I tried a couple of times. It doesn't really go well, and I don't think he wants to. Can't blame him for that.
[Between the guilt of accidentally kicking it off and the trauma of the prison dimension and what happened with Raph, Casey definitely can't blame him. If it was the worst day of his life instead of just business-as-usual, he'd have a lot more trouble talking about it, too.]
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I'm startin' to think it really needs to be a conversation we have. Outside of dreams and all. [Because she tried and it went around in circles.] He's carryin' that with him. Donnie's...
[And of course while she rambles, the images change--one of Leo and April on the bridge of the Technodrome, which makes no great sense, and Leo being attacked by an infected Casey Jones Jr. And it switches fast after that to one of Donnie wrapping a blanket around her shoulders while they're both crammed down the side of her bed and trying to create purple sparks with his fingers, his expression in full frustrated panic.]
Donnie's terrified. You know? He thinks Mikey is going to turn to dust in an attempt to get back to us. That's why he rushed. That boy's livin' one long anxiety attack. He died that way.
I got him to agree to therapy. [Easy, when your best friend's health is linked to your fear.] D'you think Leo would be better off talkin' to us or a complete stranger?
[Man, she hasn't even started on Raph yet. But Raph at least didn't throw his life away. That was an accident. He just didn't tell them.]
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Anything else he might have said is completely lost when he sees the vision of April and Leo on the Technodrome (what?) and himself, as a Krang zombie. He goes stock-still, frozen in place with his eyes widening in horror. Even as the image quickly shifts to her and Donnie, something awkward and obviously personal and not related to the prior memory, he keeps staring at the space where it was.]
...Wh-what?
[She said something else, he knows she did. But all he can hear is white noise. That was... he was...]
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