ioculus | //TESTDRIVE15.EXE

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!test drive

//TESTDRIVE15.EXE

//testdrive15.EXE

The clock strikes twelve. The gong of the grandfather clock in the foyer tolls out the time in slightly unnecessarily obnoxious loud noises. The ambiance of this old mansion demands respect, care, awe --

Okay, no, wait, why are you even in this stupid dusty house?

No reasons are forthcoming, because everyone knows that people just end up in places like this sometimes. That's just how the narrative device works. The hows and the whys don't matter -- all that matters is that you're all here, so you'd better get cracking and start exploring, because it's not like you can leave yet.

Or ever, maybe.

Good day, sirs and madams. Might I interest you in a nice glass of blood...y mary?

//SCENARIOS.EXE

PHASE I

[ 0215 ] All you see is white. The crash of thunder hits your ears next, punctuated by the piercing pitch of white noise in the background. After a few blinks, your vision comes back to you. Oh good, glad that you’ve joined us in the land of the living. Unlike the nondescript corpse at your feet – it looks like… a butler? Oh dear. You’ve already killed Murder Suspect Number One in most situations. How terribly ironic.

After all, who could’ve killed him but you? You might not remember, but there is definitely a murder weapon in your hand. It’s probably a knife or a poisoned glass of wine or-

Wait, is that a toaster? A full on toaster? Or maybe it’s a taser. Maybe you bludgeoned this poor guy with an entire encyclopedia. Either way, it looks like your murder weapon is a little unconventional, whether it’s a stranger’s pair of underwear or a hair curler. Are you really supposed to believe you committed a murder with these? (Yes.)

That said in the next second the double doors will be opening up. It’s pretty clear you’re not alone. Think quick!

PHASE II

[ 0600 ] Exploring more around the compound, you’ll find plenty of those tall, oil portraits of people hung around the walls. When you start walking, they’re all strangers. However by the time that you feel like you’re wandering around for an hour, two hours, they might start looking a little bit more… familiar? Mom? Is that you?

You don’t have time to think about that, though. You were clearly framed! You don't’ have a motive for killing some random NPC –

“Or do you?” a portrait will ask.

Oh. Holy shit. Well it’d just be rude to leave, right? Whether you stick around for conversation or not, you’ll find that was just the beginning. The portraits are going to start grilling you. Welcome to CERES Central’s Roast of You. What was your motive? Don’t you know you should respect the servants? How would you feel if you were caught like that? Careful turning your back on them though, because if you ignore them for too long, the subjects in the portraits may just reach out and snatch you to join them in their portrait world.

At that point, the only way to get out is to swap places with some other poor, unsuspecting soul wandering around.

PHASE III

[ 1045 ] You know what makes me hungry? Murder.

What’s the point of making a mansion this big anyway? Who’s even here? Either way, whether you’re looking for the kitchen to make a fine post-homicide sandwich or just trying to escape, you’ll eventually make it to a stairwell. The most finicky stairwell ever. Is that a trail of bloody footprints leading up the steps? What? No. Stop it, just climb.

Or well – don’t climb too quickly now. The staircases apparently have a mind of their own, swapping from one doorway to another. You definitely haven’t seen this before. It would seem that these stairs might even be interested in keeping you in a circle forever, no concern for whether or not you’re hungry or, god forbid, need to use the restroom.

However the portraits in the stairwell will provide a little tip: “The stairs are gossips, you know. Why don’t you tell us a little something about yourself? Make it good!”

Weirdly enough, sound advice – that is, if you’re interested in shouting out your most embarrassing secrets into the void so a mansion can keep talking shit about you. Oh well. Your alternative is just being a stair golem. There are worse fates.

PHASE IV

[ 1430 ] This hall is oddly quiet.

Well, until you hear it – the soft sniffles coming from down the hall, the broken sobs. It sounds like someone’s crying. For one reason or another, your footsteps take you forward – there’s really no point in going back now after all, right? Yet as you continue to walk… walk… walk… the crying becomes louder and louder. More desperate, more despaired. In time, it’s clear that this person is wailing, screaming, “How could this happen?!”

Within the span of a breath, all the lights in the hallway go out, leaving you in pitch black.

It occurs to you then that you hear a second set of steps. When did you stop walking? A cold chill runs down your spine and you find yourself running then, despite the fact that it feels like this pitch black hallway goes on forever. The other footsteps pick up, remind you that you’re not alone. No, certainly not.

Best hope that you find some assistance soon – otherwise it looks like the Butler Association is going to ignite some righteous vigilante justice on your ass.

BONUS

[ why o'clock ] You’re in the grand ballroom now, ready to present your case. Armed with a cob pipe (don’t smoke inside, it’s rude), a detective hat, and a single spotlight aimed right at you, you now have to explain how you came to the conclusion about the True Killer that is Obviously Not You. Rather, it’ll just be the character of whoever tags into this prompt – yes, you are suddenly so very sure that they’re the ones who are the ultimate mastermind of this entire game and… you’re just going to have to bullshit the reason why even if you know virtually nothing about them. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, you know?

Sorry about that.

Should you actually provide enough of a compelling case or they take pity on you, having a villainous breakdown for the sake of the plot, you’ll be awarded with a coupon that’ll give you three free scoops at your local ice cream parlor! (Note: you must buy the first two scoops in order to qualify.) Of course, if you’re not able to nail them down as the killer, you are obviously the killer yourself (citation needed).

From there, you’ll be dragged off to face your punishment: for six grueling hours you will be tickled mercilessly.

[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ]

//RUN.EXE

Welcome to Cerealia's fifteenth Test Drive Meme. For your convenience, we have compiled a post detailing everyone's arrival experience and a FAQ that should explain everything in more detail. Please read them thoroughly before playing. Thank you!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Chihiro hadn't managed to turn her head when she heard someone speak, feeling it was as likely another portrait had decided to join in on the commentary they seemed to favour. (How was it the stairs preferred gossip, again?) It wasn't until he'd taken his flying leap from the folding stairs onto the ones going for the world's most awkward barrel roll that she saw him; even then, Chihiro wasn't quite sure what she was seeing.

She was still not fully looking at him when he mentioned how unsurprised he was. Instead, she was hooking a leg over the rail and shifting her deathgrip until she was fairly sure she'd survive a roll like this if necessary. Which is when she looked at her erstwhile companion, stubble, dual swords, complete lack of surprise in his expression, and one sad piece of lettuce leaning away from the sandwich clutched in his hand. Even as she's watching, it falls free, sailing smoothly past to land on the stairs in a sad, green plop.

Then it slid down a stair.

And another.

Caught up in the same rotation, only taking it as aleafly as it could. ]

Don't ghosts &mdash ngh — float?

[ Chihiro had no idea what he was talking about in particular, considering the only victim any of the portraits seemed interested in was the poor unfortunate, unremarkable somebody who'd been dead in a room she'd left behind ages ago. The portrait who'd been rating her earlier had changed out their signs: it now read, ""7.5/10 for Style. Is that a BLT?" ]

Um... how long have you been stuck on the stairs, sir?

[ All asked as she finally swings herself over the side of the railing to where it becomes easier to keep moving and likewise keep balanced while the stairs continue their ill-fated roll. She has an eye out for any other staircase moving in closer. For the moment, none are in what she'd consider jumping range, but that might change.

She has no idea if houses feel boredom. Then again, she has yet to meet a sentient house, but considering what else is out there, and the chattiness of the portraits on the walls, it might be possible. Chihiro was still more determined to get out of the weird hall-stairs than figure out the potential nuances to the reasoning behind this chaos. ]

[ the sad, green plop is actually more pressing than the slow rotation of this alien staircase, and kei has to take a moment to morph his expression from curious interest to a mournful 'o' as he stretches a hand out towards his wayward piece of veggie. his lettuce...! everyone knows that a sandwich has to have a good proportion of lettuce...! the house has claimed another victim, and kei is to suffer for it. if he had the capability of crying just a single tear, this would have been a good moment for it.

but ultimately, the twenty-year-old man's pouting over his lost lettuce is interrupted by the little girl's quiet confusion. actually, shouldn't he be helping her...? the trained part of kei, otherwise known as the not-stupid part of kei that had been beaten into him to keep him from being a total mess outside of the battlefield, is singing out something that sounds vaguely like 'gotta help the civilian!!', but the less trained, far more ten-year-old part of kei just briefly wonders if civilian-ship included things like small ghost girls. are they in the same category? is he obligated to help a ghost? and that-- is actually a very good question. he blinks, and takes a thoughtful bite of his sandwich. the lettuce crunches noisily as he thinks, or attempts to think, which, in the end, pretty much amounts to the same thing. ]

Hmm... I don't know. Do you? [ though clinging off of a rotating railing, in kei's book, is not strictly floating. he consults his knowledge of horror games that he'd played (read: been forced to play). did that blond chick in that museum game float? what about that camera chick from that photo-taking game? why were all ghosts chicks, anyway? ] Oh, uh, I just got here, actually. It seems fun. What are you trying to do, exactly?

[ climb up? down? ... do ghosts even need to climb stairs? maybe he should go back and ask izumi. just then, his eye catches the flip of a rating sign, just off to the side, and his interested expression quickly morphs into that of unadulterated surprise. even five-year-olds would have a harder time looking more genuinely surprised than kei. ]

Why didn't I get a full score? [ ... his voice drops in suspicion, as he furtively hides his snack behind his back-- ] And how do they know I have a BLT?

[ Does she what? Chihiro blinks, taking a step forward and holding her arms out from her sides to keep balanced. She purses her lips, looking around for that ephemeral idea of another stair, anything less likely to go belly up. When she processes what he means, her head whips back around, hair swinging out beyond the arc of her movement. ]

I'm not a ghost! I'm not a spirit, either! I'm alive, and human, and I have a name. It's Chihiro.

[ Granted, a name alone didn't guarantee anything, but it was still liberating to be able to freely remember and speak that name and feel its relation to her. That it was also a means of introduction is secondary. She wasn't pouting, but she was definitely giving Kei and odd look. ]

I'm trying to get out of here, but the stairs keep moving away from the doors, or the doors won't open.

[ She's not sure what to make of his surprise, or what he starts talking about after. Chihiro is starting to have a sneaking suspicion he might not fully be here, mentally, and while she wouldn't blame anyone for that, it's not all that helpful in the present stair issue. Then again, his balance was fine, so even if his head was halfway in the clouds, he could at least manage where he was walking.

Did he need even more help than she did? She wasn't sure, but it was probably better to stick together with someone who spoke and wasn't nailed to the wall, even if he was a little loopy.

She glanced at the hand behind his back, keeping his sandwich safe.

Or maybe he was just delirious in his hunger. ]

What's your name, sir?

[ She doesn't catch sight of the scorecard holding portrait, let alone when it flips another card that says, "My eyes have eyes. 9.82/10 for Expressing Surprise. 3/10 for Expressing Paranoia." What she does see is another thin, rickety staircase moving at an angle toward them from further down the stairs.

She doesn't pause to do more than calculate if she can make that angle leap or not. Confident that she can at least try, and that she must try, she instead reaches out and makes a scooping motion at Kei, encouraging him to come her way. Or that way. ]

Come on, we've got to go now!

[ If all else fails, she'll dart forward to try and claim a sleeve or a hand or whatever she can reach and pull him diagonally toward the rickety stairs leading up to an equally rickety landing. But those stairs aren't rolling!

They're mostly just rotting, but that's probably fine, it's not like they'll be doing more than leaping down on them (potentially) and hoping not to fall through! ]

[ really, she seemed liked a small, relatively quiet pip-squeak of a baby ghost, but in actuality, kei wonders if she's pretty talkative. there was a moment when she'd stared at him like he had seven heads and a horse tail, and he'd almost been afraid that she was going to start throwing up blood like in Shikoku, but it turns our she'd just been saving her breath. now that she's talking, he can't help but compare her to one of those small, colourful birds that had the attention spans of... well... small, colourful, birds. of course, there's the irony in that kei, of all people, is contemplating someone else's attention span, considering it took three seconds of thought to all but forget about the shock of having his BLT discovered.

still though, the way she said her name, like she's stating something irrefutably true and precious to her -- maybe she's used to people not calling her by name? maybe she was bullied before she became a ghost? wait, is she like hanako-chan? a quick glance around shows no toilets in the near vicinity, but kei's 3/10 for showing paranoia hasn't failed him yet. ]

Chihiro-chan, huh. [ might as well call her something, little girl ghost who says that she's not a ghost, ] You can call me Tachikawa. Ah, Tachikawa-san, or Tachikawa-kun if you happen to be a hundred years old. [ you never know. kei certainly doesn't. but before he can take another bite out of his sandwich in even more thought (tm), he hears, rather than sees, the approaching creak of another set of stairs, even before the little ghost girl starts flapping her hands and darting at him, and woah, woah-- ]

Oi, just saying, my brains aren't all that tast-- [ woooooah, she just grabbed his sleeve, didn't she?! so she's really not a ghost? kei has like half a second to process this amazing revelation before he's bodily dragged, or he lets himself be bodily dragged, across the belly-up staircase to the other approaching one.

look, kei isn't the most observant dude on a good day, but even he can see that that staricase is Bad News. it looks rotten! still rotting, even! can it hold his weight? both their weights? ] H-hang on, Chihiro-chan, can't we reth--

[ nope, says the staircase beneath them with finality. the traitorous thing goes bump, speeds up its rotation for half a second, and that's all it takes for them both to go head over heels over the side of the railings. it's only testimony to general manager shinoda's training that kei even has the wits about him to grab at the not-ghost girl (she's not a ghost so she's a civilian! protect the civilian!) and curl himself around her in the form of the world's most unreliable chuuni meatshield just before they hit the surface of the other staircase-- and very predictable, go right through the rotten wood. a veritable rainfall of splinters follow them on the way down, escorts to a fall that ends as predictably as any other.

the ensuing thump of kei's back hitting the ground is more for show than anything else, considering he's in an indestructible trion body rather than his own flesh-and-blood one, but he still very much feels that impact, thank you very much. as if a giant fuck you is in order, his rumination of where all this went wrong is cut short when the staircase above spits a plank at his face.

a groan. ]

Chihiro-chan, please tell me you didn't turn into a ghost just now. Being haunted by a little girl isn't going to do much for my reputation, you know.

[ at least he tried to cushion her fall??? kind of??? please don't be dead. ]

[ It had seemed like a more beneficial idea than staying where they were. That they'd had less of a choice once she had them moving and the stairs had encouraged them on their way was almost irrelevant, but not quite. Chihiro feels like if she hadn't been trying to evade moving staircase disasters with an adult at least twice her size, the rotting wood might have been able to support her long enough to get to the landing.

Or it might not have, but not trying hadn't been safer. Right? If she'd been the sort to justify poorly conceived of actions to an unseen audience, she might have pointed out that hitting the rotten wood had slowed down their ultimate descent to the ground.

Since she didn't think that way, what flashed through her mind was along the lines of we're still breathing and we made it and that was a bad idea, all tangled up in a concern for not only herself, but Tachikawa-san.

She tries to respond, but the dust and sawdust disturbed by the collapse of the rickety stairs prevented her from doing more than coughing once she could pull air into her lungs. The impact itself, softened as it was by another living body (so to speak), had left her wide eyed and breathless. Now she was watery eyed and squirming, aiming to get off her inadvertent protector to see if he was okay.

Talking was good. It was not talking that was more worrisome, something she's still attempting to do when she rolls off to find the ground and claps a hand over her mouth, still coughing. When sucking in a wheezing gasp of air simply makes her eyes water again, she elects to use her other hand to give him a thumbs up and hopes he'll understand what she means. It's only after her coughing fit dies down that she can swallow and manage speaking in any sensible manner. ]

I'm fine, Tachikawa-san, but are you okay? I'm sorry! I thought those stairs were sturdier than they were.

[ Far, far above them, quite difficult to make out, a singular portrait held up a score card to make Kei's heart flutter. "10/10 for Falling in Style." There's even a small heart drawn in next to it.

Meanwhile, down on the splinter, dust, sawdust, and plank ridden floor, very few provided stairwells deigned to touch down on their level. The one they'd crashed down through was wobbling in place, making it seem like a better idea to get out from under its wobbling, broken mass than see if it would truly all come falling down, or if even in pieces it would persevere in its floating, shifting paradigm.

To their left, or Kei's left and Chihiro's right, one set of stairs has taken to a low sweep ending in a muffled thud as it settles down for the moment. It's a set of smooth stone stairs, leading up to a landing with no visible door. A closer portrait was adjusting its glasses as it peered out at them and clucked its tongue. "No one has respect for woodcrafting these days," it said, only to be met with a shoe flying over and smacking its lower frame, the culprit a painting on a facing wall in the corner.

"Shut up! Shut up! Like you've ever appreciated woodcrafting a day in your life!"

Quite terribly offended, the portrait figure crossed their arms over their chest and turned away from the room at large, showing the back of their head as they muttered something about "portrait figures these days." ]

I think we need to get moving again, Tachikawa-san. [ A nervous glance upward, and then she's straightening her shoulders and getting to her feet. Pulling her shirt down and dusting off her front, she holds out a hand to Kei. She, uh. May not actually be able to pull him up to his feet without throwing the whole of her weight backward if he accepts this particular idea, but by golly, she'll try to make it work. (And probably end up on her rear.) ] Can you stand?

[ oh. okay. so. not dead! not dead is good. not dead is very good. kei may be missing a whole lot of empathy points (and, indeed, points in a whole lot of other skillsets), but you'd have to be a real asshole to not feel relieved when a little girl civilian isn't dead, okay. so this is him, feeling very relieved, even as three seconds later that relief fades away into something perplexed as he wonders why the little girl's coughing, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish out of water. oh. wait. dust. sawdust. broken bits of wood in the air-- okay, yes, he understands now. flesh-and-blood bodies, after all, need to breathe and stuff to make things happen, yes, he understands that. that could've very well been him, he thinks with some odd kind of relief as he stares up at the hole in the rotted staircase, light filtering through like a demented mimicry of heaven.

there's not much he can do to help a little girl who's choking on sawdust, though, especially since he didn't exactly get stellar grades on his cpr -- but at some point he does sit up and gingerly attempt to pat the little girl on the back. like, buck up, small child, eating a little dust hasn't killed anyone, right? right??? oh god, is she crying? those are tears, right? oh god, what is he supposed to do with a crying little girl, they didn't cover this in field training?? the look of horror must've been extremely apparent on his face, because the little girl now looks very, very worried, and that in turn makes him very, very worried in a way that a twenty-year-old man shouldn't be. he does attempt to open his mouth and find some kind of a placative, trying to channel some of their more... well, less him operatives, but at least he's saved from having to do that when the little girl flashes him the universal gesture for 'yep, i'm most certainly not choking on sawdust, but thank you very much for worrying', which in turn means that kei's completely out of the doghouse, phew.

he'd say something about the little girl's worry, actually. something about how he's not really in a flesh-and-blood body, so no worries, unless he's like re-entering the earth's atmosphere from a free fall or something he should be okay -- probably -- but that lack of attention span strikes again when!! when!!!! a flash of a score card from up above the rickety heavens steals his heart away.

the ensuing, ] Hell yeah...! [ followed by a mini-fist pump pretty much defines kei's character, really, like if i had to app him to a game, that'd be his entire personality section right there. full score! that's more like it! it may bear noting that kei is the type of person who'd feel pleased if he got a full score in just about anything, from having the best stubble to being the biggest chuuni, man, it doesn't matter what it is as long as he's the best.

(of the two in this thread, between the twenty-year-old man or the little girl, the little girl's probably the more mature one lbr) ]

-- ah, right. Yeah, gotta keep going and all that. You know, that was really gutsy of you, [ is what he says as he, after glancing with bemusement at the little girl's outstretched hands, reaches out with his own gloved one and allows her to 'pull' him up, and, uh, tug at her too so that she doesn't end up on her ass. ] Chihiro-chan.

[ and also those two portraits are so married. kei dusts himself off meticulously, despite not really needing to, and with wood crunching underneath his boots, he gently tugs the little girl after him. uh. to some direction. that direction. at least out from underneath that staircase, because he sure doesn't want another plank of wood spat at his face... conversationally: ] So you sure you didn't escape from the circus?

[ lame joke but eh... oh that stone staircase looks good. ]

[ Maturity is overrated, except when having some is what you depend on for survival, but hey. Chihiro hasn't spent much time reflecting on how and why she's changed. It's just happened???

Tachikawa-san appears to be recovered from his hunger-insanity (if that's what it was), and he's survived bearing the brunt of their fall. There's a degree of responsibility she continues to feel for that, but then he's fist-pumping and she has no idea what's going through his head once again.

Which is fine, she doesn't need to, they just need to keep moving. She can tell he's playing along with her having helped him up, but she doesn't mind, considering it wasn't her best thought offer, and he made it work out. That was more important in the approaching ten minute relationship they've had, so when he's tugging her toward the stone stairs, she follows along, taking an extra hopping step forward to match his stride. ]

Don't people usually run away to the circus?

[ At least someone in primary school made a claim like that before. The stone staircase stays in place, and stays whole, even as the married portraits kept up an argument in the background. It's yet another portrait hanging over where the stone landing of this staircase that talks to them directly; it appears to be a light chocolate coloured hunting dog wearing a tweed suit. The dog tips its head to the side, ears flopping over in a charming manner. One paw lifts up from the bottom portion of the frame to bring a corncob pipe to the dog's mouth. It blows into the pipe in an awkward fashion. Coloured bubbles froth forward, lazily floating up and out of the frame's confines. ]

"I say, good pups, are you planning on chasing tails all day long? The trick to pinning these stairs down is sharing what your hearts howl over on moonless nights."

[ Don't mind Chihiro's staring at this portrait in particular. It's, uh, not the oddest individual she's spoken with, but... ]

... I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand what you mean.

[ Looking sideways to Tachikawa to see if he, instead, has an idea. ??? ]