spacehorses | Test Drive Meme

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Test Drive Meme

Did you want to test your characters? Do you want something that you can use for an RP sample without digging up an old thread? Well, here you have it. Pick one or multiple prompts below or, if you want, make a prompt of your own. Just be sure to tag around so that everyone gets plenty of exposure.

1: Explosions in space! Space Bandits attacked the space colony everyone was visiting! Dozens of fighters and mobile armors fly through space, locked in deadly combat. Are you among those battling to save lives? Or are you watching from the windows, praying everything will be safe?

2: Explosions underground! You were part of a trading party, exchanging supplies with an underground penal colony when alien animals burrowed through the walls and started assaulting convict and Confederation member alike! What are you going to do?

3: Explosions over the city! The Colosseum is shooting off fireworks as part of a concert or a sporting event! Are you watching in the crowd, a main attraction, or watching the bright colors from the city?

4: Explosions on an asteroid! You're either observing, guarding, or mining an asteroid! It's rather dull, save for the explosions that rock the ground under your feet. It looks like it'll continue to be just as slow, but... was that something moving in the shadows there?

5: Explosions on a space station! As you approached a research station, you receive a distress signal! Fire's broken out and their systems aren't up to spec! Can you do anything? Are you a part of a scouting crew or out for a joyride in your new yacht? And is this an accident, or something more sinister?

6: Explosions at the gym! Explosive competition! Swimming, weightlifting, running, boxing, someone has just challenged you! Whether they know it or not, you're going to do your best to show them up.

7: Explosions in the past! A star has died! The Fleet is flying through the nebula it left behind, with swirls of beauty as far as the eye can see. If you're the type, you can watch it all you like.

8: Explosions on the road! Most of the traffic on the Teuberg is computer controlled, but some young showoff took his off the grid and promptly caused a wreck! Traffic has been backed up for almost half an hour now, with no way out for you and the people in your vehicle. Are you close enough to see if anyone needs help? Or are you just stuck with people who are as late for their appointments as you are?

9: Explosions in the marketplace! Explosive bargains! You're in a trading hub, surrounded by stalls of all kinds selling every type of merchandise you can imagine! Luckily, you've got enough money to handle a few purchases here. Will you buy one of those daggers on display? An incense burner? Some alien fruit? Or maybe you're on the run from the corrupt guards? Or perhaps you're the one doing the chasing, did someone just steal your wallet?

10: Explosions in your mind! The explosive inspiration that drives this world! Make up your own prompt!

Threaded | Flat

Though it was the combat missions that made the Garde pilots famous, Nagate was pretty used to resource gathering missions, too. Ships like the Cydonia needed a lot to keep them going -- ice, metals, ore -- and the Tsugumori's immense size and delicate handling made it a natural choice for dealing with unstable asteroids.

"Hey," he called out over the common channel, "You about done on this side? Thought I saw something moving on the other end..."

[Starting with 4, open to other scenarios]

[You have entered each and every strength-based competition, because you are a STRONG troll, and you are ready to prove it. STRONGly.

Well. Maybe not every strength-based one. You have declined to box, because you are under the impression that the competitions are not supposed to be fatal.

Will anyone attempt to match your STRENGTH in these trials?]

Edited 2014-01-14 01:49 (UTC)

( but i'm a bit lazy so:

7: the view outside is — something he's got complex feelings about, in all honesty. it reminds him of memories as dark as the space through which they travel, but then things like this happen: brightness and beauty in the unexpected. if he normally treats the view outside as something that might scald him, there's an almost grudging fascination now, all big round eyes and surprised intake of breath as he lingers to watch.

9: oz has always got a bit excitable about money, you see; he's a child of nobility and has rarely had to concern himself with something like money. so it's something of an exciting experience, still fairly novel in its own ways, and the wide-eyed, absolutely delighted look he gives everything (and everyone) in the market place is probably a giveaway. you may run into him standing and staring at something, heedless of foot traffic, or you may almost step on him — easy mistake to make, he's small and easy to miss. or perhaps you'd like to let him know he's about to be ripped off on that curious-looking alien fruit he's examining? feel free to roll your eyes at his bright and ridiculous attempts at flirting with some of the female locals. )

Edited 2014-01-14 01:50 (UTC)

[2: Lafiel has had some practice in ground combat, since people keep trying to kill her on planets. And at least asteroid mining colonies are familiar: she can deal with claustrophobic tunnels and navigating the passages. She doesn't even need a person watching her back. Instead, she's going to round up the others and go leave this stupid asteroid.

[Really, this is about Lafiel's luck with penal colonies, except last time it wasn't her being chased on the ground.]

[6: Lafiel is busy inspecting the equipment, trying to figure out what she can use and how. Want to strike up a conversation or answer a question?]

[10: Toss an idea at me!]

Explosive delivery!

[Where-ever you are, you're approached by a woman wearing weathered, somewhat dirty riot armor and a trenchcoat. A ramshackle gun is slung across her back, and in her hand she carries a new-looking package that looks a lot more at home in the fleet than she does. She checks something on a tablet, then holds then box out before giving a rather clinical greeting.]

Delivery for you.

--

GYMSPLOSION

[The concept of a gym wasn't totally foreign to Gina - she'd seen similar things in some of the run-down buildings she'd picked through at home, but never actually used one. Until now, anyway. For workout clothes, she'd opted for a dark pair of sweats and t-shirt, minimizing the number of scars showing to her arms, and those peeking out from her collar. She'll try most everything in the gym at least once, barring the pool, because heavy wet clothes are no fun and she doesn't know about the existence of swimsuits.]

[The reason for the larger part of those explosions? This squat, orange and yellow mohawked robot, who has been providing explosives for the mining crew. They're following up with their own, since his are mostly used for clearing out excess rock - Hyper Bombs are a bit too powerful for precision mining, unfortunately. That said, he's still helping with the placement of other explosives, and directing some a bit thanks to his own experience.]

[Thanks to quick and decisive action on the part of both Research Station personnel and visiting crew members, the fires have been put out, fortunately with few injuries. The corridors are still filled with smoke, and the few who were hurt still haven't been brought away to receive medical treatment, but for the moment, the danger has passed. The losses come mainly in the form of data and equipment, both unfortunate but replaceable.

Still, it's that equipment that has drawn Geordi's attention, rather than the injured still being shepherded off to have their burns treated. He's crouched down near the remains of one of the consoles, examining the charred and melted remains with a frown on his face. From the way he's hovering over it, he might just touch it the moment it's cool enough to handle, but for now, he glances around and calls out to the nearest person.]

Come take a look at this.

[ 3. ]
[While she'd managed to overhear from a number of others that there was some sort of huge event scheduled for today, Mirys had no real interest in attending. Being out in public was something she'd grown to despise—and even consider a threat to her own safety—thanks to everything that had happened prior to her being brought aboard the Teuberg, and as such, she largely kept to herself, going only where she needed to, when she needed to. This, however, didn't stop her from sparing some small amount of time to spend by herself—or she believed herself alone, at least—watching the shower of colorful explosions from elsewhere in the city.]

[ 10. ]
[Have your own ideas? Go ahead and throw 'em at me!]

[She'd only been trying been trying to walk down the hall. Honest. But managing to avoid any sort of protruding object in one's path is a feat too much to ask for the uncoordinated. And the problem with this is that, in space, some things shouldn't be tripped over, because doing so will yield catastrophic results.

So, that big fire now spreading super quickly throughout the whole space station?

Is this girl's fault. 100%.]

[It doesn't matter where, when, or who is around him, Admiral ZEX is absolutely basking in the presence of humans. Humans left and right, forward and back, humans he can stare at and examine, humans with all kinds of hair and skin colors and each just as invigoratingly, gloriously monstrous as the last to his VUX eye-- ohhhh, he could die happy, so surrounded by humans as he is right now.

Though he would be even happier if one or two or all of them were all his to enjoy in all kinds of ways, besides just looking... hee! hee! hee!

Still, he was absolutely spoiled for choice, and was in no tearing hurry to find one that wouldn't mind being kept by him, all for himself-- not when there were so many to just stare at, his tendrils twitching excitedly around his face and his tail curling with delight, the odd giggle breaking from him.

Which is what he is doing to your character decides to talk to him!]

[ 8: Meetra’s day managed to turn from an uneventful morning towards a far noisier — and yes, somewhat painful — afternoon. When the wreck happened, her knee hit the side interior sharply, causing it to bloody underneath her layer of Jedi robes.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t much of an injury to fuss over, of course. While the vehicle seemed to be equipped with enough safety mechanisms, she and the rest had been stuck here for what - fifteen minutes and with no end in sight. Studying the other members of the car, all strangers to her, Meetra abruptly steps up. She approaches you in order to crane her neck around you in order to get a better idea of what’s happening, violating your personal space without a word as she tries to make out the extent of the wreck's damage.

10: open to any and the rest of the prompts! ]

[this kindly-looking old man is talking to himself out loud in the marketplace as he examines the seafood. he's probing at the selection gently as he searches for something that meets whatever his specifications are. but if you stand around long enough, you'll probably find out: he seems to have no trouble speaking what's on his mind to all and sundry.]

Reagents, acquired. Next . . . ah! Brain food, that's the ticket. None of that newfangled processed or instant food, something fresh. Now I suppose for a proper calamari, I'll need flour, a binding agent or simply some eggs, and a octopus with enough limbs and flesh to be tasty. And a cleaver would not go amiss. Ah, and a container to fry in, like a dutch oven, and some oil and a skimmer. Well, assuming that the octopuses here are the same as back home, that is. Perhaps not such a stretch . . . although the way things are going, well! I should hope I don't accidentally find a sentient one. Although they could be good company at dinner.

[[starting with 9. also open to other prompts. also taken mid-s4, if that matters to you.]]

Edited 2014-01-14 05:10 (UTC)

[Because when you think of ultimate boxing champion, or grand warrior, you think of 17-year-old girls dressed like they're going to a convention. Whether it's boxing, arm wrestling, she's up for the competition, and she looks like she's ready to get her game on, doing little practice punches on the nearby punching bag.

Alright, who's up for some amazing and EXPLOSIVE punches from this gunshow?

Or you know, skipping rope. That's athletic too!]

9:

[The place is bustling and rich with smells and sounds, people peering over wares and haggling over prices. Del's actually enjoying letting the sensations wash past her. Hell, she's even smiling.

She stops by a stall that gives off a wave of scents -- hot oil, flour, and sugar -- and in short order has a paper cone full of little fried bits of dough drenched in thick syrup, which one apparently eats by spearing them with a single bit of sharpened wood.

It takes her a couple of tries to pierce the first one, and her divided attention sends her just far enough off-course that she steps right into someone in the crowd nearby. It's not a hard collision, but it's enough; the doughball goes flying off the stick, and a smear of sticky goo ends up all over her hand and the sleeve of the person she collided with.

Del jerks backwards like she's burned herself, cursing as she does so.]

Gangue, sorry!

[Her expression twists in self-recrimination as she eyes the stain she's just left on a total stranger's jacket.]

Sorry. Damn flathead of me.

[3: Due to Metalhawk's size, it's safe to say that he's better off being a distant spectator than someone actually in the heat of the event. Which was perfectly fine for him. All these new species gathering together for a concert, it was nice to see such fluidity, such equality between races.

And maybe this was just something he missed. Being able to enjoy something like this, after four million years.

Don't mind him, he's probably caught up in the moment. But he wouldn't be averse to any company, either.]

((/casually runs with 8 in weird directions. Or feel free to poke me another prompt! Brackets or prose welcome. :D))

Maybe that young show-off is not so young. And maybe she doesn't take too well to computerized control either. Because it's tough all right? To have the road under your tires and not want to open up. The challenge of weaving through traffic that travels like lukewarm sludge is just a little too tempting. Hey, she's got superior Cybertronian handling! It's not her fault most of these computer controlled rolling boats sharing the road with her cruise like grannies on Sunday and suffer from bad grid lag and boxy styling.

So nope, this accident is totally not Flashpoint's fault. She's just going to play it cool, staying in her altmode and backing away slowing from the overturned cargo sled, watching as the driver escapes the vehicle. And well, that scuffed paint transfer on her fender? That's been there for weeks! That's no indication of guilt what-so-ever.

She'll res her holoavatar driver too; now she's just another one of these slaggers stuck in traffic right? That is until she can make sure no one's been hurt and then make a break for it; not gonna sweat a little property damage. Though really, maybe what she should be paying attention to is the vehicles behind her? It's fender-bender city around here, after all.

[Someone's set a sign up near a window that reads:

"Best View Of The Nebula" with an arrow drawn underneath it and the additional text: "5 credits per view".

Quark is sitting patiently nearby with a data padd.]

Edited 2014-01-14 05:25 (UTC)

[Fireworks. He knows fireworks. He understands them... and they're beautiful. Plus, out in the city, it's large enough not to feel cramped in here. He can stand or sit somewhere out of the way, just watching them, quietly.]

[While he's not opposed to company, there are just times when anyone wants to get away from the world.]

[Especially when you're a giant AI robot, made by humans, and not really fitting into any other category. Since, you know, the whole part where he can turn into a bird and a car. That's different.]

[WELL this is familiar to him!]

[Defending a hapless colony from the forces trying to invade it? He's got this one. Except, no they're not hapless. But the idea is the same. Pick up the biggest weapon he can find, and start laying into the nearby attackers.]

[And he may or may not be grinning. It's not a nice grin -- it's the fierce, angry sort of grin usually found on predators.]

[Either way, those enemy forces are going down.]

[5]

The station is burning, he can see that through the bright, geodesic glasstic windows. Most have already been evacuated, but the damage to the habitat will be immense and there are still pockets of people trapped. 'Typical lander construction', someone like Spaurh would say. It's a measure of how far Jinto's come from his home that he can't think of a counterargument to that. He turns to his compatriot.

"Our manifest lists several tons of fire retardant foam, but nothing to fire it with. I've had the engineering crew bring them up to the hangar. They think they can use your craft's weapons systems as improvised launchers..."

[9]

The market bustles, as merchants from a hundred systems sell wares from ten times that. It's chaotic, people jostling him this way and that, the alien sights and smells of so many species he's never encountered before. It's a sharp contrast from the recycled air and relative orderliness of life in the Abh Star Forces.

He's found a rare unoccupied bench and has his datapad open, looking at a holographic list of supplies the ship needs. He frowns at what he doesn't recognize.

"What even is that?"

Do you know more than Jinto about what he's looking for?

[If anything is beautiful and terrible all at once, it's death. Creatures with blood running through their veins can be far too limited in the belief that life begins and ends with flesh. The plants, the stars, a culture - for good or ill, these all contributed to the cycle of the Force.

Obi-Wan folds one arm over the other as he stands on the bridge of the ship. Dressed in layers of robes with a hood pulled over his head, he very much resembles the hermit he will become.]

[2]

Cassie swore in Japanese and dropped into a firing crouch, bracing her gauss SMG to her shoulder. Something with too many teeth, claws and eyes was emerging from the wall, ravening for one of their people. Magnetically accelerated slugs tore through its open mouth and it slumped, half emerged. The delegate sprinted behind her. Smart man.

"Cover the delegates and get them back to the shuttle! Leave the bodies!" She shouted over the din and screaming.

[3]

"Fried grarthnaks! Spice beer! Pan-galactic gargle blasters! Kree-egg pops! Coke version 10.7!" Yells what appears to be a teenage boy during a lull in the noise. He's wearing a dorky uniform and carrying a suspensor tray full of intergalactic snack foods. He's moving up and down, making the rounds. If you're really perceptive, you'll recognize one of the ship's scouts, one Lieutenant Junior Grade Cassiopia "Abtakha" Suthorn. It pays to be cautious, especially after all that's happened lately. Anyway, buy something?

[6]

"Alright." Cassie uncoils from her low Silat practice posture and smiles. You've probably never seen her smile before, at least not when watching or causing a mech to topple. "You're on."

[9: He was just going to barter for a few hydroponic carrots like a sensible butler, he swears! It is certainly not his fault that he was only slightly sidetracked by a group of long bearded men playing laser dices in a fire pit full of actual salamanders. Alas, it is an universal law that there will always be three beings endowed with the uncanny power to pinpoint without error one true heart's desire: mothers, demons and contrabandists.

A member of the third group has offered Kevin the most fascinating device: a purple sphere covered with labyrinthine angles and emerald green buttons. Kevin is currently attempting to hide - quite ineffectively - his prospective buyer's excitement. It doesn't help that he is holding the toy with both hands and close to his chest, much like a firstborn son.]

My goodness, the more I win, the luckier I become? But sir, that cannot be true!

[He says that as if he really, really wished to be proven wrong.]

Edited 2014-01-14 12:08 (UTC)

Ah, the sounds of interstellar conflict - which are mostly people having a bit of panic and the occasional alarm going off, interspersed with announcements for civilians to stay calm and for various actual military officers to go do things that are relevant to saving the day.

Thankfully, this universe is lucky enough that they are not relying on Roger to be the hero, so instead he's doing thing he actually good at doing - cleaning. Unfortunately, he's cleaning in an area of moderate foot traffic, where there's windows for watching the unfolding conflict outside. As people pile on to watch, Roger has an exasperated sigh to himself, more concerned with how many fingerprints, handprints, and nose-spots he's gonna have to clean up.

"I just washed those windows earlier," he mutters to himself, when he hears someone moving in at a pretty quick pace. "Hey, hey! Mind the wet floor sign!"

1.

[ That the bulk of the battle rages on around it doesn't mean that the colony itself is out of the fray. A fact that hits home for the civilians still heading for the emergency shelters when an explosion rings out overhead, shaking the very ground beneath their feet, accompanied by the bone-chilling groan of far too much hull metal bending and warping in ways it really shouldn't. A pane of artificial sky fizzles, glows red, bursts into fire and shrapnel, and the first of a trio of mobile armors jets into the breach, thrusters blazing them through the deadly rush of air escaping into the vacuum beyond.

That's when the scramble, and the screams begin. People shove and push each other aside, a boiling crowd forcing their way into already overcrowded elevators and stairwells, and the few militia on standby able to do little more than attempt to keep people at bay long enough to slam buttons and close doors and give a chance for those already in there to move. More than a few hit the ground, having tripped in panic or stumbled or taken the brunt of another's elbow, and run the risk of being trampled.

Rena's lagging behind most of them, for better or worse just out of the thick of the scramble; she's got the arm of an older human man, a chunk of shrapnel embedded deep in his calf, over her shoulders as she helps him limp his way towards the nearest shelter entrance. Despite sharing the pale look of just about everyone else fleeing, her voice is encouraging. ]

Hang in there. We're almost there, just a little longer.

[ It's painfully slow progress in this situation, and she glances around desperately for anyone who might be able to help. ]

Excuse me!

9.

[ It's certainly bigger than any marketplace she can remember on Expel or Earth, but that isn't even a fraction of the novelty of it. The wares on sale and the people (the people! so many races in shapes and forms she'd never even imagined the like of) that fill the streets are both just as eye-catching and distracting, and it's all too easy to get lost in moving from stall to stall, contemplating those strange baskets of produce and wondering what they might work well in (or if they're meant for humanoid consumption), or examining a glittering trinket and trying to make out the kinds of stones embedded in them. (She remembers how Celine was always better at this sort of thing, whenever they were together, and the thought isn't without its faint pangs as she glances over her shoulder and thinks of a familiar face that would've loved to be there.)

Maybe you bump shoulders into her at one of these stalls, what with the crowd and all; maybe you're eying that same last piece of beautiful bashber shortcake on display (hand-made, with real 100% dairy cream and what look an awful lot like strawberries) that she's got her own eye on, except she's hesitating just a moment too long with that thoughtful look, so surely she can't want it that badly, can she? ]

Edited 2014-01-14 15:48 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

Page 1 of 5

Tanikaze Nagate | Knights of Cydonia

Equius Zahhak/Homestuck/6: GYMBOOMS [awwwww yissss]

oz vessalius | pandora hearts | i heard you like explosions — open to anything and any prompt

Abriel Lafiel | Banner of the Stars