cityofsin_ooc | 🚕 TEST DRIVE 018

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🚕 TEST DRIVE 018

Test Drive Meme

Considering apping to the City of Sin, but unsure of who to bring or if they'll fit? Feel free to give the setting a test drive here! These are a perfect way of getting your playing sample done for the application.

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→ Comment with the character you'd like to test drive in the setting, with name and canon in the subject line
→ Choose a scenario or create your own!
→ Tag around!

Possible Scenarios
Please note that all characters will initially arrive in their assigned housing; they are free to explore the City to their heart's content after that!

01. A New Arrival: Hello, New Person! You seem to have found yourself on a sidewalk in the City of Sin with nothing but the clothes on your back and a stomach churning feeling of being displaced. Thankfully, the streets are full of people - Watch out that you don't get mugged!

02. Demonic Presences: You were just minding your own business, weren't you? But that's always when bad things seem to happen, and the City of Sin isn't really that friendly. Whatever bar or street you're hanging out in suddenly go dim, filling the area with an unnerving feeling as the shadows on the walls jump out into reality. We suggest you phone a friend for help, or maybe try running?

03. Party Hard: You've been invited to a massive, elegant party in the Tower District that spills out its doors in welcome. Obviously, this whole thing is weird and you don't know who your hosts are, but maybe you can get some free drinks and food out of it! This place might not be so bad.

04. Prominence: The City of Sin influences its population on a weekly basis. Too bad you came right smack dab in the middle of a heavy Prominence. Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, or Pride: choose your sin and be wicked.

05. Trouble: Not everyone is sunshine and roses here. Some people are violent and cruel, raised in the sludge of a sinful city. And they like to pick on people they think can't fight back. Are you that person? Or are you the Hero who can't stand to watch? Worse yet, could you be the person doing the instigating? Villain.

06. Carnival: The City has carnivals or festivals now and then; you're lucky to catch one! With its open booths filled with cork gun games and funnel cakes, how can someone not have any fun! Go win your darling a stuffed animal, or meet someone new on the spinning cup ride. You might even see someone you know being talked into sitting in the Dunk Tank.

07. Network: There's a network device in your pocket - or at least a familiar object that seems to work in mysterious ways. Perhaps you can take to that and ask for a bit of help? Or maybe you'd prefer to have a little fun with all of this. Surely someone will reply.

08. Wild Card:Choose your own adventure in the game's setting!

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New Arrival

James blinks. A moment before, he was surrounded by his fellow chosen in the courtyard between the insulae, in the bright sunlight of a new morning and now he is... not.

It is dark, but not dark at the same time. Lights of a thousand colours glow from a hundred windows in buildings that soar towards the sky. There is a press noise, of conversation and mechanical humming. People walk past him, taking no notice of the man in a sandal and tunic, too busy talking into strange slim boxes in their hands.

Something zooms passed him, a carriage that has no horses, that emits a cloud of foul smoke behind it. He steps backwards, utterly bewildered, and missing his footing on the raised kerb, tumbling into someone.

Carnival

Whatever the noise was like in the busy streets of the City, these streets are cleared of traffic. Instead they're full of stalls and entertainments not unfamiliar to James. They're like the markets he knows from England and Port Royal, and while the prizes and the games are not the ones he remembers from his boyhood, the place itself somehow... is not as frightening as it could be.

He wanders from stall to game to display, until one of the stallholders calls to him and catches him by the elbow. "Shoot the bottles sir, win a cuddle toy for your sweetheart! A prize every time!"

He tries to pull away, but a musket of some sort is thrust into his hands.

"Sweetheart?" James says bewildered, looking around. He has no sweetheart, and there certainly isn't anyone stood near enough to him to be mistaken for such a relation, is there?

Wildcard!
Have at it!

Charles slowly rolls up to the man, watching the gun being thrust into his fingers. The attire he wears makes Charles wonder if he is a man out of time, but he doesn't know the man well enough to mention it. He smiles, hopefully giving him a reassuring look.

"It's a form of expression here, sadly. He's a barker, just trying to get you to play his game. I don't believe he's actually calling you a sweetheart or indicating anyone in your close proximity," he says softly. "It's a general assumption. You must have someone. Spend your coin and win something for them. You can give it back."

He'll have to forgive Charles for not standing. "You look a little lost."

James looks like a man lost in time even wearing the clothes of his own era. Unfortunately at the moment he's still wearing his Romney tunic and sandals which hardly improve the impression he must give.

"I see." He replies, to the man in the wheelchair. They aren't common in his time but he knows of at least one aged lord that has such a thing. And James has known enough men to lose limbs that he doesn't stare. "Thank you."

He doesn't hand the gun back however, examining it for a moment. It looks sleeker than the firearms of his time. Safer he hopes as its being offered out to the public.

He does hand it back. "I find myself in an impossible place sir. It is not the first time but if anything it is even mire unnerving."

Charles nodded his head in agreement. "It may seem improbable, but this place is not impossible. It's here. It exists. And we exist in it, sadly." His head tilted to the side as he gazed at James. "You won't need that here. Not like you'll need it back home. We're not at war here."

Charles sighed and moved a little closer. "Would you like me to take you to get some clothes? I can try to explain where you are and help you acclimate. I'm not sure when you're from, but I'm guessing Britain or Italy from the robes you wear."

"Are we not?" James asks, moving away slightly from the crowd and the stall, as in truth he would much prefer to talk to the man who seems so happy to offer himself up as a guide. "In my experience, peace is simply a time to reorganise your men before the next battle. But things may be different here."

He glances down at himself. As strange as the tunica might seem he wasn't uncomfortable in it within Rome, but there it was the same costume everyone wore, save the extremely wealthy and the soldiery. He hadn't felt out of place, once he'd grown accustomed to the breeze around his knees.

Now he feels very much out of place.

"Italy, most recently, Britain by birth. I am afraid I have no money, as of the moment. But the name of a tailor would be most welcome."

At least Ratonhnhaké:ton isn't easy to knock over. Being constantly wary of attacks, however, does make it unwise to just bump into him, and in response he whirls around to face Norrington, grabbing onto the hatchet on his hip with one hand and Norrington's arm with the other to pull him further off balance.

But the man looks lost and confused enough to give him pause, and after a moment he lets him go.

"You all right?"

Probably new, or very drunk or something like that.

Perhaps it is a good thing that the gods of Rome have banished James to this strange place in Roman garb. If he had been dressed in his uniform, Connor might not have stayed his blade. His own sword, taken from him when he entered Rome, is still not returned to him, but he is still too stunned by his sudden arrival on the street that he could not have drawn it anyway.

He is clearly surprised to be addressed, and he straightens up without speaking, and then suddenly it clicks into place.

"This is not the place I was expecting to be." He says, although that will be of little help to the good Samaritan who has come to his aid. "When am I, if you are able to tell me?"

New, then.

"You are not the first. Welcome to the City of Sin."

It's not dishonest, as such, but his tone is dry because it's not as though any of them have asked to be here. Doesn't mean you can't be welcoming, regardless.

"Ah,"

That's clearly not what he was hoping to hear. But if he has been moved from one place to another by the Powers That Be, clearly it must be for a purpose.

He was hoping to simply stay in Rome when their tasks were done. He was mistaken.

"My apologies, I did not mean where. I meant when."

Because this is certainly not any city of the past he has knowledge of. It's certainly not London, or Portsmouth or Bristol, or Bombay, the only city to the East he has visited.

He'd thought that's what he heard, but it's a strange question to ask when you are. Not to mention the answer for that isn't as clear cut as one might think it should be.

"That I cannot tell you. They only seem to go by dates, not years." A pause. "This has happened to you before?"

Suddenly finding yourself in an unfamiliar place, with no recollection of how you got there.

James nods. He could press for more, but he believes the stranger to be telling him the truth, that he doesn't know the year. James is sure he is no longer in the early first century AD and he's clearly not home, and so... well. There is little he can do about the situation.

"Unfortunately yes, quite recently. I don't suppose... that this is a known phenomenon here?"

He can only hope it is, and like in Rome there is a group of other souls brought here for a purpose. Of course, he might just as equally end up being taken to some sort of asylum, but he could not blame anyone for thinking he was mad. He knows he sounds like a lunatic.

"You could call it that. There are quite a few of us here."

From his understanding, at least. To be fair, his knowledge is still limited, but considering there are enough of them for him to have run into several mostly by coincidence, he feels confident in estimating it as 'quite a few'.

James nods. That is as he expected, if one is to extrapolate that the last place he found himself had brought strangers in from different times and places in order to fight a foe too great to be defeated otherwise.

"And whom are we fighting?"

That is not a question he expected, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and slight confusion. Was that the case where this man last was? Where someone needed to be fought?

Perhaps that's just always the way things go.

"No one that I know of."

It's clear enough before the words are spoken that James is wrong. There is no reason for them to be fighting someone or to be dropped in the middle of a war. It's simply what he is expecting from what has passed before. But why else are they here? What purpose does he serve here if not to assist in some way?

He tries to relax and finds it impossible to do so.

"Forgive me. I was assuming this place was much like the last. What is the purpose of our being here?"

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mustact - 2019-02-08 17:41 (UTC) - Expand

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his_majestys_navy - 2019-02-10 17:31 (UTC) - Expand

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mustact - 2019-02-10 20:07 (UTC) - Expand

It happens when she's coming out of a building. Someone tumbles into her, almost knocking her over before she gets her balance again. Why do people keep running into her? Does she just attract that or something? Maybe she should just stay off the sidewalk.

Then she gets a good look at him. More specifically, at what he's wearing. She's trying not to stare, but she can't help it. She knows there's weird stuff in this city, but she's still getting used to seeing it.

"Sorry. You need a hand?"

Edited 2019-02-07 01:13 (UTC)

James is still a little dazed, the collision with another member of the public hardly doing him any favours. He does manage an apology in return, before he manages to gather his thoughts together.

Of course, the colloquialisms of his time and hers are really quite different, and he frowns. A hand to him is a game of cards, not assistance, but that's clearly not what the young lady is offering.

"I need to speak to the governor here, ma'am." Her English is good, he can only hope this is some strange colony, perhaps in the Orient. He doesn't expect it to be, but he has to hope. "Could you tell me where he is to be found?"

Cassandra, having slipped through the crowd towards him the moment she spotted him amongst the crowd, catches James being caught by one of the carnival barkers, a hand on his elbow and a musket being thrust into his hands. It suits him, even dressed as he is for Rome. But she can't help but breathe a soft, fond laugh as the barker goes about his spiel about winning something for his sweetheart.

"Come on, cheer for your beau!" It's only when the barker's eyes turn to her, in time with his words, that she realises that he apparently thinks that she's... that they're (and certainly he's known her in a more intimate way than anyone has)... her amusement turning into something more flustered. "Oh! I'm afraid you're... we're not...." She huffs a breath and composes herself. "Not that I need to be his sweetheart in order to cheer him on, of course."

While Cassandra is possibly the most welcome sight on many occasions, the Fates seem determined to put them both in uncomfortable situations. James feels the same fluster she does, although his voice does not join her own in protest. Something in the barker's smirk tells him that there is nothing to be gained from attempting to explain.

"Now now," The man says, looking between them, "Seems to me you both need to have a heart-to-heart. Don't they make a lovely couple, ladies and gents!" And possibly because there is a little press of people around them, the man seems to get an idea in his head. "Have a go on the house. For your... lady."

James glances at her, and then at the gun, and then gives into the cheers and encouragement of the crowd. If shooting some bottles will grant them a chance to escape then he will go it. The gun is strange, much lighter than the muskets he has previously had cause to use. He is also several months out of practice, although he knows not to say such a thing. They are only excuses, and the operation of the gun seems simple enough, as there's no pan for powder or a match to keep lit.

He puts it to his shoulder, aims down the barrel, and shoots.

There's hardly a kick to it, and the empty bottle on the closest stand smashes. There's another four, progressively further back, and now he feels he has a measure of the weapon, he goes for the others. He doesn't get them all, but he is a swordsmen, not a marine, and he is still given an over-large toy to pass to Lady Cassandra s the crowd whistle and cheer again.

"Shall we take our leave?" He asks, trying to force the heat in his cheeks down several degrees.

Cassandra isn’t especially prone to violence unless absolutely necessary, even with her training in Rome, but she is suddenly possessed with the rather fierce desire to knock the smirk off the barker’s face. They have been put in enough... uncomfortable situations without his adding to it. And then he ropes the small crowd that has gathered around them into his goading.

She can see the moment James decides to simply do as has been... encouraged of him, and her hand settles onto his back for a moment, before she settles back and watches. He’s skilled with a gun, although not on the level of her brother (although given that Percy had invented them, in their world, it stands to reason).

He doesn’t hit every target, but he apparently hits enough and there’s suddenly a rather overstuffed toy being pressed into her arms; James is as embarrassed and flustered by this whole circumstance as she is. She can tell. “Oh, Pelor, yes.” Anything to get away from the barker and his... completely unnecessary comments. Keeping the... plush whatever it is tucked under one arm, she reaches out and catches his hand (ignoring the hooting and catcalling of the crowd), to start and draw him away with her.

James is glad to get away, to breathe a little more freely. It's not the worst thing he has had to endure to make an escape, but it certainly was not something he wanted Lady Cassandra to have to endure. "You will have to accept my apologies, I had no idea that you were there." He says, as soon as they are out of the crowd and the barker's hearing. "It seemed the best means of getting away was to do as the wanted, quickly and without a fuss."

"And please, do not feel you must carry around that monstrosity for my sakes." He adds, looking from her to the large... it must be some sort of animal although he's not certain what sort. Perhaps something local, and not of the world he is from. "Unless you wish to keep it, of course."

Their hands are still pressed together. But she seems to have no desire to let go.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” He doesn’t. It isn’t his fault that the barker made assumptions because they dared to exist near each other familiarly in some fashion. She does breathe easier once they’ve put distance between the barker and his booth and the crowd surrounding it.

“N0nsense,” she tells him with a wry smile. “I have absolutely no idea what it’s supposed to be, but after all the trouble you went to get it and the... attention we garnered... of course I’m keeping it.” And perhaps she can determine what it’s supposed to be.

She should probably let go of his hand. But she doesn’t.

"It was no trouble," James tries to protest, although perhaps as she was there and saw the entire event, there is no need to try. "I will admit I expected to do considerably worse than I did. Between our time in Rome and my duties at home, I fear my musket drill had considerably suffered." He'll admit that much, and possibly with one of the heavier, less accurate guns from his time, he wouldn't have had the dubious honour of winning her this stuffed monstrosity.

"I have not yet discovered the reason we have been brought here," He continues, in order to fill the silence. In the company of his fellow officers or even Governor Swann, he wasn't so concerned with quiet moments to pass. Unfortunately, if the quite here is left to its own devices, he thinks too long about how soft and warm her hand is in his, how comfortably they fit together. "Those brought here from outside do not seem united in any common cause."

His attempts at protest are perhaps a little more adorable than he means them to be. She’d been there, after all. “There’s bound to be somewhere here that would allow you to practice, if you so chose. If you wanted.” There’s... a lot, here. All well beyond the likes they’d seen in Rome. Or at home. A place for practicing with firearms would not be unreasonable to find.

“It’s possible that there is no reason. Not like there was in Rome.” They had agreed to that, even though it had been an agreement made while dreaming. They had still agreed.”Perhaps it’s just happenstance. Or a mistake. Or for some reason the Romans’ gods thought that we were needed here.” She frowns. “Or something about the City interfered with them sending us home.”

And she’s not certain how she feels about that possibility. “Left to fend for ourselves once more.” That’s.... more familiar than she likes. Rome had been the first time she’d had...people there to watch her back. Friends. That were truly hers, and not merely associating with her because of her brother. People that she trusted. It had spoiled her. But it’s not the same as before, as Whitestone. Not quite. She’s a different person, now. And there is a friend here, with her. There’s James.

His hand is warm on hers and she is far more aware of it, of him, that she by all rights should be.

His protests aren't meant to be found adorable at all, and he'd probably be even more flustered at the thought that she finds him so. But this is all very much out of his comfort zone, very much different from the mortal societal rules he lives by. In Rome with at least some familiar with the navy and it's ways he could lean heavily on protocol, he could cling to what was known to be real by several others.

Cassandra hits on a very real fear. A fear of being left alone. Not even at the end of a very long chain of command from London and the Admiralty. Not one from the gods. Here they are alone. And worse, they have no purpose. James has never lived without purpose and the very concept is alien to him. He feels suddenly uncertain of the future and his place within it.

"No. There must be a reason we are here even if it is not immidiately apparent." He has not yet been here long enough to make a judgement but the place seems squalid and in need of a firm hand, someone to deal with the depravity of the place. Rome had its problems, it had its corruption but it had still be a great place, a beautiful place. This city could be so too.

"I am sure we will find a reason to be here, some good that we can do until we can find our way... back." Back to where, he isn't sure.

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🚕 TEST DRIVE 018

James Norrington / PotC

Carnival

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New Arrival

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Carnival

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