If you'd like to apply to Snowblind and would like to test the waters first or get a sample set up for your application, this meme is for you! We've even provided some prompts for you to use if you want (but feel free to make up your own). Here's how it works.
✭ Reply to this entry with a character you're considering apping into the game. You can include the name of your character and the fandom in your subject line. ✭ Comment around to others on the meme, whether you're in the game already or not. ✭ Now you have a sample ready for your application! ✭ So go reserve and apply when reservations and applications are open. ✭ Seriously, do it.
Network Prompts
ONE: DRUG PUSHING What luck! You've found a bottle of medication...only, oh, it looks like it's a prescription for one of the other people trapped here with you. You have a lot of power in your hands now: you could do the right thing and give it back without a fight, demand a worthy trade to see how badly they want it, or auction it off to the highest bidder. They're not the only ones who could use a painkiller or an antidepressant, after all. If you don't need it for yourself, you're sure to be able to fetch a high price (or bank some high gratitude points) for it from someone.
TWO: CHECK YOUR RECEIPTS After a long day of traveling, you reach into your bag to scrounge up some dinner but you find that all of your food has gone bad. Everything, including the rations you stocked up on just yesterday, is covered in a thick layer of mold. Even the packaged nonperishables are somehow spoiled. Your whole backpack reeks of rot, and nothing edible has been spared. Maybe you can restock tomorrow, but what if you're not the only one whose food has been tainted? And what about the meal you had for lunch just hours ago? Your stomach turns. You'd better take to the network to get to the bottom of this
Action Prompts
THREE: WRITING ON THE WALL You've just settled into a building for the night with your traveling companion when you notice a message left somewhere on one of the walls. It's signed by a username you don't recall ever seeing before. It tells you discoveries and facts about the town you don't think are really real or should be followed. Tells you that they're heading in a direction they're convinced has the exit, and urge you to follow their lead. One of you thinks it's worth consideration. After all, why would anyone leave a message like this if they didn't mean it? But there are risks involved in chasing the assertions. Do you have the resources left to try?
FOUR: CORPSE PARTY Just before lockdown, you and your traveling companion are about to seek shelter in the nearest building when you spot a huddled figure nearly buried in the snow. When you get a little closer, you see that it's a person wrapped tightly in a blanket. Neither of you recognizes them, but you can't be sure; the blanket covers their face. They seem to have succumbed to the elements, but it looks like they're still breathing! You manage to drag them into the building with you with seconds to spare. Good job, you've saved somebody's life! But, as you pull apart the blankets to check on your new companion, you realize that they're not a "somebody" at all... And you're locked in with it until morning.
[What? How is this in any way fair? What is he supposed to be guessing at? And if this man knows the stories... John will be shutting the game down, perhaps.]
What if we both guess three things right, Mr. Altamont? Bit of trouble, that. Unless we're splitting down the middle.
Then we have a tie breaker. Sudden death. We both guess one thing. First person to guess something right wins. We keep going like that until we have a winner.
[He leans back and takes in the other man, head cocked to the side as he debates where to start with this. So many questions.] Now, that should be set. Are you ready, old boy?
Oh, guessing games are always very serious. It's quite an art, you know? Being a good judge of character enough to guess correctly. Fortunately for me, I'm awfully good.
[He raises an eyebrow slowly and looks this 'John' up and down.] You said you were a doctor. Were you, perhaps, an army doctor?
[John is looking more like a hobo these days than he used to, which makes that question sound immediate alarm bells. Any joking falls away, and he stiffens to a more militant stance, rolling his shoulders back unconsciously to attention.]
I was. You're a drug addict, I'm guessing, the way you just popped that pill without knowing what it was.
[This was fascinating, there was no way this was a coincidence. This had to be a very good thief stealing details from his dear friend or ... well, he didn't even want to consider alternatives. They were awfully outlandish.]
Correct. Hmm, let me think. [He takes a moment to consider his options, to test what information he can.] When you were in the army and at war, were you perhaps shot and sent home because of this?
[Yeah, okay. He doesn't like this guessing game. Not in the least. John switches to a private line of communication.]
Mr. Altamont, this isn't a guessing game. I'm aware you've probably read certain books. Others have mentioned them. I can tell you that I'm not a Victorian, and I'm not insane. Nor am I fictional. Let's just get that out the way. If you want to say something to me, say it. [He's bristling, ready to argue his... existence? That existential dread creeping up on him is uncomfortable, of course, but he'll set it aside for now.]
Book? [That catches his attention. Wait. Yes. There was a book. John was writing one, not that Sherlock read it much, it tended to butcher his work and his words but that was John.] There's only one book I know that you could be talking about and I never read that drivel. Merely cobbled together so the author could spend his money at the gambling den. Or such was the case in the glory days before the wife.
[The loathing in his tone was apparent. Ew. Wives.] I was merely testing. It's not every day you meet someone impersonating your friend, I was curious if you did your homework. Now I'm curious for many other reasons. [Namely the whole fictional thing.] Are you entirely sure you're not crazy? Delusions can be hard to see in yourself.
[Well, this just took a turn for the bizarre. Drug addict, games, arrogant.
John's eyes widen for a moment.]
No. No, no, no. [He points a finger at the video.] You are not Sherlock Holmes. You're, like, at least a decade too old, mate. And he's dead, so don't even start. I dunno what you're playing at, but don't you dare pretend to be him for whatever twisted game you've got on.
[There's honest anger and hurt in his tone and on his face.]
It would be awfully tedious to pretend to be someone I'm not, don't you think?
[That was genuine emotion in that tone. This was real to him. Delusion or otherwise, this man believed himself to be John Watson. Or perhaps somehow he was? It was awfully peculiar and it seems unwise to get upset himself so instead, he stays calm and controlled, trying to make sense of this madness.]
My dear boy, you are getting awfully flustered and don't get me wrong, I believe I understand why. It seems the universe is playing a joke on us. And not an awfully funny one.
[He studies this other Watson carefully before taking a deep inhale.] I believe that you and I are in a bit of a -- [Then he pauses, something dawning on him.] -- Did you just imply I'm old? [GASP] It's all well and good being upset but getting personally is awfully uncalled for.
[Well, you thought he was pretending, Mr. Holmes.]
I am not flustered. [Flustered isn't the word he'd use. Ready to punch something - someone, specifically this other man - might be more apt. But John takes a few deep breaths, mouth drawn to a thin line as he listens. A joke. This is the worst joke imaginable. If this person... no, he can't be. But... there are Tony and the others, different versions of the same people. Different universes. It's-]
[There's a big difference between when he thinks something and when you think something. Because. Of Reasons. Shut up.]
Okay, you're upset. I understand. I'm nothing like your friend and you're nothing like mine so either one of us is lying or something is amiss. My John Watson is considerably -- well, he's sort of -- he has a moustache. And a top hat. And a terrible, terrible scarf his wife knitted him.
[Sherlock isn't very good at describing his friend. It's complicated.] You both yell an equal amount though. And you have that tone. I don't like that tone. Get a new tone. [He doesn't need to be mothered. Again.] And never you mind how old I am, just know I am in my prime.
A prime number, then, right. Are we talking 43 or 47? [John clamps down on the sarcasm, looking away and pinching the bridge of his nose. Calming down. We're calming down, now. There's not much good he'll be getting from staying entirely worked up. But hearing 'my John Watson' is strange, and unnerving.]
I haven't got a wife. My Sherlock made sure of that. He didn't like my knitted jumpers, though... He wears - wore - a Belstaff long-coat. Liked to turn up the collar to look cool. What's your address? We're at - we were at 221B Baker Street with Mrs. Hudson in the flat downstairs.
And what tone are you talking about? I haven't got a tone.
Hold up, everything else has just stopped mattering because something very, very important was just said. Something he needs to know more about.] John Watson, listen to me. It's imperative that you relay to me exactly how your Sherlock made sure of that. Every detail. I need to know.
[He spent MONTHS trying to break up that stupid happy couple, how did the other Sherlock achieve this. He has to know.] The rest can wait. Explain.
You're asking me to tell you how to break up your best mate's marriage. [That's... that is incredibly Sherlock, and John's not sure how to feel about it.] Yeah. Sorry. No. And if this is the tone, get used to it, Mr. Holmes.
Not break up, consider it as a good deed for two friends. I'm simply saving them from themselves. They have no idea what they've gotten into and I have to be there for them. One moment they think they're in love but the next they're in a hellish nightmare of tea and dollies and having fat little children running around all over the place.
[The horror. The nightmare. He can't have that, can't you see? He has to save his property best friend from this madness.] That is the tone and I don't care for it. You can't give me the tone when I am trying to do noble deeds.
[At least a decade older and just as childish. Brilliant.]
Some of us like tea and dollies and fat little children. Amazingly, people have friends after they get married, though. You'll be fine. Just play Uncle Sherlock for the kids, and you'll never lose him.
Some of 'us' are wrong. [How dare you take your side! This is so unfair.] And I sharn't be playing uncle Sherlock to anyone's horrible little creatures, they're all gross and sticky and have the most devious of traits.
And why would I lose him? I'm not losing him. He's not a mitten I'm just going to casually drop in the snow by accident. [There's an edge of possessiveness there but it's all out of love. Loving possessiveness.] Besides, he can never be lost, I always know where he is. Mostly. Today is a rare exception.
Not everyone was you as a kid, Sherlock. Mr. Holmes. [This is uncanny and unnerving. John frowns.] Also, I'm assuming you stalk him. Just so y'know, that's creepy. If he hasn't said anything, it just is. To let you know. I know you probably mean it well, but there's a reason it's usually illegal and there are things called restraining orders.
As for losing, I meant something more metaphorical, Mr. Holmes. You're scared. Don't be.
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snowblindmemes2016-08-14 08:47 pm
no subject
What if we both guess three things right, Mr. Altamont? Bit of trouble, that. Unless we're splitting down the middle.
no subject
[He leans back and takes in the other man, head cocked to the side as he debates where to start with this. So many questions.] Now, that should be set. Are you ready, old boy?
no subject
Fine. Go on. Let's get this over with.
no subject
[He raises an eyebrow slowly and looks this 'John' up and down.] You said you were a doctor. Were you, perhaps, an army doctor?
no subject
I was. You're a drug addict, I'm guessing, the way you just popped that pill without knowing what it was.
no subject
Correct. Hmm, let me think. [He takes a moment to consider his options, to test what information he can.] When you were in the army and at war, were you perhaps shot and sent home because of this?
>private
Mr. Altamont, this isn't a guessing game. I'm aware you've probably read certain books. Others have mentioned them. I can tell you that I'm not a Victorian, and I'm not insane. Nor am I fictional. Let's just get that out the way. If you want to say something to me, say it. [He's bristling, ready to argue his... existence? That existential dread creeping up on him is uncomfortable, of course, but he'll set it aside for now.]
>private
[The loathing in his tone was apparent. Ew. Wives.] I was merely testing. It's not every day you meet someone impersonating your friend, I was curious if you did your homework. Now I'm curious for many other reasons. [Namely the whole fictional thing.] Are you entirely sure you're not crazy? Delusions can be hard to see in yourself.
>private
[Well, this just took a turn for the bizarre. Drug addict, games, arrogant.
John's eyes widen for a moment.]
No. No, no, no. [He points a finger at the video.] You are not Sherlock Holmes. You're, like, at least a decade too old, mate. And he's dead, so don't even start. I dunno what you're playing at, but don't you dare pretend to be him for whatever twisted game you've got on.
[There's honest anger and hurt in his tone and on his face.]
>private
[That was genuine emotion in that tone. This was real to him. Delusion or otherwise, this man believed himself to be John Watson. Or perhaps somehow he was? It was awfully peculiar and it seems unwise to get upset himself so instead, he stays calm and controlled, trying to make sense of this madness.]
My dear boy, you are getting awfully flustered and don't get me wrong, I believe I understand why. It seems the universe is playing a joke on us. And not an awfully funny one.
[He studies this other Watson carefully before taking a deep inhale.] I believe that you and I are in a bit of a -- [Then he pauses, something dawning on him.] -- Did you just imply I'm old? [GASP] It's all well and good being upset but getting personally is awfully uncalled for.
>private
I am not flustered. [Flustered isn't the word he'd use. Ready to punch something - someone, specifically this other man - might be more apt. But John takes a few deep breaths, mouth drawn to a thin line as he listens. A joke. This is the worst joke imaginable. If this person... no, he can't be. But... there are Tony and the others, different versions of the same people. Different universes. It's-]
What? He's in his thirties. How old are you?
[This is a bit of a side-track.]
>private
Okay, you're upset. I understand. I'm nothing like your friend and you're nothing like mine so either one of us is lying or something is amiss. My John Watson is considerably -- well, he's sort of -- he has a moustache. And a top hat. And a terrible, terrible scarf his wife knitted him.
[Sherlock isn't very good at describing his friend. It's complicated.] You both yell an equal amount though. And you have that tone. I don't like that tone. Get a new tone. [He doesn't need to be mothered. Again.] And never you mind how old I am, just know I am in my prime.
>private
I haven't got a wife. My Sherlock made sure of that. He didn't like my knitted jumpers, though... He wears - wore - a Belstaff long-coat. Liked to turn up the collar to look cool. What's your address? We're at - we were at 221B Baker Street with Mrs. Hudson in the flat downstairs.
And what tone are you talking about? I haven't got a tone.
>private
[Wait.
Woah.
Hold up, everything else has just stopped mattering because something very, very important was just said. Something he needs to know more about.] John Watson, listen to me. It's imperative that you relay to me exactly how your Sherlock made sure of that. Every detail. I need to know.
[He spent MONTHS trying to break up that stupid happy couple, how did the other Sherlock achieve this. He has to know.] The rest can wait. Explain.
>private
You're asking me to tell you how to break up your best mate's marriage. [That's... that is incredibly Sherlock, and John's not sure how to feel about it.] Yeah. Sorry. No. And if this is the tone, get used to it, Mr. Holmes.
>private
[The horror. The nightmare. He can't have that, can't you see? He has to save his
propertybest friend from this madness.] That is the tone and I don't care for it. You can't give me the tone when I am trying to do noble deeds.>private
Some of us like tea and dollies and fat little children. Amazingly, people have friends after they get married, though. You'll be fine. Just play Uncle Sherlock for the kids, and you'll never lose him.
>private
And why would I lose him? I'm not losing him. He's not a mitten I'm just going to casually drop in the snow by accident. [There's an edge of possessiveness there but it's all out of love. Loving possessiveness.] Besides, he can never be lost, I always know where he is. Mostly. Today is a rare exception.
>private
As for losing, I meant something more metaphorical, Mr. Holmes. You're scared. Don't be.