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.
[ The video's of a little orange bottle of pills rather than Kanan's face. He rattles it around to demonstrate that it's full - he can't actually get the blasted cap off, child proof his -
Anyway. There are pills in the bottle, but the name printed on the side is blurred as if by water damage. ]
Guess what I found? Guessing these belong to somebody who wants 'em back. Tell me what they're for and why you need 'em and they're yours.
[ Yeah, Kanan knows exactly what's wrong with that plan. At least the resulting mess might be kinda funny. ]
--
FOUR
[ Kanan isn't the most talkative of traveling companions, except the occasional grumble as he navigates around particularly annoying pieces of rubble. He keeps his head down as they trudge through the deepening snow toward shelter.
They're almost there when he feels just the smallest twinge - a shadow of what his awareness in the Force used to be - that has Kanan looking wildly around in the snow. Despite the shadows, it's easy enough to spot the bright piece of cloth several yards ahead. ]
Hey - [ He trails off, staring harder, until he's sure of what he's seeing. ] Hey, I think that's a person over there. C'mon, help me!
[ Being not much of a talker works perfectly for Vanitas. It's easy to ignore whatever moaning and complaining the guy did along with the crunch of snow beneath their feet.
Surprisingly the vivid color goes without notice until the old guy points it out. Giving a glance over as he assesses the situation. Halting his movements as he weighs the use of helping or not. ]
Only if I can keep anything useful they might have on them. [ He's not hauling a person through the snow for free. And even with the promise of gain, he still might not leave them without wounds if they wind up annoying- not that he'll advertise that to his temporary companion. ]
[As the feed turns on, the viewers are greeted with a very feline-looking man, sporting both cat ears, as well as cat-like markings on his face. His features even seem to somewhat lean towards that of the feline persuasion as well!
He smiles, though it seems a hollow gesture at best.]
Grrreetings my fellow—rrresidents. Now—
[He brings his free hand to his chin, cupping it as his expression falls from the faux-smile it just held, to something a bit more conflicted.]
I come to you with a bit of a question—a prrroblem of sorts. As fate would have it, when I decided to allow myself a rrrest from my trrravels, to indulge my crrrying stomach with some of my rations I had found that they had been stolen by mold!
[At this point, he looks utterly helpless, his hand falling, his ears drooping a bit.]
Am I the only one to sufferrr such a misfortune? They had not been in such a state when I had brrreakfast, so the entire situation is as queer as it is dirrre!
[He places his free hand on his stomach, as if the pain of not being able to eat was relentless in its torture!]
If such an ill fortune is trrruly mine alone, then I would ask that if any arrre within my vicinity and you've the kind heart to spare me anything at all, I would foreverrr be in your debt.
Three
[The days travels were tiring to say the least. Luckily he and whoever he's traveling with found a place to settle into for the night, but little did that mean there wasn't more to explore! The house proved itself to be a sizable one, and so Lehko soon finds himself walking around. Truth be told, he's less exploring for the sake of exploring, and far more trying to find the best place to lay down and get comfortable for the evening.
Instead, he finds some strange writing, and his curiosity puts him in a strangle hold that shelves the idea of rest immediately. His eyes scan over the name and words with great interest, but confusion, and no short supply of doubt, clouds his mind. After a moment to ponder the message, he's quick to return to the main room of the house where he left his companion.]
I know well we have exhausted ourselves in our trrravel and you likely wish for little more than to rrrest, but I think you should come look at something I found—it's a message, but the name is not one I rrrecognized.
Mayhap you will.
[And with that, he pivots on his heel, gesturing to follow him.]
[ The beginning of the image is too grainy to be of any real use - varying flashes of light and colour that eventually steadies to a strangely misty clarity, as if covered by a thin film of some kind. There's a scuffle, some cursing, and a booming bark from some large animal.
And that film, as it turns out, is actually a healthy portion of Mabari drool that's sort of... smeared around a bit as Cousland tries vainly to wipe off the tablet with the leather palm of her gauntlet, having only just successfully pried it free from her trusty hound's mouth. The wiping... it. Uh. It doesn't work so great, but hey! Why rely on video when everyone can be treated to her voice instead? ]
--hat you've gone and done, you great sodding dunderhead. How am I supposed to have a reasonable conversation now? [ "BARK!" suggests the dog, hopping in and out of the frame as it dances around Cousland, who shoves it's blockish head away from view (and from sniffing curiously at the tablet) with one hand so she can hold up the medication bottle out of reach. ] Right. Glad we've got that sorted.
Whoever this belongs to, you'd be doing me a favour by getting this junk off my hands. And for Maker's sake, don't dawdle.
♟ FOUR|
It was supposed to be so easy. Just toddle on up, all like how d'you do ser, nice to meet you, I see you're having some difficulties getting inside, well let me just take care of that for you and then they'd be all ohhh ms. grey warden ser, such shiny armour, such gorgeous hair, such gallantry, I'm eternally grateful and will name my firstborn after you and then they'd cough up some coin for her troubles, and she'd move on. Clean, simple, perfectly within the norm. All in a day's work, good citizen, etc etc.
But no. Of course not.
Of course the one person she decides to do her civic duty for and drag indoors is in fact, NOT a person, and actually some sort of ravening corpse that simply refuses to shut up and stay dead like any self-respecting deceased thing, to instead attempt to take a bite out of her pauldron the moment her back was turned. Naturally, Cousland punched it hard enough to knock the bastard over. Dog even managed to maul it's arms well beyond any functional ability.
Didn't seem to make much difference, really. Aside from having a spectacularly flattened nose, noodle arms, and a few loosened teeth, the critter is still determinedly worrying away at her armored leg (thereby making the ruckus worse, because teeth on metal plating makes for a singularly unpleasant shrieking noise). So, for whatever unlucky soul finding themselves in the same building for the night, you're going to be treated to the sight of Cousland, comfortably settled on a chair with - for lack of a better word - zombie attached to one leg, seemingly resigned to undead babysitting for the evening.
To say the least of it... the little performance was a sight to behold. Little did he expect the lump to revive so quickly, and with such hunger. He's glad he was not its target—lacking both magic and dagger, he wouldn't prove the most useful combatant against it. Sure, he's not lacking in his deftness or speed, he can dodge very well, but he would eventually tire, and where would that leave him?
He doesn't much fancy the thought of being zombie food, that's for sure.
Still, even with its apparent investment in using her leg as a chew toy, Lehko keeps his distance, and is maybe covering his ears—while not as sensitive as they once were, that sound is less than appealing.
"You don't suppose we should, perrrhaps, kill the crrreature? It would spare us frrrom becoming a snack, or at the very least this horrific sound..."
Of course, he lacks any weapons as stated, and so such an endeavor might prove difficult. However, still preferable despite how vexing a task it may prove to be.
[francel is no hero, and ordinarily, he is not so quick to reply to calls for help; he has his own self to worry about, and places to be, and prayers to make. but there is something in this feline fellow's cant that piques francel's interest — the man seems strangely eorzean, and yet looks unlike any miqo'te that the elezen has ever seen before, and francel is puzzled enough that he decides the situation merits further investigation.]
Mold? Did you perchance store your bag in some questionable cellar? Mine own victuals are unaffected, and for once I have plenty — if you are anywhere nearby, I shall be quite happy to share.
Good point. Not one she's going to act on though, if the glance she sends his way is any indication.
"Kill it? With what, a hairbrush?" CUE GESTURE AT ROOM because let's face it, there's jack shit in here that they can use to finish the job. Cousland is no stranger to melee combat, but even she would prefer not to have to crush a zombie skull with her bare hands. ...she could though. Crush it. Just in case that wasn't clear. It's just so damned inelegant and bits would go flying everywhere.
Whiiiiich is mostly why she isn't volunteering her shield either, innocently propped up by her chair as it is, all shined up and spotless. Could you imagine how much buffing she'd need to do to get all the ichor off if she bashed it over the head a few times? Ugh. No way, no how.
Anyway, Cousland's shoulders bob in a noncommittal shrug - pointedly ignoring the fact even her mabari, so stalwart in the face of just about any monster to tread the earth, has wisely vacated the area to hide somewhere less noisy.
"I s'pose we could just stuff it in a closet somewhere, if nothing else. Can't exactly work a doorknob the way it is now."
[His ears perk immediately upon seeing a reply, however, reading and realizing that his are the only effected in such a way is... troubling.]
I have not! In fact, I have spent the betterrr parrrt of the day out in this blisterrring cold. One would assume mold wouldn't likely grrrow under such harrrsh conditions, but alas reality has prrroven itself harrrsherrr.
[Of course, he's not going to ignore the offer of food, and he looks entirely grateful for such generosity!]
Forgive me, I am still unfamiliarrr with the lay of the land—but it would appear I am near a ratherrr larrrge building that has collapsed in its middle? Mayhap an academic building of some sort?
Of course, as she speaks, his own eyes fall to her shield, his brows lowering a bit to flirt with almost being a scowl. She so effortless attacked the thing earlier, disarming it as she did. Certainly killing it wouldn't be that taxing!
"Yes, I do suppose we arrre adequately unarrrmed, arrren't we? Surrrely, neitherrr of us have anything here that could prrrove to be used in means of lethal perrrsuasion."
He says. Staring at her shield. Pointedly. But he lets his gaze fall to the zombie again, and he shrugs, giving her a dismissive wave of his hand, "Cerrrtainly the only solution is to lock the foul thing in a closet as you prrroposed, where it will rrrattle the door all night long. At least we won't have to worry about being nibbled, at the sacrrrifice of our sleep!"
Look, she's exceptionally tired ok? Give her a break already!
Grumbling, the Warden casually gives the zombie a cursory kick to the face as it adjusts it's grip in an attempt to wedge a tooth under the overlapping plates - knocking it's jaw askew with a wet 'crack', which doesn't seem to bother her or the zombie overly much. The shrieking does tone down to softer, halfhearted scrapes as a result.
"Light sleeper, are we? Poor sod." Is she just being cheeky? Yes. But having some uppity catman bossing you around without so much as a 'by your leave' can do that to a person. "A cellar, then. Chuck it down the stairs, bar the door, and off to sleepy-bye land you go. Bastard can't drag itself up stairs with no working arms."
Still blatantly ignoring that stare at her shield. Whatever is he looking at? No clue. Don't care. Not changing her mind.
The kick is a brutal one at that, and while Lehko doesn't physically cringe at the less than enchanting crack, inwardly however... Bleugh.
"You could say I tend to cat-nap, than sleep deeply."
The suggestion though, has him looking down the hallway to where he assumes the cellar may be, if there is one at all. He doesn't move to check, however, instead deciding to stay in place to chat at the hume woman some more.
"I assume you did not fail to take notice of my appearance, but little am I one made for heavy lifting, I'm afrrraid. Mayhap if you werrre willing to assist me in such an endeavor..."
And by assist, he means do it her damn self. After all, she is the woman here!
Is that a goddamned pun. The look she shoots him says plenty: 'that was amazing AND horrible, and you should feel bad about it.'
"Can't have your fur all slimed on, can we? Maker forbid." Oh, the sarcasm. Not that she's even entirely certain he HAS fur, but just going to be super insensitive and assume he does like a regular cat. "Find a cellar for Ser Rots-a-lot here to spend the night, and I'll do the lifting to get it there. Deal?"
Shouldn't be too much trouble to drag a floppy noodle corpse as far as a set of stairs then give it the ol' heave-ho. After that, it'll just be a matter of shoving a few heavy things in front of the door as a safety measure, and washing her hands thoroughly. A hot bath wouldn't go amiss. And maybe a hearty stew for dinner before bed. Man, she's starving.
Damn right it was. The retorting look he offers her suggest he doesn't even feel slightly bad. Not even a little.
He does indeed have fur, but it's so short and fine, that unless you're specifically looking to notice the texture, it may as well not exist. He gives her a nod, however, easy enough of a request, and it would take care of their pesky little friend without him having to strain himself!
"Very well, I will stake out this cellar... if there is one." He certain hopes so, and is quietly praying to Altana there is. He'll be making his way down the hall he had sized up just earlier, keeping a watchful eye out for... well, whatever else there may be in this place. He trusts none of it one bit, and he's plenty used to keeping an eye on shadows.
As luck would have it, he does find himself what appears to be... well, not quite a cellar door, but a dumbwaiter instead. Surely they could use it when it doesn't seem like there's a door leading to any basement. With a quick gait, he returns to the room once more.
[Video is the only setting Charles has sort of managed to master on the device, and so it's what he uses. His face - dirt-streaked and a little bloody - appears on screen, and he brings up a bottle of pills up, showing it to the network. A predatory smirk appears on his face as he does so.
He hasn't even tried to read what it is - he knows it's medication of some kind, but nothing he would use himself.]
I'm sure someone out here cares for this? [His voice rumbles as he speaks, echoing a little in the ice caves.] Now, what I'm curious about, is what you'll give me for them. I really don't mind who it goes to, either. Consider it...an auction.
--
Four
[Dragging the body to the house had been a chore - Charles half-carried it with his travel companion keeping the door open, pulling in the body along with way too much snow.
Charles couldn't remember if he'd ever seen snow before Norfinbury. He misses sand, he misses sunshine baking his skin, dry heat burning up his lungs. He misses it all so much.
Especially now, when he's worked up a sweat carrying someone inside for safety, only to realise - they were long gone. When he pushed the blanket off, the lips were blue, parted, the skin greying and waxy where it wasn't frozen already. He let out a grunt.]
[ Kanan hopes his eyeroll is visible in the dark. It's a good eyeroll, he's proud of it. ]
Tell you what, kid: you work that out with this guy once we get him inside, yeah?
[ Kanan doesn't stop to wait for an answer; either Vanitas will help or he won't, still needs to be done either way. He thinks as he gets closer that it might not matter because the guy might be dead. But no - when Kanan shines a light, he can see the rise and fall of breathing even if his gentle prodding gives no response. He tries to gather the bundled person up in his arms and lift, but between his overloaded pack and the surprising weight of the stranger, it's just too heavy. ]
[In a sight that's probably familiar to the network by now, Clara opens up her video by beaming to the camera.]
Greetings, residents of Norfinbury! I come to you today with something very special I have found on my travels.
[She swings her tablet around a little too fast, blurring the video unpleasantly before it focuses again to show a neatly arranged row of several different pill bottles. Some look generic, others have prescription labels printed on them.
If it looks like she raided the entire pharmacy, that's because she did just that.]
That's right, it's a fine selection of medicines! Since I have no use for them myself, I'd love to trade them for any useful goods any of you might have to offer!
Four
[Clara had absolutely insisted on dragging the blanketed person indoors, even if their chances to survive had seemed slim right off the bat. She might no longer have her powers of healing, but that doesn't mean she's going to pass on an opportunity to help anyone!
Of course, it turns out that the effort was for naught. She covers her mouth with her hands, looking horrified.]
Oh... oh no! How terrible!
[And as soon as she's said that, she's kneeling down to dig through the corpse's pockets without any hesitation. Looting time!]
Bruce Wayne | Batman | what's his canon point WHO KNOWS
Rations have gone bad, even those recently acquired. I've checked with a few others who have had similar instances of spoilage.
If you need food, let me know.
Four; batman monster-zombie au
[Safety is first priority for someone in the elements. Bruce is too confident to believe he can't handle a stressful situation. Then he gets one.
The hair on the back of his neck beneath the cowl prickles when the blanket is unraveled. At first, for a second, he thinks the person is already dead, frozen solid. Mummified. No--not dead.]
Get back! [His grip is terribly strong when he grabs shoulder and bicep to reel his traveling partner away. Instead of following up, Bruce promotes distance, putting himself in the way and using his bulk to back the two of them out of reach.] When I say run, you run. [His arms part to fan the cape out, shielding.]
[ The video is displaying an off-centre view of a bright blue backpack, half-obscured by the finger of whoever is holding the tablet. It's a good indication of the kind of quality content that's to follow. An early warning to get out now, perhaps. Save yourselves from the stupid. ]
Friends! In the snow! Snow-friends! I have made... a discovery!
[ Was that a dramatic pause, or just Caboose mustering up the brainpower to say a word with four whole syllables in it? The world may never know. He seems pretty overjoyed about his discovery, anyway, whatever it is.
That's another warning sign that this is going to be really stupid, if we're keeping count. ]
My bag is magic. Today I put un-magic food in there, for eating. And now--!
[ His free hand reaches into view and - with some difficulty - pulls a little baggie of sliced fruit out of the backpack. It's of the same kind that you might typically find when stocking up on rations from the school, except for the fact that it's liberally covered in thick black mould. Delicious. ]
-- Now it has grown more food! I am going to start a farm. A magic farm. There will be cows.
Four
[ There are, believe it or not, upsides to travelling with Caboose. One of these being that he's strong as all heckie, so if his travelling group come across something like - say - an unconscious person lying in the snow, he's more than capable of flinging that person over his shoulder and continuing on unaided.
Which is what he's doing.
Right now. ]
Can we keep him? Because I have already started thinking about names.
[ Here comes the pearl-clutching. LOOK AT THIS SMALL HELLGREMLIN LOOTING THE DEAD, THIS IS DREADFUL AND IMMORAL AND ]
You should really wait until you can ascertain a cause of death before you pick up the loot drops. If they died of anything contagious, you could catch all kinds of diseases.
[a pause of some two or three minutes follows these words, but in time, francel sends over part of the map of the area, with his current location highlighted in a neatly drawn red circle.]
I am presently in a residential building some yalms south of your current location. Again, if you are in crucial need of an evening meal, you are quite welcome to come here. But I would mind the time, if I were you — if you cannot complete the journey in some two bells, you may very well find yourself locked out in the cold. You might be better off simply going without supper.
[it takes a good deal of his self-restraint not to write supperrr...]
[Before responding, Church has to take a moment to facepalm intensely and, for the millionth time, curse admin-chan and whatever other powers might be responsible for bringing Caboose to this place and making his life more hellish than it already was.
Okay. He can do this. He dealt with the stupid for a full year. He can handle this.]
Caboose. That's not food, that's mould. Do not eat it.
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snowblindmemes2016-08-14 08:47 pm
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