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duplicitymemes2021-07-10 08:20 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2021-07-10 08:20 am
Entry tags:
TDM #19
« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »
« « « ALL ON DISPLAY
» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. ... and you're here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity. After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a clear plastic top and pants along with clear plastic boots to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation. If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You're a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your high rise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You're a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you'll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms. ...At least, this would normally be the case. Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals. The weather is stormy and miserable. There's flooding. Quite a bit of it. |
» » » VIRTUAL VOYAGE
 (cw: voyeurism, privacy violations)Ordinarily, new arrivals to Duplicity are sent on a tour of the city by train, but with the tracks currently underwater this month's tour is a little different. Instead they will assemble in a conference room on the third floor of the Orientation Center and watch a video that highlights the many beautiful locations of the Up, such as White Wall Bridge, Fiddler's Square, and North Park, complete with cheesy voiceover. The video also displays some… less beautiful landmarks in the Down, though that segment is shorter and much less complimentary. After the video concludes, it's time for the interactive portion of the tour! Tablets will be handed out, though there aren't enough for everyone so some people will have to share. These tablets are set up with a program allowing characters to look through various cameras in public areas around the city. They can click from one camera view to the next to explore or tap the 'randomize' button and see where they end up. There seems to be a glitch with the latter feature, however, that enables it to tap into camera feeds that aren't part of the carefully curated tour path. Security cameras in the lobbies and hallways of apartment buildings, hidden cameras in hotel rooms, webcams, and even the cameras on the communication devices that they all carry — any of these might pop up amidst the regular street views. Characters may suddenly find themselves a silent third party to a video call or spying on another LIER in an intimate moment. The question is, will they keep watching or click away? |
« « « SOGGY SLEEPOVER
 Due to the ongoing watery crisis, temporary accommodations have been arranged for until new arrivals are able to move into their assigned housing. Officials explain that the Submissive housing in the Down is partially flooded out and that the Dominant building in the Up, while not faring nearly as badly, has been experiencing electrical issues. As the apartments available to new Dominants are mainly on higher floors, this means an exhausting climb when the power goes out. In either case, the situation is not ideal. For now, Submissives are given blankets and sleeping bags in a hastily cleared-out hotel ballroom. There's plenty of floor space to spread out, but little else with which to create a sense of privacy. An adjoining set of restrooms provides the basic facilities (including a lube dispenser!) though a bath in the sink is as good as it gets for hygiene. Several room service carts loaded with bottled water and suggestively-named cheap pre-packaged snacks are refilled twice daily at meal times. If the Submissives sheltering here wish to better their circumstances, well, perhaps they should find a Dom to shack up with and sign a contract. Dominants each get a room to themselves, though LIEs haven't exactly sprung for the fanciest accommodations. Five star? Not even close. The rooms are small and garishly decorated, with minimal amenities. There's a tv on the dresser that only gets five channels — four of which are porn and the remaining channel is local news and weather. (No matter which channel you're watching, the immediate forecast is: wet.) At least they have a full bathroom. The hotel isn't serving food, but a few complimentary meal vouchers for a nearby restaurant can be found on the nightstand along with a 'sexy' welcome basket consisting of lube packets and a cheap vibrating dildo. All Dominants are strongly encouraged to visit the emergency Submissive shelter and rescue a Sub in need. PSAs featuring sad stock photos will be sent to their devices as a reminder. |
« « « TAKE THE STAIRS
 (cw: aphro, dub-con)With the steadily rising water and heavy rain, Duplicity’s utilities are feeling the strain of being increasingly waterlogged. The city is dotted with pockets of temporary power outages lasting a few hours at a time. It’s concerning, but there isn’t much city officials and engineers can do about their soaked infrastructure. All they can do is try to manage the blackouts and pray that a citywide one doesn’t befall the Up and Down. The area where the Orientation Center is situated is unfortunately prone to losing power, and those characters who decide to take the elevator instead of the stairs while attending Orientation may find themselves stopped in the dark with the doors sealed shut. The emergency system kicks in after a minute with dim red lighting and a voice over the intercom tells those trapped to keep calm. In addition to the emergency lights, a recording of smooth jazz will play over the intercom and air laced with a special blend of aphrodisiac will filter into the enclosed space. One last message over the intercom from whoever is on the other end reassures the stuck parties that the main power should be back on in an hour and in the meantime they should relax. So, what will you do with your trapped elevator buddy? You may find yourself wanting to sit next to them and open up about your feelings. Maybe you're feeling blabby, ready to get some things off your chest, or maybe you're more touchy-feely and you'd prefer to let your body do the talking. You have time, so why not take comfort in one another while waiting for the power to resume? |
« « « GET WET
 (cw: aphro, altered mental states, dub-con, exhibitionism)With the water level now at an all time high and with no sign of stopping, the locals are trying to avoid going out in it as much as possible. This need to stay dry (or at least not wade through murky water on the streets) has created quite a few job opportunities for those looking to make a quick buck. Whether it’s helping transport someone on a makeshift raft by pushing them slowly through the street or delivering food and other orders to customers, the demand is there. New arrivals will be offered these gigs, regardless of designation. Whether they decide to take on the jobs is up to them, but the incentive to do so includes an offer of better accommodations in a penthouse suite of Somass Hotel for those who provide the best service. It’s certainly an upgrade compared to the other lodgings that are available. Of course, there’s good reason the locals want to stay as dry as possible, aside from the annoyance of soggy clothes and pruney fingers. The murky water is contaminated with run-off chemicals from the waterlogged storm drains, that, with extended exposure, may cause irrational and impulsive behavior, especially with regards to sex. Get in an argument? Better fuck to make up. Want to bargain for a deal? Use your body. See someone whose rain boots are pretty stylish? Compliment them by offering yourself. Cause a problem with sex? Solve it with… even more sex. There’s also an even more unexpected side effect that’s cropped up - the urge to sing and dance in the rain, as if putting on an impromptu burlesque show. Wet clothes will be shed and tossed aside in the fervor of the act, baring it all to the elements and whatever audience might’ve formed in the process to watch the spectacle. |
« « « MOD & OOC NOTES
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chooses "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide: If your character can swim well and independently, they’re a Submissive. If your character cannot swim at all or needs assistance (flotation device), they’re a Dominant. To Note: Characters can only swap their designation for one of the following reasons: an event occurs that allows it or there are OOC reasons that make it a necessity. Any swap always requires mod approval and each character can only ever switch once. Characters that are being reapped will keep their previous designation but players can choose to use new TDMs with different designations for fun! Test Drive threads can be used as activity proofs for characters currently in-game. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have a good time!! |
no subject
There's a vague part of Sharkface that knows he's in bad here, that the odds - stacked against him from the start - have only shifted higher against him. Wouldn't be hard for Felix just to slam back and dash Sharkface's skull against the wall. Pressure and leverage, and the will to get it done. They've got all three and he knows mercs like Felix, has known them for a long time. There's no paycheck here but there's always something to be gained. And it wouldn't be hard, no, sir. It'd be the easiest thing in the world.
Not like anyone dies here. Would it be like a game, waking up all over again at the beginning to try, try again?
No. Can't die stupid. Can't die for nothing when the mission still stands.
Sharkface bares his teeth and hisses out the exhale as he drops the knife. It clatters away in the dark. There's really nothing to stop Felix from caving his skull in. Just like there's nothing to stop him from drawing a second, smaller blade in his other hand and doing his goddamn best to punch it into Felix's throat.
It's already started. Play to win, soldier. You've only lost when you're dead. ]
no subject
it's a mistake he realizes too late to spare himself from total injury, but with enough time to pull sharkface's arm tighter around him and half-roll into his chest away from the knife, bodily knocking him against the wall. sharkface's blade arcs in on a lower trajectory, gleaming red, and connects with the tissue in his raised shoulder instead of the fragile arteries in his neck.
the impact punches a sound out of him, throaty and tight. his only tell.
his head jerks back, aiming for a sharp but controlled strike to his temple. he wants him disoriented, not gorily brained across his helmet, just for the few key seconds it takes for him to tighten his grip on his wrist and buckle forward, rolling sharkface over his shoulder onto the ground. a little twist of his extended arm and he could dislocate sharkface's shoulder, or snap his arm at the elbow or break his wrist, do it, do it, fucking do it.
he releases his arm and staggers back. )
Don't. ( get up, go for a fourth knife. if he needs an extra incentive, he'll get it in the form of felix's sidearm, rack snapping as he chambers the first round and levels the muzzle with his forehead. don't. )
no subject
He crashes to the ground. Ends with his arm pinned and then, suddenly, not. Felix has his sidearm out. Has the distance to use it this time.
It's almost neat, as these things go.
His vision pitches. Nearly gives up the ghost, swinging fuzzy and red. But he's not down.
No. Not yet.
Sharkface just bares his teeth. And he laughs. Low, rough. Edging onto wild but not there just yet. Give it time, he thinks vaguely. Just give it some fucking time. He can feel the gas more now that his adrenaline's up. Ironic, considering how little he feels anything else. The pain in his joints, in his skull? Gone, like he never knew it at all. But that ache under his skin, pulsing through him in time with his heartbeat? That's his new best friend. And he knows the score here. The city wants a show. There's probably someone watching.
No, he thinks. No, those fuckers don't get it easy.
He spits blood. And he laughs. ]
What're you gonna fucking do, huh?
[ Is this it? Is this how they play it? Sharkface knows, distantly, that he ought to care. There's a mission. A moment ago, he knew it intimately. Knew the rules, the lines he drew for himself. But it's hard to focus right now, to remember above the laughter and whatever this shit is that's being pumped into the room. Felix has armor and a gun to his head and that ought to matter, but does it? Does it, really? ]
no subject
he inhales slowly, chest hitching on a shudder that drags his spine taut. focus. fuck. )
You're feisty.
( wildly tenacious, too. credit where credit's due.
there's no guarantee that sharkface won't come at him the literal moment felix drops the gun. he's a live-wire ready to fry felix 200 milliamps deep, and that kind of mercurial unpredictability makes him uncomfortably dangerous. his finger flicks over the trigger, squeezing feather-light and lifting away. killing him would be smart, except he's by himself in strange and foreign territory, with no way to measure the present consequences of shooting him dead over the eventual consequences of just letting him walk. no allies, either. no ortez, no fucking nothing. alone.
good, is his first thought, hot and bitterly vicious. fuck ortez and everyone else on that hellspawn of a planet.
stop. stow that for later, gates, you're hurting yourself. he swallows around the acrid taste of blood in his mouth and unclamps his teeth from his tongue, holstering his sidearm. the knife next, yanked from the wall as he edges around sharkface's body and kicks his own knife — spattered in felix's blood — in a corner of the cab, out of reach. he has others, too many others, overcompensating for his lack of a firearm, probably. whatever. it's hard to think.
the drugs, licking through his nerves like an open flame over gasoline. he's high as a kite. )
We're done.
( not nearly as disdainful as he feels.
he wedges his back against the wall closest to him and hikes his weight onto the steel railing. common sense and his training dictate he keeps the helmet on, but he's fucked for the foreseeable future anyway and the suit is unbearably oppressive. his thumb slots in the crevice under his chin, pushing up until the seal pops and hisses, and he's free, helmet wedged between the loose spread of his thighs.
it certainly doesn't help. with his seal busted, it also doesn't hurt. he pinches his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, wiping the sweat from his lashes, then gropes for his injured shoulder and squeezes, allowing the pain to anchor him. his glove comes away red, slippery wet. asshole stuck him good, stabbed right into his suit through layers of gel and mixed composites. )
We can talk round two if you ever get your rig back.
( because he's sure as fuck not getting his unless he takes it off his corpse. )
no subject
Time and time again, he backed her. Time and time again, she taught him all the tricks he'd ever need to survive. And then she died, ugly and brutal, and now there's nothing left of her but the lessons.
Sharkface picks himself up, laughter bubbling in his throat before he kills that noise. Felix doesn't pull the trigger. Doesn't want to deal with the mess in the aftermath, maybe. Or maybe that'd be boring, who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. So long as there's no bullet between his eyes, there's an opportunity. And that armor, which Sharkface wants more than anything he's wanted in this goddamn place.
It'll be a trick getting it. Sharkface sways a little, dragging a hand through his hair. He considers the merits of going for the baton and trying to bash Felix's head in right here and now.
Nah. Wouldn't work. Play it smart, soldier. He thinks Chica would've taken Felix's head straight off, but then, Chica wouldn't have gotten into this situation on her lonesome. She'd have the whole squad to back her play and here, Sharkface knows his allies won't come if he ends up with a corpse and a bloody rig he can't drag out on his own.
A thought for later. Sharkface just snorts. But then Felix does something unexpected and pops his helmet off.
Huh. ]
We're talking now.
[ Just to be contrary. ]
no subject
steel sheet groans under pressure as he braces his shoulders on the wall, inching his legs apart. his helmet rolls down the split track of his thighs, stopped by his knees. )
You wanna fuck around and find out? ( then, sweeter: ) Come give me a kiss.
( bet his draw is faster than his lunge. )
no subject
Sharkface drags a hand down his face. He feels sick. Shaky now that the adrenaline's starting to dump and they aren't actively trying to bloody each other.
So, that's a problem. ]
You're not my type.
[ It's said in a drawl. These days no one's his type, or that's the line he's been trying real hard to draw. Sharkface doesn't touch anyone. Hasn't for years, since before prison. Not outside of a fight, not without violence. It keeps things simple, locks down the crazy. But this, place, oh.
This place just draws it out, inch by fucking inch. Like clockwork.
Sharkface stays where he is. The sick feeling grows. Twists under his skin. only These days, no one should be his type. These days, turns out lots of people are.
Hah. The irony twists in him, mingling with the gas of whatever it is they've been dosed with. Probably won't kill them.
Probably. Sharkface reaches up to prod at his face again. Jaw's not broken. Nose might be. He can feel something crunching when he inhales. Taste it in his throat. Cloying. ]
Bet you feel like shit right about now, huh?
[ There's a small bead of triumph in that. Bad as Sharkface feels right now, it's one of those shared misery equations. And that makes it bearable. ]
no subject
You think I'm gonna cry? Ask the powers-that-be pretty please for benevolent mercy? Boohoo, asshole. Just 'cause you got unresolved baggage doesn't mean I'm carrying the same load.
( he's felt worse, besides. biofoam between two fractured ribs to stop his body from slipping into hemorrhagic shock, the first time he woke up from cryo mid-jump and hyperventilated into hysterics, choking on suspension gel until the ship ai dosed him back into restless sleep. this is hotter than all of that, a searing throb he feels all the way down to his marrow. maddening. he'll claw right out of his skin and suit and maybe his mind, but it's survivable.
easier not to look at him and propel his mind to tumultuous turf, the point of no return, no man's land. easier not to think at all. but felix is felix, and he doesn't know how to not think at every second of every hour he's not unconscious, so he grips his shoulder again and digs his thumb into the gouge in his suit. pain. that's real. )
Fucking — just, ( venomous, hissed between tiny breaths, ) go back to your corner if you're not gonna bust my skull in. You're distracting me.
no subject
Blood on the ground. A momentary distraction. This is still happening. ]
Go fuck yourself.
[ A blunt suggest. Impractical, unhelpful, and Sharkface doesn't move. He stays put, blood caking across his face. He watches Felix dig his thumb into the wound on his shoulder and he gets it more than he cares to. Pain centers you. Grants clarity. Looks like they both need that right now. ]
You can bleed out for all I care.
no subject
( for now. for as long as this shit takes. half hour, an hour? two hours? his thumb twists, grinds in deeper. ruthless, inexhaustible spite carries him anywhere he needs to go, more impenetrable than the titanium alloy shell wrapped around him now. he catalogs the burn and sets it loose on every wildly firing synapse that begs for relief. cull the mutinous herd. fuck 'em.
he exhales, slow. it trembles through him, down to his fingertips, and he stares into the pulsating dark past sharkface's shoulder before his eyes drag inward, jerking erratically across his face. the blood suits him, bizarrely. he fucked him up good. )
no subject
[ It comes out in a drawl. All attitude and sneer. They should probably get back to stabbing each other. Things might build in this conversation. Lines that shouldn't be stepped over. Sharkface prods absently at his nose, feeling for the break. Then he claps both hands tight over the bridge and snaps it back into place.
The pain comes sharp. Pulsing. Distracting, for a moment. ]
Maybe not. Haven't heard of it killing anybody but there's first time for everything.
[ The pain fades to a background thrum. There's a different sort of ache working its way under his skin again. Unwelcome, unwanted. And still the doors don't open. ]
no subject
Pretty sure no one in the history of the entire universe has ever died of blue balls. This is edging on steroids.
( he wants to be more derisive, more jeering, but the drugs burn through him like a gut-punch and knock the wind out of him. they shouldn't talk or do anything except stand in their designated corners and ride each fresh wave of gas vented into the cab straight to a miserably uncomfortable hell. his fingers twitch on his thigh, within an inch of his knife. playing it smart would be taking care of this shit now, before sharkface one-ups him first. put it to bed. move on and suffer the fallout. he can do fallout. fallout's easy.
but remember that sharkface is volatile, and a doped up short fuse with an agenda to burn is a die roll he doesn't know he's willing to risk. he has the advantage, a full set of gear and a loaded firearm. sometimes that doesn't mean anything.
his thumb hooks into his helmet, pulled from his knees back into the tight clench of his thighs. closer, just in case. )
A guy like you must hate this shit.
( it could be bait, or it could be a barb. )
no subject
You're stuck here too, asshole. Same as me.
[ Turns out the armor didn't matter at all. Not when it comes to fielding this bullshit, in this place where magic exists and there are goddamn aliens, aliens who look human and talk like the soldiers Sharkface grew up with, aliens who remind him of Hunter before the captain lost his mind. The thought sputters out. Dies on the vine. Sharkface twitches. For a moment, he gets the impulse to march back and just smash his head into the wall. Make the world go quiet. But that would be insane, wouldn't it?
He bares his teeth instead. He can taste blood in his throat. A distraction from the fact he's twitchy from more than just the adrenaline dump, and unable to do anything about it except stand here and glare at Felix like that's going to solve a damn thing. ]
You never shut up, huh?
no subject
Oh, but that's the delicious difference between you and me, isn't it?
( shame, or lack thereof. restraint, or lack thereof. he knows guys like sharkface. he makes his living working with guys like sharkface, and stripping everyone from the bloodthirsty pirates to the neurotic ex-marines down to the pegs of their derelict, condemned foundation is an offensive habit tacked to the territory. pull in the reins, maintain control, live to see another day. rinse and repeat.
he rolls his helmet in his hands, then back on it goes, a pop-snap of the seal as it connects to his suit. his hud's infrared filter lights up the cab, chiseling the formless dark into fixed shapes and angles and sharkface in the middle of it all, black-eyed and stationary. )
I already know how this is gonna end. Do you?
no subject
Not good. Really, not good at all.
Sharkface snorts. ]
Enlighten me, motherfucker.
[ He rocks back on his heels to disguise the knife he grabs. Yet another. He has a feeling this will swing predictable in the end. ]
no subject
Wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise.
( everything feels sharper, sawed-off and dangerously ragged at the edges. he's high as fuck and critically overheating in several hundred pounds of gear despite his suit compensating for his rapid hike in temperature. he's injured. sharkface is injured too, but a busted nose is a lot different than a punctured shoulder. slows him down, opens him up to vulnerabilities on his left side. felix isn't afraid of him or anything or anyone, except.
except nothing. except no one, full stop. he doesn't move. )
You gonna keep being a chaste little cocktease, or are you gonna come at me like you mean it this time?
( another taunt, a luring dare you in more words. )
no subject
Or it ought to be. The drugs, the gas, whatever they've been dosed with, that changes things. It's gotten twisted. Sharkface can feel his pulse hammering in his throat. Churning. It hurts. He can feel it sharp in his skull, at the very center of his palms. He's riding a fever. He can feel it. Burning him up.
Not good. It's getting hard to think clearly. To remember his lines.
Sharkface bares his teeth. Violence is reflexive at this point. Easy. Why would they ever do anything else? ]
When I die, bury me deep.
[ The cadence is reflexive, too. How many times did the instructors make them sing it? He used to hear it in his dreams. ]
Place an MA5 down by my feet.
[ He goes for a strike. The sergeant's favorite this time, two to the side and then one to the throat to finish them off. ]
no subject
that's a closed coffin painstakingly buried in a shallow grave on reach alongside everything he used to know. he hammered in the nails himself, one for every corner, and then stepped aside and watched, unfeeling, as the covenant did what they did best: scorch his remains to obsidian glass, destroy the evidence, move on.
restless corpses aren't always quiet, lesson one. he couldn't drown his thoughts in whiskey or contain his misery to a single memory dashed in black ink behind his right ear, so he took a knife to the spreading dryrot disguised as guilt and hollowed himself to his core and moved the fuck on too because the alternative meant an ugly metamorphosis into a shade of a human being stuck in a looping nightmare, like ortez. like the broken man swinging at him with a knife right now.
it shouldn't matter. somehow it hits the only exposed nerve he has left. his pulse kicks in his throat, breath hitching into a guttural snarl.
sharkface won't see him pull a knife. one slight flick of his wrist, and it slips from a compartment tucked into the underside of his vambrace. all the easier to access in an emergency, like when he needs to palm it and propel it at sharkface's knife-wielding arm in the span of a half-second, quicker than a reflex. )
Fuck you, asshole.
( you're all the goddamn same.
he doesn't wait, tanking the combined weight of his body and rig into sharkface's chest. leverage, to grapple him to the floor or against a wall, whichever comes first, and if he takes a fucking stab or two in the process, so be it. )
no subject
How much can you take, soldier? The answer is always, inevitably, more.
Felix has the better leverage, though, and that matters in the long run. Sharkface laughs, breathless and wild, as his enemy forces him back into wall. But he manages to stick the blade in, slip it between the seams, and twists. He wonders, briefly, if Felix is going to dash his skull against the wall. It wouldn't be hard. ]
That the best you can fucking do?