Duplicity Game Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
duplicitymods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
duplicitymemes2023-07-10 08:51 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2023-07-10 08:51 am
Entry tags:
TDM #31
« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »
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 LIEs 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 LIEs 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 paper gown 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. Enjoy your free time until Orientation! Participation is mandatory for all new and past arrivals. It's the hottest part of the summer. Prepare to sweat. |
 After stepping through the door and participating in Orientation, LIERs are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERs at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park. The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning. |
 (cw: aphrodisiacs, dub-con, groping, public nudity, public sex) It's summertime! To beat the heat, LIEs has decided to throw a pool party directly following Orientation at one of the city's public pools! Attendance is mandatory for new arrivals and strongly encouraged for everyone else. New arrivals are provided with (skimpy) swimsuits to wear, but LIERs who have been in the city a while have the option of bringing their own gear. Of course, skinny dipping is allowed as well, and there are many spots on deck for people to tan themselves. Speaking of tanning, why not help out a fellow LIER by rubbing some lotion on them? Or, if you want to avoid a burn, get someone to put sunscreen on your back? The formulas of the complementary products that LIEs provide may or may not have a mild aphrodisiac added to them, but at least you won't burn and you may get that nice golden tan you've been chasing — all over! While one end of the pool is reserved for people to splash around in or float casually, there are numerous games and water activities for people to join in on as well: In a sexy twist on Marco Polo, though in Duplicity the call and response is "lucky" and "get me," the seeker must try and tag other players by tugging at their swimsuits. They'll be rewarded with 30 seconds of foreplay, groping and whatever else they can accomplish within the time frame. Dominant and Submissive pairs face off against one another in piggyback chicken fights or jousts using inflatable toys and suggestively shaped pool noodles. Are those dildos stuck to the bottom of the pool? You bet! Dive down and retrieve them before handing them to the next person behind you to toss in and dive for or just collect as many as you can. There is, of course, the option of using said dildo on yourself or someone else for others to watch and enjoy on the pool deck. No judgment here. For those who prefer a slightly more private option, there are curtained cabanas available and it's easy enough to duck inside with a partner for a quick tryst. |
 (cw: aphrodisiacs, dub-con, altered mental states, miscellaneous kink) Whether it's the obnoxious, telltale jingle that signals the arrival of ice cream trucks, or the vehicles happen to be spotted in their various parking spots all around Duplicity — including some smaller carts made to navigate the narrower streets of the Down, it's obvious that they're popular considering the warm summer weather. It seems the locals can't get enough of the cool, sweet treats on offer — and, even better, the trucks are offering free samples in addition to selling regular sizes. Popsicles and soft serve ice cream are on the menu, and each frozen bite has its own unique set of effects. The menu: Want sprinkles with that? Enjoy your added aphro! |
 (cw: dub-con/non-con, pet play, leash and collar, training/discipline, exhibitionism) A new public park has recently been built on a formerly empty lot in the Up. The bigger sign on the gate reads "Dog Park," and the smaller sign adjacent to it includes the posted rules that all people need to abide by in order to enter. If you're curious about what such a structure entails (after all, there are dogs in Duplicity), you're in luck: today, there's a meet-and-greet being hosted for pets and their owners, sponsored by a local "pet" shop, with banners advertising the event posted at each end of the park. This is a Dog Park, alright, but it's intended for a very specific kind of play involving the LIERs who want to wear the collars in question as well as the LIERs who are interested in holding their leashes. Even if you've never harbored an interest in it before, don't worry — random bystanders will be enthusiastically pressured to join in by event volunteers, so you might find yourself wearing a collar or holding a leash in very short order regardless. All pets must be collared and leashed properly in order to enter the Dog Park, and owners must remain in close proximity to their pets at all times. There are toys for tugging and fetching, a few pieces of special playground equipment, and more than enough space to run around. There will also be obedience challenges issued to various pairs at random, just to see how in sync both pet and owner are with one another. If you decide to participate and remain on your best behavior, you might even earn a nice treat in addition to a pat on the head. The pet shop will be handing out goodie bags consisting of take-home collars, as well as animal tail plugs and other sex toys and gear, to everyone who takes part in the event, willingly or not. |
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 the assignments are OOCly 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 is a night owl, they are a Dominant. If your character prefers the daytime, they are a Submissive. 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 tag on 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 fun!! |
blind to yours, too, but you had me at "magical girl batman"
Joker has known hundreds, if not thousands, of men who looked an awful lot like this guy. Gotham's full of them. Hell, every city seems to be full of them. He's met them in gambling dens and prisons, seen them in goon brawls and villain mixers.
He likes them, generally speaking. They're usually not too complicated. Usually not too bright. And as long as they're being paid well and given ample opportunity to blow off some steam (be it in the form of violence or women or both), they tend to be reliable help.
In other words, every instinct he has is telling him that this fellow is precisely what he's looking for at the moment, and would be a fine (albeit extremely replaceable) addition to his team.
"I like my friends to be practical sorts, you see. Open to those I-scratch-your-back, you-stab-his sorts of arrangements."
no subject
Which is to say — Marc has known men like Joker, too. Has worked for them, the sort that seek to make fear a spectacle, the sort that take joy in it. Marc had never quite been the same — afraid of being the same, certainly, but he'd always found more pleasure in the violence of it all.
He hums and leans forward, gaze running over Joker from head to toe and back again. There's a lot his response implies (a lot the question had implied, too, but—), none of speaking of the sort of man Marc would—
—yeah, no, that's not quite true. Marc's done the enemy-of-my-enemy thing, been quite happy to indulge in the illusion of working for men who almost certainly wish they were like the Joker but incapable of pulling it together. He's done it to get answers, to get results, to get what he wants.
"What's to say I wouldn't stab yours?" Mild, conversational. It's not a threat, it's curiosity, plain and simple, sat somewhere between agreement and disagreement.
Am I now watching the MK show, because of you? Oh, yes.
"Oh, you might," he agrees, perfectly amicably. "Every once in a while, someone gives it a go. Sometimes, they even manage it." He gives a vague wave of one gloved hand, as if this fact is an insignificant little fly that should simply be shooed away. "But I don't think you'll try."
His gaze rakes over the stranger, then returns to his eyes. He smiles more sharply, a shark getting down to business.
"See, friend: you look to me like the kind of guy who likes to get paid. And nobody pays better than me."
This is true. It has to be true, has always had to be true, or he'd never keep a crew. Such is the price of his reputation: no one wants to work for a crazy clown unless the deal is superb. Joker has never minded. It's just part of the role.
"You work a job for me," he explains, "and you leave a very happy man. And if you work a truly great job for me?" The smile broadens; he means it. "You'll never have to work another one."
YELLS!! but i will say that it's very, very different in how it handles some of the characters
An easy proclamation to make, not so easy to keep to, it turned out.
(What else had he said? 'You know me, too dumb to live—'. That one had been true.)
It's an offer made with the sort of magnanimity and assuredness that says that this is something Joker's done before. Implies that he has — had, presumably, given the situation they're both in — the funds to back it up and suggests, too, that he might have even been good at it. It being unspoken between them, of course.
"That's a nice offer," Marc agrees in turn. He doesn't match Joker's smile, but he does meet his gaze. Careful. Level. "There's only one problem," he adds, the remark punctuated by a breath of a pause.
"I'm a priest." Accompanied by a gesture at himself, at the white shirt, the white tie, the white trousers and the white shoes, as if to say 'what else would I be?'
"And what good priest has want of money?"
Just finished the move from hell, so ok, clearly I now need to find some comics
"Well, the sort who likes to do anything other than talk, of course." He shrugs, purple-suited shoulders flicking up with an easy indifference that says, Makes no difference to me. "And if you're a 'good' priest," and the stress on that word, along with the smirk that accompanies it, makes it clear that he sees nothing particularly good about this man, which is a very good thing, "I assume you like to get out there and touch lives. Which, naturally... takes cash."
He begins ticking off line items on his fingers, rattling them off at a rapid-fire pace. "Transportation, a place of worship, power and heat for said place of worship. Loaves and fishes for all. Hymnals, charity events, mission trips, holiday gifts for the homeless kiddos, a line or two of cocaine off a hooker's ass once you're finished saving souls. It all takes funding."
And there's that smile again, that come-on-pal-let's-get-on-with-it smile. "Or, I mean. You could always donate it to the poor. That's the nice thing about cash, you know. You can do whatever the hell you want with it."
cw: allusions to DID (also RIP - moving is always the worst, congrats on getting through it)
He's not going to be as lucky here as he'd been back home. The destruction of the Midnight Mission had been a blow but then he'd found the House of Shadows, had convinced it that they were alike and he could give it meaning and purpose. It had become his home and with it, he'd had no need nor want to try and immediately make up for the fact that he'd lost Steven's money.
What he'd had to do, what Joker's quite right about, is find equipment. A means of finding cash because even if he's decided he doesn't need any of it — conveniently, because fuck, does he miss the trappings of his former life, he misses the manor and the toys and the people — that doesn't mean that anyone else currently in his life feels the same way. Doesn't mean they don't deserve compensation.
And so when Joker says it all requires funding, when he says he could even donate it to the poor, Marc still doesn't match Joker's smile. His gaze rests on it, on the expression, on what's unsaid more than what's said even as he knows he won't do any of that. Charity work was more Steven. Steven, Steven, Steven, the one of them that'd always been the break from Marc Spector's life, from the violence and repressed anger—.
Marc has always had a difficult relationship with the concept of 'good', his father's expectations sitting at odds with Marc's innate nature, and even now, even if he'd argue that stealing from the criminally rich, taking their money and their toys was good, it's not—.
It's not good.
And so Marc doesn't acknowledge it. He doesn't say anything to Joker's list, almost entirely correct. No hymns, no hookers, no blow — his vice had always been booze, an easy method of drowning himself and forgetting.
His glance darts away, just for a second, towards a window. Maybe out of the window, who knows. Briefly searching before it's back to the Joker. He shifts his weight, rests his elbows on his knees and leans further into Joker's personal space. He can't guess whether it'll bother him or not — Marc's gut says no, but he's not always been right about things like that — and then, finally, he does smile.
It's minute, a soft pull to the corners of his lips that says he doesn't smile often in general, that those muscles don't get much of a workout at all. It's all action, no humour nor amusement, his gaze still sitting between cautious and burgeoning frustration.
"Mr. Knight.
I like to know who I'm dealing with."
no subject
He does not, after all, want goons who feel like he bullied them into anything. He wants the men (and they are nearly always men) who work for him to know that they chose this of their own free will. That they're invested, as it were, because it was the smart choice for them.
Which, nine times out of ten, he genuinely believes it is. As for the tenth, well... That's a story for another day.
So he waits, and he watches, and he keeps his smile business-friendly, even as his companion's expression signals enough emotions for the both of them. That, too, is no problem. Gotham's henchmen are, in Joker's experience, an unexpectedly but amusingly emotional bunch, and few of them have learned the fine art of smothering everything beneath a neutral expression. There's a reason his men often wear masks when on a job, and it's not just to meet brand expectations.
He doesn't flinch away from the lean-in, when it comes. He doesn't, in fact, respond at all. He just stays put and waits, knowing full well that if buddy boy here tries anything stupid, he'll have a face full of acid before he can say, C'mere, clown. But he doesn't think that'll happen. No, Joker's pretty sure this is just the next round of Dog-B-Sniffs-Dog-A, just his pal testing the waters a bit to make sure he knows what's what. It's fine. Have at it.
And then, there's the sign Joker's waiting for: that teensy hint of a smile, the one that doesn't do much to the guy's face, really, but that still speaks volumes. They may not be quite in business yet, but they're getting very, very close.
"A pleasure." And from the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, it certainly looks like he means it. "And I'm the Joker, of course." He says this as if it's so obvious it barely merits saying, as if he's quite certain Mr. Knight here (and what a name that is, my oh my) already knows him by reputation and is simply being polite.
He offers a gloved hand, which for once is devoid of any electric shock buzzers, poisoned pins, or any other such unpleasantries. "Why don't I give you a call, hm? The next time I could use a little assistance. And then you can think over my offer in more detail. See if it seems worth your while."
no subject
For Marc, they're less about hiding his face, his feelings, his thoughts. They're about hiding him — with one, he's Mr. Knight, pillar(ish) of his community, the man that helps out and looks after his people. With the other, he's Moon Knight, Khonshu's Fist of Vengeance, still not Marc Spector.
They're an escape, a means of avoiding himself, of not having to look at himself and see his past, his actions, his everything reflected in his eyes, the set of his jaw. The features that, if they were more gentle, were kinder, softer, would be the spitting image of his father. Instead, they're a reminder of everything he's not.
Which is to say, there's nothing when Joker says his name — no familiarity, no recognition. Blankness, the only twinge of recognition being to the tone, to the way that it's said as if Marc should know who he is. It wouldn't be the first time, Marc's exceptionally good at staying in his lane, at only paying attention to matters that are important to him. For someone so caught up in guilt, in trying to right wrongs, he errs — incredibly — to self-involvement.
(It does occur to him, though, that unless it's coincidental, it's likely they work in the same sort of business. (The) Joker isn't a name, not really. It's a not-name in the same way that Moon Knight is. An identity, certainly, but that's not quite the same thing.)
He extends his own gloved hand even as he acknowledges — internally, a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach — that this is likely a bad idea. A shit idea, in the same way that playing along with Clarke had been — the kind of idea that empties all his accounts, that gets his friends (!) kidnapped, and yet.
(It'd allowed him to have some fun.)
—And it's lucky, then, that none of them are here.
"Joker," he repeats, as if trying the word out. Testing. Considering. A handshake without ego, short-lived, strong enough and that's it. "—Just know that I can make myself very interesting if it comes to it."
no subject
You know, that sounded an awful lot like a threat....
Something sharpens in Joker's gaze, and while he's still smiling, the expression is noticeably less cozy than it was just a moment ago.
Was it a threat, or a warning, he wonders? Perhaps a version of hey-Boss-there's-something-you-really-oughta-know?
Hell, for all he knows, "Mr. Knight" here is a metahuman with a unique (and perhaps uniquely useful) set of talents. The mannerisms and busted face all scream goon for hire, but the outfit and name do tell a slightly different story.
Joker forces himself to look afresh at Mr. Knight. To see what he hasn't seen.
"Interesting how, precisely?"
no subject
It's not coy, it's matter of fact and where Joker's gaze sharpens, Marc's doesn't alter. Remains expectant and watchful.
Marc is — contrary to some expectations, fully human. There are no special abilities, no powers, no anythings beyond training courtesy of the Marines, the CIA, of Bushman himself. Nothing that means he doesn't wake most evenings (not mornings, still up, still awake in the early hours—) sore and in pain. Nothing that meant he hadn't spent months futilely begging and pleading and cursing Khonshu's statue. Questioning because hadn't he done everything that'd been asked of him? It was never anything that physical therapy couldn't fix, but Marc's never really been one for fixes. The idea of being broken—.
Well, he's quite used to that.
It's not about how many times you can hit the other guy, he's found, it's about how far you're willing to go. It's about how many times they can hit you and you can make yourself stand back up before they give up.
Marc is of the opinion that he's less interesting these days than he has been, 'interesting' a cute little euphemism for 'unpredictable'. Less prone — for now, apparently, at least in the opinion of the Avengers — to face carving and mutilation; to pushing people off buildings. To flying helicpoters into buildings to get one guy. To trying to take over the world because his god said it'd be a good idea.
All Marc has is stubbornness, a willingness to accept pain as standard. Expected. Not only part of the job but a part of his life and a kind of pleasure found in the knowledge that some of the time, he needn't even bother. By now, the majority of criminals that come up against him have reached the conclusion that it'll end one of three ways for them — faceless, dead, or imprisoned, and few have a desire to test their luck.
But it doesn't mean he won't do what he considers necessary: threatening to treat his enemies as Osiris had been treated. Locking them in inescapable spheres. Dangling them over car shredders.
"The Middle East. South America. Africa." A beat. "I've spent a lot of time with a lot of people, Joker. I've learned a thing or two, is all. None of it anything my god frowns upon.
"I'll think on it, and you think on it."
no subject
Joker's smile warms all the way back up again, and that calculating, watchful note leaves his eyes as he relaxes. "Sure, friend."
He's used to posturing. He's been around the block once or twice himself, from cell blocks to palaces, from an earthquake-ravaged apocalypse to the pomp of the U.N.'s General Assembly. He's dined with lunatics and dictators, henchmen and billionaires. He's wandered alien dimensions. Gone mad, and come back. Died, and come back. Made deals with devils of all sorts, and only come to truly regret a few of them. He knows a thing or two, too, and one of the most crucial of those is: everybody likes to feel important. No one wants to be the replaceable cog; no one wants to feel like a bit player in the show. And if a man thinks he's being shoved into that role, things can get very ugly, indeed.
And so, in the end, it doesn't really matter at the moment if the things Mr. Knight knows are useful ones, like how to garrote a man twice his size or remember the fortune cookies when picking up take-out, or absurd ones, like how to make moral decisions under pressure. All of that, Joker can figure out and make use of in his own sweet time. What matters right now is ensuring that when the right opportunity calls, the newest Knight in his life will be willing to pick up the phone.
"Thank you for telling me." He looks sincere enough, albeit a smidge more amused than before. "I'll look forward to seeing a few of those tricks for myself, when the time comes."
There's an opportunity there to ask about this my god business, but odds are good it's a joke, anyway. And if it isn't? Well, frankly, Joker doesn't want to hear about it. Mr. Knight wouldn't be the first violent man with a religious streak to go on his payroll, and he won't be the last. As long as he keeps it to himself, it's no problem... but it's not something Joker has any desire to get into any deep waters about, either.
"And just so you know, 'Mr. Knight'," and he gives him a wink, just to take some of the seriousness out of all of this, and to show that, right, yes, this is all sort of bullshit, but it's the fun sort of bullshit, "you don't have to sell me on your worth. It's written all over your face."
He dips his head slightly, the vaguest of suggestions of a bow. "Talk soon, now."
And then, with a whistle, Joker's on his way up through the train car again. He's not worried about how best to hunt down Mr. Knight when the time comes. He already knows they'll be back in one another's paths before long, in a place like this. Two guys like them, doing the sort of work they clearly both do? It would be impossible to stay away.