Duplicity Game Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
Entry tags:
TDM #1
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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. |
 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. |
 While the societal climate between Dominants and Submissives remains somewhat neutral throughout Duplicity, there has been the occasional whisper of defiance and call for equality. Yet, demonstrations and visible proof of this unhappiness spreads faster by word of mouth on a day exactly when you need it most. Welcome to Autonomy, a "traveling" nightclub that is never in the same place twice. People wanting to attend only learn of its lucrative location and password hours before it opens for business. Tonight, I choose the third door will get you inside and into the temporary freedom club Autonomy has to offer. In this circle, there are no assigned designations and no consequences for taking a role that isn't the one given by society. So, a Dominant may become the Submissive they've always wanted to be—or vice versa. Dominants and Submissives alike are able to mingle without repercussion and be themselves. Food, drinks, and private areas for more intimate – or if your preference is sexual – encounters are provided. Donations are accepted at any point during the night to further Autonomy's attempts of spreading the fulfillment that comes from being untitled. On the night you choose to visit, Autonomy is holding a random lottery for temporary connections. When entering, you have the choice of submitting your name into this drawing to be paired with someone else in the club regardless of designation. A short while later, a message will pop up on your device with the name and information of your partner, and whether or not you choose to meet them is purely at your discretion. Having more than one connection isn't completely unusual either. |
 Gratification of being a successful Dominant or Submissive isn't necessarily simple. Learning curves are to be made, and mistakes will happen. Led by a Dominant and Submissive couple – Miriam and Victoria, who have been paired for twenty-two years – a monthly meeting for unattached Dominants and Submissives is held in the conference room of Morning Wood motel in the Down. The meeting starts a few minutes after nine and has no designated end time. The couple introduce themselves and explain the purpose of the meeting: learn the proper method for a new kink and possibly find your perfect partner. The space is intimate and well-stocked with refreshments. To begin, Victoria, while blindfolded, balances on her hands and knees with her back perfectly level. Her partner, when ready, places various items on the level surface–a full cup, a plate. The Submissive is meant to hold the items until the Dominant believes she's reached her limit. The exercise is one of trust and understanding. The demonstration is a short one, followed by Miriam removing the blindfold and soothing her Submissive. The words are whispered low and with care, clearly a method that is specific to this couple. The process is concluded with the pair handing out workups, videos, and answering questions. Anyone wishing to practice Purposeful Submission can do so in the open room with a random volunteer, aided by the couple, or can find someone to take to one of the rented rooms. Sex may follow any scene but is not necessarily included. Experimenting with unattached Dominants and Submissives allows for new relationships to form. |
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles based on birthdays; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, character 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 chose "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. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of January to June, their designation will be Dominant. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of July to December, their designation will be Submissive. For characters with an unknown birthday, their designation will be Dominant. Arrival into Duplicity has not been used as a prompt as it is a rather large part of introducing the game and will be saved for the first in-game log. But feel free to thread it on the TDM. Also, any locations throughout Duplicity are available for TDM prompts as well! Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
table it
And now he's on his hands and knees, blind save an immediate patch of floor.
Odd, how it had been Victoria to ask if he was sure when he refuse to take off his shirt. You don't put the scuffed corner of an antique forward when you show it in the window: that's what tablecloths are for.
Insulated against that, his initial estimation is on the mark--it's mostly boring. He has the posture for it, and he has patience for other things, but it seems such a waste of his skills. See nothing, do nothing. Be the same table everyone is, and hope someone thinks you match their ashtray. There's a pair of boots that keep passing just under his sight, as the minutes stretch like hours--on the next pass, he puts himself forward--barely a swill of wine as he moves--so that it seems the other's fault when he bucks the lot of it off.
The glass slides off, sturdy enough to hold its shape, but he curls down under wine and warm ash, hands going to his hair. Assuming this is grounds to remove the blindfold, he pulls it and rolls one eye up.
Oh, good, built like a bear: hopefully he doesn't come with the personality of a wasp's nest. "Oops."
no subject
A glass of wine hits the ground, the person beneath it takes what he imagines to be a long-desired peak out of the blindfold, and who is Bucky to ruin a perfectly played game?
So he ducks down into a crouch perhaps a little too close to Cael's space under the guise of plucking up that wine glass. It's not necessary to lean in another inch or two toward Cael's ear, but he does - close enough to murmur, "Looks like you need more practice."
Whether he means at faking it or balance he doesn't specify, he just settles the glass carefully onto the small of Cael's back.
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Better for both sides, really, to know he can't be good from the outset.
Cael lets his blindfold sit under his hand, eye contact maintained even as it draws too close, blurs the edges of the man. He straightens for the murmur, and the click of approaching heels, eyes briefly forward as the glass settles. This is certainly more than it was before. There's some touch in it, the power of action instead of position.
"The tabletop seems a bit of a crutch," he challenges, finding those eyes and leveling his back.
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Or none of the above. Hard to say considering he's god damn inscrutable in both expression and posture.
"Crutch?" he echoes, an eyebrow creeping up. "For what, exactly?"
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Without being asked.
Climbing is a series of steps. Step one: what to want. Step two: how to get it.
It's the slightest turn of his head, that lets them hover mouths at ears. That narrows the room to a more savory scope. "It's easy to balance a flat surface on another flat surface," he says, talking about more than bottles and glasses. "It's when things shouldn't fit, that you see what you're getting."
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And then the words filter in and his lips part of their own accord, because his mind spins that into a place he's not even remotely sure it was supposed to go. He shifts back on his haunches, just enough that he can look Cael in the face and search it for the deeper meaning.
His lips close, the purse for a second. Eyebrows creep up.
"You got any specific recommendations on how to improve the exercise?" He asks, and if he sounds almost wry surely that's Cael's imagination.
no subject
And now he has something to listen to, something to see.
The stick of wine to his shirt holds the glass a little better in place, as he deigns to take back another sense. Without unbalancing it, he curls two fingers to the fold of Bucky's shirt, and rests just the side of his hand over his sternum. "A walking wire and flaming hoop might be a start."
no subject
Boredom, maybe? He thinks if he had to settle on his hands and knees for an hour he'd probably want to blow his god damn brains out, so that's the reigning theory until something better crops up.
Despite himself, he can't help but bark out a laugh. It's a sound that startles one of the subs beside them, and he can't blame them - it almost startles himself, and it only takes a second to wipe the grin off of his face again. It's too telling, and he's meant to play a role here.
A flesh hand comes up to cover Cael's, with fingers that don't dislodge him but rather lock him into place, and he shifts back to test just how well Cael can manage that balance with his reach being tested. "How 'bout we start with something a little more down to earth and see how your confidence holds up?"
no subject
Like the casual touch of hands, like the light and smother of that laugh. There are some so unfazed he wants to break the mold to ask: what does it mean to you? What solace do you find? The blow to his balance is internal, the glass moving with him as Bucky leads. A less casual touch, when he has to work for it.
And he can do the work. "I can tell you now, my confidence is boundless." More than maintain, he shifts; knee skimmed, planted, and repeat. The glass survives, and he's back in Bucky's space.
no subject
"Your confidence is boundless, your balance is impressive," He agrees and expounds, releasing Cael's hand to curve soft fingers around his jaw in a sort of approving caress. A thumb brushes over his cheek once, twice, and then the hand drops way. "But your manners are shit."
You know, compared to all the sirs and ma'ams dropping from the mouths of exemplary subs in any given direction. Not that he personally gets off on deference or honorifics, but if they're being chameleons here there's no denying a certain standard isn't being met.
no subject
"I suppose you have a choice, then; something secondhand and already broken--"
And he drops his head as well, when--Victoria, from the shoes--makes a pass. "I'm here to learn them, sir." The glass holds, and someone sets the ashtray at the top of his spine, keeping his head bowed. He doesn't catch her parting words, but he suspects they weren't for him.
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Alternatively, he could select someone new who hasn't been bent and snapped like a branch, but the thing is he's expected to break them, isn't he? If he takes a new lier from this place (or anywhere) he's meant to take them home and train them to do all these things. When his lips curl down, it isn't at Cael but rather at the visceral way this all sits so unsettlingly within him.
He doesn't want either, but that's not an option in this place.
Three months to choose, and then the choice is taken from him. What the fuck is he supposed to do?
He pushes a breath out, passes a hand over his mouth. A beat passes, and he muses, "Judging from the wine stain on the carpet it doesn't seem like you're so keen to be broken in either."
no subject
Keenness isn't the thing: he's been trained, to live a certain way, to test the world and test himself upon it. He's still on his hands and knees, still balancing their glass and ceramics on his back, but he has his eyes now. He has, for however long, the ear of someone stationed above him.
The laugh stands out, in the absurd crush of their situation. What you want, how to get it. What they want, how to give it.
How to not give too much. His fingers curl, carpet digging to flesh. "I suppose it depends; do you prefer the soft lead or the hard bit, on your horses?"
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It's abundantly clear that he isn't here for the fun of it, or because he believes in this nonsense, or because he gets off on it.
"If I don't pick someone they'll pick for me," he mutters darkly, while their rotating observers are out of earshot. "If you're looking to get broken in, you're looking in the wrong direction."
He has no plans of going legitimate. He doesn't intend to adapt. He needs someone who can act for the masses and who can won't be a walking reminder of his trauma when they're alone together. No broken horses, nobody asking him to punish them for their transgressions. Nobody reckless enough to spill wine glasses and act up in public either, because that forces his hand - forces him to take up the role and deliver a correction under the watchful eye of the people around him, and if he has to do that for some unruly sub to maintain appearances it's just as bad as doing it for real.
no subject
Cael lets Bucky judge the room, proximity hard to know once the figures move from his periphery.
And all of the better, quieter company potentially listening. He doesn't know what a subway is; perhaps Bucky doesn't know the difference in his example either. Cael pitches his voice at Bucky's feet. "I'm looking for someone who can pretend," he admits. Kieran's face is stark in memory, earnest in a moment, gutted in others. "Who doesn't need it to be more than that."
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One potential candidate, at least, in his quest to find a submissive he can contract with to avoid partnership draft.
So he holds a hand out, parts his lips to murmur his name, but before he can even get the first syllable a roaming volunteer claps a hand down on his shoulder, chuckling at him.
No, no, that's not how it's done, they educate him kindly, as though he didn't know. Without even a glance back at Cael he rises, shifting into an inscrutable posture and expression. You're in a position of power, my friend, you don't give up that power through politeness and handshakes. You take their names, you tell them what to call you, you assert yourself and you do it standing up.
"Right," he agrees flatly, tonelessly. "Sorry. I'm new."
Perhaps we should find you one with more experience, I find partnering two new liers together leads to fumbling on both sides at the start...
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He knows better than to try to offer his. To speak at all, when the pair are gathering themselves away.
Don't speak, he knows: listen. This place would shake anyone; burning down Jameson Dane's manor would do the same. He's still in the ocean, even here on his knees. He can't fight it, he can't last if he goes against the waves. Let them come, let him find their direction, and follow.
Cael squares himself under glass and tray, posture tightened, gaze on the carpet. If he's lucky, if he listens--he might learn enough to find the man again.