Let's Play A Murder (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letsplayamod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
letsplayamurder2025-06-09 03:00 am
letsplayamod) wrote in letsplayamurder2025-06-09 03:00 am
Entry tags:
LPM Test Drive
Greetings, mortals.
I thank you for accepting my plea. From across universes, I have summoned you to aid me in bringing light back to this land. Here, though, in this small pocket, we are free to relax for the moment. Steel yourself, and meet with me soon.
There is much to discuss.
Welcome to the official test drive for Let's Play A Murder, an experimental murdergame! Characters will work together to unravel an oncoming threat that strikes each week with something new to tear them apart. For now, tag around with potential picks for the upcoming game and get a feel for that sweet sweet murder CR! If you have any questions, please DM
Threads from this TDM (and others if you so choose) will count towards the RP sample of the applications.
Wherever you were, whatever you were doing... you're not there anymore. Instead, you've awoken on an unfamiliar but very soft bed. The room is sparsely decorated, ornate carvings of heroic figures intermingle on the walls with hairline cracks. This place has seen better days, but, possibly, so have you.
There is a nightstand beside your bed, as naked as anything save for an envelope sealed in wax. Inside is a letter written in a careful hand, welcoming you to this place; a safe area, free of those that would cause harm. Your host had to step away briefly, but she will return. In the meanwhile, she expects everyone to obey the rules of this place.
Included in the envelope was a small bronze key - to your room, no doubt. And luck - it unlocks your door. You're free to venture out into a semicircle of these homes you've found yourself in. And you're not alone, either.
Perhaps you should say hello to your new neighbors.
You've all become acquainted with each other, and met with your gracious benefactor. She had to dip out again, but has left you all with a veritable island paradise to explore. In the center pantheon, large profiles of each of you have been cast in the stone walls, details of your life chiseled beneath them in perhaps too much detail. Along with a set of rules cast on a bronze plaque. Seems straightforward enough.
Beyond that, it seems whatever information you'll gain will only be found by your own hand. You have the free time now, and it's a beautiful day outside. There's plenty to explore among the towering obelisks and half-standing temples. Just avoid trying to leave the edge of the island - a golden barrier will very rudely smack you in the face.
Feel free to make up locations for this. The island is anachronistic with all the amnesties of a modern home.
Purple clown? What? None of that here. But once you've found out where to leave those tribute coins you've 'earned' there's a small pile of items waiting outside your door. Some of which you might even recognize from home.
Or perhaps you've been given twenty wooden cut-outs of... who the heck is this guy.
Training exercises! In order to discern your godly nature, what better way to start than a good, very old-fashioned obstacle course.
Balance across the beams, avoid getting beaned in the head by a swinging bat. Swing from a rope. Or, if you're really feeling up to a challenge, pick up a sword and meet someone's steel with steel.
Or you can sit back and prepare medical supplies. Someone's definitely going to get hurt.
The sky darkens. Lightning overtakes the calm summers day. It's not long before the whole area is under attack.
From the very earth itself, monsters crawl from the ground; undead hands clutching rusted swords and shields. Digging themselves from their graves so that they can put you in yours. Somewhere, distantly, your mentor yells to take up arms, and is already lost in her own fray.
It's up to you to defend yourself, or to defend others. There's no honor in running away, but if you need to survive, it's not like anyone would blame you.
Congrats! You've survived the onslaught. But even as the sky clears, an ultimatum has been passed down from on high; if one of your group isn't slain by the end of the week, then the world you belong to will be destroyed.
Surely, nothing would actually be able to accomplish that, but that faint hope doesn't remove the tension from the air.
Seems that someone didn't want to take the chance.
One of your fellows has met with a gruesome end, and if up to you and everyone else to play detective and figure out just who did it. The hourglass is running out. Just try not to trip over any evidence.
Investigation’s done, it’s time for a trial! Perhaps you nailed it and someone's already confessing to their crimes. Perhaps you've been running around in circles, looking for anything that could move the trial forward. Maybe you all just decided to strip down, even if it wasn't necessary. Whatever the case, tensions are still high. Not just because you have to point out a culprit... but you have to lay down punishment for them too.
Majority vote decides, of course. This is a democracy, after all, but you can still waste time dithering on what to do next.
Ranma Saotome | Ranma ½
[Ah, training day. Aka, the day Ranma Saotome looks the most overjoyed he's looked since arriving in this world. Being someone naturally athletic and spent his childhood training his body to be the best damn martial artist out there, this was basically his regular past time.
He could be seen going through the obstacle course, clearing most of the gauntlet without breaking a sweat or bones. Aside from getting smacked around by those damned baseball bats. That part really fricking sucked. But what is training without a few minor concussions? Half-way through it, he turns with the other braving it with a cheeky grin.]
Race you to the end.
[Later on, Ranma'll go around to anyone looking fairly strong or skilled enough to brawl and issue a simple challenge.]
Yo, wanna fight?
[Because he won't live up to the title of Combative God if he don't test his mettle.]
V. Being Worshipped is a Breeze
[Now this? This is his element. Yes, the dead he's fought in the past are spirits. But undead's still undead. And these guys are more corporeal than ghosts. It should come as no surprise to anyone when hell broke loose, the martial artist was among the first the charge headlong into battle.
Ranma hadn't bothered with grabbing any weapons beforehand. He was confident enough to take on an army of the dead with his bare hands. Even with their powers being mitigated, he still was proficient enough to back up all that confidence. Weaving around the swords swinging at his head while making it look like child's play, and retaliating with a one good punch or kick to their necks to take them out. All with a big battle-hungry grin on his face. He'll also eventually swipe a sword and shield from one of the re-dead undead.
When it looks like someone needs protecting, be it due to them not being a fighter or an undead attempting to get the jump on them, Ranma swoops right on in. Deflecting the attack with the shield in one hand, he uses both the sword and his foot to keep them at bay. Casually looking over his shoulder at the person he defended, he idly comments:]
Ya' think this'll be a regular thing here?
[Cause if so, this place might just start to feel homely.]
VII. Oh My God
[Try as they might to pretend the incentive handed down didn't exist, evidently someone couldn't keep it out of their head. Ranma wasn't naïve enough to think people wouldn't snap eventually. Still, seeing someone as lively and friendly as Klonoa sprawled out on the ground without a hint of life the cat-rabbit (cabbit?) once displayed... It didn't make being right feel all that great. He's a martial artist, it's his code to protect the innocent...
No, now's not the time to beat himself up. That won't bring Klonoa back from the death. All they can do now is avenge him and drag the bastard responsible out of hiding. The pigtailed teen kneels to the body, instantly noting the blood around his mouth.]
Look here. Did the little guy try bitin' his killer or something, or...
VIII. ~WILDCARD~
(Have another idea you'd rather do? Lay it on me, I'm flexible!)