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TEST DRIVE MEME #0

A TIME VORTEX has opened in downtown LA! Some magic folks have been contacted to close it, but they haven't gotten here fast enough for the vortex not to spill out a HECK TON OF DINOSAURS – all kinds of dinosaurs of all kinds of sizes. There are theoretically gentle herbivores among the fierce predators, but they are all pretty pissed off about their sudden, startling relocation, and a lot of them have spikes.

(The vortex is both temporally and spatially unstable, which is why the dinosaurs emerging onto the streets of LA are constrained neither by specific prehistorical era nor geographical location.)

What you do is up to you. Here are some suggestions, though:

Fight some dinosaurs. You might be trying to herd them back to the vortex, or just trying to stop them by any means possible.

Flee or hide. If you're lucky the dinosaurs won't work out how to open doors and you can spend your entire thread hiding behind the bar in a Starbucks with some other hapless civilians without having to confront any of them.

Try to capture the dinosaurs on camera. If you can get some really good photos you might be able to sell them to the local paper in order to supplement your elderly aunt's meagre income. Or just use them to get a bunch of notes on Tumblr, either way.

Take advantage of the chaos to do crime. The forces of law enforcement are preoccupied with all these prehistoric reptiles.

Or pretty much anything else you think your character might be doing. Any location in LA is game, although there's no real need to meticulously look them up – you can just assume a generic street, rooftop, store, etc. (You don't have to look up the dinosaurs, either.)

If you have a character who you'd like to assume is part of a team, but that team hasn't been named or brainstormed OOC yet or anything, feel free to indicate in your opening post that you're assuming your character is operating alongside others and encourage others to tag in as if they are part of the same team! Or just handwave it and assume they got caught without their usual teammates or separated from them. Whatever way works best for you.

Events from this test drive are not automatically assumed game canon, but individual threads can be if you and the people who you thread with end up mutually wanting to keep them.

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"Excuse me, citizen of Earth? Can I get a word about the events of the day?"

Registering the sounds, the velociraptor turns, slowly, and looks at its prey. The humanoid does not appear to notice, and raises his arm to his face. A number of small square lights on his wrist switch on.

"Space Ghost here, reporting live from downtown L.A., where these citydwellers are having some trouble with transport within the city. Citizen dinosaur, you're new to the area. What is stopping you from getting around?" He offers his wrist to the dinosaur, a small red blinking light on the wristband indicating that recording is in progress.

The dinosaur bites! ...and watches, stunned, as its jaws pass straight through the arm.

"Not going to talk, huh? Well, listen, pal, listen to me. I don't need to know why you're in trouble. I can tell. When you have a bad attitude, no one is going to want to spend time with you on public transportation. And buddy? Your attitude stinks."

The velociraptor doesn't really care about much more than biting.

"Fine. Fine. But don't come crying to me about the death of journalism!"

He blasts the raptor with his wristband, and it falls down, stunned. The area isn't yet completely devoid of hapless civilians, and where there's peril, there's local area niche interest news. Space Ghost stalks off, determined to find someone to interview.

Admirable effort, thinks Flora, watching Space Ghost's attempts to engage the raptor in amiable conversation.

She leaves the coffeeshop--where she has been tweeting Helpful Tips to her myriad followers--"Did You Know: Pterodactyls are not phylogenetically considered dinosaurs!"--and approaches the gentleman.

"Flora Poste," she says, offering her hand for a shake.

Space Ghost stares at the hand, and opts for a more conventional hello.

"Greetings, citizen. Space Ghost here, reporting live for citizens of Earth!"

He pauses to stare into nothingness over Flora's shoulder, and the moment stretches on, just to the point of discomfort.

"Ah," says Flora, "so you are a sort of broadcast journalist, then. Pleasure to meet you, Space Ghost. I am indeed a citizen of Earth, so do feel free to report at or for me." She considers. "Though your title does present a contradiction. If you are a ghost, then how is it that you are reporting live?"

"A ghost? No, it's very different. I'm Space Ghost." A slight ripple across the surface of his cowl gives the impression that he just winked. "I'm from space."

He stands back, and poses - right hand chop, left hand block, then a finger on the wrist, so everyone knows you're ready to blast them. "Now tell me, citizen Poste: what did you have to report?"

"How wonderful for you!" Flora replies, to the astonishing revelation that Space Ghost is indeed from space.

To his question: "That would depend upon the nature of your coverage. Is it human interest?"

Meanwhile, a little Compsagnathus runs by, snapping at its pigeon cousins.

If there's one thing Tom is sure of, it's that Space Ghost is totally dope and he's pretty sure the guy just K.O.'d that dinosaur without even blinking. But way more important than that, Space Ghost is a happenin' name in the world of superhero news, and Tom needs some serious media coverage to get his new superhero costume rental business off the ground. He's been tweeting and instagramming that shit like there's no tomorrow, but facts are facts, and he just isn't seeing enough foot traffic on those sleek, glitter-spattered floors to make it a hit. He practically slides to a stop next to Space Ghost, giving him that trademarked Tommy H grin. He is so going to nail this interview.

"Whoa, who's this? Space Ghost? Crazy running into you here, man!" Rule number one of mingling with the big shots: act like you're already homies. Even if they hate it, they're usually too thrown for that crucial half a second to stop him from talking. He gestures to himself in a pitiful attempt to appear humble. "Tom Haverford, big fan. And have I mentioned how much I love those sweet threads? Totally kickin' it with the retro look there. 'Cause us caped cats always have to look slick, you know what I'm sayin'?"

He finishes his sentence with a judicious touch of jazz hands and turns up the superpowered side of his charm factor -- some dazzling, colorful lights shimmer around him as though someone just turned on a disco light on him.

"So I'm thinking you and me could make some real magic happen here, Spacey G. You give me a spot on your show, give me a little promo -- " He gives Space Ghost a cutesy little pout, eyebrows raising. "And I can make us both look good."

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