The Village Mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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villagememes2020-11-19 10:10 pm
villagemod) wrote in villagememes2020-11-19 10:10 pm
Entry tags:
test drive — winter
WINTER TEST DRIVE
Welcome to the test drive and thank you for your interest in The Village. This test drive is not game canon but will allow players the opportunity to experiment with game mechanics, the setting, and the flexibility of choice allowed by this game. The following prompts are examples of typical situations characters might face in the game. At least one thread from the TDM is required as part of the game's application process.
The setting details and locations are still being unveiled in the game, so prospective players are welcome to play with established locations or create their own within the general setting of Mathias.( Recommended listening: ♫ )
INTO THE ENDLESS
Winter has arrived in Mathias. Snow falls steadily, big puffy flakes that pile up quickly in drifts as the wind blows them around town. The trees in the forest are covered in it, the branches bending under the weight and shaking when the piles fall from them to the forest floor. The roofs of buildings become solid white and drifts form in doorways as the wind tries to rush inside anywhere it can.
New arrivals wake in the forest, with its winding paths twisting back on themselves as they branch in either direction. It isn't safe to stray from the path, there is a menacing fog that waits just a few yards inward in any direction, but for now, there is nothing impeding movement along those snow-covered paths that cut through the trees. Continue stumbling in one direction and you'll reach the small town, coming out near the mishmash of quaint houses that nestle beside crumbling ruins that used to be homes. But choose the other and you'll seem to stumble on forever, huddling against the wind until there seems to be a clearing up ahead—
And then nothing. The earth opens up before you in a ravine so deep that the bottom cannot be seen. The other side can be seen, tantalizingly out of reach, and there is the sense that safety is just beyond, if only you could get there. But with that sensation is also the knowledge that if you stay here, you will die. The edge seems unsteady, like getting too close would set it crumbling and send you tumbling into that dark endless nothing that waits below...
BODIES WITHOUT SOULS
Benedict Books is nestled quaintly on the square surrounding Mathias's Town Hall, a thick layer of dirt covering the front windows. Looking through those windows provides a much different view than looking directly into the shop through the doorway — vague shapes and forms of figures seem to be inside, though no details can be determined through the streaks of grime. Flickers that resemble flashlights can be seen passing along the windows from time to time, and on occasion there is even a muffled tapping sound that comes from behind the glass, as if someone is trying to get your attention. The same distorted figures can be seen looking through the windows from the inside outward, but moving from one side or the other reveals... nothing. There is nothing there, and perhaps it is all in your imagination.
A portrait hangs at the front of the store to illustrate the namesake of the little shop... that may, in fact, not be so little. Dust covers everything in sight and detritus litters the wooden floor, as if someone left the door open and allowed half the forest inside.
The books are mostly familiar titles from the 1990s and earlier, but close examination will reveal that key details seem to have been changed. They fill shelves in neat lines along the walls and rows in between, the building almost seeming to stretch on forever until, finally, a small office can be seen tucked away in the back. A glance back toward the front door gives the impression that the room isn't that big, after all. Strange that you previously thought so.
Prying the door open is the only way to get inside the small office; the hinges have rusted and are caked with dirt and grime. Search as you might, there are no interesting bits of information to be found here beyond a few inventory lists on the little desk. There is, however, a green and gold safe in the corner that, no matter how many times one turns the dial, simply clicks and clicks. Scratches around the safe indicate that someone tried to get in at one point, though there's no indication as to whether they succeeded.
THE END APPROACHES
Standing at the center of Mathias, the town hall is a modest two-story building that would be welcoming if not for the faded sign, chipped paint, and deafening silence within its empty halls. It's a typical government building, with a reception desk at the front and rows of identical offices within, the names half faded from each door. But what catches the attention is a large bulletin board on the main wall beside the reception desk, once meant to hold flyers or announcements for the community.
What it holds now is decidedly different. Tacked onto the board are scraps of paper covered in an assortment of handwriting styles — requests for supplies should anyone find them, pieces of information shared in the hopes of someone understanding the strange symbols and mathematical equations, notes about those missing or recently deceased. And over the center of the board, tacked on top of other papers, is a map discolored with age. Mathias Township can be read in the corner, a stretch of forest displayed beneath it, but everything else has been smeared to illegibility with red... ink? Upon close examination, a keen eye will realize that the ink is actually blood, though whether it is human is unknown. And scrawled across that forest, nearly covering the illustration of a clearing and a large house within, are the wordshe is coming
A number of tarnished metal pushpins are scattered around the edges of the board, waiting for future messages to be shared, and a stack of pristine white paper and pile of cheap ballpoint pens rest on one of three chairs beside the board. The chairs are clearly meant for those waiting for meetings and are covered in the same layer of grime as everything else in the building — everything except the pens, paper, and bulletin board.
i. into the endless!!
so five takes to the forest path anyway, because habits are a hell of a thing. because he wonders if this time he'll stumble back out to the clearing of gravestones.
he never does, instead encountering new faces the forest decides to spit out into this haunted place.
he picks up on the footprints early on, and teleports enough of the distance to catch up just as sherlock finds him at the edge of the ravine.
five's blink is, for the most part, a silent thing, lifting up some snow as he lands by a tree, steadies himself and straightens his coat. habitual movements of a once-professional. ]
Town's the opposite way. [ a bit cheeky, maybe.]
no subject
[ But that's actually good to know. There's a town, seemingly nearby enough for a teenager to wander away from in this weather. Towns mean phones and phones mean he can, against every desire he has, call Mycroft and get this all sorted.
He turns on his heel and takes in the young man, deciding that, if he had to be find by a child, this one seems preferable. ]
no subject
five stuffs his hands into his coat, and waits with a passive sort of curiosity for the man to walk away from the edge, eyes giving the opposite side a look of caution. it isn't that he's expecting the ravine to crumble, but with the luck this place has been throwing them in the recent days, he wouldn't put it past it. ]
Hope you're ready to be disappointed. [ by the said town, obviously. his time here hasn't made him any less cynical, ducking his chin closer to his collar, all crooked angles and age-old habits stuffed messy into a boy's body as he takes a few backwards steps. ]
no subject
[ Look, they can be cynical together.
Sherlock steps away from the edge, and he feels some of the earth crumble away under his heel just as he moves out of harm's way. He closes the distance between them in long, even strides, but keeps a degree of personal space. ]
Are you from the town?
no subject
as soon as sherlock covers that distance, five pivots on his heel and starts walking, tracking more along the newcomer's footprints more than his own, far more scarce ones in the snow. ] Got dumped into it a bit over two weeks ago, now. [ he's rattling off the basics. establish the only solid timeline you have. establish no one's local. wait for any other question that comes to hopefully fill them in enough before their arrival to mathias proper. easier that way. ]
no subject
I suddenly don't feel I'll be disappointed after all.
[ Not with such a delightful mystery to solve. ]