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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.
John Carter | ER
[It started snowing.
That's his first thought when he comes to, and honestly, Chicago had been expecting the flurries for at least a day, so the thick white coat doesn't come as a surprise to Carter. Next he thinks when did I go outside? That in itself isn't too strange either. He's been on since yesterday morning and he knows that with the 48 hour mark, sometimes your brain just switched to autopilot until you found yourself in the cafeteria or in the ambulance bay for some fresh air.
Speaking of which - man, it's cold. The snow and wind prickle on his skin and he shivers in his blue scrubs. Should have taken his jacket. He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut, rubs at his face, shakes his head with a puff of breath. Maybe they'd get snowed in, maybe it would slow things down in the ER and he'd be able to actually lie down for a couple of hours.
But when he opens them again, he's slowly becoming aware that this isn't the ambulance bay. It's so quiet. No honking cars, no rattle from the L, nothing of the usual humming and drumming of the city. In fact, it's some kind of park or forest and he turns in a confused circle, looking around.]
What the...? No. No, no, nonono...
[There's something viscerally terrifying in the disorientation and his eyes widen with a sudden flash of adrenaline. Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is he having a nervous breakdown from the stress? He so does not have time for any of these right now. There are rounds at seven and he still needs to finish a pile of charts and prepare Dr. Benton's slides for the presentation and if he doesn't get it done the surgeon is going to rip his head clean off--]
... Okay. Don't panic, there's no reason to, to panic. It's just sleep deprivation, I'm asleep. Of course I'm asleep which means I'm on to me which means I can wake up now.
[He starts slapping his face with his open palms while he makes his way through the snow.]
Any moment now. Any moment.
ii. bodies without souls
[Houses! Other people! Figures behind the windows! Finally!
After a brief (so, so brief) moment of relief and excitement, Carter quickly makes his way inside only to find the store empty. Oh, come on! He actually ends up doing a bit of a silly dance, running back and forth and trying to catch whoever is out there - in there? - out there? - in action but of course, nothing comes of it.
Eventually he stares through the window and the very unhelpful apparitions outside. Then he leans back, a strangled noise of annoyance emerging from the back of his throat, the back of his head hitting the wall behind him. Thud. Thud. THUD.]
Great. Losing my mind. That's just, sure. That's fantastic.
[He wanders the shelves, rubbing his arms and puffing in an attempt to warm up. He inspects some of the books - but coming in straight from 1996, the selection doesn't strike him as odd. Instead, he keeps muttering under his breath.]
Ohh, I'm a dead man. Probably wandered off. Yep, wandered right off, out the door, just like that, all the way to the outskirts. Psych evaluation, termination of internship, unfit for the high stress environment of the job, that's, that's a career down the drain. ... And now I'm talking. Talking to myself. Out loud.
[In a fit of exasperation he stops and spreads his arms wide, yelling at the ceiling.]
Can I at least hallucinate another person!
iii. the end approaches
[Bulletin board. That's a familiar sight and some of the notes look recent. Carter laughs, a little high-strung, relieved that he isn't alone but also thoroughly freaked out at this point. And the ominous red writing isn't helping. At all?
He scratches the back of his head, then he picks up a piece of paper and scribbles a small, almost shy WHO? that he tacks next to the red writing. Maybe whoever put up the warning cares to elaborate?
Then he takes another piece of paper.]
are thereI am a doctor.[Wow. That's so stupid. He stares at it, crumples it up, tries again.]
My name is John Carter. I am a doctor. Are there other doctors here? I want to help.
ii
We use our indoor voices to question the reality of our surroundings.
[ Hello, John, have a New Yorker in a crisp black sweater and a trench coat, a fedora perched at a rakish angle on his head and somehow managing to look good instead of ridiculous. He's wearing incongruously big stompy boots. The only other sign that these aren't his clothes is the fact that his jeans are a little too short.
In his arms, a photography book titled The Metropolitan Museum of Art by Howard Hibbard, and another art book, something about Neo-Expressionism.
I can't be arsed to look up every book this pretentious nerd would read]Let me guess. You're new.
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Some of the books flip and tumble to the ground. He tries to catch them. He makes it worse.
Eventually he just pulls his hands back and waits for the dust to settle.]
Ah. Hi!
[His shoulders slump with visible relief. A person. An oddly dressed person with
pretentiouseclectic book taste but hey, he's seen worse during a graveyard shift.]Oh, thank God!
[He suddenly laughs, embarrassed. Finally. Now all of this would just stop and he'd get an explanation and now that there's an actual person with him he's sure that it's all just some... really dumb thing.]
For a moment there I thought I was the only person left in the world? How crazy is that!
[Super crazy, and he laughs again before he trails off. Wait.]
Uh. What do you mean, 'new'?
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He can pretend he wasn't just as panicky when he landed on his ass in the snow at the edge of town. He's paid his obviously-freaked-out dues, thanks very much. ]
Not as crazy as you might think. [ He tries to figure out where the hell to begin. ]
You're not in Kansas any more, Toto. And it's a lot more Return to Oz than any of us like.
[ A pause as he realizes the reference might not actually be helpful, given the... time difference. Of some of the people here. Neal sighs. ] You need a coat. Follow me. I'll... explain as much as I can.
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III - it's you!!!
He comes up to the bulletin board, careful to keep a measured distance between himself and the other man, and for a second, he just watches him write his notes before he clears his throat to announce himself. ]
Hello, John Carter, or should I say Dr. John Carter?
[ He smiles. This place might be highly annoying at the best of times and incredibly frustrating at the worst, but he can at least be pleasant. ]
And we do have one other doctor, and a dentist, I think.
[ He's not completely certain about Doc's qualifications, but that sounds right. ]
it's me!!! and i blame you <3
Yes. That's me? Hello.
[Coulson might keep his distance but he immediately takes a step towards him, sticking out his hand in a friendly manner.]
I'm glad to hear it. And it's really, really good to see other people? Tell you the truth, this is really freaking me out.
[That's a mild understatement.]
Did you also just, uh. You know.
[He looks left and right as if the right word might just present itself to him.]
"Appear"?
I'll happily take the blame!
Sure, he won't be saying that aloud because no one likes to be told that they're ordinary, but it's refreshing either way. ]
Hi there. Welcome to this strange town that, like it or not, we're calling home. Well, I'm not, and honestly, I don't think anyone is, but we're stuck here for the foreseeable future.
[ He smiles a bit wryly, because nothing about this is humorous, but he does want the other man to know he's not alone with that particular feeling. ]
That makes two of us, then. I don't think a day goes by when I don't feel freaked out, to tell you the truth. But to answer your question, no, I didn't just appear. I've been here for- Oh, a few weeks now, at least.
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iii. the end approaches
Eliot steps up to the bulletin board, pointedly ignoring the guy setting up his own message to tap the old map, frowning.
A few moments pass before he finally acknowledges his presence, and realizes what he just wrote.]
A doctor, huh?
[Eliot's clothes are well-kept, he was lucky enough to bring a motorcycle-style jacket though it places him from a more mild climate than the current one. His stocky frame and general way of carrying himself--not exactly entirely aggressive, but certainly with the underlying implication of if you start something, you're gonna regret it.]
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Until the man suddenly talks to him and he blinks owlishly, looking back over his shoulder. But there's no one else, so that's probably for him.]
Uh, yeah. Are you a local?
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Me? Nah, I just got here.
Where are you from?
[Obviously he's new if he's introducing himself as a doctor, but he's curious and still utterly baffled by this place.]
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cw: violence, drugs
cw: violence, drugs
cw: violence, drugs
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ii. bodies without souls
[It's a surprisingly cheerful voice for someone dressed like a very serious FBI agent--even though he is, in fact, a very serious FBI agent.
He peeks out from behind one of the shelves, a handful of books in his arms.]
It can be difficult to tell the difference between the two for the uninitiated.
[A beat.]
You sound frustrated.
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Okay. You know what. He takes it back. That's not the kind of hallucination he was hoping for. At least not if it keeps talking that cryptically?]
I am! I'm very frustrated!
[He's very, very frustrated.]
What is this place? How did I get here? Who are you?
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[He juggles the books in one hand, and offers his other hand towards Carter in a slightly awkward fashion. The books he's holding are various with no theme between them, it truly looks like a random selection.]
As to where we are and how you got here, I'm afraid I'm just as lost as you are.
Could still be a vision. Or a hallucination. I have my doubts the longer we're here.
[He doesn't sound troubled about this at all.]
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i
what she doesn't expect to see a figure in the distance.
wrapped up in a thick coat that's too big for her and several scarves choking her neck, she stares at the figure in the distance and waits to see if it's just a figment of her imagination. once she blinks once, twice, three times, she confirms easily and quickly that this isn't an illusion or trick.
cupping her hands around her mouth, from her slight perch on where the ground curves up into a small hill, she shouts, ] Hey!
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And then he can hear a voice and his head snaps up, looking around for the source until he spots someone in the distance.]
Hello!?
[Oh thank God! He waves his arms wildly, then hunches back down when the cold wind creeps under his scrubs, and hurries towards the slope.]
Help, I-- I need help!
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yelling once more, ] Behind you! [ elena steps away from a tree and joins him in moving her arms wildly, finding that it does warm her up a little. ] I'm Elena! Are you hurt?
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ii;
I frequently talk to myself out loud. I find most other people too tedious to waste my words on. Here, take this.
[ Let it never be said that Sherlock Holmes can't be nice upon occasion. He shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out, to offer the man in the interim until he can get somewhere warmer. ]
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I do it when I'm nervous. Thank you...
[John slips into the jacket, huddling into it like a blanket and bouncing slightly on his heels to warm up.]
So are you real? Because I just said that I... and then you suddenly...
[Gesture, gesture. He pauses, looks down at the jacket he's wearing and the wonderful warmth it provides.]
Okay, that feels real.
[And then, realizing how scattered and incoherent he must sound, he holds up his hands, taking a deep breath.]
I'm sorry. Okay. Can we start over? Because I'm not crazy, I promise. I just, I haven't slept in almost two days and I'm having a really bad day...
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[ Sherlock can at least ignore the chill for the time being. He's been in worse situations, mind over matter and all that.
His eyebrows raise a little at that tidbit of information. Sleep deprived, clearly not in good mental state. Sherlock himself was in something of a distressed way when he arrived, too. Not to the degree of this man, but, all the same.
Sherlock makes a note to find out more about everyone at the moment they got here. ]
It's quite all right. This is traumatic, isn't it? Arriving in a town with no knowledge of how or where exactly you are?
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iii;
[ Sorry about reading over your shoulder, John.
Eliot showed up to check the news and also leave a note of his own, only to discover someone already there. And, you know, he just happened to be nosy enough to read what was being written. ]
But, you know, having a doctor around is probably pretty good, actually. Hi. Welcome to the shithole.
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He steps aside to make more room for Eliot and his own note, flashing him a small, exhausted smile.]
Hey. I'd say it's great to be here but it's really, really not?
[No offense, Mathias. But you kinda blew the first impression.
He holds out his hand for Eliot.]
John Carter. [... Which, right. He jerks his thumb back over his shoulder at the board.] The guy from the note. The very nervous, very confused guy.
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[ Eliot takes John's hand and gives it a brief shake. He also offers a sympathetic sort of smile. ]
Eliot Waugh. I've been here like, two weeks now and it's pretty much still confusing. Sorry.
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iii. the end approaches | did someone say doctor friends?
She'd say that he doesn't look familiar, but, well, she's new herself. No one looks familiar. ]
Oh, hello.
[ Who said manners are dead in a spooky town? ]
doctor friends! \o/
Hello! Hi.
[Carter steps away from the board to greet her.]
Excuse me. I'm... my name is John Carter and I just got here. I mean, I got lost in the woods and now I'm here, I just don't know where here is exactly?
[There's a beat and then he gestures back at the board. he is coming.]
That's not me, by the way! I didn't do that? I suppose I did come here but I swear, that was already here when I got here.
high fiiiive just don't mind the lovely accent
Dr. Helen Magnus. [ Old habits die hard, they say. Making sure she is known as a doctor is always a forefront in her mind. ] They call it Mathias Township. It certainly seems as if it's been some time since quite a few people lived here.
No, that note was here before you were.
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