test drive — winter

[villagemod]

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 words

he 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.

navigation | faq | locations | setting | mod contact

Comments

Lieutenant Gil Arroyo || Prodigal Son

[inlieuofadad]

into the endless
Gil is pretty solidly in the camp of I'm dead or I will be soon. He's never had a hallucination before, but if there's a time to start, it's probably after getting stabbed in the gut and dumped into a trunk.

That he's in a hospital gown says... he's not sure what. Malcolm would probably have a treatise available on the symbolism. It's the hope that he's going to make it, maybe. Unwillingness to let go. He's never really been good at the existential.

What he knows is that his bare feet are freezing, and that Jackie is calling to him from the fog that lines the path through the woods. The symbolism there couldn't be clearer. Gil closes his eyes, listening to the sound of her voice, words he can't quite make out but desperately wants to.

He exhales. "Not yet, Arroyo."

Jessica is still in trouble. His kids still need him. He can't forget that, can't ignore it, even if the fight for life is illusory or futile. Gil opens his eyes, takes a hard look at the path, and starts walking.

the end approaches
He's still in his hospital gown when he finds the Town Hall and its bulletin board. Gil thinks he should probably invest time in finding clothes, real clothes, socks, boots. But he's also not entirely sure it matters. It might be more important to just push through this, whatever it is, discomfort aside.

He might also be reluctant to go into any of the houses. He's not sure what his subconscious would have waiting for him inside.

Gil skims the board, notes the map, but there's something else that catches his eye more even than the dramatic Witch Trial statement piece. It's a note in Malcolm's handwriting. Gil unpins it from the board, running a thumb over the words like he'll be able to feel the pressure of the pen behind them. Stay out of the fog, it says. Not all the dead come back. The voices are a siren's song.

"'Don't head toward the light'. I get you, kid. Doing my best."

He takes a deep breath, folding the note up to take with him. "Okay. If I were my subconscious, what kind of funhouse exit would I create for this nightmare?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is looking at the child's school notebook in his hand more than the path he's walked a hundred times as he steps into the town hall. He looks up abruptly as his peripheral vision catches something there.

He stops dead and stares when he sees what it is.

"Gil?"

He thinks he's the one that might be hallucinating, but Gil is one of the good and helpful hallucinations in his head.

But he's also wearing a hospital gown and that's a weird thing to hallucinate.

[inlieuofadad]

Gil looks up, startled, then finds himself smiling. It's not surprising, really, that the first actual face he sees here is Malcolm's.

"Hey kid." He lifts the note. "Didn't trust this to get the point across?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm practically melts in relief when Gil answers him in a cogent way that he's sure didn't come from inside his own brain.

"Well it wasn't..." He pauses, looking at the note. "Oh, did you... take that off the board? You should... probably... leave it there. For other new people later."

[inlieuofadad]

Gil blinks. That cogent of a response was not what he expected. Except is it a cogent response? He's not exactly sure where his hallucination is coming from, but maybe that's normal for this sort of thing.

"...New people?"

[abrightboy]

“...Other people who get brought here the same way we did,” Malcolm told him. “There’s... a store near here. How about.... pants,” he suggested, “and then I’ll explain everything I know. Are you hungry?”

[inlieuofadad]

Gil looked at Malcolm, then the board, then Malcolm again. "I... assumed I was hallucinating."

He shook his head. "I have to be hallucinating."

[abrightboy]

A little laugh bubbled out of him. “Have you ever hallucinated before?”

[inlieuofadad]

All right, Gil couldn't help it--he smiled again at the laugh and the question. "Well, no, but."

The amusement faded. "I have to be. Stab wounds don't just disappear."

[abrightboy]

“Well, as someone who... wait, what? Stab wounds? What stab wounds?” Malcolm asked with a frown, his eyes already scanning for signs of injury.

[inlieuofadad]

"The last thing I remember is Nicholas Endicott's goon stabbing me in the stomach in his entryway when I went to get your mom." He shrugged helplessly. "Twice."

[abrightboy]

“Endicott... the pharmaceutical magnate? What d... Why w.... Wait.” He waved all questions off. “My mom?”

[inlieuofadad]

“The...” This wasn’t right. Gil stuck Malcolm’s note back to the board, not really paying attention to where he did it. He closed the distance between the two of them, putting one hand to Malcolm’s shoulder, the other to his cheek. “The guy who had Eve killed, Malcolm. The guy who framed you. Your mom was there trying to cut a deal.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm just stared at him.

"Gil. What are you talking about? Someone killed Eve? Why? Because she was helping my mom with the... stabbing my dad thing?"

[inlieuofadad]

Gil’s grip on Malcolm’s shoulder tightened a little. “Kid... what’s the last thing you remember?”

[abrightboy]

"My father got stabbed and we were waiting to see if he woke up," Malcolm told him. "He hadn't woken up."

[inlieuofadad]

Jesus. Gil nodded slowly, forcing himself to keep his expression as calmly neutral as possible. “We should sit for a minute.”

He didn’t wait for Malcolm’s agreement, just guided the younger man over to the nearest chairs. “Have you ever lost time? Since after Martin was arrested, I mean.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm just looked at him.

"Since he was arrested? You mean since I was ten. Have I ever lost time since I was ten? I've barely even slept since I was ten. But I've been stuck in this place for the last three-ish weeks."

[inlieuofadad]

Gil sat. Three weeks? What the hell was going on?

“Malcolm, Martin woke up. He woke up months ago. Corroborated your mom’s story. She didn’t have charges brought against her.”

[abrightboy]

"....Oh.

Well.

That last part is good," Malcolm told him, starting to unconsciously wring his hands.

"Um. How many months?"

Time passed oddly in Mathias. Maybe it had been a lot longer than any of them realized.

[inlieuofadad]

He took Malcolm's hands between his own, trying to still and steady them. "Three, give or take a week. I... can't be sure if much time has passed since I got stabbed."

The end approaches

[moderatelymaladjusted]

After the latest... things that happened, finding a way back home seemed all the more important. And not just because Eliot was in a bad way, but also because. Well, they finally had some magic back and it made no sense that this should be the only place. Getting back was a priority.

Which is why Quentin is heading out of the library, arms filled with books to check out, since the hole in the floor was a waste a time and there's nothing else to go on.

"I guess that depends on your sense of humor? Uh, I mean, hi. And also, none of the obvious ways out work."

Re: The end approaches

[inlieuofadad]

Gil turns, surprised to find someone else present. More surprised that he doesn't recognize the face. It seems like he should, if this is all in his head. He also thinks he probably *shouldn't* be self-conscious, but the stranger is fully dressed and he's... well.

Gil adjusts his hospital gown, making sure the ties are tight.

"Uh. Obvious ways?"

[moderatelymaladjusted]

"You know, clicking your heels together three times? Going through the old clock? The wardrobe? None of that works. I've tried."

It's not that Quentin doesn't notice the hospital gown, but after being the hospital himself too many times, he's learned the etiquette of never asking. At Midtown Mental Hospital, you never ask. He looks at the board, the papers rustling in the cold breeze.

"Do you need a- uh, coat? Maybe?"

endless;

[welladjustedwhitly]

Ainsley woke up in blood-soaked snow, to match her blood-splattered clothes, and she's been wandering through the infinite vastness of white for what feels like an hour by now. She hasn't seen anyone else, so when the figure appears up ahead, she's torn between feeling relieved--another person, finally!--and panicking about what they'll think when they see her.

Still. It's the only other person she's seen so far, so Ainsley can't stop herself from heading toward them. She doesn't bother calling out to them, she's not sure they'd hear her over the howling icy wind anyway. She's not sure she could make herself shout right now. She's still feeling kind of numb, and it isn't from the cold.

She takes a few last jogging steps as she catches up eventually. "Hey. You don't happen to know where we are, do you?"