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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 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.

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Bodies Without Souls

Frankly, he doesn't give a shit what sort of building he's walked into or about whatever paranormal activity is going on inside it. He's there to find some kind of running water and any time of linen that he can bandage his bleeding knuckles with because his body isn't working like it used to; to the point that the mutant knows that it getting worse was not a matter of if or when. He was dying and it couldn't be reversed. But right now, his pain and his coping strategies are no one else's problem but his own.

Logan pulls the door open to Benedict Books and stops just inside to look around - to listen. The last thing he wants is to explain anything to anyone, least of all a person who thinks this place is something straight out of a horror movie. If that's what they thought, he'd love to show them a movie of his life.

For anyone that comes in after him, they will no doubt hear the sound of drawers opening and closing coming from the office in the back, followed by a string of several cusses and then the angry growl of an old man who just needs a damn drink, for crying out loud.

The End Approaches

"He's coming," The words are repeated in a brusque laugh before Logan starts glancing over the other messages on the board in his pharmacy bought reading glasses with the white price sticker still attached to the arm. "Uh-huh. Sure. Watch out for the Boogeyman. Got it."

Really, he's not exactly sure why he's even reading any of it. There didn't appear to be any familiar names and most of it was Good Neighbour bullshit that he had absolutely no plan to take part in. For whatever reason he was there, it was not where he was and whether that was good or bad (he long since gave up on anything good happening to him) he was in Mathias.

With a bunch of crackpots, it seems. Wonderful.

Unlike Logan, Athena gives many shits about the kind of building she's entering and the paranormal activity going on inside it. She shoves the door open, hands curled into fists, and starts yelling before she's fully in the building.

"All right you motherfuckers, which one of you kidnapped me and which one of you is getting a combat boot up your ass if you don't take m--"

That's about when she realizes there's no one inside.

Just as loudly, she says, "Nope," and does an about-face to leave.

Edited 2021-03-09 00:05 (UTC)

Oh, he heard her, alright. It was kind of hard not to when her hollering could awaken the dead, which might not be so farfetched in the end. And before she actually makes it out of the building, she might see a fairly dark human form in her periphery.

But in case she doesn't catch him, Logan steps out and breaks the silence with an all too amused huff. He's seen kids like her before. Same kind Charles liked to scoop up and give a home to at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. In a way, she almost immediately reminds him of Rogue. Without all the swearing.

"Is it your goal to bust into every building like that? Cause I'd like to see what happens when you run into someone."

Athena yelps, shying away from Logan as he appears. She caught that shadow--he situational awareness is better than most--but she recovers fast, lifting her chin and glaring at him.

"Yeah? Well I ran into you, and if you don't tell me what's going on in the next ten seconds--" She stops, frowning at him. "You look like shit. Are you okay?"

Oh, he wants to answer that and the look on his face says he wants to answer that question. But before he can even get the question out, she's already moving on and asking that one single thing that he hates to answer because he's not getting that answer.

Of course, she's going to ask. He only looks like he's lost a knife fight, which isn't totally untrue. He doesn't look down at himself because he knows what she sees. So, he limps past her, totally ignoring the question. Maybe the next building has something he can change into or use to clean up with. At least enough that the next person who sees him doesn't ask.

But he still manages a grunt as he passes her by.

Athena doesn't just roll her eyes. She rolls her head on her shoulders along with them, the picture of teenage exasperation. Teenage exasperation that seems shockingly unbothered by his current state.

"Right, got it. Ugh, grunt, no weakness, fuck emotions, probably." She trails after him, back out into the snow, hunching into her hoodie a little more as she tries to pretend she's not cold.

The biting feeling with no coat to hide in is brutally familiar, taking her back to the previous winter in Philadelphia and the shock of finding someone she knew dead from exposure near the Walt Whitman Bridge. Athena bites her lips together, a nervous tic, and trots to catch up with Logan and stay abreast. The keeping up part isn't hard. He's limping.

"Okay, well, I can either call you Julienne Fred or you can give me an actual name and I can maybe help you clean up. I'm Athena. And I don't think the stores here are going to have jackshit to take care of those... cuts."

Cuts doesn't seem like a strong enough word, but it's what she's got.

Those cuts appear to look like he's been playing with some kind of large cat, but if she's astute enough to notice, it's the gaping holes between one set of knuckles dangling at his side that appear the oddest. No doubt it will raise the question of what sort of weapon was used to cause an injury like that.

He keeps his eyes forward, only stopping long enough to hit the building ahead or to the right. One looks more like it could be a business while the other is definitely a house. So, he heads that way.

"There's always a place with something," he says, glancing her way only long enough to wonder what her story is. "And it's Logan. Don't you have some other doors to be kicking in?"

Of course, the question pops up (again) of how he keeps drawing in people who just don't want to take a hint.

"I said the stores. This isn't a post-apocalypse video game, dude, there aren't going to be medkits stuffed behind the register of..." She squints at the nearest sign. "'Beauty Supply.' That's fuckin' creative."

Except he's heading for a house now. "See, that's more like it. I'll even kick the door in for you since you kind of seem like you'd actually turn into home made human french fries if you tried."

She looks at his hands, then up at his face, her nonchalance breaking for a moment to show the concern underneath. "If you want to just sit somewhere I can find stuff and bring it back. ...The fuck aren't you bleeding to death, anyway? What happened to your hand? Someone stab you with a piton or something? ...That's a spike for climbing shit in case you didn't know."

"I know what a fucking piton is," he snaps, glaring at her with eyes that don't look altogether right. The whites of them are yellowing and they look tired, to a degree even sick. "Are you trying to break a record for most questions asked? Wait. Don't answer that. It's my turn to ask one."

He stops and turns slightly her way. "Mind your own fucking business."

Did he think that would be enough to stop her from throwing out a couple more? Not really. But he can't help but do some wishful thinking.

Athena stops abruptly, flinching back a little from his anger. She debates leaving him to figure himself out, gather his own damn medkits and powerups and fuck off to wherever ancient video game protagonists go when they're at the stage where they hate everyone and just want to be left alone in their disillusionment.

Except that's always the beginning of the damn game, isn't it.

After a moment, she yells, "Dick!"

And then she trots to catch up again, reaching him as he gets to the house and bouncing up the steps to the door before he can, opening it with a glare in his direction. "Go find a fucking couch while I see if these Brady Bunch assholes kept a first aid kit around here somewhere, or at least some towels and sheets and a pair of scissors."

Ellie, coming into the town hall to check the board like she does every couple days unless something keeps her from it, catches that comment. Logan is unfamiliar to her, which makes her hang back. You never know what a person is like, right?

But the laugh is interesting. Most people are so fucking serious. Ellie isn't always, as the puns on the board will attest. But the he is coming thing, she didn't find it funny anymore. This town is just too nightmarish.

She coughs to alert Logan to her presence before she says, "Sounds like a load of bullshit, right?"

Luckily, Logan has had a chance to find an abandoned house with some leftover clothing in the closet and a bunch of linens that he scraped to use for bandages on his hands. The rest of him will fully heal in a day or so. It wasn't nearly as fast as it was, but it's still enough to keep him alive.

Only he's not at all convinced that's a good thing. Even with Laura in his life now.

He doesn't do much more than turn his face to the side and look at her with one eye.

"This where you tell me it isn't?" Logan answers gruffly. Really though, it's kind of hard to take seriously with all the jokes on the board around it. "Who's 'he' anyway?"

She shrugs a shoulder.

"I have no idea, man. That creepy ass message was here when everyone who's here now got here. I don't think any of us know what it means or who he is. I figure he probably already came and went and that's why this is a ghost town, but who fucking knows?" The lack of info they have so far is frustrating, though Ellie isn't much of an investigation person. She wants enough answers to get out of here, but the more the days tick by, the less likely it seems that there's a way out at all.

There should be something ominous about that but with everything that Logan has been through in the past 197 years of his life, weird shit happens more often than not. So, he hardly thinks a message on a billboard is as creepy as he's sure the people in Mathias believe it to be. Maybe that opinion will change a little after he's been there a while, but for now...

Logan scoffs, lifting one bandaged hand up to open the jacket he arrived in and pull out a mickey of whiskey with another bandaged hand. As he unscrews the top off, he continues to look at the board.

"I don't know if I'd call that creepy," Logan takes a swig. He shrugs, vaguely gesturing towards one of several messages. "But the fog.."

He takes another draw from his bottle before screwing the top back on and slipping it back into his pocket.

"Sounds like something out of a horror movie. Is that what you think this is?"

She watches him drink, but she's sceptical of his attitude. It's not creepy to him? Well, fine. He hasn't been here through all the weird and frankly terrible shit this town has.

But she scoffs at that horror movie thing.

"Do I think this is something out of a horror movie? Psht. No. I think it's a shitty place we're all trapped where people keep dying. Horror movies are fake."

At first glance, the note had triggered Liz's fears. While the Reverend was dead (and she was certain of it this time), it didn't remove the instant dread and terror that there was some sign of his return. The "good neighbor bullshit" had at least alleviated that, giving her some sense of what the note was referring to. Not that answers were exactly clear, but they weren't what she first assumed.

The man's tone is one she recognizes from anyone in Bismuth. He was hardened, gruff and likely well armored against kindness. For a moment, he made her think of Samuel. He was more gentle and younger, but both were killers in some form and weren't ashamed of what they were.

That small reminder is enough for her to offer Logan a note:

"The warnings are something to pay attention to, especially about the fog."

Logan has hand enough. The bulletin board and all its messages gave him nothing in terms of answers and he hadn't the patience to care enough to go track someone down to ask questions. Things would reveal themselves and he would deal with it when or if the time came.

He notices the woman when she comes in, but doesn't say anything. Not until she nudges his arm and he looks down to see a note with words written on it. He mumbles off the sentence and peers up over the rim of his glasses.

"Kind of hard not to," Logan regards her. "What are you? Mute?"

No tongue.

So yes, mute. It's slightly endearing to hear him mumble the words of her note, reminding her of the early days with Eli, who was near around his age when they first married. As he learned to communicate with her, he had a habit of reading her notes out loud as well. The memory tugs at her heart as her smile falls slightly.

I'm Liz Brundy

Not that he asked or likely cared. Still, she would introduce herself to him.

The "he" in the note isn't clear. Someone mentioned something about a cult, but I can't tell you too much about that. If there is someone else out there, he hasn't shown himself yet.

He's not much different from the Northern Lords, as aggressive and frightening as the ones she had met in Robb's camp. The obscenities are a bit different, but the level of annoyance and anger that seemed to radiate from him was a sharp reminder of a difficult time. Looking past that (which she tries to do, even in her fear), she can see that he isn't in the best of shape. There's blood on his knuckles and, for all of his ferocity, he seemed a bit sluggish.

It was stepping into the wolf's den, but she hasn't been of much use in this village otherwise. This was something she knew and remembered after the siege of her castle. The Maester had shown her how to tend to the wounded. Blood certainly wasn't enough to frighten her, not compared to the fog outside.

"Do-" she broke off, biting her lower lip. "Do you need that tended to?"

Sluggish was putting it mildly. He was exhausted and just done with living. But he needed to take Charles away and let him die on his own terms, in a place where there was no chance of it being taken away. And he'd failed at doing that, even despite his best efforts.

Did he really try his best though? Somehow he doesn't think so.

Logan looks at her. "I need running water," he answers, his tone revealing that stubbornness that he was famous for. There were injuries, the ones between his knuckles especially, that will force questions to be asked and he's quite sure he doesn't have the patience to explain mutants and superheroes to a girl who looks like she should be in a fairytale movie. "Can you help me with that?"

If she can't, then he'll be on his way.

"I don't think you will find that in a book...?" It's said more as a question, even as she does her best to quip at him. She gives a nervous smile, laughing more from shyness than any actual amusement at her joke. He wasn't as aggressive as a Karstark, as far as she could see. It wouldn't hurt to do her best to lighten the mood.

She moved closer, getting a better look at his knuckles. "I can take you to the boarding house. There are more supplies there and clean water. It might be a bit more empty now than it would have been earlier as everyone else is out exploring." Not that there were many places to go.

"I have some bandages there." She had saved some supplies she had found, well aware she might need them in the future.

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test drive — winter

Logan Howlett | X-Men; Logan (2017)

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the end approaches

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The End Approaches

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Bodies Without Souls

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