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.
Peter Benton | ER
This is stupid.
It just is. Suddenly being here, in the woods like this, completely lost, and certainly not in Chicago? Whatever, whoever got him here--a kidnapping, a patient with a grudge maybe--he's going to have some choice words and actions for them when he figures out how to...get out of here. And get back.
"Hello?"
He yells out down the path, the snow muffling his footsteps and his voice. The last thing he remembered was resting his head for a second in the lounge, a cup of coffee in his hand.
Then again, this could all be a dream. He's been up for 30 hours straight, it could happen. He thought his body and mind was better trained and attuned than to fall asleep this easily, but he's been working these hours for quite some time and maybe his body just decided to call it a day.
He might be muttering under his breath as he travels through the winding path. He wasn't even afraid of seeing the person that may have brought him here, he was in such a foul mood.
Just wait until he sees them...
Bodies Without Souls
At this point Peter realized that he wasn't, in fact, kidnapped and that this was just...a phenomenon. He was a man of science and this was...at least, it felt beyond what science could tell them. Not that he didn't believe it was anything supernatural, of course not--there was an explanation, just not an easy one.
Especially for these things in the window.
He stares, fixed on the apparitions in the windows. He goes back and forth to make sure that they are, in fact, not actually in the building, and he stands there, hand over his mouth, just looking at them and trying to come up with a scientific explanation.
"Some kind of display, perhaps," he mutters. "A projector hidden in the ceiling?"
He goes to tap the windows.
"But for what purpose...?"
Wildcard: [Hit me up at
bodies without souls
He may notice the large crack near the bottom of the glass. She may have been pitching rocks at the ghost people earlier. The seventeen year old, 5'3" girl kicks her way through the snow, stopping outside of his reach. Don't be offended, Peter, she doesn't get close to any guy she doesn't know.
"I'm guessing you're as new as I am."
no subject
He doesn't take that literally at all. It's certainly just a trick of some kind.
He just scoffs and shakes his head, leaning into the window a moment to inspect the crack. And then he glances back over to her, a look of mild disapproval on his face. Property damage, really?
"Just got here. You?"
no subject
She picks up a rock, smiling winningly at him as she tosses it up and down. "Few hours ago. Long enough to get the whole 'toxic fog, don't go out at night, don't go in the museum, mostly we're guys here' deal."
no subject
No, they haven't knocked at him yet and he's pretty sure she's making fun of him or just joking. Because that doesn't happen?
He squints at her, and back at the rock. He takes a general step back closer to the window as if he's going to block the glass like a goalie.
"I got the same information."
no subject
Athena sticks her tongue out at him and drops the rock. "Seriously? I was only going to break it a little. More."
no subject
"...yeah." Right, let's just deal with the impossible window first.
Except.
"Really? You're going to break it? That's property damage. Someone is going to make you pay for that."
no subject
Athena tilts her head back, cups her hands around her mouth, and shouts skyward. "Hey Mathias, there's a fucking teenage delinquent throwing rocks at windows in broad daylight! It's property damage. Come and arrest her! At least make her stop! Oh, the humanity!"
She cups one hand around her ear and listens to the silence that follows, then shakes her head and tsks. "Mmm, pretty sure this haunted-ass ghost town doesn't give a shit if a few more windows get broken."
A pause. She rolls her eyes, like she's either lost patience with him or with herself. It's not clear which. "Hi, I'm Athena. Going to take a wild guess and say you won't have any fuckin' clue what I mean when I say I'm a bard either, and that you will be one of the super strange people here who makes the argument that magic doesn't exist."
Another pause. "...I'm sorry to be the bearer of really weird fucking news, but this place is going to knock you on your ass either way, so I mean. Better to take it on the chin than try to avoid it and get socked in the eye or something, right?"
Into the endless F
He stops, too, the air going out of him like he's been sucker-punched to the gut. The epitome of a deer in headlights. Okay, maybe make that floodlights. Helicopter searchlights. The actual sun? It's never been so bright and he's never been more frozen. One of his feet might still be in the air.
"Dr. Benton?"
There is just so much happening, his mind pulling him into so many different directions at once. Joy, terror (oh, he looks pissed), the urge to laugh, a wild fear that his mentor might just disappear again. The urge to reach out and touch Benton's arm (unwise), to impulsively reach out and pull him into a relieved hug (un... wiser), and a bubbling need to defend himself and explain.
How can he explain?
Can he explain?
"I can explain!"
He stares at him with the helplessness of a man who absolutely can't explain.
"It's, it's kind of a long story. You're probably wondering where you are - or maybe where I've been but probably more where you are - which is totally understandable, so, uh, the same thing happened to me two weeks ago and there is this town called Mathias and people are trapped here but we haven't really figured out why but strange things are happening and it's kind of like that one story we have about the ghost on the fifth floor? Except that it's real and and this is going to sound really crazy but just bear with me for a moment here, okay--"
Is he just going to keep going? He's just going to keep going.
F x 10000000000000000000000000000000
--and then that flannel-clad figure is definitely Carter.
"Carter!?"
He practically barks it out, the word echoing off of the trees.
"What the hell..."
A beat.
"...are you wearing?"
He trudges through the snow to meet him, and there he goes, off on some...wild rant that he can't make heads nor tails of. Mathias? Two weeks ago? Real ghosts?
"Carter--Carter, slow down. Hold on."
He puts his hands out, exasperation in his voice. This is not explaining anything.
"Start from the beginning. Where are we? What do you mean, two weeks ago?"
no subject
Carter's mouth snaps shut at the command but he still stares at him a little too wide-eyed, clearly shaken but dutifully trying to push past that.
The familiar routine helps. Question. Answer. That he can do.
"We're in Mathias," he tries again after a deep breath. "That's what the town is called. I've been trapped here for two weeks along with some other people. ... And I know I missed rounds and I'm sorry but I didn't choose to be here, I just woke up here. That's what happened to you, right?"
no subject
Except one thing he says is sticking in his mind, and it's like it's almost difficult to fathom because it just can't happen. Carter must be confused.
"Two weeks? No, it hasn't been two weeks." Because clearly he's right and you're wrong. He holds a hand out. "I saw you just down the hall, minutes ago. I went to the lounge and got a cup of coffee, and I--I closed my eyes for a second."
It was just a second. That's all.
no subject
That floors him.
Sure, he's had some time to get acquainted with the thought of time travel and people being mostly from the future. But it never occurred to him that it might be true for his own world.
"No. No, I wasn't, I've been... here. For weeks!"
He almost asks Benton what year it is for him but he's suddenly afraid of the answer. Plus, it's really not helping, is it? He's becoming aware that it's not his turn to freak out here.
"It was the same for me. I fell asleep and then I was suddenly here. It's like a bad dream, except it's real."
no subject
He has to be mistaken. This isn't happening.
Peter rubs his face, feeling not unlike the time he went on a Tilt-A-Whirl when he was a freshman in high school and vowed never to do it again. The world just feels off, and if someone told him the world had literally gone off-axis he would have believed them.
Unless he's dreaming. Maybe he's still dreaming.
He looks back and forth, expecting someone to jump out and declare it a prank, or for there to be a camera crew or something.
But Carter is very earnest about this and he trusts Carter.
"It can't have been."
no subject
"All right, look, just..."
He finally reaches out, putting his hand on his arm.
"Let's head back into town. You need to warm up. I got a place where I'm staying, we can talk there."
It's surprisingly decisive but the past days kind of demanded him to be.
"I'll tell you everything I know when we get there."
no subject
Damn.
"All right."
That's all he can do. Right now the world is messed up and nothing makes sense, but Carter is here and that's something.
Besides, it's cold.
He nods, clearing his throat, projecting the aura of calm even though he didn't feel calm at all.
no subject
Except now that they're not talking about the impossibility of teleportation and Mathias, the silence stretches out between them. A silence that weighs on Carter and on his swirling mind that is still dealing with the fact that Benton is here, right next to him, walking with him.
"It's... it's really good to see you," he says eventually, his voice turning soft.
"You're okay, aren't you? You're not injured?"
no subject
What can he even say? He has a million questions but his mind is reeling, trying to figure this out, trying to pull the impossible pieces together and failing. This is so beyond him, beyond anything that should be possible, he just can't--or maybe he just doesn't want to deal.
Because if he deals that means this is real and Carter taken, and in this place for weeks and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
He looks at Carter when he finally speaks, and there's a pang in his heart when he wonders what might even prompt him to say that. It's evidence that he's been here awhile and maybe...missed him?
What happened here?
"I'm fine."
He looks at him curiously, concerned.
"Was I in any danger?"
no subject
It's awkward and so familiar at the same time. Things getting too real, communication breaking down to only a few words and everything shifting to that place where things weren't said. Carter doesn't know how to navigate this. His heart feels very full but he isn't sure he can express just how happy he is, how much he missed Benton, how much he missed home. Not without causing an emotional avalanche. So it just lingers in the silence, like a rising storm, swirling slowly.
"Yeah, I guess? There's this fog, it's really harmful, you're not supposed to go in it... like, have you seen that movie, what was that, Carpenter I think..."
He trails off slowly, exhaling.
"You're really gonna hate this."
no subject
He frowns, that doesn't sound good at all.
"Chemical plant nearby? No, I haven't..."
That honestly sounds like a hazmat situation to him. It could give them an idea of what's actually going on here...
Carter's right. He's really going to hate this already.
"What is this, some kind of...experiment? See how we react to situations, or actual, outright human testing on chemicals?" That sounds...plausible. Horrific, but it could happen, maybe...why them though, he has no idea...
no subject
It's out before he knows it. And then he pulls a face because he just knows how that sounds and how he sounds and how crazy he must look with this stupid jacket stomping through the snow.
"Some kind of supernatural force," he hurries to add, as if that made it any better. "Whatever it is, it brought us here and trapped us here. There are others, too. From all over the world."
(no subject)
(no subject)
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no subject
Fortunately for her, she's currently a wolf, and wolves are intimidating. Or they're supposed to be. She's less intimidating than one might hope, given that she still looks young even as a wolf, but that doesn't stop her from lowering her head and growling a little as he approaches.
no subject
He has no experience with wild animals or wolves, and that one doesn't sound too happy. Fantastic. He's lost, kidnapped, and there are wolves. How could this day get any better?
"...easy there."
Peter takes a step back, holding his hands out, looking around for a large stick of some kind in case he has to pry some jaws away from his neck...
no subject
She cocks her head, studying him with an expression that probably looks unnervingly shrewd on a wolf.
This is a risk. He'll probably attack her. At the very least he'll probably start throwing insults and epithets her way. But she can just shift back and run--it's not like any average human on its best day can keep up with a sprinting werewolf.
Besides, she can't ask any questions in this shape.
So congrats Peter, there's now a girl in her late teens in oversized flannel and too-large boots climbing to her feet on the path in front of you. She eyes him warily for a moment.
"You going to try and hit me, or can I say something first?"
into the endless
"Hey! Stay put, I'll find you!" she calls out. At least it's not terribly foggy here today. After a minute or two, she catches up to the sound of Peter's voice. She comes toward him, wary because she can't help but be, and stops a few feet away, well out of arm's reach. You just never know, right?
"You...just wake up here?" she asks.