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.
no subject
( He's not on a case and not anywhere he recognizes, so saying his real name isn't going to bite him in the ass. He could be any Dean, not just Winchester. If she's looking for him, or she fangirls or fandemons, he'll adjust accordingly. )
That direction you came from, nothing but a cliff and a steep drop.
no subject
I'm guessing you haven't found anything but endless trees and snow?
[ she thinks if he did, he'd either be there or he'd be tugging her along to guide her to the well-hidden safe place. ]
I'm hoping that there's something warm nearby. I thought there'd be a sign, but who puts a sign up in the forest?
[ she lets out an amused puff of air and shakes her head. the woods outside the lockwood cellar had been easier to track from the sounds of the town nearby. here? there's nothing. ]
no subject
( He's sorry as he says it. They need to find something soon, a cabin - even a clearing they could use to take shelter.
Unless they're dead then they just get to feel the effects of this place without succumbing to it.
It really feels like he could succumb to it. )
Rangers. Forest -- people. Smoky the Bear.
( Only you can prevent yourself from freezing to death. Since she hasn't taken any steps towards him, and hasn't attacked him, he cants his head in the other direction. )
I was heading in this direction. There's a path.
no subject
Mind some company?
[ not that he'll have a choice in the matter. she'd follow him without the unspoken invitation. two heads are far better than one.
but it's kind of nice to think that she's not feeling like an icicle and he's not freezing in the middle of nowhere. if she acts like it's not a big deal, then it won't be a big deal. ]
I wouldn't want you to be left by yourself with Smokey.
no subject
( But, he's not about to leave her here. )
Come on. Stay close and grabs something you can defend yourself with.
( He waits for her to do just that, be it a rock, branch, stick, or rolling of her sleeves and balling up her fists, before leading her back to the path in the direction that doesn't lead to their demise. )
Where are you from, Elena?
no subject
A town called Mystic Falls in Virginia. It wasn't really snowing there… [ her brows furrow and she lets it go for now, wondering just how she's leapt from the warm weather of home to this winter tundra. ]
What about you?
[ from the look of him, she doesn't think he's a small-town guy. he holds himself like he's always ready for a fight, rain or shine, and that's not something she's seen in the lines of the bodies of stefan, damon or even matt. he doesn't seem fazed, but perhaps he's simply better at hiding it. ]
no subject
( He's not about to tell her exactly where he was. Better to let that fade away, focus on the here and now. )
No snow where I was, either. It was spring. ( Which doesn't mean snow can't happen, just that he's been moved. Or, again, woke up here after dying. ) What happened? Before waking up on Cold Mountain?
no subject
I was at the quarry in town. It was nighttime, and I was with my aunt and my boyfriend. [ she furrows her brows, steps slowing slightly. panic threatens to bubble violently in her chest. where's stefan? where's jeremy? she doesn't dare think of jenna. ]
Were you with anyone before you woke up?
no subject
My brother.
( His answer rings hollow. It sticks to his throat as he pushes them forward. Sucks her aunt and boyfriend aren't here. )
You, your aunt, and your boyfriend go to the quarry at nighttime a lot?
( What's there to do in a quarry besides break rocks or fool around? Stargaze, maybe? )
no subject
elena hates that she blushes. ] No.
[ it sounds suspicious, doesn't it? she needs to thaw out and think better of her little retellings of history. ]
We just went for a walk and time got the better of us. Haven't you ever just gotten lost in someone's company that you forget everything else exists?
[ unlike snow, which she wishes would go away. trudging through it is difficult at best, but at least dean is a decent distraction and conversation. ]