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.
ii. Bodies Without Souls
Cas?
( No, he did not lose him, not so soon after finding him again.
The only thing that's different is the door at the end of the store ajar, pushed inward.
It takes longer than it should to get to the back of the store. He hates this part, and hates this store because of it. But, he makes his way to the back again. Like a freakin dream the store stretches to its limit and sure enough when Dean looks back, it's normal sized. This store.
He forces himself inside behind Cas.
They have different timelines and versions, but all that matters is Cas is here. But they can talk about things after they get answers. )
Gotta say, Cas, if this was your idea of my heaven you missed the mark. Not nearly enough pizza.
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Suddenly, Dean is here, standing behind him, in this tiny little office in the back of a bookstore. Castiel feels his Grace swell within him; his heart so full, it might as well burst. His face hurts from the weight and width of the smile he bears, just for Dean.]
Hello, Dean.
[He laughs at that, a small huff of air as he glances down at the floor then back up at Dean.]
I'll have to make note of that. Less crumbling buildings and enigmatic bookstores, more pizza.
[Castiel can't keep his eyes off of Dean, drinking in the sight of him, standing there, as though it's their first time meeting all over again.]
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( But, hey, he was going to take a drive to find Cas and everyone else, and now he's here. One shoulder squeeze won't do it. He pulls Cas in for a breath-stealing, post-purgatory, post death hug. )
Whatever's happening, even if I was yanked out of heaven for it, it's real good to see you, Cas. ( Finally, he pulls back. ) Any idea where we are?
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So when Dean pulls him in for a hug, Castiel hugs him right back, clinging, really, letting his eyes fall shut while he basks in just getting to hug Dean again, after everything.]
I'm sorry that your eternal rest has been disturbed. [And he is; Dean has absolutely earned his chance to enjoy peace, even if Cas also still wants for him to have lived longer. He opens his eyes again as he pulls back when Dean does, though his gaze never leaves Dean's face.]
And I wish I had an answer for you, but. I don't recognize this place. I would have thought it to be one of Chuck's old creations but that's impossible.
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( Not that he's gotten far. And he's still holding Cas. He steps back, bringing his arms down, peering around the back office. )
Chuck being gone won't unfuck the monsters. Vamp mimes reminded me of that. So, what's this town's story.
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[Not to mention the fact of this town's isolation, he thinks. Ever since Castiel first set foot in this town, he can't help but feel as though this might be the loneliest town he's ever visited. Just from the general atmosphere, Castiel feels as though this town is perfectly ripe enough for ghosts.]
A very good question. But also, did you say...vamp mimes?
[Castiel turns to Dean with a narrowed gaze. In all of his days and all of his years, Castiel has to admit, 'vamp mimes' are a new one for him.]
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( Or, not. He doesn't know. He obviously doesn't know. )
Don't ask. ( His breath catches when Castiel asks, because thinking about that will make him think about what happened after his mundane exchange with Sam. What should've been a routine hunt, one of his last before taking on that job -- it ended. ) A job Sam and I were working on.
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[Castiel notes the way Dean reacts to that question, the hitch in his breath and the way he seems to tense because of it. Which only leads to Castiel growing more curious with more questions, naturally. But he keeps his tone observational, and he doesn't press for details, much as he might want to.]
Sounds like an interesting job.
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( A spell. He doesn't know. He's not Sam. Sam is Rowena's apprentice. He's just -- well, not just muscle. Cas said that and more - before he did what they both aren't talking about. )
It wasn't. It was routine. Family's slaughtered, kids taken.
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[Castiel glances back at the lights; a valid question. They have no way of knowing what could be causing this, but Castiel would assume, if it isn't ghosts, that it must be magic of some kind.]
Magic, I would think. But I don't know this place, Dean; I don't know this town, or whatever...realm this is supposed to be. If anything, this almost reminds me of Purgatory, but with far less monsters so far.
[He considers Dean with another look, debating how far he wants to inquire. He's trying to treat this like a normal conversation, even if his instincts make him feel like he's trying to walk around broken glass.]
Did you and Sam get the kids back?
cw. spoilers for 5.20
( Cheerleader? Get it? He even pumps his fists in Cas' direction to punctuate it. This is the guy you said you loved, Cas. In some backwards empty town fist pumping like a fake cheerleader, just to get you to smile. )
Zero monsters. Zero monsters Cas and abandoned buildings. I don't remember erected houses in Purgatory.
( He wants to keep poking, Dean will keep the bear locked down. )
Sam probably did.
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[Castiel doesn't always sass Dean back, but, when he does, he very much enjoys doing so. He watches Dean with obvious fondness, regardless; he meant it when he told Dean he loves him, and he will never stop meaning it.]
There's a first time for everything, isn't there? You taught me that.
[Castiel nods.] Well, that's good, then. As long as the kids are alright.
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( It's just like anyone to distract Dean enough to be preoccupied with a funny, yet irrelevant, subject. Like whether or not Dean can cheerlead.
He can, Cas. If he wanted to, he totally could. Male cheerleaders are all strength anyway. Strength and upskirts. )
Just me? Not the entire human race? You had a lot of firsts, Cas.
( His lips form a steely, drawn together line. )
The kids're alright.
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[Something else Castiel has picked up from his time with the Winchesters? Banter is a great way to avoid talking about difficult and heavy topics, topics such as declaring your undying love for your best friend before you die, for example.
He tilts his head, giving Dean a knowing look. Alright, perhaps he can't entirely avoid this point of discussion.] You know everything I've learned about the human race, I've learned through you.
[And that expression on Dean's face tells Castiel that there is certainly more to this particular story than what the eldest Winchester is letting on. But Castiel will let that be, for the moment.]
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( He gives him a pointed look, sends him a wry smile, and then looks away, down at the scratched up safe. He could say anything, he could say 'Shut up,' 'Blow me,' 'Yeah, yeah,' 'Shove it.' He has every response teed up but what lies between them trips him up.
Is that something Cas would've fantasized about? Does this love expand to fantasies? Is he the stuff of Cas' fantasies? What Cas can't have? How deep doe that hole go down? )
Me, Metatron's pop culture 101 download, Jack. Maybe you give me too much credit.
( Maybe not. There is so much more to the story. He doesn't know how to talk about it. Any of it. )
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[Castiel also looks away, taking in the decrepit state of the office they find themselves in. He has so many questions and so much he wants to say, but he doesn't know how to say it; he doesn't know how to approach that same subject he once broached defiantly in order to save Dean's life.
Every few seconds, he finds a way to sneak in a glance at Dean, over his shoulder, or out of the corner of his eyes. For now, he'll be content with just getting to see Dean again, no matter how much he yearns.]
Maybe you don't give yourself enough credit, Dean, even now. I don't count Metatron's 'gift.' He gave it to me out of spite.
[Tiptoeing through the garden, as one does when one, a celestial being, suddenly has to face the consequences of one's own actions.]