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: ♫ )

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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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Comments

[abrightboy]

Malcolm had gone for a walk to clear his head and give the cowboys some peace. A man shouting names into the chasm sounded like a new arrival.

“There’s a Dean here, but I don’t know if he’s the one you’re looking for.”

[moosey]

Sam turns so quickly that it is a shock to him that he doesn't faceplant in the snow. Sam wanted to believe him so badly, it didn't occur to him that he shouldn't trust him. He just really needed to see his brother.

It was as simple as that in Sam's mind.

"Shorter than me, stockier, has a mullet rock obsession, maybe shot his mouth off a few times?" Sam finished, slowly standing up, his weariness showed.

He gave a bit of a half-hearted smile.

"I'm Sam Winchester," He extends his hand because it's the polite thing to do.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shakes his hand. "Malcolm Bright. That sounds like the Dean that's here. He lives down the street from me. Come on; I'll take you there," he offers, heading back the way he came.

[moosey]

Sam stared for a second before he remembered to move his gangly limbs and follow Malcolm. He looked around, trying to get a grasp on his surroundings but Dean was always better at getting his bearings in a strange place then Sam, mostly because Sam's nose was usually stuck in a book. Sam was definitely more of a people person.

"Are you friends?" Sam asked quietly. He knew that he could be somewhat imposing when he wanted to be and he didn't want to scare the guy off, at least not when he was trying to be helpful.

Sam hoped anyway.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughed. “Does he have friends? What does that look like? I saved his life the other day and he accused me of breaking into his house and then he was rude to me for half an hour or so and then I left. Does that count?”

[moosey]

Sam chuckled because his brother really must be here because only the real Dean, his Dean could elicit a reaction like that from someone. Sam's eyebrows furrowed together, his concern growing by the minute.

"He grows on you?" Sam answered, a question lilting his voice slightly. "Can we go back to the I saved his life the other day thing you mentioned?" Sam asked.

[abrightboy]

"Sure. He drank too much moonshine and passed out in the snow. Would have been dead in under 40 minutes if nobody found him." He looked at Sam. "Oh. Oh, I get it. You're the one," he noted, wagging his finger in Sam's direction.

[moosey]

Sam rolled his eyes because that was completely and totally his brother. "Where the hell did he get moonshine?" Sam asked, clearly frustrated trying to piece everything together.

"Thank you for what you did. I'm almost sure my brother didn't say it to you so I am... You know, thanking you," Sam stopped as well. "What do you mean 'the one'?"

[abrightboy]

“From the cowboys, same as everyone else,” Malcolm told him matter of factly about the moonshine.

He looked at Sam at his next question. “The one that normally drags him out of the snow. I knew there had to be someone responsible for that, but he didn’t want to talk about it.”