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villagememes2020-11-19 10:10 pm
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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
[ She sort of smiles back, because she's fond of those guys anyway, but she also thinks Will's comment is pretty funny. Alcohol is a hit or miss thing where she's from, and it's usually disgusting. She's had it sometimes, sure, but it's not her thing. Hard to fight off a horde of Infected if you're trashed, after all. She likes weed more, though that also has consequences if you're not careful.
Not that she's about to just tell all that to some new person she doesn't know. ]
So are you crazy? You think this is some hallucination? I fucking wish, because I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have lasted three damn weeks if it was.
[ Not that she'd know, really. ]
Insects? Nope. I mean, it's cold as shit here and has been all month, so maybe that's why? But...I don't think that's why. It's probably all related somehow.
no subject
Her question about his own sanity earns a genuine chuckle. The sound is wry but neither hysterical or dramatic. Rather a resigned acceptance of reality. ]
That is the diagnosis. Complete with a long list of -osis in my medical records. My hallucinations like to go the extra mile and this [ he motioned to the space around them ] could be considered standard fare.
[ He glanced towards the bulletin board and then shrugged. ] Though I usually do not hallucinate puns and other joking material. [ Will sighed, still wrestling with the idea of reality, verse hallucination, verse mental death throes. ]
For what it is worth, I think you're right. [ clarification is a good thing and he turns back to Ellie. ] About the insects.
no subject
Well, I don't know fuck all about diagnosis-es or whatever. But those puns are mine. At least the starting ones are. And I'm definitely not a hallucination.
I'm Ellie.
[ She looks back between the board and Will again. ]
You're gonna really flip when you hear some of the other shit. Missing insects and the like, that's just the tip of the crazy iceberg.
no subject
[ His eyebrows arched at the suggestion that he was going to flip and his lips twitched. ] What would you place at the bottom of the iceberg?
[ She was a clever girl, from this conversation alone but also now that he knew the puns, at least some of them, were her own. He expected she'd understand he meant the bottom of the iceberg as the top of the crazy. ]
no subject
[ She's not at all impressed with that line of reasoning. Of course, all head shrinker bullshit, as she calls it, is just made up. She's never met a therapist. They probably don't exist anymore. People don't talk about their mental shit, which is probably a bad thing. Who has the time when you're struggling to survive? Even in Jackson, where it's pretty good, they don't do things like that.
Which is probably part of why Ellie is the way she is now, but introspection isn't really her thing.
She follows his question easily enough. ]
Uh...well, do dead people come back to life where you come from?
no subject
Her question causes a brief expression to flit across his face. He's on the cusp of responding with; in a manner of speaking but bites his tongue. That is not a conversation to have with a young lady. ]
Not unless the coroner makes a regretful mistake. [ What? Some sarcasm was still required. ] Do people die, only to pop up saying 'ha ha gotcha' a few minutes later?
no subject
[ She has a feeling that Will is messing with her a little bit. She catches that he doesn't swear back, but older adults are weird about swearing so whatever. It won't stop her from going right on with her terrible mouth.
She does laugh at the sarcastic joke. Terrible humour is always up her alley, which is probably evident from the stupid puns on the board.
But that fades quickly enough. ]
Not minutes. But people have died and then they're, like, fine the next day or something. But not always. Sometimes people die for good, like the regular kind of dying. Far as I know, there's no way to know which one will happen. So that's probably pretty close to that iceberg base.
[ She considers for a moment. ]
You're not from someplace with magic, are you?
[ He'll have to forgive her if she sounds suspicious; she's getting tired of the very idea of magic. ]