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.
cw: violence, drugs
Eliot scoffs again and gives him a long look.]
How do I know that?
[You really want him to answer this?]
Listen, man, there are some questions you probably don't want to know the answers to.
no subject
[He sticks his chin out, feeling defiant.]
Like if you have anything to do with this? With all your in-depth knowledge on the perfect kidnapping?
no subject
What kind of kidnapper would pretend to be kidnapped along with the person they kidnapped!? What kind of crazy person do you take me for?
[He throws a hand up.]
Come on, man! I don't have anythin' to do with this! Do you? How do I know you're really even a doctor!
no subject
[Carter just stares at him, then at his short-sleeved scrubs, up at him again.]
Seriously? You think I'd choose to wear this in this weather? I'm freezing my butt off! And at least I'm being upfront with who I am instead of being all... all... all tough guy cryptic about it! How's that gonna help us, huh?
[So much for de-escalating. Well, he sucked at his psych rotation, so.]
no subject
[All right, that's it.]
Fine, you wanna know who I am? Like I said, I'm Eliot Spencer. If you don't recognize that name, good. It means you're not in a terrible line of work. I'm a hitter and I'm your best chance at gettin' out of here alive so what I would do if I were you, is to quit askin' stupid questions and take my advice!
no subject
Carter stares at Eliot, taken aback by the outburst and clearly re-evaluating his choices here. Maybe he understands? Maybe he tries to remember if he has heard the terrible name of Eliot Spencer before? Maybe he's intimidated beyond responding?
He opens his mouth, closes it. Clearly considering Eliot's suggestion of not asking stupid questions.
Then, tentatively,] What does baseball have to do with it?
[He.
He has no idea what a hitter is.]
no subject
[Eliot has to pause in return because.
...because of all things he was expecting, he was not expecting that.
Is he really...? He's not joking. For a second he thought he was being a smartass but no, this looks genuine.]
I...seriously?
[You gotta be kiddin' him.]
I hurt people? For money?
no subject
[Carter's eyes widen again, this time with realization. Hitter. As in hitting people. Like a thug.
That makes more sense than the baseball thing? He does look like a thug.]
Uh. Okay. So you hurt people for money but you don't kidnap them to random eerie locations.
no subject
[He rubs his face, feeling like he's aged a few years from this conversation alone.]
Yeah. And, well, not anymore.
[And because that was typically cryptic and probably needed explaining because this guy just needed that--]
There are hitters and there are hitters.
no subject
[Because that makes sense, that he can get behind. He treats enough criminals of every shape and severity to know there are differences.]
And you're slightly less bad?
no subject
[He sounds, for a moment, genuinely sad about that.]
I'm the worst kind of all.
[But just in case that scares him, he shrugs.]
But I don't do that kinda thing anymore. I try to help people. Won't change what I've done, won't fix anythin'. But that's what I do.
Like I said, I'm your best chance of gettin' outta here.
no subject
Somehow Carter doesn't think he's kidding. Except he looks pretty upset about it and what he says...]
You're trying to make up for the past? That's actually... I mean, that's a good thing.
[He brightens a little at that.]
So you're gonna help me?
no subject
[He huffs and trudges through the snow, not looking at him.]
Of course. As much as I'd love to leave you here in the snow with your stupid questions though...
no subject
[Carter moves with him, maybe even a little faster, rubbing at his arms. He really can't wait to find a coat. A blanket. Anything.]
Now I know a whole lot more about you.
no subject
That's not fair.
Eliot scoffs again, then sputters, then...he actually laughs.
Okay, fine, whatever, you got him there.]
Let's hear more about you.
[He looks over at him suffering and ugh, this is just sad. He grumbles and takes off his motorcycle jacket, handing it over to him.]
Here. I don't want to have to carry your sorry self outta here.
no subject
But he looks up in surprise at Eliot's offer.]
... Thanks.
[Carter slips into the jacket to warm up, intending to give it back after a little while. They can just share until they find some more clothes.]
Me? Not much to tell. I'm an intern at County General. Surgery. And I'm gonna be late for rounds which means I'm also a dead man.
no subject
[Eliot whistles, sounding genuinely impressed. He sounds amused at Carter's predicament.]
What, they won't excuse you for being kidnapped? I feel like that should at least warrant an excused day.