villagemod: (Default)
The Village Mod ([personal profile] villagemod) wrote in [community profile] villagememes2020-11-19 10:10 pm
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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 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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abrightboy: (tries to understand)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-12 08:21 pm (UTC)(link)
"I didn't say that. But giving you a 'who not to kill' list feels like throwing everyone else to the wolves. And it also feels like it could easily turn into a 'who exactly to kill' list. You've always encouraged my social isolation. Made it easier for you to manipulate me," Malcolm pointed out.
fatherlyadvice: (nRHKJPO)

[personal profile] fatherlyadvice 2021-01-12 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
"The wolves are already here, my boy. That people have come back means people have already died." He shrugged. "Who knows? I could be one of the next poor unfortunates. Doesn't exactly incline me toward restraint."
abrightboy: (sounds weird)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-13 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
"I feel like, if you were worried about that, you'd seem a little bit... worried," Malcolm shot back. "They were killed by the environment. I'm sure your narcissistic survival instincts will see you through safely, even if it means throwing everyone else under the bus. Including me."
fatherlyadvice: (pic#14585542)

[personal profile] fatherlyadvice 2021-01-13 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
"Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm. You know our relationship with death isn't the same as it is for other people." There was no denying the love in Martin Whitly's eyes, even if it was twisted. "And I would never do that to you. Never you."
abrightboy: (displeased with this)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-13 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
"You've given it serious consideration before. When it was only your freedom at stake. I'm not convinced you wouldn't do it to save your life," he said stonily.
fatherlyadvice: (e0aSZCF)

[personal profile] fatherlyadvice 2021-01-13 12:22 am (UTC)(link)
"Consideration isn't action. And I'm not proud of what I did then. There are lines. Even for me."

He sighed. "But we're getting away from the point."
Edited 2021-01-13 00:22 (UTC)
abrightboy: (defiant)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-13 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
Is it?” Malcolm retorted sharply. “I think it’s a very relevant point, Dr Whitly. Because what if you attempt to kill someone and I interrupt? What if I actively interfere with your ability to carry out a murder?”
fatherlyadvice: (pic#14587601)

[personal profile] fatherlyadvice 2021-01-13 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
"I can be patient," he said, voice soft. "You're my son. There's a lot of leeway for forgiveness there."

He considered his next words with real care. "There's only ever been one moment in my life that I can look at with genuine shame. Just one. And that's when I was willing to put you in harm's way for my own sake."
Edited 2021-01-13 03:08 (UTC)
abrightboy: (tries to understand)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-13 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Part of him wanted to believe that. The ten year old who hero-worshipped his father - the doctor that went to work every day and saved lives - wanted to believe that his father regretted plotting to murder him, a little boy who would have gone anywhere with him and done anything he said.

Look at that bird, he could have said to Malcolm in the forest outside the cabin. Malcolm would have innocently looked at it while his father cut his throat. He does believe Dr Whitly would have made it quick, in his case. It wasn't his hobby, like his other murders. It was a distasteful but necessary chore. Like taking out the garbage. Blood spattered on the leaves and the nearby trees. A tiny body buried somewhere it would never be found. A tearful story to his wife about how the boy went missing at a reststop on the New Jersey turnpike as he wrapped his arms around her and shared her grief.

Malcolm just stared at him.

"I hope you know it's been a long, long time since I could believe anything you've ever said," he told him evenly. "In fact, it's been a long time since I could really believe anything anyone has ever said." A beat. "Thank you for that," he added stonily.