villagemod: (Default)
The Village Mod ([personal profile] villagemod) wrote in [community profile] 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 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.


navigation | faq | locations | setting | mod contact

inlieuofadad: (A0zazw6)

[personal profile] inlieuofadad 2021-01-16 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
Gil relaxed and sat. He should have expected Malcolm to help without comment. He smiled at the kid, affection clear on his face.

"Thanks. Not exactly a fan of the not being able to dress myself thing. I'm not that old yet."
abrightboy: (smile between friends)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-16 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Malcolm grinned up at him.

"Well. I did see you shoulder a suspect to the ground a few weeks before I came here, so I believe you," he teased.

Once he got the pants past Gil's knees, he held onto them with one hand while offering him help up with the other.
inlieuofadad: (VVEGNLF)

[personal profile] inlieuofadad 2021-01-16 02:50 am (UTC)(link)
Gil took Malcolm's hand, pulled himself upright, and yanked the jeans up over his hips. He felt better almost instantly without his ass hanging two cheeks to the wind. "Damn right."

It still took him a moment to steady once he was on his feet. He couldn't tell if he was imagining it or not, but it felt like the pain was coming back. Not surprising, really.

No meds. This would be fun.

"All right. I could definitely use some coffee about now."
abrightboy: (interested)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-16 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
“It’s about ten minutes walk,” Malcolm told him. “Are you okay to make that?” he asked, keenly watching every difficulty in Gil’s movements.
inlieuofadad: (A0zazw6)

[personal profile] inlieuofadad 2021-01-16 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
Gil smiled at Malcolm, the expression. "You gonna carry me if I can't?"

He patted Malcolm's shoulder. "I'll make it."
abrightboy: (presses lips)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-16 04:34 pm (UTC)(link)
If he did, it would make Gil the third person he'd carried over his shoulders in this town. The second one that was still alive at the time. His expression wavered at the question, but relaxed at the shoulder pat and reassurance. He nodded and let Gil out into the snow and towards Phillips Drive.

Once they got to the house, he let them in, glancing around for any of his housemates. None to be seen in the kitchen/living room. He gestured to the island. "You okay to sit here or would you prefer the couch?"

They could talk while he made the coffee if Gil sat at the island, but he would understand if he needed to sit somewhere more comfortable than that.
inlieuofadad: (v8Dux9S)

[personal profile] inlieuofadad 2021-01-16 07:27 pm (UTC)(link)
He took the stool. Smarter choice, maybe not, but there was too much that needed discussion for Gil to want to wait.

That, and he didn’t like the idea of being even across a room from Malcolm right now.

“I’m good here. I take it the cowboys are out.”
abrightboy: (just glad)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-01-16 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Malcolm put the kettle on and took down the french press and the coffee grounds and two mugs.

He nodded. "Probably. Though the fire's going," he noted, glancing past Gil's shoulder. "At least one of them has been here recently. Raylan keeps the firewood stocked up."
inlieuofadad: (kFJngHg)

[personal profile] inlieuofadad 2021-01-16 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
"Smart." Power, food, coffee--there was no reason the people in charge of this place couldn't provide Malcolm with medications if they wanted to.

God, he would take them down if it was the last thing he ever did as a cop.

A beat.

"How bad was it? Is it? The withdrawal?"
abrightboy: (curious questions)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-02-02 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Malcolm scooped grounds into the press, his eyes on his shaky command of the spoon to get the grounds where they belonged.

“The worst of the withdrawal passed after about a week and a half,” he relayed with the matter of fact detachment of someone telling a story that happened to someone else. He looked up at Gil as he put the spoon down. “My symptoms have... good days and bad days. On good days I only feel amped and panicky. On bad days I argue or fight with people who aren’t here and break things. All the other days fall somewhere in between. Doc tries to help. He harvests willowbark and dries it in their distillery across the street so I can put it in my tea. It’s a mild pain killer. Helps with the headaches and brainfuzz. I drink chamomile tea. They... take turns supervising my sleep.”