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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.
thank ya! c:
Her hands rise, as weaponless as he, though she might of course be hiding a small blade from his scouring gaze. She confesses aloud to having no weapon, and because he has no reason to distrust her - or to come to this encounter with distrust, when there has been no one else - he dips his head curtly. ]
My lady. [ Highborn? It doesn't seem so. He looks down at his hand, the one now made of gold, and lifts it in a jesting greeting. ] A kind offer and I thank you for it, but I'm afraid the time for reattaching hand to arm has passed. [ Now there is only this solid, useless substitute, and he takes a step closer, looking the woman-shaped apparition over. ]
I must've suffered a blow to the head. Can you tell me where we are? I'm a bit alarmed to think I've somehow come this far north. [ A despairing glance up at the snow, which still feels as if it falls from a dream. ]
enjoy the little spooky town!
My lady? ]
Good God, I haven't heard such a formal introduction in years. [ Victorian times, and even then that was more regarded to the highers of society. She was well known, as was her father, but namely because she was the first female doctor that Oxford produced. ] Oh... I see. I'm sorry to hear.
[ Helen decides to make the few more steps forward. A smile is on her face despite the snow and winds that kick up now and then. ]
Unfortunately, no. I've just arrived here myself. [ A shake to her head. ] I've been looking for a path that might take us to a nearby town.
yaaas! <3
And arrived here just as inexplicably as he has? He's not sure which detail to question first, but seeing as how she lacks a sound direction to point them in, he turns another glance out over the yawning pit in the ground, across which there will be no easy passage. ]
We might as well look together, then. Although it's always a gamble whether or not the town will be safer than the woods. [ Men were often far more dangerous than the weather. And despite everything else, he is a knight, and at the very least, he does have a cloak on his back, which he begins to unfasten. ]
Take this, my lady. [ It's a deal thicker than the hood she wears, and his curiosity is still piqued regarding that title she'd announced herself with. ] You're a field nurse? [ It doesn't seem so - she isn't dressed like one, and he looks her over again while thinking aloud. ] A septa? [ She isn't dressed like one of those, either. ]
sorry for the delay! work :(
[ Company is never a bad thing, especially when one finds themselves in a similar situation. Trust can be built from that point on. She gives a tug at her coat and nevermind the injury. She is staunchly English and will carry on despite the situation. ]
Let's hope for the best now. Perhaps at least, the town might have a place we can stay and find some information. Perhaps it's normal people wander in from the woods. I've seen far stranger in my time.
[ Helen glances at the cloak and gives him a thankful smile. She takes it, but, will most likely return it in some time. She'd hardly want her new companion freezing to death. ]
Septa? I'm unfamiliar with the term.
such a mood :c no worries!
People we can trust, if we're lucky. If not, perhaps we will stand a chance of borrowing a few weapons. [ Someone surely had a blade, at the very least? That was all he needed to get his hands on in order to afford them some measure of serviceable protection.
He lifts his gaze over her profile once more when she takes the cloak, close enough now to spot her inflamed cheek and temple. His brow furrows as he ducks for a closer look, answering her question and posing his own in turn. ] A septa, a sort of governess. Who's responsible for that fine bit of décor on your face?
work, the biggest slayer of tagging juice ever
Borrowing in this instance is most certainly procuring. [ Helen raises her eyebrows at him with a bit of a smirk. If they're untrustworthy, then they'll hardly give them swords.
Or guns. ]
Ah, no. A medical doctor. One that has her own practice. though, I suppose if you would like to see that as a sort of governess, it might fit. [ She has the feeling that the concept might be strange to the man that is beside her. He certainly speaks in ways that are older to even her--and she was born in Victorian London. ] A man that I thought had been dead for some time. I thought that he may have followed me here... but I've yet to see him. He's extremely dangerous.
a sad, scientific truth
It is my sworn, knightly duty to procure any manner of safety if it cannot be secured any other way. [ With his own sword, the loss of which is a fact he is sore to face, every time he is reminded that it is not sheathed at his hip.
He falls back into puzzled thought as she describes her title, and the situation she evidently came from. Highborn after all, then? If she oversaw her own practice, wouldn't that make her an authority, and a master of her craft? ] That must make you quite proud. [ Women knew assorted and distinct recognitions in his own realm, of course, but there were few who were true masters of medicine. Those tended to be maesters, and they tended to be men.
The more immediate concern is the man who is, if he is to judge by the wound on the side of her face, still pursuing her. His hand falls to the hilt of his -- Seven Hells. ] Why is he hunting you, if I might ask? [ Her assailant clearly did not hesitate at the thought of physical harm. Death was only a small step past that for such men. ]
regardless though, i'm ADORING your jaime. he's fantastic
I was the first woman that Oxford gave a medical doctorate too. It's quite the accomplishment. [ Proud? Yes. She's been first in various things of her field -- then again, not the average person digs into the details of the abnormal world. They don't learn about the monsters or the beings that inhabit their world. ]
Revenge...as he sees it.
ahhh tysm! he's so much fun to write. i love your gal, too <3
[ She remarks again upon her accomplishment, one that is now less indistinct - a medical doctorate, though with that title he is unfamiliar. Nonetheless, the first woman; worthy of pride indeed. ] I'm honored to have made your acquaintance. The realm at large is grateful for your work.
[ He does not feel out of line speaking on behalf of the realm, as any of its citizens could find themselves in need of her knowledge. He is concerned with the mention of revenge, however, a word heavy with implications, none of which come without blood. ]
No harm will come to you, I swear it. [ He would have sworn upon his sword, but circumstances being what they are - ] Has he been pursuing you for long?