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.
no subject
The gap plagued him so he plagued it but he did not expect to see anyone out here with him. He debated for a long minute about if he should say anything at all to a possible hallucination, but on the chance the figure wasn't a figment of his imagination, he'd go with something netural.
"Marco?"
no subject
Survivor.
Adult.
Civilian.
...Hat?
She stared blankly for a moment more. “How did you get out here?”
no subject
"Think that's my question for you. Though I'm fairly sure I could guess my answer. As for yours well.." He gestured at his boots. "One foot in front of the other.."
He gestured at her hand over her gut. "You alright there?" She didn't look alright.
no subject
Civilian.
Chyler straightened, wincing again, trying to inject authority into her voice. “There’s been an attack on the...” On the planet. The planet.
She cleared her throat. “There’s been an attack. If we can get to Corbulo, we might be able to get a signal out to anyone still listening.”
If anyone was left to listen. “You should stay with me.”
Though what she was going to do without a gun, she had no idea. The things that came after them weren’t the sort of thing she could fight hand to hand.
no subject
He looked over her shoulder at the too quiet and still forest behind her with a lean to one side before looking back at her again, hand coming out to gesture loosely at her.
"I think maybe you're the one oughta stay with me, soldier. Considerin' that that doesn't look like just a scratch. If there was an attack, it wasn't here. All's quiet. Also.. no radios.. or outside communication, so. How's about we get you from over there to over here for starters, hmm? Town and shelter is this way, unless you found something over there that we don't know about.."
no subject
Chyler looked back up at Raylan, for a moment clearly as lost and confused as she's pretending not to be.
Town and shelter. Regroup. Find a weapon, maybe. She nodded, making her way toward him through the snow.
"How long has it been snowing?"
no subject
"A week maybe. I'll take it over the rain." He gestured at her to walk along the gap with him, hoping to find that end that wouldn't involve too much jumping. "That a gunshot wound, stab wound or a slice? We got doctors in town that can help."
no subject
Passed out was easier to say than died. She opened her eyes and started walking again, keeping a careful note of where the edge was and not getting too close. Chyler glanced down at the injury, that same confusion crossing her face again. "It's... all of the above, I think. The things they were shooting at us--they weren't ordinary weapons. Nothing I'd seen before."
no subject
All three, oh good. He was a little more anxious now, that wasn't something he could easily tend to with his limited knowledge. Doc would be good. Helen would be better. But she was moving again and so was he. They had another twenty five feet or so to go before the gap started narrowing.
"That doesn't sound good. Where you pass out at? Where you comin' from?"