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
[ She spreads her arms wide, as if embracing this entire stupid situation. ] We all have our blind spots. Yours is obviously mirrors.
[ Athena pauses, seeming to consider his first and second. ] If an opinion falls on deaf ears does that mean it matters? It's like that tree falling in the woods thing, only it has an actual answer and that answer is no. Also, I'm a motherfucking delight, so it's their loss.
no subject
Speak for yourself, Sixteen Candles.
Look, even if no one is around to hear them, opinions always matter when they come from a reputable source and I am, arguably, the most reputable source, unlike some little smart-mouthed pissant like you.
[ her last remark? tony actually laughs at that ] Delight? I have known you for about three seconds and you are easily the most loathsome person I've come across in... months, at least.
no subject
[ She gives him a deep, exaggerated bow. ] I concede, but only because you begin to bore me, sir.
[ She straightens up. ] What’s your name anyway?
no subject
[ tony grins to himself as she bows, though makes sure to quickly wipe the expression from his face before she straightens again. interesting kid ]
Does it matter what my name is? [ a pause, then ] Tony. What about you, kid?
no subject
[ She stretches, turning to face the bulletin board again. ] So you’re like a tech guy? You’re going to be bored as shit.
no subject
[ he turns back to the bulletin board, making a face as he reaches out to pull one of the notes from the board at random. don't worry, he'll put it back where he found ] I'm not like a tech guy, I am a tech guy. [ he shrugs his shoulders. maybe he'll be bored, but then, maybe this place will pose an interesting challenge ] I'm good at what I do [ said matter-of-factly. not bragging (this time), just an honest statement ] so I'll be able to figure out something useful to do with the low grade, old school tech they have around here.
no subject
Oh, you’re just correcting my grammar. I thought you were going to say you were the tech guy or something and then I was going to laugh at you.
[ She studies the board for a moment, her expression going more serious. ] The fuck do you think is going on here, anyway?
no subject
he wouldn't have wasted his time carrying on the conversation for as long as he has if he thought she was a dumb kid ]
Oh, I am most certainly the tech guy as well, but that part usually goes without saying. 'Tony Stark' and 'tech genius' just go hand in hand.
[ tony looks down at the note that he'd plucked from the bulletin board. it's something about the fog and it's effects. he pins it back up on the board relatively close to where he'd grabbed it from ] Waking up here with no way to leave and no contact with the rest of the world. Dangerous fog. I don't know what's going on here but I'm going to figure it out, one way or another.
no subject
[ There’s something reassuring about his confidence, even though her more cynical self says he’s as lost as the rest of them. Honestly, since when have adults even been able to solve their own problems, let alone anyone else’s?
She itches the back of her neck absently, one of many nervous tics. ]
You think the fog is natural or man-made?
no subject
[ tony has yet to come up against an obstacle that he can't overcome, even if sometimes it seems like it's nothing more than dumb luck and a series of coincidences that see him through to the end. he'd be dead now if yinsen didn't end up alongside him in that cave. he'd be dead now if pepper destroyed his older arc reactor like he'd told her to.
honestly? solving other people's problems means not having to focus too closely on his own ]
Man-made. I don't think there's anything natural about that fog. Whoever brought us here is obviously intending to keep us here. [ tony rubs his eyes. this place is already exhausting ] There's still the other points to consider. Something as simple as a jammer could be used to block cell phone signals, but that couldn't block my signal too. [ that could be easily explained but that explanation makes him a little edgy so it's off the table for now ] If it wouldn't knock out the electricity and also kill me, an EMP could also potentially explain it. But there's some electricity and I'm still alive, so. And there's [ people apparently being here from different times ] everything else.
no subject
[ He's serious about having worked with Elon Musk. Screw musical theory. Screw her. How did someone like that end up taken to a place like this? ]
Fuck. [ The word comes out a whisper. She has questions, yeah, about "his signal," about the fact that an EMP would kill him. But those aren't the most important questions, not right now, not to a kid who's spent a chunk of her life so far down on the social food chain that plankton would be noticed missing before her. ] I mean I get how someone like me ended up here but how the f.... You're actually somebody.
no subject
[ money and status don't shield him from this kind of bullshit. not that he wants to be. he's done with even the illusion of being beyond these types of things ]
Like a lot of things, I can only assume that I ended up here due to a series of both good and not so good decisions.
[ the kid who considers herself less than plankton and a social lion. you really have to applaud mathias' desire for variety ]
no subject
Fuck. Fuck. Okay, this is good for me, though, right, because what am I gonna do, sing us a way out?
[ She stops mid-stride, eyes widening. ] Holy shit I’m a dumbass, maybe I could. I mean we’d need a way to make sure we were going in remotely the right fucking direction, and I don’t even know what direction that would be, but if we can figure that part out I might be able to sing a few of us through the fog to get help.
[ She barely takes a breath through that whole ramble. When she does, she drops her hands to her sides again. ] I have no idea how to figure out where we are though. That’s probably going to be all you.
no subject
tony watches her pace, even if maybe he's not entirely focused on her. he's running through various possibilities in his head for just what might be going on here, the reasons why this place is the way it is. eliminating anything that couldn't possibly be happening based on other factors.
bits and pieces of what she's saying do happen to break though his thoughts and eventually enough makes it through for him to piece together what she's actually been saying to him. at him? whatever.
tony holds up his hand to try to get her to slow down ] Yeah, I could probably figure out where we are and which way to go. [ it's said quickly though and a little absentmindedly because there are more pressing matters here ] The part about singing through the fog. You wanna run that by me again?
no subject
She lifts her chin in faint defiance. ] I’ve got the Gift with music. That gonna be a problem?
no subject
I just want you to explain how you think singing can get you through the fog that has been managing pretty well so far, to keep everyone contained. Because that could be very useful information.
[ he is far from having a problem with this. he's downright intrigued ]
no subject
It’s... like, Gift manipulation 101, move shit with your mind.
no subject
Anyway, I'm not saying that it's not possible, just that- Are you from Earth?
no subject
[ Her eyebrows go up a few notches at his last question. ]
My parents might argue about my being from another planet, but last I checked, I was in a shitty little suburb outside of DC trying to give the HOA an aneurism with plastic flamingos.
no subject
[ not that long ago, he would have reacted similarly to that question ]
Still not ruling it out. Anyway, you're so intent on me believing that you have this gift, then make me believe it. Show me.
no subject
[ How can she tell that he wasn’t capitalizing it? A mystery for another day, perhaps.
Still looking at him strangely, she goes to the nearest desk, contemplating the papers and pens on it for a moment. ]
This is stupid.
[ She looks at him sidelong. ] I can’t believe I’m doing this when you’re probably actually fucking with me this time.
[ Still. She relaxes, points to one of the pens to show where he should direct his attention, and sings out a long, bright note with no particular words.
Nothing happens.
From the look on her face, something clearly should have. ]
What the f....
[ A deep breath. She sings a quick scale of notes, searching for that ever-present feeling of strength she takes for granted—but it feels like she’s listening to nothing but static. No symphonies. No familiar tunes. ]
Oh god. [ She feels sick. Athena covers her mouth with one shaking hand, then the other, trying to get her fingers to stop trembling. Mumbled: ] What the fuck.
[ She drops her hands and yells in a mix of desperation and anger. ] What the fuck!
[ Athena is pretty much ignoring Tony now. She draws in a deep breath, focuses her attention on that stupid pen, and belts out the chorus of Fly Like an Eagle by Steve Miller Band.
All at once, that familiar feeling clicks, and the pen rockets off the desk and past Tony to hit the far wall.
Athena stares at it where it came to rest, still feeling sick. ] What the fuck. It shouldn’t have been that hard. What the fuck.