test drive — winter

[villagemod]

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

Comments

jeff calhoun | oc

[bardish]

INTO THE ENDLESS:
It's pure dumb luck, rather than any navigational skills, that sends Jeff on the right path, towards civilization. And not a moment too soon, because he is so not dressed for the cold. Even after spending so many years in Virginia, there's still too much of Southern California in his blood to ever get used to snow.

He's just glad he wasn't wearing his birkenstocks when he... blacked out, disassociated, wandered into some woods? In... Canada. (There's no reason to assume this is Canada, other than it's the first place that comes to mind when confronted with this much fucking snow.) Anyway. Considering the very likely alternative, socks and closed-toed shoes are a total lifesaver right now. Jeff just wishes he'd thought to put a fucking jacket on before, apparently, losing his fucking mind.

God. How far from home is he?

The thing is, this isn't the first time he's done something like this. Maybe that's why Jeff's not totally fucking hysterical as he trudges into the town. There's a numb sort of familiarity to being so lost and unmoored, old and buried under twenty years of therapy and totally healthy coping mechanisms. It keeps him... somewhat level. Calm. Chill. Copacetic.

OH THANK GOD THERE'S A HUMAN BEING. Jeff picks up his pace, waving an arm to catch their attention.

"Oh-- Hey! Hello! Can you help, I'm-- Jesus fuck!"

Okay, maybe he's not so level and calm and chill and copacetic, after all. And it's not exactly the first impression he wants to give: shrill and flailing as he stumbles into a deceptively deep snowbank.

BODIES WITHOUT SOULS:
There's something in the corner of his eye. Just as Jeff walks by the shop, it's there, in the window. Someone, something, a figure moving and watching... until he turns his head to look directly at it. Then there's nothing.

Could be his imagination. Should be his imagination. But god, it pulls a ball of dread up from the pit of his stomach, nauseatingly intimate, because that's how it started, all those years ago. Something in the corner of his eye. A figment in reflections. A whisper in airwaves. Then the next thing he knows, he can't watch TV without the actors looking right at him. He can't listen to the radio without the DJ talking to him. He can't look in the mirror without seeing some kind of something, and he sees music all around him, and hears chords instead of words and he blacks out for days and wakes up in fucking Fresno or something. This is how it starts. He's twenty years old and going crazy, all over again.

Jeff closes his eyes, hissing under his breath: "You're not here."

There's no response, which is, of course, the response he wants, and after a moment of silence, Jeff's ready to open his eyes, look at the window to confirm there's nothing there but sweet, blissful (weird, scary, fucked up, because seriously, where the hell is he and what's going on?) reality... and move on.

It's just an abandoned shop. One of many in this creepy wasteland of a town. Totally mundane, totally empty. He starts to walk away.

Tap tap tap from the shop window. Jeff whirls to face it, and he could swear, just before he focuses, that there's somebody there, even if he can't see any life inside the store.

"Oh, fuck you, dude!"

He's just a totally ordinary middle aged man, yelling at a window. Nothing to see here!

THE END APPROACHES:
Jeff scours the bulletin board, a cocktail of hope and dread swirling in his guts as he looks for any familiar names. It doesn't take long before he spots some familiar handwriting, confirmed with a helpful signature. Thanks, Athena! Just under her message, Jeff scrawls out:

ATHENA!! WHERE ARE YOU?

Wait, as far as she knows, he could be any random weirdo asking for her location. So he quickly adds:

THIS IS JEFF BTW

That should do it.

...

No, wait. Just in case it needs to be said, he scribbles further clarification:

JEFF CALHOUN ☺

Okay, good. Now all he has to do is wait for her to find this note, and then come back later to see if she wrote some helpful note back and then they can play bulletin board tag until they find each other again-- oh fuck it. He's a bard; he's got a shortcut at his disposal. Yanking Athena's note off the bulletin board, he holds it in his hand, closes his eyes, annnnd...

Well, as far as any bystander can see, he's singing softly to a piece of paper. But it's totally more than that. It's magic.

(Normally.)

"The light in me will guide you home. All I want is to be your harbor..."

It's a song that means something to Athena, a song he probably never would have heard if she hadn't introduced it to him. And that significance should help give the spell an extra boost and guide him to her...

Aaaany second now...

WILDCARD:
[ Choose your own adventure! Character info can be found here. tldr he's a suburban wizard, a high school teacher, a single dad, and a former rock star bard, just trying to live a totally boring life after surviving a brush with demonic possession in his youth. ]

[citharede]

“Jeff!”

It comes on the heels of his fuck you, dude, and comes in the shape of a Athena, barreling through the snow in a borrowed coat to slam into him.

“Fucking hell you fucker, where the fuck have you been?”

She punches him in the side, looks up at him with a slightly lost expression, and bursts into tears. “I thought I was on my own.”

No, the other people she’s met here so far don’t count, apparently.

[bardish]

The window of time between Athena calling his name and Athena barreling into him is juuuust large enough for Jeff to process her voice before all five feet and three inches of her crash into him. He stumbles back a few steps, nearly losing his balance, because he's, like, 90% legs and those legs are feeling pretty wobbly after his spooky window experience.

"Athena! Fuck! That is way more swearing than usu-- ow!" She may have little fists, but that punch hurt! Kind of. Okay, it was more startling than painful, and maybe Jeff's just being dramatic when he whines.

He knew she was here. He saw her name on the bulletin board. But knowing and seeing are two totally different things, and as he looks down at her, he's relieved, sure. Happy, on some level. But god... He doesn't know where they are, beyond a town name that means fucking nothing to him, but he knows Athena shouldn't be here. She should be back home, with her aunt and her friends and her normal, stable life.

She's so young. She's a kid, and she deserves her chance to just be one.

"Hey, kid..." He wraps his arms around Athena, pulling her into a tight hug. "Sorry I'm late."

[citharede]

She relaxes into it almost immediately, pressing her face against Jeff’s flannel-clad chest. She’d almost started taking it for granted in the past six months or so, being able to trust an adult man enough to let him this close. After meeting the men here—-yeah, they all seem pretty okay, but they’re not Jeff, and there are so fucking many of them.

“I’ve got some fucking great news,” she says to his shirt. “There’s like, ten billion guys here and I’m pretty sure ninety percent of them are single. And most of them have your whole dad-hot vibe going on. Well, except Logan, but he’s a dick anyway.”

[bardish]

He breathes out a laugh, and there may be a hysterical edge to it, but Jeff manages to keep the worst of it from spilling out. The last thing Athena needs is for the one familiar adult she has here to totally lose his shit five seconds into finding each other. He can't put that on her.

"Okay, while I'm very flattered that you're keeping an eye out for eligible bachelors, I think we might want to rearrange our priorities here. I swear I'll call your aunt's handsome and terrifying boss when we get the fuck out of this place!"

MOVING ON.

"How long have you been stuck here with an army of dads and one single dick?"

[citharede]

“Well good because Cam is totally the dad-hottest, and I’m holding you to that you chickenshit.”

It’s said warmly, though still to his shirt. She finally draws back enough to look up at his face. “Like... half a day? I think? Not too long, really, I’m totally okay, I just.”

She rolls her eyes with a grumble, wiping at them with the heel of her palm. “I’m just glad to see you.”

[bardish]

Jeff's in no hurry to break the hug, either, and when Athena moves to wipe at her eyes, he gives her shoulders a one-armed squeeze to let her know that a dad hug can still be engaged whenever she needs it.

"I'm glad to see you, too," he admits, tilting his head before he adds, "And also not glad, because this place is fucking creepy and you should be at home where it's safe and totally boring!"

That being said, Jeff smiles warmly. "But if we both have to be stuck here, I'm glad we've got each other. Bards get shit done, right?" But seriously, Jeff looks Athena in the eyes, gentle and sincere. "And hey. You don't have to be okay with this. I mean, fuck, I'm not totally okay; I was just yelling at a bookstore!"

[tinstar]

Staying busy was the name of the game and Raylan's latest attempt at avoiding idle hands was going through the abandon houses with a box, pulling what was wearable off their hangers and out of their drawers. The clothing store didn't restock like the food did, at least for the moment, and it kept him out from under too many eyes that might see how much the faint scars across the left side of his face actually bothered him. But once his box was full, he had to go and empty it, hang up what he'd collected before coming back for more.

But finding a dude screaming at the window wasn't what he expected to be greeted with when he got back. Eyes narrowing in suspicion and concern, Raylan ambled up with his hat, flannel, cowboy boots and all and lifted his chin a little as he spoke up.

"Hey, you-" But the 'you alright' didn't make it out. When Jeff turns around, Raylan shorts out, face pinching in clear uncompromised confusion. "What the hell?"

Yes, that was southern Jeff was hearing too.

[bardish]

He catches Raylan's reflection in the window as the man approaches, and for a second, he thinks: yeah, that's another hallucination. But then he speaks, and Jeff looks over his shoulder, half-expecting there to be nothing and nobody, except that's not the case at all.

He turns fully, eyes widening as he tries to process just what he's looking at. That's his face, right down to the moles, and that's his voice, but that's not him. He doesn't carry himself that way, he doesn't have that kind of accent, and while the flannel and jeans are... honestly about the same as Jeff's, he sure as hell doesn't walk around in a cowboy hat and boots.

It's like somebody took him and put him through some cool Western filter.

"Oh what the fucking fuck are-- fuck!" If Raylan's ever wondered what he'd sound like all shrill and frantic, Jeff's got him covered.

"I'm sorry, I'm really trying to find another word to express what I'm feeling right now and I just-- fuck! What the fuck is going on?!"

[tinstar]

Raylan's mind went through a similar run, except he totally believed this place would drop some bullshit like this on him. Just to add some flavor into the fresh new hell Mathis thought up every day. Hallucination wasn't completely ruled out, but set aside to run through other possibilities. Alternate dimension? Accent suggested out west, probably California if Raylan was forced to guess so that didn't hold much water either. Negan had said something about Malcolm looking like a guy he knew..

Wow, that panic was a weird ass look on his face. Had he looked like that day one? What was he talkin' about, this- This couldn't be real. Only one way to find out.

Grabbing into the top of his box, Raylan pitched a balled pair of socks at .. his own face? When they hit, Raylan blinked and lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

"Fuck's a good word for it. Goddamn, shit and I stand by my what the hell. I can tell you what's goin' on, but you gotta go first - if this is some invasion of the bodysnatchers bullshit, I swear to God, I am gonna see that damned Town Hall burn. I don't mean to be rude-" Like throwing socks at him wasn't rude or something, "-But who the hell are you? What the hell are you? Figment? Manifestation of my subconscious or somethin'?"

[bardish]

Jeff blinks as the balled up projectile hits him in the face, too shocked by all of this to make any effort to swat it away. Did his Clint Eastwood inspired body double just throw a pair of socks at him? How can a man look just like him, but somehow cooler at the same time?

"Okay, first?" He bends down and snatches up the socks. "I'm keeping these." Like that'll show him. But, hey, socks are important. A necessity. If Jeff's going to be here a while, he's going to need all the pairs he can get.

"Second, I'm not a fucking bodysnatcher! Or a figment! I'm a teacher; I teach at a high school!"

Like that somehow makes him exempt from being some creepy bullshit conjured up by this hell town.

"And if anyone's a manifestation, I clearly dreamed you up after getting high and listening to Call of the West one too many times!"

And even as he says that, he knows it's not true. Jeff's dealt with hallucinations and figments and the like before. This is a person, in the flesh, totally real and ready, willing, and able to throw things at him.

[tinstar]

For all the chill that Raylan lacked, he still followed the ABC's. Always Be Cool. Something this guy clearly has never learned. If he wasn't so freaked out, he would have smirked at the snatch and declaration of projectiles - was this what he would have looked like if he was from someplace normal instead of backwoods Kentucky? His brain couldn't have come up with this guy on it's own.

No, he wasn't going to apologize for the socks.

"Mathis got a taste for teachers I guess," he said, eyebrows lifting - if he hadn't changed expressions, he almost worried about it sticking that way. "Try Rawhide and John Wayne with a healthy rerun of US Marshals - a teacher?" That was about as far as you could get away from a Marshal.

After a second, he shook his head and nodded at the clothing shop. "You ain't gotta scream to get in there and I'm freezin' my ass off, you mind if we take this little Twilight zone episode inside?"

[bardish]

Jeff furrows his brows, casting a quick back look at the window and-- yeah. That other shop definitely looks a way more promising location to hash out whatever the fuck's going on with his cowboy doppelganger.

(God, even his accent is cooler. That's way fucking unfair.)

He breathes out, then nods, taking a few steps closer to Raylan so as to match his speed as they head to the (hopefully less haunted) store. "Wait, so are you? A Marshal, I mean." It's the easiest occupation to latch on to, given the examples. The alternatives are, what, cattle wrangler? Is that even a job anymore? Jeff wrinkles his nose a little, seems deep in thought as he considers their situation here, before he suddenly perks up and turns to Raylan with a bright eyed and entirely too excited look.

"Oh! Dude! Oh my god, I got it! We're twins, separated at birth! Now I don't think my parents would've given you up for a adoption, but maybe-- maybe-- somebody kidnapped you and they didn't have the heart to tell anyone so it's been a tragic family secret for the last forty-odd years!"

Into the Endless

[abrightboy]

Malcolm turned when a (sort of) familiar voice asked for help.

"...Raylan?"

But he stopped short when the man stumbled ungracefully into the snow. He frowned.

[bardish]

"Shit-- goddamn-- fucking snow!" Jeff curses, trudging his way out of the snowbank with as much grace and dignity as he can. As soon as he's free of it, he brushes as much snow as he can from the legs of his jeans, hoping any wetness won't seep right into the fabric and freeze his ass.

"Sorry, uh, I just saw you and got really excited and didn't look where I was going and then I fell and--" Okay. Breathe, Jeff. "Not important! Um." He offers a smile, aiming for 'bright and cheery' but landing somewhere in the vicinity of 'stressed out and a little manic.' "Hi. I'm lost?"

[abrightboy]

"Yeah, I can see that," Malcolm said, still watching him warily. "Did you just get here?"

[bardish]

Jeff makes sure to stop a respectable distance from the other man, casually holding his hands up in the universal gesture for I COME IN PEACE.

"I-- well-- yyyeeeesss?" Okay, if Jeff seems totally unsure, he's got a good reason! "I think. Unless you saw me here earlier? I woke up in the woods, but I don't remember shit from before that, so it's very possible that I was here, like, in the flesh, while my mind was--" He gestures vaguely in the air. "--elsewhere. You know. Like in a blackout? Which I realize might make me sound like a crazy person, I mean, who regularly blacks out while their body goes on autopilot? Not me, that's for sure! Well, not any time recently. But it's been known to happen and..." Jeff grimaces. "I'm sorry, I'm kind of freaking out and throwing a lot at you."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm just looked at him for a moment.

"Have you talked to anyone else here? Has anyone explained this to you?" he asked.

end approaches

[technologique]

Considering the number of people there seems to be in this town, the bulletin board feels like a regular hub of activity when he think about the amount of people he's come across at that very spot. Sure, it's only been a handful, but it's enough to keep him checking back throughout the day. He's got a lot of questions and not nearly enough answers.

So Tony's back again. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks up to the board as well as the man standing in front of it. It's someone Tony hasn't seen yet which, honestly, doesn't exactly mean much. Sure, there's a chance it's someone completely new but his luck has finally turned a little more positive than it really has in a while, and this is someone who's a little more than fresh off the boat.

Stopping behind the stranger, Tony stands on his toes to see over the other man's shoulder, curious about what he's writing. Curious. Downright nosy. Whichever. He then steps to the man's side, looking between him and Athena's note on the board.

"So, Jeff Calhoun Smilie Face, this Athena, is she a teenage girl about yay tall-" He doesn't bother to take his hands out of his pockets to indicate a height. "-with a Girl Interrupted haircut and piss poor people skills?" It has to be the same girl, right? The chances aren't exactly good for a town of less than fifty people having two Athenas.

[bardish]

Jeff perks up, all bright-eyed and hopeful, as soon as the man starts to describe Athena. Why yes, she's pocket-height and pixie-cutted! Except... that golden retriever enthusiasm seems to dim a little when he goes on to describe her people skills as piss poor.

Jeff opens his mouth. Closes it. Considers his words, then tries again.

"Yes. But also no, because I'll have you know her people skills are well above average-- but that's beside the point, because more importantly: have you seen her?" A beat. "Stupid question. I mean, obviously you've seen her. Let me try again. Where have you seen her? Is she okay? She's okay, right?"

Into the Endless

[vampirebats]

"Raylan? What the fuck--" He's not usually... this flaily, or this fucking weird acting, so Negan's not entirely sure what to make of the dude stumbling towards him like a complete spastic jackass.

"You hit the bottle a little too hard, buddy? You're gonna freeze out here like that."

[bardish]

Jeff manages to stomp his way out of the snowbank with a string of curses: "Fucking goddamn shitting snow!" As a sentence, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but it's satisfying to grumble out as he frees himself and finds solid footing again.

He does his best to brush away the snow clinging to his jeans, pausing to look up at the other man, who... seems to recognize him, even though Jeff doesn't have the first clue who he is.

Oh god. Did he start living a double life when he blacked out?

"Iiiii, uh... Did you say 'Raylan'?" Who the hell is Raylan? "Do we know each other?"

[vampirebats]

"Uh... sorry. Guess you've just got one of those faces, you know?" 'One of those faces'... like the same goddamn face actually. Hopefully Raylan didn't just hit his head somewhere and this is what they've ended up with.

He shakes his head as he comes closer to the guy, looking him over.

"Alright, buddy, calm down. We've all been in your shoes... I mean. Not your exact same shoes falling in snowbanks, but we all woke up in this shitty ass town." A pause.

"Name's Negan... and if you want, I can show you some place to warm up before your goddamn balls freeze off."

[bardish]

"In my defense..." Jeff starts, fully prepared to come up with a very good reason for falling in a snowbank and looking like an idiot in front of a ruggedly handsome stranger... "That snowbank tricked me. It was deeper than it looked."

And then he winces, because yeah, that's a terrible excuse. Makes him sound like he was just outwitted by a pile of snow. At least they've got more important things to deal with here than Jeff's inability to handle the elements, such as the fact that, apparently? Jeff's far from the only person to just find themselves in this creepy fucking town.

(And here he'd thought Negan was just a townie.)

"Jeff." He smiles, perking up at the offer of a warm place. "Dude, that would be a lifesaver! I'm from California; my balls are so not built for the snow!"

[vampirebats]

"Right." The snowbank did it. Just blame the snowbank. "You know, you could have just started with the California bit and everything else would've fallen into place."

They'll go to the Grey Gull then, why the fuck not. He can have a drink to warm himself up, Negan can fill him in on a little bit.

"You want my jacket? Now you gotta give it back, but... I don't want you falling over before we even get to somewhere warm."