villagemod: (ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ)
The Village Mod ([personal profile] villagemod) wrote in [community profile] villagememes2021-03-08 05:08 pm
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test drive — spring



SPRING 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.

Prospective players are welcome to play with any of the established locations within Mathias.

( Recommended listening: )





GHOSTS OF THE LIVING

The fog moves in quickly and without warning, not from the waterfront but the forest, cascading through every street in a thick wave of white. It is not a soft blanket enveloping the town, but a heavy weight pressing down, threatening to suffocate as the sky is blotted out and no one can see more than ten feet in any direction.

Those who are outside when it rolls in are left wandering blind, hoping that a randomly chosen direction will lead them to shelter or another living soul. There are perhaps even those who were lucky enough to already be inside when the fog descended, quickly closing doors and windows to keep it from creeping in. Wherever they are, the residents of Mathias will soon notice that they are not the only ones in the fog.

Anyone out in the fog is left disoriented, possibly losing their sense of time and place, and it is only after prolonged exposure that they will begin to feel off. A sense of being ill will cling to them if they are in the fog for too long, including dizziness, lightheadedness, or nausea — the time it takes to manifest varies from person to person, as does the duration it will last after leaving the fog.

With all of these elements at play, the first strange apparitions encountered may be assumed to be figments of addled minds, tricks played by psyches struggling to cope with the strange reality they've found themselves in. But before long, there will be no denying that the Others in the fog are real. Appearing almost wraithlike and startlingly recognizable, these figures even feel a bit like ghosts to those who can sense such things, though everyone will feel that there is something wrong about them. Truly, there are many things wrong that residents will begin to notice as they encounter more and more of the spectres that do not acknowledge their presence in any way. They simply exist, silent and subtly terrifying like so many things in this town.

Like misty ghosts of those who have been in the town at one point or another, the Others appear as those who have died or disappeared and even those currently within the town. The likeness is truly uncanny, to the point of being completely terrifying, made even more so when they realize there is no way to communicate with the Others. They do not acknowledge anyone's presence nor anything said to them. At times, they may be only one in an area, or there may be a dozen existing in the same space. There is no limit to how many people can see them — if they are there, they are seen by all.

The Others do not enter buildings and cannot be contained in any way. They can appear at one moment and be gone in the next, or they can exist in one place for hours on end. Whether standing stationary or slowly wandering throughout the town, there is no discernible purpose to them. There is something absent and distant in the way they hold themselves, the way they walk, and their expressions, as if even they cannot grasp what is happening.



A BIT OF EXPLORATION

There are plenty of places in which to get one's bearings and hide from the fog.

There are businesses on the square, nestled around and extending out from the Town Hall. There is a schoolhouse nestled by the southern treeline, not from the rather expansive makeshift cemetery at the end of Jackson Boulevard that is courtesy of a few kind residents in town. To the far north of the square is a sprawling garden, now covered in snow, and a greenhouse that once supplied the botanical shop. And to the east and west, beyond the business square, is are residential districts.

The eastern district sprawls all the way to the beach, with some houses in perfect condition and others beginning to show significant signs of age. The western district, however, is nothing but decay. From the beginnings of rot to completely collapsed and little more than a pile of proverbial bones, none of these homes are anything resembling livable. Well, as far as one can tell, at least. For between the streets of Hill Lane and Stine Road there is a crack in the earth. A dozen feet across and fifty feet down, there is no way across.



TO SEE AND BE SEEN

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. Covering the board are tacked-on 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 painted directly across the center of the board, visible in the gaps between the pieces of paper, is a symbol in dark red. While peering at that obscured symbol, a strange breeze ruffles the papers, revealing a little more, just enough to—

An eye. A strange, ornate eye with three lobes, painted in still-wet red. And upon close examination, a keen eye will realize that the paint is actually blood, perhaps even human.

The longer someone stands there, the more it will feel like they are being watched, even studied, with great interest. It's a sensation that lingers and stays with them even when they exit the building.



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abrightboy: (faint smile)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-05-15 03:29 pm (UTC)(link)
New York. [His lips tilt upwards a little.] But also SoHo. I work for the police.
darkestlights: (Default)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-15 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)
He's not the only one looking rough, Alina having settled against a wall on the ground. Her face is dirty, the brown fur-trimmed cloak pulled tightly around her -- a peek of burgundy showing when she shifts to a standing position once he starts rambling.

Her expression softens, an offer to shoot someone in the foot her usual go-to when it comes to comfort while trying to keep things from becoming too heavy.

"It's alright... And I am. Though I fear such hopes might be a waste. It's perhaps for the best he isn't here."

Not with Aleksander here with her. Better to keep Mal safe and to feel alone now than selfishly have him by her side only for him to continue to weather the Darkling's anger.

"I take it you haven't been here long, either."
oldbookshop: (this is a bad)

[personal profile] oldbookshop 2021-05-15 03:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He can't keep a sharp, reflexive surge of concern from crossing his face when Crowley says they came for me. Nevermind that all he's saying still doesn't add up right, or that there's very genuinely absolutely no way Heaven or Hell would be looking to take another hack at it.

It's just old habit. That's where the concern chips fall.

The not understanding keeps coming home to roost apace, though. Aziraphale has all his gears turning, full-tilt, trying to contextualize. Might get where he needs to be on it, in a bit. He thinks that tracking down the Antichrist with a day's work and a book of prophecy might have been outright simpler to parse than Crowley's current upset.

Well, no, being upset at not being able to find him after something happened, that's actually very easy to parse. What he's saying technically holds together as an explanation on its own. It just doesn't add up with where Aziraphale was at in a lot of ways, which he would've thought it would have to be able to hold up as a unit. ]


I'm sorry.

[ Possibly mostly for apparently not being able to be found. Scratch the possibly. That's exactly it. A little bit, though, for just plain not understanding. ]

Last I remember, there wasn't-- there wasn't anyone looking to come for us at all. Nothing too out of the ordinary. [ Nothing that wasn't better than the last 6,000 years of ordinary.

He peers at Crowley, searching but not sure exactly what he's looking for yet. He can't figure how they got onto such different pages, unless this fog is involved in it somehow. ]
nottevintersoldier: (13 - anabiotic)

[personal profile] nottevintersoldier 2021-05-15 03:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Dorian finally takes his eyes off the many notes and splashes of red hidden to glance at Alina. He takes in her state, or the softness in her tone. There's something sad but resolved to what she says. He reaches into his robe and pulls out a handkerchief to hold it out to her.

"You have some dirt on your face." He states, not trying to be rude about it but he thought she may want to wipe it off. She's clearly been through something, more than perhaps what happened upon arriving here.

"No, for as well put together and calm as I may seem." Another joke, and a slight smile to go with it. Obviously, his ranting would say otherwise.

"Wherever here is anyway. There's a lot about this place I don't recognize. And I haven't a clue how long I've been wandering in that fog. I suppose I'm lucky I'm still standing."

He clears his throat and turns to her fully then, placing a hand on his sternum and bowing his head slightly in greeting, "I am Dorian."
Edited 2021-05-15 15:58 (UTC)
skladka: <user name=squarebox> (014)

[personal profile] skladka 2021-05-15 06:52 pm (UTC)(link)
A little show can't hurt, he supposes, though The Cut should be reserved for something else, what's a small display of power? He curls his fingers, and in a matter of seconds, the room dims considerably: enough to see, but shadows grow, stretch and devour, much like the fog outside.

Dimming the light is considerably easier than commanding them to do much more.

"Shadows," he says softly. "You need something to focus? An amplifier?"
confractus: (Default)

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-15 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ O... Kay. Billy just sort doubles down on the assumption, based the way she looks and the way Shu Han and Ravka sound, that it's gotta be Eastern European. There's plenty of countries and places no one's ever heard of out there. ]

New York.

[ Considering how well she speaks English, he's a bit surprised she's never heard something as American as his voice before. But, hey, this is wild times, right? ]
confractus: (Default)

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-15 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He wonders if this is some sort of shitty afterlife thing, being faced with some metaphorical version of himself that's all in black and high-and-mighty but still looking worn down. Figures the universe would try to teach him something after death.

Still, Billy considers for a moment, rolling his shoulder and neck a little before answering with his own name.
]

Billy.

[ He notes the way the man is taking in his appearance. Honestly, if the guy's looking at the blood, that's fine. It means he's not staring at the state of Billy's face. ]

So what the hell are you, then?
confractus: (Default)

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-15 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Well, hey, it's not as if gruesome deaths are new to Billy. Shit, he just about went through his own not too long ago. ]

What, like, zombies? Vampires? Other living-dead type things? Sounds like a real riot around here.
confractus: (Default)

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-15 08:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"No, I woke up like this."

Billy wonders if the guy's just trying to be tactful, but, come on. He's pretty sure his face looks like it went across a cheese grater. But he recognizes that this isn't the sort of situation where he can go Lone Wolf, so he rolls his neck a bit and takes in a deep breath, followed by an exhale.

"Yeah. Sort of. Got into a fight with a sick son of a bitch, you know?"
demonicmiracle: (127)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2021-05-15 09:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[Generally speaking, Crowley has two modes. The first is the carefully controlled exterior that he presents to people like Hastur and Beelzebub; when he's stressed, it makes him sharp and cold, doing whatever he can to hide that he's rattled, because it isn't safe to show any kind of vulnerability.

And then there's how he actually is, which only rarely comes out for Aziraphale to see.

That's what's on display now. The twitchy, rough movements, how he stumbles over words and can't seem to decide what expression should be on his face, rapidly vacillating between them.]


The — the apocalypse! The end times! The fact we lost the blasted Antichrist!

[He's gesticulating a bit wildly, pacing back and forth.]

Did you miss the memo?
oldbookshop: (oh....... oh thank you)

[personal profile] oldbookshop 2021-05-15 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh. Well, there's that puzzle piece he was missing.

Strange how something can make sense and still not make sense. Because it does add up-- the tension, the irritability, the emotional fraying, the you were gone, I couldn't find you. That's very much on brand with the apocalypse. And if Aziraphale had woken up here in the middle of all that, of course he'd be just as upset. That much puts a lot in order.

It's just that how things wound up was hardly forgettable.

The fog maybe, again, that's all he can think. Full of wandering lost souls, starting to put a dull ache behind his eyes, a turn in his stomach, maybe for Crowley it's... it's done something to muddle his memory. Which might be easier to try to figure out once they get out of the fog, which Aziraphale isn't inclined to up and walk off to do with some broad hope that Crowley will follow and keep up.

If he's not bringing Crowley with him, there's not much point in doing it. He couldn't risk losing him out here any more than he was willing to give up on Earth. ]


No, I didn't 'miss the memo,' Crowley. [ The scrap of familiar offense that he finds burns out instantly. He's got bigger problems, and they're all related to being worried. ] That was days ago.

[ Like two whole days. Even Aziraphale couldn't mess up his timeline on it too badly. ]
abrightboy: (legit smile)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-05-16 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
"The ghosts are the part you're familiar with and the record player is weird," Malcolm clarified. "That's... new."
demonicmiracle: (152)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2021-05-16 01:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[That was days ago.

Crowley's anger fades as though he's a puppet who's strings were suddenly cut, the anxious tension draining from him to be replaced by a different sort of fear. It's obvious the wheels are turning, while he tries to figure out why he's missing a few days.

He can't help glancing around him at the fog; it had already disoriented him, has made him feel physically unwell. What's to say it couldn't do this, too?]


I don't remember.

[It sounds like I'm sorry.]

There was a fire, at the bookshop. S'the last thing I can remember.
skladka: <user name=squarebox> (073)

[personal profile] skladka 2021-05-16 04:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Had the Darkling had it in him to scoff, he would. Instead, he leans over--he doesn't move his feet, but he leans down to her height, looking at her, dark eyes meeting hers. Alina's naive. Alina's an idiot, though he doesn't voice that out loud. Alina's young, is the problem. She's yet to live as long as him, she's yet to understand.

His voice is soft, pointed. Think, girl. ]
I have no concern about or for otkazat’sya, so long as they don't interfere with us. [ The word comes easily to him for its duality in meaning: a non-grisha, or an orphan. A purposeful use for Alina, the little girl from Keramzin. He straightens. ]

I am not the tyrant you think I am. Not now. Not here.
skladka: <user name=squarebox> (101)

[personal profile] skladka 2021-05-16 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The Darkling's lips quirk up into a small smile, though it's far from a happy one. He doesn't bother to hide his annoyance, though it's not at Billy: it's about the entire situation, the way the other's hair on the side is shaved, the way he speaks in such a rough, strange accent. He's tired of words grating on him. He's tired of this village.

Billy, at least, is interesting. ]


Someone who dislikes not understanding things. [ At the moment, Billy is that thing, and the Darkling's eyes narrow as he takes a few steps towards the other, hands still clasped in front of him. ]

What happened to you before you arrived? [ He'd like an answer for the blood, at least, to sate his curiousity. ]
oldbookshop: (i've been so worried about it)

[personal profile] oldbookshop 2021-05-16 04:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Isn't that a charming coincidence? No really, in all sincerity. He looks outright charmed. A couple of technical SoHo ships in the night. ]

How wonderful. You know, I've always thought law enforcement was a very noble pursuit. Getting out there and, and choosing to do good. Keep the peace. Especially for someone so young.

[ Humans do have a way of being brave and clever on their own merit. Taking up difficult paths. Remarkable things, really. ]

Oh! Um. My name is Aziraphale, by the way. Circumstances aside, it's a pleasure to meet you.

[ He gives a very short little wave. ]
abrightboy: (regretful)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-05-16 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Malcolm Bright. It’s... nice to meet you. [If a little weird.] Have you found somewhere to stay yet? You should make sure you find a place to live before it gets dark.
oldbookshop: (unaccountably sad)

[personal profile] oldbookshop 2021-05-16 05:27 pm (UTC)(link)
I see. [ That explains so much.

The concern is justified and not going anywhere, and as an anxious consideration of possibilities, of wondering if he's lost anything else, not ideal. Days gone, just like that? Important ones?

Between that and the context of what Crowley last remembers, exactly, Aziraphale hits mid-mark between stricken and sympathetic. ]


Well, you can... you can ask me anything about what you've missed. Obviously. I'll just have to catch you up. [ He glances in the direction they were heading, clasping his hands again. Swallows.

If he wants to put time into feeling any particular way about the loss, if it doesn't come back, he's choosing to pack that away for later. There are bigger priorities here. ]


But I think we do need to get inside. So you'd be doing me a favor if you got back over here and we started walking again, really.

[ Ah, the oldest and wiliest maneuver in his arsenal. Literally just asking Crowley to do something because it generally means Crowley will do it. ]
darkestlights: (easystreet-s&b1x5-221)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-16 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Her breath stutters slightly as he invades her space without taking a single step. The word choice isn't lost on her, something stirring beneath the surface. You're not alone.

It's almost enough to distract her from the 'us'.

The softness that had started seeping through the cracks of her foundation hardens, making the choice to test the resolve of his belief of what he is. Or rather, what he's not. Matching his intensity with her own. ]


Then you'll agree that we are equals here. No more games, no more lies or half-truths Aleksander.

[ And much like his choice to use otkazat’sya, she chooses to use his first name. A remnant of a connection they used to have before that trust was shattered. Before he'd shown his true intentions and his desire to control. A call back to a time when she'd thought she'd finally found a place for herself before it was all ripped away. Genuinely, she's still not sure she'd have run if the truth had come from him instead of his mother. And now they'll never know. ]
darkestlights: (easystreet-s&b1x6-156)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-16 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He could've said the Fold itself and she wouldn't have heard it, her face shifting as though she's seen a ghost. She'd touched him and there'd been no telltale signs of an illusion, Genya not here to do for Kirigan what she'd done for Marie at the Winter Fete.

So this had to be some other form of cruel trickery. ]


It's not possible--

[ Her posture shifts to something more defensive as she takes another step back, hands instinctively moving, ready to summon. ]

How do you wear his face?
darkestlights: (easystreet-s&b1x6-248)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-16 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not his fault, but the gesture gives her pause -- memories flooding back of Aleksander doing the same for her after saving her. When life was somehow simpler while still being chaotic.

Dirt was better than blood, hauntings deep in her soul far more difficult to wipe away -- the all-consuming guilt for the lives she's cost. For those who put themselves in harm's way for her.

His voice brings her back, smiling slightly as she begins the process of trying to wipe her face. "I'm still uncertain how I found my way out myself." If Aleksander had a hand in it or someone else. Something else. A question to ponder later as manners override her stream of chaotic thoughts.

"Alina -- And you're not alone in the unfamiliarity. There's so much I've never seen before, it's a bit overwhelming." Her gaze shifts from his face back to the board, finally noticing the red as she instinctively reaches out to touch it. "What...?"
demonicmiracle: (039)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2021-05-16 07:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[There are a million questions he wants to ask, some of them wiser than others, and he wants to ask them now before his thoughts can get away with him. He reassures himself with the fact Aziraphale is here, and seemed confident that neither Heaven nor Hell would be after them.

Does that mean it went well? For them, at least.

He clenches his jaw, huffs a breath out through his nose, but nods and slinks back towards Aziraphale. Metaphorical tail between his legs.]


You better be ready for a bloody long list of questions.
oldbookshop: (how 2 murder a demon in 7 words)

[personal profile] oldbookshop 2021-05-16 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[ At least there's that settled. Crowley coming back over is enough to relax the set of his shoulders. Minutely, maybe, but considerable for Aziraphale while at any level of stressful situation.

He starts walking again, in a bit closer proximity than he started at last time. ]


For once, I think I'm fully qualified to take them.

[ Shit got wild, but he was there for most of it, so. ]
demonicmiracle: (052)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2021-05-16 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
'Course you are.

[It isn't sarcasm; despite his overall terrible mood and knowing that Aziraphale can sometimes be a bit... absent, he has faith in him to have a good understanding of a situation. He's cleverer than Crowley by half.

While still dizzy and rattled, he's more confident that Aziraphale is real, now, and doesn't feel the need to retake his hand.

But he sticks close, enough to occasional bump elbows. It's enough to be reassuring, when nothing else here makes sense.]
oldbookshop: (recklessly steps into traffic)

[personal profile] oldbookshop 2021-05-17 12:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's a special place in his heart, for Crowley's easy confidence. As often as he's not sure of himself, it's still novel thinking that there's one person in the whole of creation who generally is sure of him.

Aziraphale's gotten very good at squirreling those moments away like a secret hoard.

It's not a long or especially eventful walk, occasional ghost aside. Getting onto paved road was most of the battle, given how small a town Mathias is in practice. A careful squint here, an off-turn there, and lo and behold, from the mist materializes...

A very grimy-looking greenhouse. Why not fit sort of a garden into this day? He doesn't know what he expected. ]


It's a start. [ He can only put so much work into trying to sound optimistic when he's also putting work into steady walking at this point. There are times when an out-and-out house would be a little nicer as an option, okay.

The door is unlocked already, pulls open without any resistance. Admittedly very handy.

Aziraphale supposes it doesn't sound very sensible to lock up a greenhouse. In his opinion.

He makes an 'after you' gesture, because it takes more than haunted fog to de-courtesy this individual. ]

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