test drive — spring

[villagemod]

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: ♫ )

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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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Parker | Leverage

[sharker]

ghosts of the living

[ The fog is bad. The town had been bad, before, because it's a new place and she doesn't know where she is or why she's there or what's happening. Parker had broken into a few houses, but they'd all been empty. And old. Creepy. No computers, no way to try to find out where she was or contact Hardison or...anything.

So she'd gone back outside, and now she regrets it, because she's seen plenty of fog before but it's never been like this. It's dense, almost like...like it's real, not that fog isn't real, but this is real in a way fog shouldn't be. Too thick to see through, almost too thick to move through, and it disorients her almost immediately. If she could just find a building, she could scale it. Get above the fog. See where she is and get inside somewhere where it's safe.

Seeing someone else should be a relief, even to Parker. But it isn't. The first impulse she has on seeing another figure in the fog is to get away, and she does, backing up until she hits a tree - too small to climb, not helpful. She switches direction and goes a different way until she sees another figure, setting off the same mental alarm bells as the first, and before she knows it she's almost running, almost panicking, just trying to get away from the figures that she would swear are closing in on her.

She's so freaked out, she doesn't even notice that they're not chasing her, not even looking at her. It doesn't occur to her that maybe she's finding more of them because she's moving faster. And then she sees another one right in front of her and suddenly she's not moving at all, skidding to a stop with eyes wide open in equal parts hope and horror. ]

Eliot?

[ It is. It's a very distinctive Eliot. She pushes aside the feeling of danger, of wrongness that he gives off as much as the others, and runs for him. ]

Eliot!

[ But he doesn't turn to her, doesn't reach for her or even scowl in annoyance or bark out a where the hell you been, Parker? He just keeps moving, slow, almost drifting in a way that Eliot never moves, and his eyes don't seem to see anything at all.

It's too much. It's not fair. She feels so scared now she's almost sick, but she forces herself to move, to get right up in his face and scream. ]

ELIOT!

exploration

[ The fog doesn't follow her indoors, thankfully, and neither do the...people. (People, because they can't be ghosts, because that would mean that he - )

But they don't follow her in, which is something. She ends up in the movie theater, which is as small and empty as the houses she's stumbled on before. She wanders through the empty rows, pausing to stare briefly at the stale popcorn underfoot before shaking her head briefly. No. She's not quite there yet.

The theater is also as out of date as the rest of the town, it turns out, if not more so. Parker's never tried to work a film projector before. But it's either try to learn or think about everything else, so.

Movie time it is. Or maybe break-the-projector-so-no-one-gets-movies-ever-again time. Might be good for someone to stop her before she finds out which one it's gonna be. ]

to see and be seen

[ The signs on the board are fascinating, especially the ones she doesn't understand. Parker reads them all, standing stock-still in front of the board and completely focused on the scribbled notes and pleas and offers. There's a lot to take note of. People asking about magic. About...creatures attacking. Cryptic warnings about the fog (a little late, but thanks for the effort). Offers of help she immediately disregards because she's not an idiot.

Eliot's name. She's trying not to think too much about that.

Suddenly she stiffens, eyes darting to the side as she frowns. The feeling's been growing for a while now, she realizes, and she should have noticed it earlier. But whoever's watching hadn't taken the opportunity to try to shoot her while she wasn't paying attention, so rather than just disappearing she whirls around, glaring suspiciously in every direction. ]

Hello?

wildcard

Post a starter or hit me up at butteredcups for plotting stuff!

to see and be seen

[setthetone]

[Man. You'd think that after almost a month in this hellscape, he'd have devised some plan for this. Some idea of what to say when he runs into new people. Maybe he should write it down. Practice in front of a mirror.

He's been the bearer of bad news so many times. Empathy? That he has. Connecting with people? That he can. He should be good at this. So why does he feel so tongue-tied whenever he needs to step up to the occasion? Give people the whole Horrortown 101? Maybe trying to ease them into it?

Why is this so hard?

In the end, Parker kind of takes the initiative away by catching him red-handed in his hovering and he blinks, a bit of a deer in headlights, and holds up his hands.]

Uh, hey. Hi.

[Okay, it's a start?? Working... working on the details here.]

Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.

[Still hovering, still awkward. But he's coming over now, going for a small smile.]

You look like you just got here. I thought maybe you need, uh, some help.

[sharker]

[ He moves towards her and she immediately starts backing away, awkwardly along the side of the building since he'd caught her with her back up against the wall. Stupid. She should know better. Eliot had taught her better. ]

I don't need help.

[ She speaks too fast, too abruptly, eyes darting from side to side in search of an escape route. Which she should have scoped out before getting distracted by the bulletin board. This whole place has her off her guard. ]

Why would I need help? I don't need any help. I'm completely help...less.

[ No. ]

Helpful. Full of help. For myself.

I don't need yours.

exploration

[myfavoritemurder]

[Callisto has already investigated the popcorn, rolling a popped kernel between her fingers, giving it a sniff and wrinkling her nose at the rancid butter smell; no, thank you, she's not that hungry, either. When Parker walks in, she's doing nothing but sitting on the floor between two seat rows, leaning her back against the wall and staring blankly up at the ceiling - so really, she has no reason not to hop up and investigate.

She joins Parker in the projector room, leaning over the machine without preamble, poking at it even more ineffectively and aimlessly.]

What is it?

[She asks, attempting to spin one of the spools as if it were a wheel. The way she says the words - carefully and accented - hints that the language she's speaking is not the language she's used to. There's not much chance of her understanding a full explanation, either, but so far that hasn't stopped her from trying to talk to people.]

[sharker]

[ She'd seen the woman during her investigation of the theater below, but with the way she'd been sitting motionless on the floor, staring at nothing...well, frankly, Parker had assumed she was dead.

Now she eyes her suspiciously, trying to decide which is more likely: that she isn't dead after all, or that she's one of the ghosts from outside. This one's actually looking at her and talking to her, though, so...let's go with alive, for now.

Alive, foreign. Or pretending to be foreign, like Sophie. And not threatening her or offering her help she never asked for. Fine. Parker can be friendly. Ish. ]

It's a movie projector.

[ She holds up the film reel she'd been inspecting, as if that will help explain anything. It doesn't hurt that it's a solid weapon, if the woman turns out to be a threat after all. ]

An old one, though. I don't know how it works.

[myfavoritemurder]

[Callisto gets roughly a quarter of that, but to be fair, that's not all on the language barrier: even if she understood all the words, she still has no idea what a photograph is, let alone a movie. She gives the spool one more spin, then reaches out to try to snatch the film reel from Parker's hand.]

[sharker]

[ This is what she gets for trying to be nice.

She bactracks the second Callisto reaches for the reel, pulling it to her chest with an offended, outraged look. No one steals from her. Who does she think she is? ]

Hey!

[ She glares, still clutching the film reel, which she probably would have tossed aside and totally forgotten about by now if Calliso hadn't tried to take it from her. ]

What are you doing? That's mine.

[myfavoritemurder]

[Callisto is, to put it mildly, unpredictable, and there are times when someone pulling a move like that on her would get outrage right back, regardless of the fact that she was the one who started it. But if their roles were switched and she were in Parker's place, defending her right to keep a trinket she'd only just picked up herself, she would have reacted in the exact same way - and perhaps it's that that makes her drop her hand and grin, fully approving of the other woman's spirit.

Turning back to the projector, she examines the spool again, then glances back at the reel in Parker's hand. Hmmm. They are roughly the same size and shape; maybe they slot together for some mysterious, unknown purpose.]

Here?

[She suggests, raising an eyebrow as she points.]

[sharker]

[ They're either going to be best friends or end up killing each other. Parker doesn't grin back. She keeps glaring at Callisto, suspicious and hostile, still holding tightly to the film reel.

But Callisto doesn't try stealing it again, and when she points to the spool, Parker edges closer, peering at it. It does look like it might fit there, and the result might be something close to what an old-fashioned film projector might look like, all put together. ]

I was just gonna put it there. Before you showed up.

[ Obviously. She has this all figured out. With another dirty look for good measure, she slips past Callisto and lifts the reel, carefully slotting it in, and studies it for a minute, faint memories coming back. ]

We need an empty one, too. There. [ She points to another spool, near the back. ]

[myfavoritemurder]

[The hostility only makes Callisto's grin widen, toothy and sharp. It is, after all, more familiar to her than kindness - and much easier to respect than meekness. She turns to grab the spool without complaint, examining it briefly before handing it over. Idly, she wonders what this contraption they're putting together could be - a weapon, maybe, for killing hostile creatures. Or each other.

But theorizing aside, she can't imagine how it'd work as one. While Parker works on fitting the empty spool in, Callisto pulls another off the storage shelf at random, giving the thin film strip rolled around it a tug.

Totally incomprehensible.]

[sharker]

[ Meek isn't in Parker's vocabulary, and kindness just barely is. But she's at least learned to work with people over the past few years. Some people. Sort of.

She takes the empty spool and fits it on, then glances over at Callisto and frowns when she sees what she's doing, moving impatiently over to try to tug the reel away.]

Stop, you're gonna mess it up!

exploration

[ofthegeek]

[ The thing with the fog is that, even with the... ghosts? Illusions? Encroaching parallel dimension?

Even with all that, the thing with the fog is that it's just slightly easier to see through now than it was a couple of days ago.

Hardison's made do with staying cooped up. There are always people in the boarding house, and a lot of them are kind of in the same boat he's been in. Looking for a movie or dumb board game to occupy their thoughts with, something to fiddle with, just looking for a friendly face and a connection in the middle of an awful situation. And it is awful. But he's made do. Every once in a while he finds half a reason to think things could be worse.

(As long as Eliot is here, real and impossibly alive again after a first day that told Hardison in no uncertain terms that that wasn't the case, it could always be worse.

He got worst out of the way early, he guesses. Doesn't feel all that lucky.)

Still, he was itching to get out even a little by the time the fog lightened up, and after a while he learned to navigate the... weird, scary apparitions situation. They're more than kind of unsettling. He tries not to spend too much time thinking about how lost they look, when there's nothing he can do about it.

Seeing as someone was cool enough to teach him a bit about using the projector before his first day took that impossible turn, and that he doesn't wanna spend a lot of time getting nauseous in the fog, popping into the theater doesn't feel like the worst idea. It's certainly better than all the nothing on offer, comparatively, so he puts on his dumb wrinkly flannel overshirt and does the thing.

Drawbacks to doing the thing: entering a dusty abandoned building in general, let alone one where someone or something could be waiting around the corner. Or tinkering with the limited tech.

So, step one. Hardison sneezes. Twice.

Step two: ]

Those weren't threats! Just- just so we're clear. I'm basically anti-threat as a rule.

[ If sneezing gets him stabbed in a movie theater he's going to be mad about it, frankly. ]

[sharker]

[ Parker's making zero progress with the projector, but at least she hasn't permanently broken anything. Probably.

Eliot might have been able to identify Hardison by his sneeze, but she's not quite up to his level yet. She'd snapped her head up at the first sound of the door opening from below, instantly on alert, so by the time Hardison declares his nonthreatening position, there actually is someone waiting around the corner, ready to stab if necessary. Ghosts can't open doors, she's trying to tell herself, ghosts can't open doors, so it's not a ghost, it's okay, it's just an axe murderer, probably, or an assassin, she can take those, she just -

And then he speaks and she forgets all about the ghosts and axe murderers and assassins. ]

Hardison?

[ She doesn't peek around the corner to see him. She can't, because...because then whatever she sees, it'll be the truth. Maybe it's him, or maybe it's not. Maybe there's no one there at all and she's making things up, missing him so hard and feeling so lost and alone that she's hearing things just because she wants to hear them more than she wants anything else.

She squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them again, staring straight ahead into the dark. ]

Hardison, is that - is that you?

[ofthegeek]

[ He's not in the branch of their line of work that says "frequently in position to get hit in the chest and have the wind knocked out of him," but you know what? Who needs to be in that position physically when he can experience it emotionally, all at once? ]

Parker? It's me. I'm- it's you?

[ Hardison does what Hardison do. Almost trips in his haste to try and get eyes on her as quickly as humanly possible, hands half-up. It's a little bit about making sure she sees he's personally not prepared to do any stabbing. It's also about working very, very hard not to launch himself at her like a physical contact-seeking missile, even though the impulse is still written all over his face.

It's been less than two weeks since the last time he saw her, give or take, and it feels like about a hundred years, and it's been impossible to get used to.

Criminals have a prerogative to be a little selfish deep down even when they're the good guys, don't they? He can push back feeling guilty about being happy to see her for later and just embrace the relief for now. ]

When'd you even get here? No, wait, that's-- are you okay? You hurt?

[sharker]

[ It hasn't been nearly as long for Parker, but the fog, and the not-Eliot, have taken their toll. She's used to knowing where she could find Hardison at all times, if she wanted to, even if that doesn't always necessarily mean seeking him out. That's the good thing about Hardison. He's much more likely to be sitting behind his computer, reliably locatable, than hanging off a building somewhere. She doesn't understand it, but she appreciates it.

She hadn't been able to find him here, or even known where to start looking, and that in itself would have been crisis enough even without the everything else on top of it. Her eyes widen when she sees him, disbelief and hope and deep, deep relief, and he doesn't have to resist the urge to launch himself at her very long, because she's doing it for him, throwing herself into his arms and hanging on tight. ]

Hardison, you're here!

one day i'll have more than 1 hug icon but its not this day

[ofthegeek]

[ Oh, thank goodness. The reassurance stars aligned.

He wraps his arms around her, tight, face mashed against the top of her head in the ultimate hug-contact power move. ]

Oh my god, you have no idea how good it is to see you. I mean, you probably have an idea already, but-- still. Sight for sore eyes, babe, seriously, it's.

[ If he tears up, that's his business, but it's also pretty much anyone's business who's in range to know about it. ]

You're really here.

i'm amazed i even have one

[sharker]

[ There are very few people Parker would, or has, ever let touch her like that. Hardison was the first to be added to the list in a very long time.

But once someone's in with her like that, it's a pretty solid position. She lets herself just lean into him for a minute, eyes closing as he wraps himself around her. ]

I know.

[ Because it's just as good to see him, probably. It's a little harder for her to actually say it, but she doesn't need to. She just breaks away, finally, just enough to be able to look at him. ]

Are you sure?

[ That she's really here. That here is a thing at all, that it isn't just a dream. That makes the most sense, right? That she's just imagining all of it? ]

Maybe I was drugged.

[ofthegeek]

[ Yeah, of course she knows. Universal constant. He likes to put these things out there, is all. Right now it feels especially nice to be able to put it out there. Get that minute of wrapping around her. He can know it's objectively awful that they're all here all day long, but it can't stop him from feeling like the ground's a little more solid to know that they are all in the same place again.

The rest puts a crease in his forehead, a faux-offended backwards lean to his neck. ]

If this is happening because you got drugged, I'd like to meet the chemist in charge. They clearly bombed a step and tore a hole in space-time.

[ That's mostly a joke for the sake of joking. Flash in the pan, and he's quick to sober back up. He doesn't have viable answers, not really. He doesn't even have a best guess. He can at least be here while she turns her angles on it. Him and Eliot. It's not the worst possible timing. It's not exactly great, either. ]

I get it, though. I can't think of much about being here that does come across as like, actual stuff that can happen in reality. Which is saying something.

[ They basically bend reality for kicks and cool Robin Hood jobs all the time. ]

Ghosts of the living -- Yesssssssssssssssssssssss

[likeknives]

[This damn fog.

Fortunately he hasn't been outside and in it long enough to get much of the effects, but he's also had a Bad Experience with being in the fog himself and any measure of exposure in this he can be certain it's not a good thing.

Hell, literally anything happening in this town is not a good thing.

But as he runs through the thick, soupy air, he hears it.

Someone calling his name.

Yeah, just keep tryin' that town, he gets it. You're tryin' to lure him to fall in some endless giant pit or something.

Except the closer he gets, the more familiar the voice sounds.

Eliot. Eliot. Eliot!

It's a very distinctive voice.]

Parker?!

[Is it really her? He practically fights through the fog until he can get closer to the voice, and there she is--murky, but clearer with every step he takes closer. He looks uncannily like the figure she was seeing, except his facial expression is different--fear and hope this time.

And annoyance.]

hell yes

[sharker]

[ He doesn't react, even when she screams in his face, and she's just debating the pros and cons of punching him in the arm just to get a reaction versus running away from what she's feeling more and more sure isn't actually Eliot at all, when he yells her name.

Parker jumps back, eyes wide, but the not-Eliot just keeps shambling idly along. He hadn't said anything, she'd been looking right at him. Which means -

She whirls around, and there he is. Another Eliot. Looking a lot more...aware than the other one had. He's looking right at her, for one thing, and there's that customary, reassuring scowl on her face, trying and failing to hide any emotion that's not aggravation.

She hesitates, wanting so badly to run forward into his arms...and then steps back from him, raising her hands in a warning gesture. Maybe from this distance he won't notice how they're shaking slightly, or the tear tracks shining on her cheeks.

Maybe it's really him this time, and she's safe. But maybe it isn't. ]

Stay back, I don't want to have to fight you!

[likeknives]

[Her reaction isn't entirely unexpected, with what he knows of the town. Doesn't mean it don't hurt, though, seeing her with that look on her face, hearing that tone in her voice. Whatever caused her to react like this, he wants to punch it in the face. Does this town have a face?]

Parker, it's me!

[There's an uncomfortable thought that maybe she's seen...something else. Something else that looked like him. It's happened before, and he's not surprised if it's happened again. He hasn't been out in this mess too long, but he suspects if maybe it's doing this to her, too.

He holds his hands out, palms out.]

Listen, I'll explain everything, we just need to get the hell out of this fog. All right?

[sharker]

[ He certainly sounds angry enough to be Eliot. And there's something in his expression, behind the frustration and impatience. Something else. Sophie would be able to name it, probably. Parker doesn't have that much experience in navigating emotion, her own or anyone else's. But there are some things she knows for sure. He's not trying to hurt her. He's not being creepy and ignoring her like the other one. She doesn't want to be in this fog a second longer than she has to be.

And she trusts him. Or wants to.

She steels herself, jaw working for a second before she sets it and nods, stepping closer. A second of hesitation, and then she grabs his outstretched hand, as much to see what he'll do as for any other reason.

Well, that and maybe that she really, really wants to be holding Eliot's hand right now. ]

[likeknives]

[He takes her hand, squeezing it briefly, reassuringly. Sometimes he feels like he just gets it, just knowing what's bothering her without words. It's not difficult to guess what's bothering folks in the fog, but he knows where the fear is coming from.

It looks like she's unsure, the way that she steels herself up, the way she hesitates--that means she's not sure if it's him. If he had any doubts about the doppleganger thing before, that all but confirms it.]

It's me, Parker. I promise. I won't lie to ya.

[But there's little time for reassurance and he tugs at her hand, motioning with his steps that they need to get moving as fast as possible.]

We're headed towards town, I'll explain everythin' once we get indoors. It ain't safe out here in this mess.

[sharker]

[ He doesn't just look and sound like Eliot; he feels like Eliot, too. That does a lot to reassure her, but even so, she leans in to take a quick sniff before he pulls her along, just making sure he also smells like Eliot.

Four out of five. That's good enough for now.

Of course he wouldn't lie to her. She knows that. So as long as this is actually Eliot, everything's fine. Parker hurries along with him, shooting him a look and trying to figure out everything he's not saying. He's honestly worried, and not just for her, she thinks, and that's. That's not good. ]

Are they ghosts?

[ The figures in the fog. The one that had looked like him. ]

[likeknives]

[...Parker.

It's so very Parker, and he grits his teeth and it feels, for a moment, like they're back home and things are normal. Like he's annoyed at pinatas and being poked and they aren't in this helltown with creepy fog and dopplegangers. If he wasn't entirely sure this was her, either, he was absolutely positive now.]

...they might be.

[His voice is absolutely serious. He's pretty sure she's talking about what she saw--obviously him. And he's also pretty sure that's what they are.]

Come on. If you see another one, don't pay attention to it. Just stay close, all right?

[The faster they get out of this soup the better.]