The Village Mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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villagememes2021-03-08 05:08 pm
villagemod) wrote in villagememes2021-03-08 05:08 pm
Entry tags:
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.
no subject
"Six people living under one roof," Wynonna muses idly, stepping off to wander over to the record player. "Sounds like an arrangement I never expected you to be a part of."
Especially for someone who didn't care much for closed-in spaces. But then, if there was anything she'd learn about him in the last year or so, it was that Doc never did anything without gaining some kind of incentive. And she's thinking that this Raylan has something to do with that. Then again, maybe it was something as simple as he was a Marshall, just like Wyatt was and this was some screwed-up way of making amends for it.
Glancing back over her shoulder at him, she sets down the record she'd picked up and turns to face him fully.
"I don't know why you're so worried. Sounds like you found yourself another family to call your own." Wynonna nods, not wanting to think about what he'd decide if they are ever given a chance to go home or stay there. She forces it out of her head and covers it up with her usual humorous side.
"But yeah, we should." Wynonna agrees, lingering and slowly moving towards the door. "First day in town and I manage to make everyone hate me. Sound familiar?"
no subject
"Everyone has offered to pitch in." It wasn't intentional for the house to have ballooned to the size it did.
He does bristle a bit at the mention of family. It requires him to be a kind of vulnerable to talk about this, and he is too sober-hungover to be in that state, to be able to muster up the words. It didn't sound like she'd said it to bait an answer out of him but he is a little wary nonetheless, feeling like any response he could have given would have been the wrong one. In the end, he doesn't respond to it. He simply puts on his coat and makes his way to the door, letting her leave first before stepping out after her and closing the door behind him.
"Well. Much as I would prefer you not to be a pariah for once, it is just as well that I have been here seven weeks and that I would do anything for you," he finally tells her, though he is not making eye contact, leaning back and looking down at his coat collar in an effort to straighten it. "Banked all the morsels of goodwill that you could ever hope to squander."
no subject
Stopping, she turns slightly as he makes that admission and her eyes soften, watching him avoid looking at her. Wynonna lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"I don't know if I deserve that. Not after what I did to you at that party." Unlike Doc, she looks at him, hoping to see those blue eyes of his meet hers. She'd thought he was dead. "And here you are, showing up again, like your my damn guardian angel."
no subject
"Wynonna. You could have anyone you want. It doesn't bother me none." Okay, fine, it bothers him a little, but he's good at not showing it. He would be a hypocrite if he tried to control her emotions, her attractions. And she would be a hypocrite too if she was going to take issue with his... whoring.
It was the least he could have done for Wyatt, is what he would have said not that long ago. Doc narrows his eyes and tears his gaze away from her before breathing out a sigh and making eye contact again. "I can't protect you from the kinds of things that get us here. I want to, but." Doc shrugs.
"I know you never asked for it. But I'm going to try, anyway. And I hope that you'll let me." It means she has to listen to him sometimes. He knows that's not easy for her. "I hope that you trust me."