villagememes | test drive

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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“There’s room at the boarding house,” he tells her. “Or you can occupy any empty house you want. Or, once you make some friends, you can live together. It’s safer.”

"Okay. Safer living with other people," she repeats, giving a nod. She hasn't lived with other people in what feels like forever. But forever is really just six years. Six years since Ronnie 'died' the first time.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out. "I've interrupted your morning and intruded on you and your roommates." It's an assumption, considering he said living with others is safer. "You've been more than kind. Thank you."

"You're not intruding or interrupting. If you want to have something to eat and stick around a bit, I'd be happy to help you look for somewhere to live. Or show you where the boarding house is. My roommates and I... we believe that the only thing we can do here that does any tangible good is look out for each other."

"That's, um..." She pauses as she tries to find the right wording for what she wants to say. "Even if it's the only thing you feel you can do, it's still a noble thing to do," she says with a nod. And it's true. They could choose not to look out for each other. Be in it all for themselves and their own gain. It's a cold, hard way to live, but plenty of other people in her world (and in his, if she had to bet) pulled it off without seemingly a second thought.

All anything a person had in this world, in any world, was other people. It's a lesson to took her a little while to learn.

"I'd like that. The food. And the house hunting?" her tone lifts at the end, making it into a question. She hasn't even been here a whole day, and she may end up a home owner. What a weird thought.

"I'm not a gourmet chef or anything - that's our friend Neal - but I can make scrambled eggs or... a sandwich?" he offers, gesturing to the fridge.

"Um..." she trails off, thinking. Caitlin thinks about offering to make something for the both of them, but there's a slight worry about her steadiness. Sitting inside, out of the fog, she's definitely feeling better, but she's been sitting. Who knows what would happen if she got on her feet right now?

"Whatever's easiest for you? Probably the sandwich," she guesses. No pans or heat source required.

"Do you eat meat?" he asks.

It takes a moment for what he said to register with her. No one's really ever asked her that. "Yeah, I do," she answers. "I'm not a vegetarian or vegan. I like bacon and burgers too much."

Malcolm is from New York in 2021. The possibility of veganism is high.

He smiles.

“Ham and cheese?”

"Ham and cheese sounds great," she says with a nod. She can't remember when she last had a sandwich like that, but it feels like just the thing right now.

"So, how many roommates do you have?"

"Five," he says with obvious enthusiasm. Then it fades slightly as he adds "Sort of. I mean. Most of them split there time between here and... other houses now. As they've made more friends," he explains with a clear attempt to Be Okay With It.

test drive — spring

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