The Village Mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
villagemod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
Tim Gutterson. [ He didn't hesitate in responding in kind. ] Army Ranger sniper. [ There was no boasting, but there was also no faux 'aw shucks' attempt at humility either. It was the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in his own skin; at least in this aspect of his life. ]
Afghanistan and the Sandbox. [ He added on at the end, his turn to offer up information in a show of respect to Russo. ] US Deputy Marshal currently.
no subject
[ Whatever had gotten under Billy's skin was forgotten, at least for the moment. He didn't necessarily feel relaxed. He probably would never really feel as relaxed as he used to, but at least he maybe found someone he can trust in this shithole. ]
Good for you. Seriously, about the Marshal thing. A lot of guys like us, they have a hard time finding a place for themselves once they get home, you know? Nice to hear about someone who actually did it for a change.
no subject
In fact there was a sense of ease working its way from across Tim's shoulder and down along his spine that tended to come over him when he was talking with fellow veterans. Even that initial introduction with Colton Rhodes, knowing the man was probably going to end up on the wrong side of his gun sights there was just something about that brotherhood.
Tim took a couple of steps closer, giving a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement of Russo's recognition of his Marshal service. ]
I know a few like that. [ He said with empathy. ] Guys who can't live without the mad minute and end up contracting out to chase that high. The Marshal service is actually pretty supportive in hiring veterans; for those who want the support.
[ Some guys just ... didn't. ]
no subject
[ He held up his hands, as if saying he was guilty as charged. ]
We did full psych evals, of course. Don't wanna send a ticking time bomb into a stressful situation, right? You know, Tim, I gotta say, it makes me feel a lot better knowing you're around here.
no subject
He did give Russo a closer look when the man admitted to his previous (current?) occupation. No contractor worth their lawyers' retainer was ever going to admit to hiring veterans to do more than security detail or exercises. Tim 'lawman' spidey senses were tingling.
But quite honestly even if the man was running one of those operations that hired for the mad minute, Mathias was not the town to start casting stones. This was a place where that edge, which Tim would have to tut tut back home, was the same sort of edge he wanted at his shoulder in this place.
So while his expression said as much about the 'tut tut' it relaxed almost immediately. ]
Psych evals don't do us much good around here. Resourcefulness and an ability to imagine the worst case scenario are much more practical skills.
no subject
[ But Billy noticed that vague shift. Minute as it was, it had been there, and Billy was going to clock that and remember it. He might not have the good looks anymore to accentuate his charm, but Billy could still be as charismatic and likeable as he'd been before he decided to go toe to toe with the Punisher.
It was fine. The conversation was moving on and Billy was glad for it. ]
Good news for us, then. Resourcefulness and imagining the worst is pretty much tricks of the trade at this point. So this town just like ... What? Messes around with people somehow?
no subject
But he decided to let that be an internal warning, rather than cause it to dictate his behavior with Russo. At least for the time being. ]
Honestly, we don't really know. [ He explained. ] I'm a fairly recent arrival, you'd want to talk to Raylan Givens, or Doc Holiday for details. From what I've been told, this place has a habit of killing a person, in gruesome fashion, and then haunting your dreams until you feel very messed with indeed.
The killing thing? It also appears to bring people back from those deaths; sometimes. Not all the time and there is no rhyme or reason as to who comes back from what and who doesn't.
no subject
What, like, zombies? Vampires? Other living-dead type things? Sounds like a real riot around here.