test drive — autumn

[villagemod]

test drive — autumn
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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.

Since not all setting details have been made available yet, you are welcome to invent your own general locations for this test drive. There are no living souls in Mathias Township beyond the player characters. In fact, there are no signs of life at all... We hope you enjoy your visit.

( Recommended listening: ♫ )



— the fog —

It moves in quickly and without warning, not from the waterfront but the forest, cascading through every street in a thick wave of white. The fog is not a soft blanket enveloping the town, but a heavy weight pressing down, threatening to suffocate the sky is blotted out and you can see no further than your outstretched hand.

Those outside when it rolls in are left wandering blind, stumbling toward shelter as you're unable to even see your feet beneath you, let alone any obstacles in your path. Perhaps you call out for help, hoping for another voice to guide you toward shelter or simply another living soul. Or perhaps you were lucky enough to already be inside when the fog descended, quickly closing doors and windows to keep it from creeping in. Can you hear those voices crying out? You recognize some, but the others... Are they really there at all, or are you alone here and simply beginning to finally lose your mind?

And perhaps the most important question: Do you answer?



— portents —

You wake up with an ache in your head and a cloudiness to your thoughts, your body sprawled on the ground in a location you don't remember going to. As you sit up, the world spins and start to clutch your head — to realize there's something on your hand. A symbol, a word, a streak of wet paint or ink. You don't recognize it or have any memory of how it got there...

Or how the much larger depiction came to be on the wall or the floor around them. You can see it shining wet in the glow of whatever light source is nearest, but something instinctual urges you not to touch it. If you defy that urge, it burns, a searing pain that radiates from the matching mark on your hand.

Did you do this? Or was it done to you? The person approaching may have answers — or accusations.



— past deeds —

The Town Hall stands at the center of Mathias Township, a modest two-story building that would be welcoming if not for the faded sign, chipped paint, and deafening silence. 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 your attention is a large bulletin board on the main wall, once meant to hold flyers or announcements for the community.

What it holds now is decidedly different. Tacked onto the board is a torn scrap of paper with words scrawled almost illegibly in dark red ink.

why did this happen

Upon close examination, a keen eye will realize that the ink is actually blood, though whether it is human is unknown. And beside that scrap, a symbol has been drawn in dark black marker — it resembles a feather or a branch, but you've never seen anything like it before. It scares you even as you know it is perhaps the most important thing you have ever seen in your life.

On the floor below the bulletin board are more scraps of paper scattered amongst grime and dust, most blank but some with other strange symbols scrawled in a variety of inks, perhaps matching the pens and markers scattered near the baseboard. Some are small enough that they might have once been part of the same page, creating something larger. And to the far side, a pristine stack of crisp white copy paper and an unopened box of ballpoint pens.

What do you do?



code bases by tricklet

Comments

[volunteertomatoes]

[ A 'hello' is better than nothing, although there's a selfish part of Quentin that just wishes she'd hurry up so he can stop holding the door open. That's not fair--she's probably just as scared as she is. Maybe she has short legs. Maybe she thinks he's some sort of monster, which is well within her right. Or maybe she just didn't quite hear him with the thick fog dampening the sound. He opens the door just a little bit wider, voice louder: ]

Hey! Shelter over here!

[ He feels weird even saying that. Maybe he's the one inviting trouble. ]

[waywardsister]

[ Claire stands still for a moment and then.... there! Yeah. The voice is defintiely less familiar but at the same time louder than the others. And now that she knows it's there, now that she's expecting it, she can just hold still for a moment, and then pinpoint it.

And then she does hurry - whatever the voice calling is, she'd rather handle something she has to clock in the face or punch in the dick than stay in the mist, with nothing but the voices.

The young woman who emerges from the mist towards Quentin can't be much older than 20, sporting an impressive bruise on her face and looking... well, not hostile. But guarded. ]

Hey Shelter.

[volunteertomatoes]

[ He deserved that. He's surprised at the quip, even more surprised at the familiarity of it--sure, the girl's younger and is missing the curls, but she's definitely got a Kady vibe that's strong enough for Quentin to bet that she punches pretty damn hard. It's both the joke and the look. ]

Nice to meet you. [ There's no enthusiasm in his voice as he closes the door, and once he turns around he realizes just how young she is, and-- ]

--Woah, you okay?

[waywardsister]

[ Quentin would not be wrong in his assessment. Claire prides herself on punching hard and sassing harder. At his question, though, her eyebrows go up in obvious surprise. ]

Huh? Oh-- this?

[ She gestures at her face, then shrugs. ]

Yeah, I thought I'd try setting a new trend.

[volunteertomatoes]

I appreciate your honesty. [ Quentin's tone is bone dry as he looks at the other, worry still etched on his features. He'll let it go for now, but there' still just a bit of apprehension. ]

Have you--you're the only person I've really seen here. Are we alone? There are, uh, voices I've been hearing.

[waywardsister]

[ Claire tosses him a smirk. It's... not exactly of the soothing kind, although her expression sobers. ]

Yeah... can tell you they're not of people like you and me.

[ People who are alive. People who are here. ]

I haven't seen anyone else - your voice was the first I heard that was... louder than the others. More present.