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]

Uh-huh. [ That's better than saying 'I hope so,' and when he breathes in it's just Eliot. He allows himself to relax, just a little, despite the fog and doom and gloom, and despite all of those unanswered questions churning in his mind. It's not the first time the world has given him more questions than solutions. For now, he can focus on the weight of someone he knows, and when Eliot steps back Quentin's aware of just how tired he probably looks and feels.

That's fine. Eliot also looks like shit, although Quentin probably shouldn't say anything. He does, however, reach forward to touch Eliot's chin. ]

You have, like, an entire beard.

[endlessflask]

Do you like it?

[ Eliot smiles, just a little, and reluctantly lets go of Quentin. Flirting right now doesn't really seem like the best thing to do, and, really, he's doubtful Quentin would even accept it as anything more than just Eliot being Eliot.

He has a lot he wants to say. He never did send that letter and now maybe he'll have a chance to let Quentin know all of it. After they figure out what's going on. ]

[volunteertomatoes]

Yeah.

[ It's casual--a little too casual, because the answer is 'yes,' but he's a little more concerned with the weird fucking position they're in, Eliot's level of attractiveness aside.

Besides, is it really them if there's not a fucking crisis looming over them? He exhales, trying to keep his mind off of the fact that he never thought he'd see the other again. They're here together. Purgatory or not, they're here. ]

How long have you been here? What--have you seen anyone else? The others? Are you--are you fully you?

[endlessflask]

[ Does it make Eliot feel good that Quentin thinks he looks good? Absolutely. He preens a little under the brief compliment, because that's all the time he has before Quentin's barreling forward with questions. ]

Am I me? [ Oh. Right. ] Yeah. Yeah, I am. Thanks.

[ He should say more than thanks to the guy who gave his life for him. ]

It's, uh, sort of hard to see anything out there. But I haven't seen anyone else, no.

[volunteertomatoes]

[ There's a lot of things they have to say -- a lot of words currently rippling through them, an undercurrent of questions and things they'd much rather avoid now, but they both push that to the side. Maybe when the fog isn't threatening to seep around them. ]

Okay. Just us. [ He can take better stock of the situation, especially now that Eliot's here. ]

Did you here other voices? I thought I heard Benedict out there.

[endlessflask]

Just you.

[ Quentin's voice can cut through all the noise.

Eliot looks at him again, then to the window to peer out at the fog. It looks less like fog and more like they've been buried in a massive snow fall. The fog doesn't even curl or seem to move, and Eliot's surprised it hasn't found a way through the cracks in the windows or the door. ]

So. Do we just ... Wait for it to go away?