The Village Mod (
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villagememes2020-09-05 09:07 pm
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test drive — autumn

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.
— 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.
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?
fog
Claire knows she needs to pull herself together, needs to think of basic necessities first, get her head on straight and come up with a more sensible approach than her usual 'charge forwards and kill what's in the way'. For one, she doesn't have the flame thrower. And two...
She freezes when she hears a different voice, sees... a light?
Well hello to a trap if ever there was one. ... except Claire can't help but snort a slightly weak laugh.
"Wait, are you asking me to go into the light? 'cause you realize how that sounds, right?"
She does though - follow. Careful, with a guarded look in her blue eyes, she emerges from the fog with an impressive bruise and blood on her jacket. There's something carefully tough about the set of her jaw that suggests perhaps she'd rather not be called on red-rimmed eyes suggesting recent tears.
no subject
"Yeah, yeah, just come on. It's a candle, not the afterlife," she calls back, humour evident in her tone.
Of course, Ellie is very aware that could make it less safe for her. But it feels wrong to leave someone stranded out there. When she sees Claire's shape start to emerge, she makes her way to the door and pulls it open, standing in the doorframe with her candle.
Ellie has plenty of scrapes and bruises of her own, so she's not one to judge too much about how Claire looks. She has no idea what was out there in the fog, after all, or what Claire was doing before coming here.
She doesn't look like WLF or anything, at least, so hopefully this isn't about to end in some brutal fight for either of them. Ellie isn't about to start shit right off, but her stance suggests wariness.
"Hey. You made it. See? No tunnel or anything."
no subject
Claire's lips quirk up, too, an easy grin to match the humor. Despite her, her posture matches Ellie's as well - a subtle tension along her entire frame. No agressive posturing, but... well, it looks like they're both people ready for the worst, just in case.
"Seriously, thanks. I was beginning to think I'd never get anywhere in that crap outside. Claire, by the way. They got any iron and salt in here?"
She moves into the room, turning her back to Ellie as she moves - either careless or a sign of trust. She's itching to get her hands on something useful and fast. Like a flamethrower. She really misses that one right about now. Or her angel sword. Or hell, her gun. Iron and salt would be a good start, though, to build up an arsenal about whatever this entire thing is about.
And well, perhaps she wants to gauge Ellie's reaction. Ellie's got the look of a hunter about her, but Claire's not about to tip her hand too soon in case she's not. You tell one wrong person you're a hunter, and suddenly you've got a pack of vampires drag you out of your car at night. Really.
no subject
She watches Claire's movements, but the only thing she does herself for right now is shut the door again. She's fine with people coming in if they need it, but she's not leaving the door open as an invitation. She clicks the lock, though will it matter? Who knows. It's just a lock.
Claire turns away from her and Ellie recognises it for what it is; it's a decision to trust. Well, good. If they're stuck together in a storm it would kind of suck to be at odds with one another.
"Iron? Uh...I don't know. Maybe. There might be salt in the kitchen," she answers, confused but honest. "I found some bandages and antiseptic but there's nothing else super useful. No big knives. No guns. No arrows. It's like whatever happened to the people here, they took all their good shit with them."