villagememes | test drive

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, that makes two of us.

[ Friends mean being close. Being close to him means people die. John Constantine isn't one that makes friends--real friends--lightly. Especially given he's left Chas with his ex-wife and daughter, and left Zed off to her merry own with Corrigan in Louisiana. Safer for all parties that way, really.

Just wait till she sees real magic. ]

Jill. Don't suppose you go up and down many hills. [ He chuckles a bit but nods to the introduction. ] John Constantine.

...and who said it was an anyone that brought us here? Who said we were brought here? Maybe we just stumbled upon a good ol' fashion haunting. [ He takes a drag off the cigarette before taking it out of his mouth and gesturing around them. ] You did. Now, I don't mind playing second to a gorgeous woman every now and again. Spices things up a bit. So, lead away.

Aren't we lucky that we found each other? Next we'll be holding hands.

[ That's one thing they have in common. People die, you lose. You get close, you open yourself up to the pain of loss. Worse, when you get to see it happen in front of you. Since the Arklay Mountains, Jill has let only a select few in; with Parker, it was necessity. You learn to care for someone you work with daily, over time, when your life is always on the line. ]

Valentine. Generally I'm used to the surname being the one that jokes come from. [ Jill offers a hand and it's friendly, without begrudging. ] Well, you're not Jack, but I'll take it.

[ Jill's turn to raise her arms in surrender, but her taut smile suggests that she doesn't believe him. It's like he's ranting like a madman. ]

Don't believe in any of that nonsense, sorry. More likely to be in a coma, I think. [ What else would be grounds for something this strange. ] What a flatterer. Good to know I still can manage it when I've been awake for days and I'm still covered in sweat and dirt... probably some gore, too.

[ She looks down, twists at her hips and looks behind her to check for blood. The fabric of the battlesuit doesn't allow for it to really stick, so she's not surprised. ]

Honestly, if we could play nice and find a place to crash, I'm all for it.

[ She starts on leading the way now. Lucky him. ]

Only once we've solved the mystifying fog. That can be our celebratory act.

[ He nods to it, giving her hand a firm shake. ] Valentine it is. Usually people find some new name to call me. No preference, really.

[ "Bastard" always seems to be on teh top of the list though.

He meets her hands up with a simple shrug. Not his fault people haven't considered the fact maybe the fog has abducted them. People usually got that narrow scope on life what its capable of. ]

Now this is on inventive coma. Why would you be dreaming up a dashing, charming, nicotine addict, eh? [ He flicks the finished cigarette onto the ground and puts it out with the tip of his shoe. His eyebrows go up a bit at that twist. Flexible. ]

Sweat, dirt, gore? Sounds like my Monday mornings. Well... most mornings. Maybe even some evenings if things get adventurous.

[ He follows after her, taking a glance around them every so often. Part of him just expects someone to jump out of the fog and grab at them. Teeth and all. ]

Gonna be disappointed when it's just bad weather, pal.

[ Jill faintly shakes her head and laughs, lightening up briefly. ]

I mean people usually make jokes based on my last name. I prefer my first name, most of the time. You're free to call me as you see fit. [ She wonders if he'll turn it into a problem since she offered that opening, though. You give someone a little space and they take up all of it. ] Don't know. My type's got at least fifty pounds of muscle more their frame.

[ It would be a sick burn if she didn't chuckle afterwards in a few sharp but quiet barks. Jill is slow in movement, but she obviously knows what she's doing. She has this mapped up in her mind -- at least where they are. ]

I was working my way through an oil refinery before coming here. Fighting BOWs. All my weapons are gone, though.

That'd be a good day in my book. I'd rather it be bad weather. Nature can be a bitch, but, I'd rather that then other things that like to wait in the fog.

[ Or first name. Huh. He can imagine what sort of jokes come from a last name about that. Most of them probably aren't involving the actual Saint Valentine either. ]

Oh, then, your subconscious must be deciding to torture you then. Sounds more like why I'd be in someone's coma. [ John can't imagine most people would dream positive things about him anyways. ]

I was on my way out of New Orleans. No weapons, though. [ Interesting. So, abduction from across different places on the planet. ] I don't suppose you found anything out of the ordinary for you there. No odd markings or maybe runes carved into the walls.

test drive — autumn

just wait till the foreplay jokes about elbowdrops...

she'll take it over commentary on triangle chokes

inb4 go on press the button harder luv

some call it friendship

others wonder how she hasnt murdered him yet