The Notice
A paper arrives the night before each visit with the customer's name, his list, and what he reckons each line is worth. It never names which of the eight archetypes is coming; instead it carries a tell, one line of his handwriting, and the mod never explains a single one. Neat handwriting with every count exact is one kind of person. All caps, misspelled, with an 'or else lol' is another.
Tip: From wave 5 the Notice also carries a Season card: BOOM, RIVAL, RUMOUR or EARLY. RUMOUR means one of those numbers is a lie.
Being a villager costs something
Eight inventory slots, because that is what a villager has; anything past them is fumbled onto the floor, never deleted. You mine everything outside your trade at 60 percent speed. You deal no damage at all: swing a sword and nothing happens, and only the Fletcher can draw a bow. Stay out after dark and Sleepless starts costing you a shelf slot the next day.
You do not gather. You Restock
Vanilla villagers conjure their stock out of nothing by working at their job site, and you are a villager now, so you do too. Stand at your workstation, hold the button for four seconds, and a bundle of your trade's goods appears. Twice a day on vanilla's own numbers, three times with an upgrade. That is your edge over the man walking towards you: he can swing a pickaxe, you can make bread appear.
Nine trades, each with one verb
Your trade is your class, and its workstation is a vanilla block: composter, smithing table, lectern, brewing stand, cartography table, smoker, loom, fletching table or stonecutter. Each trade has one verb only it can do. The Farmer Sows a 9x9 in one action, the Toolsmith Tempers a tool with a 15 percent chance of Masterwork, the Cartographer Surveys to learn who is really coming and what he can really pay, the Cleric Blesses the whole square.
Tip: A Tempered Masterwork keeps your name in its tooltip forever, wherever the tool ends up.
Price it, then watch him read it
Every shelf slot gets a number, and the screen shows what a thing is worth and what he reckons it is worth, which are different. He arrives at dawn, stands at the counter and reads for ten to thirty-five seconds with his mood over his head. The shelf is frozen while he does, and you get one live re-price, the Concession, two with an upgrade.
The verdict is acted out, never printed
No chat message and no summary screen. Delighted, he tips and the next budget grows. Satisfied, he pays and remembers you. Disappointed, he kicks your composter over on the way out. Angry, he breaks your workstation, and you cannot Restock until you rebuild it. Hostile, he comes over the counter after you, and running is the plan. Hold emeralds out to a hostile customer and he takes what he is owed and goes; or ring the bell, once per visit, and the golems come.
Heat, and the Reprisal
Every customer who leaves hostile raises the Heat, a difficulty dial you set yourself. At one or two they arrive better armed with less patience. At three or four he brings a friend who waits ten blocks out and joins in if it turns ugly. At five, one morning there is no Notice at all: three of them come over the hill with no list. Beat them and the Heat resets, and the village is left alone for a while.
Death is a change of body, not a game over
Die and you wake up as the nearest surviving villager, their profession mapped onto one of the nine trades. Your stall, chest and emeralds stay put; your upgrades die with you. A grave goes in by the bell with your name, trade and the wave that got you, and the row of graves is the Chronicle, which starts paying out from your third life: emeralds, then a carried-over recipe, then an iron golem waiting at the bell. When there is nobody left to become, the Season ends and you walk until you find another bell 150 blocks away, where a new one starts.