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Boston, Massachusetts, 05/13/2018, 2:47 AM “...nothing aside a loving miracle”, you hear. The bright light in the room assaults your eyes. An explosion of pain almost makes you lose consciousness again. Then you see the ceiling. Dirty-white panels, fluorescent lights. The one just above you flickers spasmodically, buzzing like an angry hive of bees. Some machine is beeping regularly. This seems oddly familiar. The smell of antiseptic fills your nostrils and then you knew. Hospital. You are in a hospital. But how did you get here? 1. What happened to you? A) You had enough. You tried to hang yourself, but something went wrong. You still lived when someone found you and called the emergency service. B) A SUV plowed into the front of your car, totaling it completely. It absolutely was the other driver’s fault, but right now this brings you little comfort. C) A knife to the gut. Several times, in fact. You were left to bleed out, but someone found you lying in the alley and called the cops. D) Pancreatic cancer. You should have remembered the hospital, as you were a frequent visitor here during the last few months. You are not sure if the mental fog is caused by the chemo, or metastasis. E) No loving idea. You remember a terrible fever, convulsions and inability to swallow. Seems like rabies, except you don’t remember having been bitten during the last few years. F) Stupidity. Someone bumped your car which had been repainted only a few hours ago. You screamed at the other driver, he screamed at you. It’s not clear who threw the first punch, it may have been you. You were pushed and hit the curb with your head. G) Your heart went past its expiration date in the middle of a supermarket. It could have been worse – if it happened at your home, there would be no one who could call for help. H) Something else. Write in something terrible enough that could get you into ICU. 2. Who are you? Write in your name, gender, age and occupation. The realization fills you with dread, but also hope. It seems the worst has passed. If you managed to survive what happened to you, reached the ICU and regained consciousness, you are clearly not going to die yet. “Am I going to be OK?”, you ask. Well, you try. Only a faint moan leaves your lips. “Holy poo poo”, you hear a male voice on your left, “Seems there’s still some fight in that one.” “Should I tell the doctor?”, asks another, younger voice. “Sure, if you want to piss him off. He left, like, fifteen minutes ago. There’s nothing more he can do here.” A face appears in your field of view. The first thing you spot is the man’s bulbous nose with a pimple on its left. He’s black, but with a grey undercurrent. His eyes are brown. “Why you’re not asleep?”, the owner of the impressive nose looks to your left. “Your morphine’s not running out… ah. I should have known.” “Doctor Mancini set the dose”, the other voice mutters. “Did he try to sedate a loving mouse?” “Well, he’s the doctor here”, another face appears in your field of view. The guy is no more than 30-years old. He looks like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo who grew his hair long. Something strange is going on with the face of the guy in front of you. His lips go bright red. Eyes start to get paler, more milky. Face looks gaunt, almost emaciated. Like he was a cadaver. You focus your sight and he goes back to normal. Weird. “The only dose he gets right is how the amount of booze he needs to pass out”, he says. “His paycheck's still bigger than ours”, the long-haired guy shrugs. He raises his chin slightly and sniffs. ”Hey, did you smell that?” “You forgot to shower again?” “Ha, ha. No. Not that. Like… smoke?” “Um… no? Oh, wait. It’s that tube over there.” They both look at the flickering tube. “Does it usually smell that bad?”, the younger guy asks nervously. “We can turn the lights off for a moment and check.” You now feel it too. A faint smell of burning wood and plastics. With this realization your headache becomes stronger. The beeps from the machine on your left become more frantic. Another sound, however, is much more prominent – a sharp, modulated screech. “gently caress! The fire alarm!”, Shaggy’s eyes widen with the realization, “Told you it wasn’t the lamp!” “We have smoke detectors!”, cadaver guy looks around nervously, “Why didn’t they work?!” “What now?” “Where is the loving oxygen mask?!” “I took it to Mathers in 102! How I was supposed to know...” “Bring it here!” “There’s no time! Let’s just move them...” “No! Go get the mask!” The ceiling transforms before your eyes. The light from the tubes dims. Yellowish spots appear on the panels. Gaps between them widen, as they deform and partially come off. Black, charred stains emerge in the corners. The flickering light tube cracks visibly, flashes one last time and goes dark. Something squeals along with the alarm, the sound coming from your left. “gently caress, not now! Hang in there!” Something weighs on your chest, like someone put a huge stone. The cadaver face closes to yours – with a grimace of fear on his bloody red lips. HE’S COMING WITH US. “Don’t give up! You’ll get through it”, the face now covers your entire field of view. It’s probably touching yours, but you don't feel anything... “Stillson! Get out of there!” The air shimmers and vibrates. Is that smoke? “There! Is that the one?” “Let me out of here! Let me out of here!” “Stillson!” You feel lighter. “No, we were supposed to get the one from downstairs!” “I don’t see anything there!” “Stop right there!” “gently caress! Get into the Tempest! Get into the Tempest!” “Can you hear me?” “This already happened, you know. Get out of there!” “No time. Pull him out!” “Eat lead, you loving slaver!” “Pull him out!” You hear a tearing sound. Your vision sharpens. You see the cealing again, blackened and sickly yellow. Despite none of the lights working, the room seems pretty bright. Another face now stares down at you. 3. Who is it? A) A grim, hooded figure with a scythe in their skeletal fingers. B) A scared Asian woman wearing an outmoded uniform and a tricorn hat. There is a modern-looking rifle on her back. C) A stern-looking man wearing a Roman-style helmet. A complicated-looking symbol resembling a crowned sun is tattooed on his left cheek. D) A blonde guy with bandaged left eye. He smiles reassuringly, but you hear something jingling when he moves. -- Welcome to the game! Here, we pilot a very unhappy person through the afterlife, as described in Wraith: the Oblivion. One disclaimer - I've never even been in the US and English is not my first language. For that reason, this CYOA will not be a literary masterpiece filled with realistic descriptions of Boston seen from the other side of the Shroud. I expect to write some pretty wonky sentences and miss out important stuff obvious for every American. Hopefully, it won't happen very often!
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Aug 24, 2018 23:28
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1e, 2 Tom Jacobs, psychiatrist! 3 c
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Aug 25, 2018 03:46
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I've done a thing: One morning, as Sam K. Gregory was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in his hospital bed his perception had been changed. “What’s happened to me?” he thought. It was no dream. This room, a proper room for a convalescing human being, seemed somehow too small, laying quietly between the four walls. Looking at the bedside table, He half-expected to find an unpacked collection of sample cloth goods spread out—Sam was a traveling salesman, the table was empty. “O God,” he thought, “what a demanding job I’ve chosen! Day in, day out, on the road. The stresses of selling are much greater than the actual work going on at head office, and, in addition to that, I still have to cope with the problems of traveling, the worries about train connections, irregula... He remembered the accident now, slipping on the tracks and the split-second realization that he was to be crushed, like a cockroach.
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Aug 25, 2018 10:22
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Well, I will need a tiebreaker here, at least, before moving on.
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Aug 26, 2018 00:59
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1. G 2. Sara Lynn Crawford, Lyft driver, late 20s 3. C
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Aug 26, 2018 04:20
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Seems that you should wait for a lot more responders or just start.
By popular demand fucked around with this message at 09:08 on Aug 26, 2018 |
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Aug 26, 2018 05:36
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I rolled the dice, I change my vote to BPD's entry.
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Aug 26, 2018 09:03
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Great! Voting is closed, we're going with Sam the traveling salesman.
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Aug 26, 2018 09:18
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It was really stupid. You were almost late for a meeting with an important customer after your beat-up car decided to break down. Being close to the Braintree station, you decided to go by rail. You left your car at some cheap car park, filled your case with as much merchandise as you could (with a cellphone in your hand, trying to postpone the meeting) and went off to catch a train. Except you hosed up. You realized you had been waiting on the wrong platform about thirty seconds before your train was supposed to arrive. Some less determined people would try to reach the train through the underpass, fail to get to the platform in time and postpone the meeting again. You, instead, decided to dash through the tracks. It only took you a split second to ensure the security guard was looking another way. You moved with speed and nimbleness that would make your PE teacher from the high school ecstatic… at least until you stomped on that particular railroad tie. It had been raining an hour before and the wooden surface was incredibly slippery. The last thing you remember was the front of the train you were supposed to catch… We went with Sam K. Gregory, a traveling salesman. His profession and details of his accident are the first choices that will let us establish his character. He probably favors Social Attributes Physical ones. He knows how to persuade someone to buy his stuff (high Expression and Persuasion) and how to deal with customers much more wealthy and prestigious than him (Etiquette). But certainly his Dexterity could be better and as for his Mental Attributes… well… he is the guy who decided that a mad dash through the tracks is a great idea. As for the third choice, it will become obvious soon enough. -- You take a good look at the man standing above you. He is a tall guy, around six feet, with broad shoulders and thick arms. His outfit is pretty strange – gray cuirass worn on jeans and flannel shirt, a helmet with metal flaps meant to cover both cheeks. The left one is missing, which lets you see a tattoo on the man’s fair, freckled skin.  “Can you see me? Can you hear me?”, he asks. In his left hand there is a sharp-looking short sword, made of the same gray metal as his armor and helmet. “Yes”, you nod and trail off, shocked. Several minutes ago, you were barely able to groan. Now you can apparently talk again? When you think about it, you realize your body is no longer painful. “Good”, the armored man bends forward and grabs your arm. “Get up.” He helps you stand up. Your body is completely fine with this for some reason. Your arms and legs listen to you again. The room looks… bad, like everything aged when you were unconscious. The paint on the walls is dirty and chipped at some places. The bedding where you lied looks like stained, dirty rag. On the linoleum floor (now uneven and peeling at some places), next to the door lies a translucent cocoon. A short-haired woman (who apparently wears a long, woolen dress under her cuirass) kneels, touching the membrane with her hand. “Wakey, wakey”, she says. “No time for that”, the muscled man scowls, “Just cut them out.” “Sure, centurion”, she responds, drawing a curved knife from her belt. She deftly makes a large incision on the fleshy surface, which peels with a squelching sound. The woman stretches both sides of the cutting, uncovering a body. You see white pants, white shirt, black hands… and the face. He is definitely the cadaver guy you saw before. Now he seems better – his face is still grey-ish, and lips a bit more reddish than they should, but it’s much less pronounced than earlier, when the commotion started. He opens his eyes, and sits up fiercely. “Shhhh”, says the woman, “You’re safe.” “What happened? Who are you? Why is this place looking like that? What’s with this… thing?”, you ask, looking at the remains of the cocoon. They seem to be evaporating with a silent hiss. “I know you have a lot of questions”, says the man. You spot a pair of iron manacles dangling from his belt. “They will be answered. But now we have to get you both out of here. This place isn’t safe.” “Wait. There was a fire”, the orderly looks at the three of you, his eyes dilated with fear. “You’re not firemen. And this guy here was dying… does that mean…?” “Yes, Mr. Stillson”, the woman nods, “You are dead. We all are. And you need to go with us.” 1. What do you do? A) This all sounds outlandish, but the best thing you can do in this situation is to play ball and hope to get some answers. Go with them. B) There is no way you go anywhere with armed people without some better answers than that. Refuse to go with them unless they explain what happened. C) No, no, no, this is bullshit! You are sick, you barely survived a fire and they are having a laugh at your expense. Make a scene. D) It’s all a dream, or maybe a hallucination. It’s not real. Just do nothing and it will pass. E) Panic! These people are armed and they are kidnapping you! Scream for help! F) Try to escape. The woman still stands near the door, but maybe you will be quick enough to pass her. G) Fight your kidnappers! Disarming the big guy may be difficult, but you have nothing to lose anyway. H) Something else. Write in...
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Aug 26, 2018 10:17
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Since we were a solicitor in life, let's be a Solicitor in death. D
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Aug 26, 2018 10:29
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A We're playing ball, but we mention the weird Grim Fandango vibe we're getting.
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Aug 26, 2018 10:42
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Calmly at first, increasingly frantically explain that I am late for work, I have a family to support, and what will they think of me just walking off with a sketchy group of strangers?!
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Aug 26, 2018 11:00
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Voting is closed. A dice roll solved the tie - we're going with C. I will post as soon as I get back home.
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Aug 27, 2018 14:42
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You are undecided at first, but the woman’s words fill you with dread. There is simply no way you are going anywhere with these people. They are armed, dressed like Renaissance fair rejects, talk about being dead, for gently caress’s sake… They may be lunatics, or on drugs. Maybe they are even the ones who set the hospital on fire? You smile, trying not to show any fear. This attempt fails immediately when you unwittingly take a step back. Even without seeing your face, you know it wouldn’t convince your 5 years old nephew. The “centurion” looks at you, realizes he failed to appear non-intimidating, and quickly puts his sword into the scabbard. There is a moment of nervous silence. “Thank you for your offer, but I think I’ll stay here”, you say, “My family would be worried if they didn’t find me here. Besides...” “You’re dead”, the man interrupts you, “There is nothing you can do to worry them more.” “...besides, there is an important contract I have to finalize, otherwise I’m losing my job...” “gently caress me, the employee of the month”, the woman smirks. Her commanding officer (at least he behaves like one) just stares at you with apparent frustration. His tenses up and you know his patience is about to wear out. “...so you understand Ijustcan’twalkawaywithagroupofstraaaaaaaah!”, your last word turns into a nervous scream as the man lunges at you. He grabs your wrist, reaching for manacles with his other hand. “Sorry, but you’re coming with us”, he says. TAKE HIS SWORD, a voice resonates in your head, I’LL HELP YOU! 1. What do you do? A) Give up. Stop struggling and let the man handcuff you. B) Scream for help! C) Scream at the man! He has no right to take you anywhere! He’s going to be in trouble! D) Beg the man not to kill you! E) Yell at the woman to help you! F) Yell at Stillson to help you! G) Resist! Try to push him away and run. He’s much stronger than you, but you have determination on your side. H) Do as the voice says and grab his sword. You have a feeling its help comes with a price tag, but getting a weapon may be worth it.
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Aug 27, 2018 17:16
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Sam is not (yet) A man of violence, and being put in shackles is the sanest thing to happen all day. "What's my lawyers name again? ... I'll have to ask when we get to the police station."
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Aug 27, 2018 17:32
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H Never know, these guys might be leading us to the soul forges.
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Aug 27, 2018 20:54
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A Hey you should be selling me a travel package not arresting me!
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Aug 28, 2018 06:35
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The shackle clamps on your arm. Its touch is deathly cold, like it was made of ice. You feel it even through your clothes. When the lock clicks, you hear a quiet sound… like someone gasped. Looking at your manacled hand, you spot something unusual about your clothes: you don’t feel them at all. There is no sensation of material rubbing against your skin. Nothing itches where something you wear is too tight, no air is flowing where your clothes are loose. You’re neither sweaty, nor cold (except the spot touching the metal), nor warm. 1. How are you dressed? A) Huh? You’re still wearing your hospital gown. B) You’re dressed to work – a cheap two-piece suit, saddle shoes, a navy blue tie. C) As above, but your clothes are tattered and bloodied. Your left shoe is torn and you can see a holey sock through it. D) An opulent three-piece suit, Hugo Boss shoes and a Rolex. You look like one of your customers now. E) The usual stuff you wear at home when with your family – jeans, sneakers, a checkered shirt. F) Something else. Fill in… The centurion grabs the chain and pulls you cautiously towards the exit. Stillson hasn’t been manacled; apparently the woman decided he isn’t a threat. She just pushes him forward. “Okay, big guy, move”, she says playfully. You both stand near the door. “All right. Open the door”, she nods at the nurse. You take a closer look at her face and realize her eyes are not just dark: she has no pupils or irises and the entire surface of each eye is jet black. Stillson reaches for the handle. Nothing happens. You see him straining visibly, then press forward against the door. They don’t move even slightly. “You can’t, huh?”, the woman with black eyes approaches the door. “That’s because we aren’t where they are. We’re on this side of the Shroud, the hospital is on the other. But it doesn’t mean we’re gonna stay here… just look”. Her body turns hazy and transparent and she walks through the door like it wasn’t there. A second later her head comes out from the wall next to the frame. “You can do this too. Just walk. You can close your eyes if that helps you.” Stillson watches this with apparent indifference. He either doesn’t care or all this is just too much for him. “Of course we can”, he mutters and makes a step into the door. He tenses nervously when touching them, turns hazy and vanishes behind. “Our turn”, the centurion yanks the chain. “Don’t worry, it will get easier as you practice.” The sensation is definitely unpleasant. When you go through the door, it feels like a slap in the face, but applied to the entire body. You feel as a part of you remained stuck to the place where you passed. Nevertheless, after a moment of disorientation you emerge outside the room. The corridor is still filled with the wisps of smoke. As in the case of the room, it looks old and ruined. A man stands near a rusty stretcher – he looks like a fireman wearing a breathing apparatus, but his uniform is dirty and frayed at the seams. A colorful halo outlines his silhouette, constantly in flux. The beam of his flashlight briefly touches you. “Meet the Quick. This guy here is on the other side of the Shroud”, the short-haired woman (now looking solid again) ostentatiously tries to push the fireman. He doesn’t even budge. “He doesn’t see us and we can do nothing to him. You could sit on his shoulders and ride him like a horse the entire day and he won’t know. Not that I tried.” The fireman opens the door of the room you just left, shines the flashlight inside and takes a peek, then moves to the ones on the opposite side of the corridor. “Good, because that would be silly and unbecoming a soldier of the Emerald Legion”, the centurion scowls. “Which reminds me, we didn’t introduce ourselves. I am Centurion Kane Bednarz, Boston 2nd Auxiliary Cohort, Emerald Legion obviously. This is Legionary Janet Liu, my second-in-command." “Samuel K. Gregory”, you introduce yourself. Everyone’s eyes are now at the nurse, who seems mesmerized by the colors swirling around the fireman. You take a look and something coalesce in your mind. Resolution. A sense of duty. 2. Does it seem familiar? A) Not at all. B) Yes. “Sorry”, Bednarz raises his hand, “No time for that. You will be shown how to gather Pathos soon enough.” “You said my name before”, the nurse glares at the Legionary suspiciously, “How did you know?” “The badge”, she points out, “You’re still wearing it.” “But that’s impossible! I left it at home. Had to get a temporary one!” “Yeah, but you imagined yourself with the one you normally use. This”, the woman jabs him with the index finger, “Is not the body you used in life. It’s made of plasma and it looks exactly how you imagine yourself looking. No idea why you see yourself mostly as a hospital employee, but that’s between you and your Pardoner.” “I see. Did you imagine yourself in an armor?” “The armor is forged, dumbass. Shall we move on?” You move towards the exit. You have some time to ask several questions, if you like.
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Aug 28, 2018 15:54
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B A "Why am I in chains? I've done nothing wrong!"
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Aug 28, 2018 15:59
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super sweet best pal posted:"Why am I in chains? I've done nothing wrong!" "For your safety", Bednarz answers, "You just arrived, your Shadow can activate any moment now and push you to do something stupid. Besides, we just chased out a bunch of Renegades and some of them may still wait around. And they are the second worst thing you can find in this place. I will take the manacles off when we are somewhere safer."
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Aug 28, 2018 16:13
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1E 2A
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Aug 29, 2018 02:34
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"But when did I change out of my hospital gown? Please, All these happenings are very confusing, can you take me to the relevant authorities that I may plead my case?"
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Aug 29, 2018 13:04
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By popular demand posted:"But when did I change out of my hospital gown?” Liu shakes her head. “You didn’t exactly change. Your former body is still there. It just got removed by the firemen while you were sleeping in your Caul. As I said, you got a new one made of the plasm. We call it the Corpus.” “It’s ‘body’ in Greek”, Bednarz adds, “Or maybe Latin?” By popular demand posted:“Please, all these happenings are very confusing, can you take me to the relevant authorities that I may plead my case?" “That’s exactly where we’re going”, the centurion exclaims. “We’ll drop you at the Citadel. You’re gonna be checked up by a Pardoner, registered in the books, a Monitor will find out your Fetters. You’ll be taught some important skills – I assure you it’s impossible to survive in the Shadowlands without them – and laws that will help you avoid trouble. And then you’re gonna be assigned to a unit according to your skills and talents. You’re gonna be full-fledged Emerald Legionaries in no time.” GEE, THAT SOUNDS SO NICE, the voice in your head whispers, BY ALL MEANS GO WITH THESE ARMED PEOPLE, I’M SURE THEY HAVE PUPPIES, MARSHMALLOWS AND SOME MACARONI TO MAKE PICTURES. -- You go through the entrance to the ICU, mercifully left open by the fire brigade. In the waiting room you meet other people… or ghosts. Six of them wear cuirasses – given the way they straightened up at the sight of Bednarz, they are his underlings. Each of them is armed in some way – swords and iron clubs are the majority, but you also see one pole with a pronged head – a mancatcher, it seems. The other five are patients or doctors, corraled by the soldiers into the middle of the room. They look scared, shocked and miserable, most with red lips and slightly flushed faces. One of them, a burly middle-aged guy has his hands shackled behind the back. “Sir!”, a female soldier approaches Bednarz and salutes, “Reaping finished. None of them caused problems except one.” “Thank you, Stubbs. Found something suspicious?” “Scouts found two Nihils, in the basement and on the second floor. The latter is still. The former had a Shade wandering around, but it jumped back when it saw them. The 1st is securing both of them as we speak.” “Good. Any Renegades?” “The 1st caught one. He was hiding in the basement. They are… uh...”, her voice trails off, “...talking to him outside.” “What, here? Can’t they do this in the Citadel?”, the centurion scowls. “Tell them to stop or I swear I’m gonna report them. Dismissed. Go.” As she moves outside, Bednarz claps his hands and addresses a group of gathered ghosts. “All right, people!”, he says, “I know you’re scared, confused and there is a weird voice telling you to do bad things. I went through this too. All of us did. But it’s important you keep a cool head and listen to us. We’re going to take you to a safe place. Please be patient!” The group doesn’t seem impressed. “Where is this ‘safe place’?”, a grandmotherly-looking woman scowls. “Are you soldiers? I want to speak to your commanding officer”, a slightly balding guy tries to approach the centurion, but a soldier bars his way. They look at each other for a while and the protester slowly backs off. “All your questions will be answered in the Citadel. Please cooperate with us. We are trained professionals and trust me, you need our help”, Bednarz speaks patiently, “You narrowly avoided the Oblivion, don’t waste this.” It’s hard to say if they are convinced by his words, or they are just afraid to object. – It’s still night outside the hospital, but it gives you much less trouble than usual. Your sight seems better than ever and there is more than enough light. Rusted fire engines and battered police cars send blue and red flashes, while floodlights illuminate the building. You now see where the fire started – a blotch of blackness stains a part of the building, centered on several basement windows. The entire construction looks much more unstable than from the outside, like it was on the verge of collapse. There is a lot of people, both with swirling auras and without them. A bunch of policemen radiating unease and annoyance guard elongated white shapes – bodybags and their grim content. Firemen move around, bundling up dry rotted hoses and chattering through their radios. A group of shaken doctors and nurses - you see they are shaken, because they auras flash with violet – corral terrified patients who can walk and push stretchers with the ones who can’t. You see Shaggy talking to a fireman, guilt literally radiating from him. His face seems pale, eyes – old and lackluster. “I- I told him to get out!”, he stammers, “There was nothing we could do. Leave this to professionals, I said. But he just wouldn’t listen and the smoke were closing in and-” “All you had to do was to bring the goddamn mask”, Stillson says quietly. Then there are people with no colors swirling around. Ghosts. Two soldiers guard a prisoner. They are at least wearing something that resembles uniforms – knee-high boots, gray coats and trousers, squared-off military caps and cuirasses. The man on the ground looks unhappy and defeated, his nearly translucent form is flickering like a candle flame. He looks like a soldier from the Revolutionary War with his tricorn, white shirt, pants in the same color and a blue and red coat. Several other soldiers carry a woman by her hands and legs. She is dressed similarly to the prisoner, but much more lively than him. She flings violently, trying to kick one of her kidnappers. “Bloody slavers!”, she screams, “Screw you and your loving emperor! Get your hands off me you loving butcher!” She’s violently thrown into the ground for her effort. One of the soldier kicks her – the sound is like he hit something wet and splashy. Another joins him, than another one. The fourth bashes her back with a club. There is no anger on their faces, just boredom and mild annoyance. Near one of the police cars stands a man – a Catholic priest, judging by his cassock and choker. He looks at you and your group, raising his hands. “Don’t lose your hope! Jesus hasn’t forgotten about any of you! Repent for your sins! There is a way to escape this Purgatory! Trust the God Almighty and Transcendence will eventually come to you!” “What is this fraud still doing here?”, Bednarz says through clenched teeth. “Potter, Evans, get him out of here!” As the soldiers move towards the preacher, you spot two other distinctive figures. One wears the same uniform as the grunts guarding the prisoner, but with a full helmet and lamellar armor instead of a cap and a cuirass. The other one doesn’t look like someone from the same unit – his armor is jet black, and instead of a sword he has a spear tucked behind his back. He gestures at the centurion to come. Bednarz sighs, spends several seconds unlocking your manacles and walks away. It seems you have some time before you march, after all. 1. What do you do? A) Talk to the other people taken from the hospital, try to compare notes about how they got here. B) Talk to Stillson, who seems shaken and unhappy. C) Try to ask Liu some more questions, she seemed talkative. D) The soldiers treat their prisoner atrociously. Try to intervene on her behalf. E) Try to listen to the conversation your centurion is currently having. F) Observe the people with auras. Swirling colors look tempting and while you can’t interact with them, they may have something interesting to say. G) Talk to the preacher before the soldiers throw him out. H) Try to escape. There is plenty of soldiers here and some of them are watching you, but you could try to create some distraction. I) Something else. Fill in... Gantolandon fucked around with this message at 22:24 on Aug 29, 2018 |
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Aug 29, 2018 22:22
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D
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Aug 29, 2018 22:40
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How often do voices talk in your head in bold around here? e: oh that got mentioned. Can I tone down the boldness on that voice? Anti anxiety meds made from plasm maybe?
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Aug 29, 2018 23:12
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Let's not ask about the voice They might think we're crazy and lock us up.
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Aug 30, 2018 04:10
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Keeping in theme of the Kafkaesque character I. choose to read the mysterious voice as Sam's disapproving father. Attempt to persuade By popular demand fucked around with this message at 06:53 on Aug 30, 2018 |
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Aug 30, 2018 06:30
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Talking to the voice is a free action, so you may try to do that and something else.
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Aug 30, 2018 07:13
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That would depend on what he says though.
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Aug 30, 2018 07:33
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By popular demand posted:Attempt to persuade NEVER ONE FOR RASH DECISIONS? HAVING JUMPED INTO THE TRACKS MAY BE CONSIDERED RASH, YOU KNOW. OF COURSE, IT MAY HAVE BEEN A GOOD DECISION THIRTY SECONDS EARLIER. SOMEONE COULD SAY IT'S NOT BEING RASH THAT'S THE PROBLEM, BUT DOING THINGS TOO LATE AND HALF-ASSING THEM ALONG THE WAY. BUT WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING ME? IT'S NOT THAT I HAVE TO APPROVE YOUR CHOICES. LIVE YOUR OWN LIFE.
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Aug 30, 2018 09:34
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Father no... Attempt to Drown out that scorn by getting in the soldiers' faces. ....which is kind of a rash decision come to think of it...
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Aug 30, 2018 09:59
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E
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Aug 30, 2018 13:47
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Gantolandon posted:NEVER ONE FOR RASH DECISIONS? HAVING JUMPED INTO THE TRACKS MAY BE CONSIDERED RASH, YOU KNOW. OF COURSE, IT MAY HAVE BEEN A GOOD DECISION THIRTY SECONDS EARLIER. SOMEONE COULD SAY IT'S NOT BEING RASH THAT'S THE PROBLEM, BUT DOING THINGS TOO LATE AND HALF-ASSING THEM ALONG THE WAY. BUT WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING ME? IT'S NOT THAT I HAVE TO APPROVE YOUR CHOICES. LIVE YOUR OWN LIFE. Harsh, but I guess it's fair criticism. Do you have anything important to say or are you just here to waste our time?
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Aug 30, 2018 15:44
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Voting is closed. Preparing the update...
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Aug 30, 2018 20:08
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super sweet best pal posted:Harsh, but I guess it's fair criticism. Do you have anything important to say or are you just here to waste our time? OH, YOU’RE ANNOYED WITH ME ALREADY? I’M AFRAID YOU WILL HAVE TO GET USED TO ME. WE’RE TOGETHER NOW, FOR GOOD AND BAD. WITH THE PARTICULAR EMPHASIS ON BAD. -- You approach the soldiers, still mercilessly beating and kicking the woman. She lies curled into a ball, trying to protect vital organs – assuming the dead have them at all. When her tormentors see you, they grab their weapons. “Stop!”, you shout. The hushed conversations around you go quiet. You still hear the chatter of the living, but most of the dead are looking at you. Some slowly try to push back, trying to distance themselves from the troublemaker. Others get closer, maybe as a gesture of support, or just trying to have a better view. “What are you, her boyfriend?”, the soldier with the club steps forward, trying to stare you down. He is only a bit taller than you and not that ripped, but his hateful stare and gritted teeth make up for it. He doesn’t have to be much stronger after all, it would take only a swing of his iron club to break your leg or turn your guts into jam. Or whatever the Corpus has for guts. GOOD JOB, YOU HAVE HIS ATTENTION. NOW HE CAN’T JUST IGNORE YOU. TO NOT LOSE FACE, HE NEEDS TO PUT YOU DOWN. HOPEFULLY HE IS A FAN OF NONVIOLENCE… WELL, WHO AM I KIDDING, PREPARE FOR YOUR PUMMELING. “Just a concerned citizen”, you say, desperately hoping it’s enough. It isn’t. His face darkens even more. You realize the voice is right – this guy’s job is intimidating people like you. He can’t afford to get told off by someone who just arrived here and was handcuffed five minutes before. Unless… “This behavior...”, you try to recall what Bednarz said several minutes ago, “...is unbecoming a soldier of the Emerald Legion. As its freshly inducted member, it’s my duty to look after the honor of my unit.” The soldier looks like he can’t believe what he just heard. His companions suddenly don’t look that confident. “The freshman has a point”, Liu emerges from behind your back, “Your stupidity could have sent her into Harrowing. You would have lost an important prisoner, you dumbasses.” “What the gently caress you know about keeping prisoners?!”, the soldier explodes, “The gently caress do you think you are? A rag-picker and a future armor stand!” “ENOUGH! Occasional Centurion Jacobsson, stop this at once!” The three people, including Bednarz, approach you. At the front stands the man in lamellar armor. You don’t see his face, as his helmet covers everything but eyes, but he sounds pretty angry. “Sir, I was just telling this...” “I heard what you said. You seem to have forgotten the Emerald Values, but don’t worry, I’ll make you remember them”, the commanding officer growls, “Every word.” “Sir, yes, sir!” “As for you three”, the armored man addresses the other soldiers, “If you can’t guard a prisoner, you will guard Nihils the entire month. They don’t move and you can’t accidentally send them to the Labirynth. Now… are you going to shackle her already, or am I supposed to do it myself?” The crisis seems solved, or at least postponed. The soldiers are completely cowed. They gently get the female prisoner up, shackle her and help her sit next to her flickering companion. At this point, her form also doesn’t seem very stable, although the man certainly looks worse. “All right, people, let’s move out”, Bednarz raises his voice, “Except you, Liu. I need you to take a peek at the Tempest here. Check for cocoons and Mortwights.” – You were at Copp’s Hill Burying Ground before. You remember it as a patch of grass surrounded by an iron fence and full of incredibly old tombstones. That’s what you expected to see when the soldiers told you where you’re going. Certainly not this. A large structure seems to have overtaken the graveyard. A tower, at least ten stories tall, seems to be assembled from parts of many different buildings. One part of the wall seems to be made of red bricks, then it changes into concrete blocks, then it becomes neatly plastered stone. The entire edifice seems to be reinforced with steel beams. As it goes higher, it becomes thinner and ends with something that can only be a church bell tower. It’s illuminated from each side by torches burning with pale, greenish fire. A wall with a heavy, iron gate surrounds it, partially engulfing several tombstones. “The Quick don’t see it, of course”, Bednarz briefly turns transparent to get through the iron fence, “The first floor is nearly vacant, because tourists and passersby walk through it sometimes. Anyway, this is it. The Copp’s Hill Citadel.” The road here was mostly uneventful. You passed through the city which was slowly waking up. Occasionally you met some ghost – or wraith, like the soldiers seemed to call themselves. The ones you saw usually gave you a wide berth, not wanting to rain on the armed patrol’s parade. They were some living people, too. Every single one of them looked like a walking corpse. Pale, with lackluster eyes and dull lifeless hair, wearing dirty clothes that were almost falling apart. Some of them seemed even sicker – a bulge near the lymph node here, a boil there. Each of them also had the swirling aura you saw before… and some of them looked more important than others. They reminded you of something... 1. Name three feelings. It could be anything – like Love, Hate, Ambition, etc. These are the ones that matter to you the most and are the basis of the Passions that keep you here. The gate opens and you move to the cramped courtyard filled with tombs. Iron pulpits and desks stand here and there, with bored-looking clerks behind them. The uniformed soldiers go inside the tower with two unhappy prisoners in tow. “Form up a line!”, Bednarz shouts. The ghostly clerks set out sheets of vellum, iron-bound registers and heavy books. It looks like you’re going to stand in this courtyard for some time… 2. How do you spend the time in queue? A) Talk to the people taken from the hospital, at least those waiting for their turn. What do they think about it? What did they see when they were taken? B) Talk to Bednarz. Ask him about this ‘Emerald Legion’ he was talking about. C) As above, but ask about Renegades instead. Who are they? Why they were treated so cruelly? What’s going to happen to them? D) As above, but ask about Liu and the Tempest. Why did he left her in the hospital? What about the cocoons? E) The gate is closed and the soldiers are not watching you as vigilantly as before. Scout the courtyard and maybe even take a peek into the building. F) They promised you explanations and they don’t seem to be coming. Demand them. Make a scene if you need to. G) Try to slip away. Hide somewhere in the courtyard and maybe wait for the gate to open, or something like that. H) Given how the prisoners were treated, they are in serious danger. They were taken into the tower. If you can sneak there, maybe you could find a way to release them? I) Something else. Fill in...
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Aug 30, 2018 22:15
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Curiousity, Defiance, Satisfaction C
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Aug 30, 2018 23:04
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For what seemed like a long time Sam had been growing irritated, no closer to Understanding this new world Sam decided to focus on personal Ambition to lead the way. The always hopeless attempts for Bonding with people would have to wait, now is the time to acquire some measure of power. "You get no respect without power, and without respect you just get stepped on"- Isn't that what you always told me Father?
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Aug 31, 2018 08:46
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1. Ambition - We became a salesman to improve our place in the social order, though we weren't very good at it. Security - Things didn't turn out the way we expected and we were constantly worried about losing our job and our home, so much so that we decided running across the tracks to catch the train was worth the risk. Love - As much as we did the job for ourselves, we also did it to provide for our family. What will they do now that we're dead? 2. F
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Aug 31, 2018 14:14
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I'm going to have a fun weekend with the organization I volunteer in (mostly meetings and resolutions). I won't be taking my laptop since it's huge and I wouldn't have time to post anyway. Phone posting is even less an option, as I would get a nervous breakdown before getting to the second paragraph. Therefore my next post will be on Monday. Sunday is also possible, but given that I won't be home before 10:00 PM, not very likely.
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Sep 1, 2018 00:13
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| # ? Apr 27, 2024 02:09 |
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Have fun!
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Sep 1, 2018 04:39
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