The clock strikes twelve. The gong of the grandfather clock in the foyer tolls out the time in slightly unnecessarily obnoxious loud noises. The ambiance of this old mansion demands respect, care, awe --
Okay, no, wait, why are you even in this stupid dusty house?
No reasons are forthcoming, because everyone knows that people just end up in places like this sometimes. That's just how the narrative device works. The hows and the whys don't matter -- all that matters is that you're all here, so you'd better get cracking and start exploring, because it's not like you can leave yet.
Or ever, maybe.
 Good day, sirs and madams. Might I interest you in a nice glass of blood...y mary?
|
PHASE I [ 02 15 ] All you see is white. The crash of thunder hits your ears next, punctuated by the piercing pitch of white noise in the background. After a few blinks, your vision comes back to you. Oh good, glad that you’ve joined us in the land of the living. Unlike the nondescript corpse at your feet – it looks like… a butler? Oh dear. You’ve already killed Murder Suspect Number One in most situations. How terribly ironic.
After all, who could’ve killed him but you? You might not remember, but there is definitely a murder weapon in your hand. It’s probably a knife or a poisoned glass of wine or-
Wait, is that a toaster? A full on toaster? Or maybe it’s a taser. Maybe you bludgeoned this poor guy with an entire encyclopedia. Either way, it looks like your murder weapon is a little unconventional, whether it’s a stranger’s pair of underwear or a hair curler. Are you really supposed to believe you committed a murder with these? (Yes.)
That said in the next second the double doors will be opening up. It’s pretty clear you’re not alone. Think quick!
PHASE II [ 0600 ] Exploring more around the compound, you’ll find plenty of those tall, oil portraits of people hung around the walls. When you start walking, they’re all strangers. However by the time that you feel like you’re wandering around for an hour, two hours, they might start looking a little bit more… familiar? Mom? Is that you?
You don’t have time to think about that, though. You were clearly framed! You don't’ have a motive for killing some random NPC –
“Or do you?” a portrait will ask.
Oh. Holy shit. Well it’d just be rude to leave, right? Whether you stick around for conversation or not, you’ll find that was just the beginning. The portraits are going to start grilling you. Welcome to CERES Central’s Roast of You. What was your motive? Don’t you know you should respect the servants? How would you feel if you were caught like that? Careful turning your back on them though, because if you ignore them for too long, the subjects in the portraits may just reach out and snatch you to join them in their portrait world.
At that point, the only way to get out is to swap places with some other poor, unsuspecting soul wandering around.
PHASE III [ 1045 ] You know what makes me hungry? Murder.
What’s the point of making a mansion this big anyway? Who’s even here? Either way, whether you’re looking for the kitchen to make a fine post-homicide sandwich or just trying to escape, you’ll eventually make it to a stairwell. The most finicky stairwell ever. Is that a trail of bloody footprints leading up the steps? What? No. Stop it, just climb.
Or well – don’t climb too quickly now. The staircases apparently have a mind of their own, swapping from one doorway to another. You definitely haven’t seen this before. It would seem that these stairs might even be interested in keeping you in a circle forever, no concern for whether or not you’re hungry or, god forbid, need to use the restroom.
However the portraits in the stairwell will provide a little tip: “The stairs are gossips, you know. Why don’t you tell us a little something about yourself? Make it good!”
Weirdly enough, sound advice – that is, if you’re interested in shouting out your most embarrassing secrets into the void so a mansion can keep talking shit about you. Oh well. Your alternative is just being a stair golem. There are worse fates.
PHASE IV [ 1430 ] This hall is oddly quiet.
Well, until you hear it – the soft sniffles coming from down the hall, the broken sobs. It sounds like someone’s crying. For one reason or another, your footsteps take you forward – there’s really no point in going back now after all, right? Yet as you continue to walk… walk… walk… the crying becomes louder and louder. More desperate, more despaired. In time, it’s clear that this person is wailing, screaming, “How could this happen?!”
Within the span of a breath, all the lights in the hallway go out, leaving you in pitch black.
It occurs to you then that you hear a second set of steps. When did you stop walking? A cold chill runs down your spine and you find yourself running then, despite the fact that it feels like this pitch black hallway goes on forever. The other footsteps pick up, remind you that you’re not alone. No, certainly not.
Best hope that you find some assistance soon – otherwise it looks like the Butler Association is going to ignite some righteous vigilante justice on your ass.
BONUS [ why o'clock ] You’re in the grand ballroom now, ready to present your case. Armed with a cob pipe (don’t smoke inside, it’s rude), a detective hat, and a single spotlight aimed right at you, you now have to explain how you came to the conclusion about the True Killer that is Obviously Not You. Rather, it’ll just be the character of whoever tags into this prompt – yes, you are suddenly so very sure that they’re the ones who are the ultimate mastermind of this entire game and… you’re just going to have to bullshit the reason why even if you know virtually nothing about them. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, you know?
Sorry about that.
Should you actually provide enough of a compelling case or they take pity on you, having a villainous breakdown for the sake of the plot, you’ll be awarded with a coupon that’ll give you three free scoops at your local ice cream parlor! (Note: you must buy the first two scoops in order to qualify.) Of course, if you’re not able to nail them down as the killer, you are obviously the killer yourself (citation needed).
From there, you’ll be dragged off to face your punishment: for six grueling hours you will be tickled mercilessly.
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Sebastian || Stardew Valley
[Thunder cracks, and his eyes clear from what must have been lightning. He's holding something kind of heavy. It's... a pumpkin? And one side is all red?
When he looks down his breath catches in his throat. He can't have killed someone. He's not that kind of person. What will mom think? If everyone else finds out, they'll start to actively shun him. He'll never have friends again.
The door starts to open and he takes a few quick steps away from the corpse, turning the bloody side of the pumpkin towards himself. Good thing he's wearing black, it won't stain too noticeably.]
Phase III
[He's starting to get really sick of these talking portraits. It's almost as bad as being followed around everywhere, despite them being locked in their frames. It takes a while after the suggestion that he offer up something about himself for him to start seriously considering, and he even starts to speak- ]
I...
[ -before grimacing and moving on. What if there's someone else out there who'd hear? There has to be an end to these moving staircases. Somewhere. Eventually.]
Phase IV
[It's dark, darker than night. The darkness doesn't scare him, but oh god what if whatever's chasing him catches him? Something that big would be a lot more dangerous than a slime. For all his talk about the end being inevitable, he doesn't want to die yet.]
Bonus
[The appearance of the hat and cob pipe were sudden - the spotlight even more so - and he knew it was time to place the blame on someone else, much as he'd rather play a wizard than a detective. He stuffed the pipe in a pocket of his hoodie and lit a cigarette instead, hoping it'd calm his nerves and not really caring that he was inside the murder mansion of some stranger. This whole confrontation business was really not his cup of tea, but he wasn't going to go down in history as the famed butler murderer of Rich Asshole Island.
With his empty hand, he points at the accused.]
Confess.
I
[Though being a doctor and field medic, she's perfectly used to dead bodies. For the moment, Angela is more entranced with trying to take a pulse and trying to confirm some sign of life. Or at least if said body has been alive recently.
It takes her a few moments to notice the other occupant here. And intervenes her body between the corpse and him. Mostly as a protection of innocence if anything.]
Do not look. Sights like these will only bring you problems.
no subject
Can you help?
no subject
[No, not at all. She was too late, even to resurrect the body. Sadly, there was no helping even in the slightest. She stands up to turn and face the boy, again, making sure that she was blocking the body.]
Unfortunately there's nothing to be done. ...are you okay?
no subject
I'm not hurt.
[Technically true... physically, anyway.]
no subject
[Angela leans forward to give him a closer look.]
But I mean mentally. Someone as young as you should not have had to see this.
no subject
I... I didn't do it.
[With the pumpkin lying in pieces on the floor that seems a little more likely to be true.]
no subject
[Besides, she's a doctor. Her priorities are taking care of people first, not casting blame.]
Come now, let's get you out of this room and into a chair or couch.
no subject
no subject
Please, get settled in. Once you are ready, tell me what you're feeling right now.
no subject
But... it's hard to "settle in" when he's being observed, especially by a stranger. Even though he looks more relaxed than he did in the murder room, he's still kind of tense, and it shows on his face. The silence feels strange. He winds up fiddling with his hands, at the slight red smears where blood is still on his hands (if that even was blood on the pumpkin, which seems less likely with distance).
When he finally does respond, he's still looking at his hands instead of at her.]
This entire situation... it's pretty unbelievable.
no subject
[If only she had a drink to offer him. But this wasn't her place nor did she really know where anything was to begin with. Or whether drinks found here could be safe.]
I fear there is more at play here than what is obvious but we should not focus on that as of now. I happen to be more concerned about you.
Please, to make you more comfortable, you may call my Dr. Ziegler. How is that?
no subject
[Despite not being totally comfortable around Dr. Ziegler, it was... surprisingly reassuring how certain she was that he wasn't the culprit.]
I wonder what the point of it is... trying to make someone think they've killed a person.
(no subject)
(no subject)
iii;
... ]
...We're getting nowhere.
[ In more ways than one. ]
Let me guess, you'd rather I spill the beans first. Right?
no subject
Fine. You start.
[Since... yeah, he's not going to.]
no subject
Ugh...okay. A little something about myself, huh...
[ ...What does "make it good" even mean? Well, he can kind of do the whole introduction thing. The fact that he's talking to a supposedly inanimate object doesn't even seem to faze him. ]
My name is Dwyer. 17 years old. I'm a ratty, unlikable, lazy good-for-nothing...but also the best household servant you could ask for. Too bad I can't prove that last part to you though, since you don't have a real mouth. Your loss.
[ ...But he can think of one other person over here who has a real mouth and may be able to vouch for his skills (even though nobody was even asking, Dwyer!!!) Not to mention, by doing this, he can kind of be a cheeky little shit in a relatively low-key way, because these stairs are getting on his nerves. He turns to Sebastian. ]
Would you like some coffee?
[ It might be just Dwyer, but he looks like he could need a cup. N-Not that...he's a nice person or anything. Because he totally isn't. Not at all. People think he's a lazy lout, and he'd like to keep it that way. Less people bothering him. ]
no subject
..........
Well, that might answer it.]
Uh, sure?... I guess we ought to get off these stairs first.
[Here goes nothing.]
My name is Sebastian. I... [It's hard, finishing this sentence. Even harder being loud enough for the portraits to all hear.] I'm not good at much of anything. I don't even have a job right now... my last contract finished a week ago.
[The stairs don't budge, and some of the portraits start tittering. Nice. Very encouraging. Yes, that is sarcasm.]
I... I would rather be alone than deal with people face to face. [Or talking portraits, for that matter.
He falters a bit at the end. Hopefully that'll be enough anyway.]
no subject
[ Apparently not juicy enough. The stairs wobble a bit, at the very least, as if indicating that its occupants are on the somewhat right path by admitting things they themselves really rather not. ]
...I've fallen asleep on the job more than once, and got an earful from my father every time.
[ ...Okay, better. The stairs are starting to be shift just a tad. Progress! But slow progress. They might have to crank it up a notch if they want to get anywhere in the next few hours. ]
no subject
Sometimes I play computer games when I should be working on projects, and use the project as an excuse to not be bothered.
[The stairs are moving a bit more, though it's still pretty slow.]
no subject
[ It's hard, coming from Fire Emblem aka magical medieval times, where babies grown up in alternate dimensions is a thing but calculators aren't. All this technology and terminology surrounding Cerealia is very confusing to him, but he tries to adapt as well as he can, because what other choice does he have? ]
no subject
[How do you even live without knowing what a computer is?
aside from being from another worldThat's a pretty incredulous look on his face.]
Never mind, I'll explain later. We're almost out. [Probably. Hopefully.]
no subject
Fine. Let's get this over with.
[ Anything to get them both unstuck faster. It's not like he doesn't sacrifice his dignity on a daily basis while helping his friends, anyway. ]
When I found out my bath time was being stalked by a girl with weird fantasies, I was unusually okay with it.
I've willingly ingested insect legs and animal eyeballs before.
[ ... ]
...I used to be a huge crybaby while waiting for my parents to come home!
[ If these don't work, he doesn't know what will. ]
no subject
I've been thinking about quitting smoking but I can never motivate myself.
Every time there's a festival I think about ruining it.
[They're moving more noticeably now.]
...I'm 20 and I still miss my mom a lot whenever she's working on a building.
[And there they go?]
no subject
Dwyer just sighs. Again. But this time, it's out of relief. ]
Looks like that was the ticket. And all we had to do was sacrifice our dignity.
no subject
[And he's starting to move to the finally-connected landing, before the stairs change their minds.]