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. ] |
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rhys | tales from the borderlands
[ When Rhys wakes up, he wakes up hard.
He's expecting to find himself crumpled in some weird position in an escape pod, which should be buried halfway into the ground by now. The last few seconds he can remember the thing spinning out of control after clipping...what had that been? A mountain, maybe? The last minute or two of his return trip to Pandora had happened so quickly, he couldn't remember much of anything, other than the white hot glow coming from the outside of the pod as he returned. Rhys had been falling, and then he hit, and then nothing. Blank.
With a groan, he finally comes around, opening his eyes. Just as quickly as he opens them, he squeezes them shut with a small sound of protest. Bright light assaults his eyes, making his return to the conscience an absolute eyesore. Literally. He turns his head to the right, tries again. Still way too goddamn bright. Is he dead...? Third time he opens his eyes, Rhys can notice things outlining. The white light fades to show some kind of room. Oh, good. So he's not dead.
No, wait a second. Not good. Something isn't right.
It's not like he landed in Pandora's greatest hotel; even though it was spotty, Rhys knew that he crashed somewhere rocky. Dirty. Not in a place like this.
Rhys stumbles to his feet, which is something he regrets. Pain shoots up his left leg, enough to make him curse and stumble. Unfortunately, when he does, something catches his leg hard enough to bring Rhys right back down to the floor. Cue swearing fest, round two.
He shakes his head hard enough to make his head hurt. Rhys frowns, glancing to see what in the hell caused him to fall so damn hard...and screams.
There, right by his foot, is a dead body.
Okay, sure. He's seen more than enough dead bodies. After ejecting the entire company of Hyperion from their space station, he was bound to find a few bodies. And in the past week or so, Rhys has seen enough shooting and shit to last him an entire lifetime or two. But he still screams.
When he tries to crawl away, he notices that there's something clenched so tightly in his hand, it takes him a second or two to get his fingers to uncurl. There, in his hand, is one of his socks.
His heart sinks to his toes. The fabric is stretched far beyond anything wearable, and it's wet. Wet with what, he doesn't want to know. When Rhys looks down, he sees that indeed, his shoe is nowhere to be found (bummer), and his foot is bare. Oh jesus.
Weird.
Okay. Okay, Rhys. This person is probably dead because they crashed their escape pod weird...in this equally (if not more) weird place. There has to be an explanation for this. Of course, he had to worry about finding his friends. And making sure that Jack was completely gone. Helios was out of the question, so there wasn't any reason why not. Okay, Rhys. Breathe.
The sounds of a door opening close by scares him half to death. Opening? Doors? He manages to get up to his knees, squinting as the bright light assaulted his eyes for the third time. ]
H-Hello?
i'm sorry, i couldn't resist
He blinks at the brightness of the room and pauses in the doorway while his eyes adjust, squinting slightly at the man on the floor.]
Uh...Hey. Are you, uh, okay?
OH GOSH don't apologize this is perfect
That voice, though.
Rhys' eyes go wide, head shooting towards the direction of the voice. There was no way that Jack survived all of what happened. Even if some part of Helios' mainframe wasn't absolutely destroyed in the landing, he couldn't be functional enough to do anything other than simmer over the entire moonbase being ruined.
Or maybe, he found a way to get back into his head port.
...Or maybe Jack really did find a new body.
There's too many things to think about. His head already hurts to begin with. Rhys' brain tells him to be quiet, but instead... ] H-Huh? What? [ That works too. ]
:D
...Wow, this guy sure does remind Jack of himself. Their vocabulary in times of stress and confusion is eerily similar.
He'll just stay right where he is in the doorway for the moment, though. There's never any guarantee panicky won't turn into psychotic somewhere down the line, and the distance between him and the stranger now is a comfortable one to maintain in case things go pear-shaped.
Maybe sticking with small words will help.]
Are. You. Okay?
Did you, like, I dunno, hit your head, or something?
no subject
Y-Yeah. A bit. [ This whole entire ordeal on Pandora probably gave him a giant concussion. When he focuses, this person does sound a little different. If this guy was really Jack, he'd probably be barging in trying to wring his neck or something. Seriously. The fact that whoever this was, was just kind of hanging out near the door was a good thing.
He needs to stand up. Rhys blinks once or twice, before hauling himself up onto wobbly feet. Rhys isn't sure whether to address who the person is, or what's with the body behind him. He's almost sure about the body; he did just crashland from Helios, after all. Breathe in, Rhys. Breathe out. ]
Are you...from Helios?
no subject
...He's pretty sure he's dead. Like, 99.9% sure. Which means he doesn't have a job anymore, and he doesn't have to pay off his student loans anymore, by virtue of being technically unable to earn a wage with which to do so, soooo...
Screw it.]
Uh. Technically? Yeah, I guess. Why?
no subject
Oh shit, Vaughn. He needs to ask about him, too. ]
Uhh...[ Maybe this guy had a concussion. ] Because we all just came flying out of space from Helios? [ He looks up to point out the giant hole that probably gave it away, but there's none there. Okay. Weird. ] My escape pod's around here somewhere. But uh, we definitely crash landed...some time ago. [ Rhys doesn't even know. ]
no subject
[He scratches thoughtfully at his jaw for a moment, before crossing his arms and gently drumming his fingers on his sleeves. The guy had just said he'd probably hit his head. Maybe he's got a concussion? He looks like a fairly typical white-collar Hyperion desk-jockey...missing shoe notwithstanding...What in the world could have happened on the station that would have the staff evacuating?]
It's, uh, been a while since I was actually on Helios. What happened? Last I knew things were pretty boring up there.
no subject
[ Rhys seriously needs to stop and take a breather. Just because this guy looks a lot like Handsome Jack, doesn't mean he is said Handsome Jack. He doesn't sound like him. And he doesn't act like him, either. Rhys would assume that regular Jack would probably threaten to beat the information out of him, because Helios had been his pride and joy. He has no idea what's going on here, but he would like to be able to talk about what happened without feeling like he was going to have some kind of meltdown. Or something. ]
Well, uh. To make a long story short, I had Handsome Jack stuck in my head for the better part of a week. [ He points to the port implanted on his temple. ] We were both stuck on Pandora until we got launched back to Helios. I uploaded Jack into the database, he tried to kill me, so I deactivated the power core. And then the entire base crashed. [ That's it more or less. ] So, yeah. Definitely not boring.
[ But hold on a second... ] When was the last time you were there? I mean, who are you?
no subject
Woah-woah-woah-woah-woah-woah-woah -- hold on, wait, I'm sorry.
[Jack's seen and heard a lot of weird and scary shit since he started the doppelganger program, but some things are just too weird and scary to simply accept without questioning.]
Handsome Jack. Was in. Your head.
[Short sentences of only two words apiece are useful for emphasis and also nice because they don't require a lot of brain power.]
How the hell did he get in there? Are you positive you got him out?
[The edge in his voice is definitely not fear. Definitely not. It's...concern. Totally. That's totally it. Yeah.
He'll answer your questions in a moment, Rhys, promise. He just needs some reassurance first.]
no subject
Now he's curious. Rhys ignores the fact that he's still holding a very soggy sock in his hand, walking forward to meet the person. ] Handsome Jack was in my head. You got it right.
[ He's about to explain it -which actually sounds nice because nobody but Vaughn knows about this-, but oh god. What he says after is absolutely terrifying. Did he get Jack out of his head? He had to. Jack wasn't here anymore. ] Y-Yeah, I got him out! I kind of...uploaded him into the Helios database.
A-Alright. [ Rhys is a little shaken by that, excuse him. ] I put an ID drive into my head port that was...supposed to help find the next Handsome Jack, I guess. I uploaded an AI of Jack and he had been following me around since. [ A hand runs across his head, brushing his hair back. ] It kinda sucked.
[ He swears he can hear worry in this guy's voice, but over what he's not sure. Honestly, Rhys is just happy he can talk to someone about this. Having only one person know is kind of hard, especially when people see you talking to yourself and everything. Awkward. ]
no subject
[Just working in close proximity with Handsome Jack over the years was awful. He doesn't even want to imagine having a facsimile of the man in his head.
He also doesn't find the guy's stammered reassurances all that reassuring, but he does relax by a tiny fraction, regardless. Best to be limber if reaching for his gun becomes a necessity.]
Okay, fine. You uploaded this AI into Helios' database, and then...crashed the station? ...That sounds pretty cool, honestly...
[And like a fairly effective way of getting rid of someone...but that information just brings up even more questions. Well. One more question.]
Uh. Okay. Maaaaybe a stupid question, but: What happened to Jack? The real one, I mean. You know. The flesh and blood one. [What a weird question to have to ask. As the man's body double, he feels like he should know this already. That's what he gets for being murdered by vault hunters, though.]
no subject
Basically, I uploaded him into the database, and then he tried to kill me when I wouldn't go through with what he wanted me to. [ He folds his arms across his chest. ] He had this...this robotic exoskeleton thing that he could upload himself in, but he needed a human body. So I told him no and things went south from there. [ To make a very long story short.
The real Jack. It's kind of hard thinking about Jack in general; imagine what it would have been like to have the flesh and blood version following him around? But then again, the flesh and blood Jack wouldn't have access to all his cybernetics. That was weird.
But anyway. ] Jack was, uh, he was killed. By Vault hunters. It happened a little while ago.
no subject
He listens quietly to the rest of the guy's explanation, and nods a bit when he finishes talking.]
Oh. Well. I guess that...that's not too surprising.
[It's a strange reality to contemplate: Handsome Jack is dead. If only the vault hunters had got to his employer first, maybe he could have got out of his contract early, or gotten a new one, or at least gotten the plastic surgery reversed...Ugh. Something else, anything else, would have been preferable to dying. Ugh!
And somehow he has a wretched feeling that he may be stuck with the voice and the face for the near future...and probably the far future, too.
He sighs and raises a hand to scrub at his face, but stops before actually touching it, and lets his hand drop again. He's not quite as certain as he used to be that there's a bomb in his face, anymore, but he still hates touching it.]
Oh, uh. I'm Jack. By the way. The...body double. You may have guessed already.
[See, Rhys, he remembered to answer your question!]
no subject
Well, guess what.
It's weird seeing a guy who was named Jack for reasons that Rhys...really doesn't want to think about right now. He has a feeling he knows where this all comes from, but he can't put his finger on it. If middle management wasn't involved, then Rhys wasn't involved. More or less.
Anyway. He tries to smile, but it's kind of hard. ] Yeah. I'm, uh. I'm Rhys. [ Rhys shrugs. ] It's good to meet you, even though Helios is gone and I have no idea where I am.
...Where are we, anyway? [ Something he should have asked ages ago. ]
no subject
[It is, honestly. He needs more acquaintances who are nice people and also not murderers. He's had a definite shortage of people like that in his life over the past couple years. Of course, he's well open to the possibility of being unpleasantly surprised - that's been the story of his life for the past couple years, too - but nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that.]
I have no clue. Some kind of haunted mansion, maybe? [He shrugs, and actually, finally, steps into the room with Rhys, to take a look around.] I've been wandering around for a while, but haven't really found anything out. I don't think we're anywhere on Pandora. [The gravity's too strong.] And apparently Helios is out, so...[He shrugs again.] Your guess is as good as mine.
no subject
The haunted mansion thing throws him off. And then it gets worse when Jack actually says that they're not on Pandora. He blinks for a second, trying to process this. ] But...how? [ He knew without a doubt that Helios went down to Pandora; there was no other place for it to go. Shit, he saw it moving in space so it had to be there. Nothing else made sense. ]
Are you sure I'm not dreaming? Maybe I'm dreaming. 'Cause there's no other way this can be happening.
no subject
I dunno. [He shrugs, and meanders over to a bookshelf-lined wall to peek at the books arranged there.] I could be wrong. I mean, artificial gravity's a thing, I guess, but it's more an Elpis thing than a Pandora thing. At least, in my experience anyway. We could be on Pandora, I just don't know why anyone would bother increasing the gravity there.
[He tilts his head back as he studies the books' spines. Half of them are covered in squiggly, alien gibberish, while the other half sport English letters, but arranged randomly, and so also gibberish. There aren't any obviously fake books or books that have "PULL ME" written on them, as he had vaguely hoped. A secret bookcase passage or hidey-hole would've been cool.
He reaches up to tug a random book away from its neighbors, just for fun. Nothing happens, of course, so he pushes it back in again.]
...Or it could be a dream. [Agreeing with Rhys' assessment of the situation.] Or we could both be dead. [And offering up his own personal thoughts. Sorry, Rhys, he's not usually so morbid, buuuuut...y'know...circumstances...]
Or maybe something else is going on. Like a weird VR experiment or something.
[With all the shit he's seen lately, he's willing to accept any of these proposed scenarios as a possible explanation for the current weird state of things.]