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?
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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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Uchiha Itachi | Naruto
[There is a knife in his hand, and there is a corpse at his feet.
The scent of copper lingers. The body is warm. The blood that has pooled still shines in the minimal light this place has to offer, instead of growing sticky with age. This kill was recent. He takes note of these details and understands the image he is presented- it would seem he is responsible. Death is not an unusual occurrence in the shinobi world, and by extension, this would not be Itachi's first experience at having caused it. It is however, the first time he will have done such a thing and then forgotten it.
Experience tells him it is unwise to linger long before the interruption of double doors.
He takes the knife, and proceeds through the halls until he is able to find a place to clean his hands.]
PHASE II
[By the time he locates a portrait of his mother and father, he has already both suspected and ruled out genjutsu.
He has found the explanation provided by CERES to be lacking. Itachi had understood what it meant to serve a purpose. When he had been informed that he was expected to assist their organization in order to earn his keep. It is not Konoha, but the system is one he knows. A shinobi is a tool for peace. He would not presume that he would be looked after by the limited resources of a group with its own population to consider.
But their business here- either arrival or deployment, has come with no explanation. There has been no statement of terms or notice of objective. Instead he has been involved in a murder and has located portraits that challenge the boundaries of reality. His mother and father are dead. Knowing this truth, Itachi can direct his questions to the situation at hand, addressing the figures as what they are- representatives of this environment and nothing more. That they call him murderer and ask him to explain his crimes are cries that go unanswered.]
PHASE IV
[The plunging darkness is a welcome reprieve. The wailing figure is clearly moving throughout the building- cries and moans that have increased in both volume in speed. They are making no attempt to disguise their footsteps. It's only reasonable to assume that the murder has been discovered by now and that some sort of authority is searching for the person responsible.
A silhouette himself, Itachi steps backwards into a doorway, slipping from the hall and its haunting occupant before they have the opportunity to glimpse one another. If you're unfortunate enough to be nearby and thus considered a threat to his position, you can expect to be brought along for the ride- with a hand closed over your mouth if necessary. They have enough problems, please don't begin shouting and invite more trouble.]
II
It's strange, seeing the cruel twist on Fugaku and Mikoto's faces directed at their son, he thinks.
Itachi is taller. His hair is longer, a thin inkspill down the middle of his spine, but the set of his shoulders is the same. Shisui would know this silhouette anywhere, even if Fugaku and Mikoto weren't there to make the identity of his cousin blatantly obvious. The circumstances are less than ideal, but that doesn't stop the tug of affection in his chest that quirks the corner of his mouth up. Itachi is older, that much is clear. Beyond his inherent understanding of the friend he knew in life, Shisui has only a vague frame of reference for the kind of man Itachi is now. The life of a ninja was a mercurial one, and while he would love nothing more than to greet Itachi as he had as a kid, Shisui isn't that foolish.
He doesn't need to speak to make his presence known, but he does anyway. ]
Pretty convincing, aren't they?