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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no subject
Herr Wright?
[ And Klavier can honestly say -- out of all the people he'd hoped might have been opening that door, Herr Wright was not someone who was high on that list. Not with everything that had gone on between them, and especially not with that particular bottle of nail polish on the ground between him and the dead body.
But Klavier is not his brother. He knows did not, and would not, kill this man.
He runs his fingers through his bangs, pushing a wry smile onto his face -- the kind he only breaks out when he's being harassed by the paparazzi. ] I'm afraid I don't know where I am. This is not the courtroom ja? [ And, because there is a rather large elephant in the room, his eyes fall on the butler. ] Do you know who he is?
no subject
He leans over the dead body and looks it over without touching it.]
Not a clue. ... Do you? [Now he looks at Klavier... if partly to check for any odd tics in his body language.]
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And the thing is -- he would not blame him, if Herr Wright assumed he was the killer or put the blame of the murder on him. He hadn't had a conversation with the ex-attorney in seven years, and he's more than aware of the tumultuous air that looms between them. Kristoph might have been exposed for who he truly is (a fact revealed not more than an hour ago, a fact Klavier is still coming to terms with,) but Klavier still has no idea where things stand between him and Herr Wright.
And he can't deny, there would be a twisted sort of symmetry in Herr Wright falsely accusing him of murder not long after he realized he had falsely accused Herr Wright of perjury.
He shakes his head, taking a step closer to the body as well. ] Nein. I woke up not five minutes ago, and he was already dead. [ He's not lying, but he doesn't have any evidence, so he has nothing to offer other than that. ]
no subject
Huh. Don't you hate it when that happens? [He can't help but resort to a little bit of cold sarcasm in the situation. Part of him is worried, afraid of the possibility that there could be something wrong with Klavier after all. They don't know each other very well, after all, although Phoenix has been able to speak to him during his last stay in the colony. There's no telling if he remembers that, though.]
Guess the only thing we can do is check the body for evidence. [And hope that it hasn't been tampered with. ...Assuming anything about this crime scene is real to begin with. If they're in ViViD right now, this could all prove to be fake. But if not...]
no subject
More than you know.
[ But that, at the very least, seems to have drained some of the tension from the air, at least from Klavier's end. He truly hadn't known what to expect, and this is going about as well as he could have possibly imagined.
And it is, perhaps, for that reason that he speaks up. He hadn't been keeping it a secret, per se, but it was at the crime scene and it would have his fingerprints on it, so it's best he brings it up now. ]
Ach, Herr Wright? When I woke up, there was... [ He doesn't know how to say it, not with Kristoph's laughter still ringing in his ears, but he pointedly nudges the bottle of nail polish with his shoe. Thankfully, it's still in one piece from where he had dropped it in his apparent shock. ]
no subject
But his expression tightens as he glances towards the bottle of nail polish.]
I noticed. [He says that a little more curtly as he remembers that nail polish, which was used to almost kill a young girl. But he knows he can't hold that against Klavier (...and luckily the brothers look different enough that Phoenix doesn't suspect the possibility of him being Kristoph in disguise, so he soon adds in a more sympathetic tone.]
...I guess it's a little too late to warn you that the people in charge of this place have a cruel sense of humor. [He does take a closer look at the bottle regardless, trying in vain to find any clues from it.]
no subject
[ Klavier moves towards Herr Butler, hoping he can find anything from the scene of the crime. He'd glanced over it before Herr Wright had burst into the room and hadn't found anything useful -- not that that means much, especially considering the cause of murder is most likely poison. Digging through the man's pockets doesn't reveal anything as well, and Klavier can only assume he'll have to look for evidence elsewhere.
When he turns back to Herr Wright, it's obvious there's a question on his lips. Despite the more obvious questions -- Who are the people in charge? How did he get here? Why is he here? Who is the butler? How did they know about the nail polish? -- what he ends up asking is: ]
Have you been here long?
no subject
Phoenix glances back at Klavir as he's addressed.]
In this room? No. But in this world in general... well, it has been over half a year now. [If he doesn't remember, then he must be full of questions. Guess I'll have to be the tour guide...]