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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HI VERY DIFFERENT ME
The miniature freight train in question immediately knows he fucked up when he feels himself hit the weight and frame of what must be a person in the darkness - but the chair complicates matters substantially, and he finds himself stumbling over it and nearly losing his balance. Compared to Johnny, he's relatively unaffected by the impact after the initial moment of chaos, but from how horrified he sounds, you wouldn't know it.]
I'm so sorry! [He sputters out, trying to feel his way around in the darkness for whoever he hit.] Did I hurt you?
no subject
Not being able to see much of anything in the dark doesn't help any either. It's a moment or two before he can feel the guy bump into his chair, jostling him again. His reply comes out muffled and just a little pained.]
Why the hell were you running like that?
no subject
[To his credit, he does sound a little sheepish now that he knows that probably wasn't the case. The voice does help him locate Johnny, though, along with a few vibrations he can feel through Hamon, and he lifts the chair back upright. He hasn't made the connection yet, and thinks he just knocked over a piece of native furniture and should probably get it off before he asks this person...
Wait. No, Jonathan, don't--]
Can you stand?
[Welp.]
no subject
[It's an honest mistake, and somewhere, in some tiny, deep-down place, he knows that. The guy has already apologized twice for heaven's sake, but in the heat of the moment, Johnny is not inclined to listen to that barely audible voice of reason. He reaches blindly for the chair, only to hear the rattle of movement as it's pulled out of his grasp. Great. So helpful.]
Are you trying to be funny? Your joke is shit.
[Did the asshole really not realize what kind of chair he'd just picked up and moved? Or was it the usually bullying that had accompanied him ever since his accident? Johnny had become too jaded over the past couple years to really believe in the former. His voice grew cold and tight as he reached out to check the wheels.]
Did you break it?
no subject
[And then he stops -- because for one, he realizes what must be true if what he said was perceived as a dig at Johnny, and because once that first realization hits him, he knows he's not only been accidentally rude, but downright clueless and improper.]
Oh!
[If a voice could ever convey the feelings of a person so mortified with themselves they can barely speak, Jonathan's got it down to a science. The drunken ox immediately rushes back to the wheelchair, wondering how the hell he could have mistaken a goddamn wheelchair for anything else, and inspects it as best he can in the low light.]
No, I think it's alright -- sir, I'm going to sound like a broken record, but I cannot apologize enough for my actions. There isn't any excuse.
[He really wants to hide his face in his hands right now, but he can't say he doesn't deserve a scolding for that one. Good job slamming into a person in a wheelchair, gentleman.]
no subject
Look, forget it. Just set it next to me and-
[And that's when he hears it. Another set- no, several footsteps further down the dark hallway. There's a light in the distance. Not enough to see much in front of them, but Johnny glances at the other, barely making out the silhouette in the darkness. Ox is right. The guy is built like one and then some. Holy shit.]
Friends of yours?
no subject
As far as I know, I came here alone.
[He turns around to see if he can make out any faces, the tension visible in the way he carries himself. Has he really been hearing things, or are there actually people in pursuit?]
I take it they aren't anybody you know?
no subject
[Johnny reaches for the chair, fumbling for the wheel-break in the darkness. Given what happened last time, it could literally be anything from a big unruly mob to a pack of fluffy white sheep and they're both just as plausible. Given the nature of these virtual things, he was inclined toward the former though, and the tension in his shoulders as he stared down the hallway was obvious.]
Hell no. Who else did you manage to piss off today? Jeezus.
[The closer they got, the more this looked like the torch-and-pitchfork sort of mob and Johnny was incredibly sure that without Slow Dancer, he was gonna have a hard time getting very far very fast. Then again, maybe they were just after the other guy.]
no subject
[Jonathan grimaces, lowering his gaze. He is the one responsible for this, and he's done enough harm to Johnny as is, let alone bringing him into this as a bystander.
He breathes out.]
How quickly can you wheel yourself down the hallway?
[He pulls himself onto the balls of his feet and into a fighting stance, body taut like a string. He's not sure what awaits them, but this is the least he can do to help.]
If it's me they want, I can buy you some time.
no subject
Johnny wasn't real fond of the alternative, but they didn't have much choice.]
Yeah, we're not doing that. Can you lift me? Over your shoulder, I can cover us.
[He hated being carried around like a bag of wet sand more than he hated the chair, but he wasn't an idiot. If these people were out for blood, he'd rather get moving. If the big ox ended up being a threat, well, he could deal with one guy way better than he could a whole bunch.]