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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bonus...!!
Being accused of murder is kind of a big thing, though...?! Especially when he's gone out of his way to not stand out here. There's an irony to what this man says, too, that doesn't go over his head.]
What proof do you have?
[It didn't matter to him what anyone thought, but what would happen if he was found guilty? He didn't really want to find out.]
no subject
Your clothing...
It was clearly torn in some kind of struggle!
[I am so sorry.]
no subject
Normally, he might not have protested at all—under different circumstances, it just wouldn't have been worth it—but he didn't want to get into more trouble, either, so he attempts to offer an explanation:]
...it might seem that way from where you're standing. But if you took a closer look, you'd find that my clothes were made to look like this.
[...
Somehow, even though that's true, it doesn't feel like an especially convincing argument. His words ask more questions than they answer.]
1/2
Hm?
[Jonathan leans in closer to inspect the holes - and lo and behold, they are (presumably) hemmed.]
T-They are!
2/2
Why on Earth would you buy clothing that already has holes in it?
[This isn't really a murder-related question, he's just old-fashioned and confused.]
no subject
It's one of the current styles in Italy. [That might be up for debate, and it still doesn't answer why he bought them.] These are designer clothes. Would you even think of murdering anyone wearing something so expensive?
[...he would, but that's not the point!!]
no subject
[He doesn't say it to be rude - it's just the nature of things, particularly in his time, and it's something he knows from experience.]
Still, the last thing I want to do is disrespect your heritage. If that's really the case, then can I ask you a different question?
no subject
Still, he nods.]
Of course. Anything you want.
[Maybe that was dangerous, but he didn't want to seem like he was hiding anything.]
no subject
[Typically it wasn't a guy thing in Ye Olde Victorian Times, but he tacks it on because deliberate holes in clothing typically weren't either.]
It might seem odd, but it's important that I ask.
no subject
[Against his will, of course... But it had happened nonetheless.]
no subject
Then isn't it possible that some of the holes in your clothing could be unnatural, and you quickly had them hemmed to look like they were part of your outfit all along?
[AHA.]
no subject
...I can't deny that it's possible, but it didn't happen. I haven't even seen her here yet.
[If she was lucky, maybe she hadn't been dragged into this at all, but things didn't tend to work out like that.]
no subject
[He's sure there's a chance he's lying, but there's really no point in pressing this further.]
Then what were you doing at the time of the murder?
no subject
[Even though he had never been here, exactly, he'd played ViViD enough times for this to be familiar. It was practically a routine at this point.]