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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i
Opening a door in search of whatever it is he's supposed to find, he encounters a the strange man - looks Chinese, even Souji can tell that much - and his snail. Tilting his head curiously at them, he lowers the sword he's holding and smiles brightly.]
Well, that does happen a lot around here. You didn't kill him, then?
no subject
Us? [He... holds up the snail.] Do we look capable of something like that? Unless my friend here committed a grisly murder all on his own before I arrived just now...
no subject
Not as far as I can see. But people don't usually think I look capable of much either, and I've killed a lot of people.
[BECAUSE THAT IS A NORMAL THING TO SAY. Look, in his time it's not weird at all - at least not for a warrior. Not his fault 19th century Japan does not quite match up with modern standards. Not that he's too aware of that, judging by his sanguine smile.]
Anyway, in this place it's sometimes necessary. [He giggles, the sound drawing an unpleasant rattling noise from his lungs.] It looks like a very nice snail, though, so I'm not sure if your friend is the culprit either.
no subject
(He is not particularly uncomfortable about it.)]
You sound unwell. [The whole obviously-sick thing is... well, obvious. Hmm.] Shall we perhaps discuss my lovely friend's innocence somewhere more comfortable? You can explain to me the necessity of murdering our... fellow man.
no subject
[He shifts a bit, attempting a disarming smile, but honestly... well, he's feeling a bit faint after struggling for breath in this dusty place for a while now. What's the point of resisting, really? He might as well gather strength before attempting to actually get out of this strange new game.]
But, ah... I suppose I've been on my feet a bit too long. If my friends find me like this, they're going to fuss. [It's easier to say it like that, easier to accept it on those terms. He looks over his shoulder into the room he just came from.] There's something like a small sofa back there? That's probably as good as it gets, before we can manage to get out of the game.
no subject
Then we must find this sofa as quickly as possible!
[Time to Go, no more staring at bodies! It's someone else's problem now.]
no subject
At least he offers up no further protest as he makes his way to the sofa and attempts not to collapse too obviously into it. It's not entirely successful. But he sure tries to cover it up by acting completely unconcerned about it - though he does cover his mouth with his sleeve to ward off the cloud of dust rising from the sofa as well. Excuse his next words for being a bit muffled.]
Usually when they put us in games like this, we end up having to either fight or escape from things that try to hurt us. That's what I mean.
no subject
I see... [No, wait. No he doesn't.] I'm sorry, but you keep referring to this as a "game"... That man was quite dead.
no subject
Well... [His forehead wrinkles a bit as he tries to find the right words to explain.] It's possible that he isn't even real. Or if he is, you can't actually die for real in the game.
[He taps the armrest of the sofa.] This is all some kind of... maybe a bit like a dream? Only it's done with computers. I don't actually understand how it works, but something like that.
no subject
A dream... [Hmm. He can buy that.] Then we're all sharing this experience, out of body? Is that it?