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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Phase I
No, sauce has a completely different consistency... Also, who would be eating pasta sauce without pasta?
no subject
[ Though she remains oblivious, she's starting to get a bit anxious the more she's not getting any validation for the things she's saying. ]
no subject
[ Okay, this is more serious than she thought. This girl either really doesn't seem to have a clue or is in deep denial. Though on a better glance—she doesn't look totally human, does she?
Should she tell her? ... First, is it even safe to be talking with her? She hardly seems malicious, though.
Before anything else, though, Tsubasa just really wants to get away from the dead body, for her own sanity's sake. ]
For now, why don't you put the fork down? And then come this way? We shouldn't, um—disturb him.
no subject
[ She warily looks between Tsubasa and the corpse. And then down at the fork. For once it seems like her internal IS THIS A WEAPON radar might finally be accurate. And if that's the case, no way is she going to disarm herself! ]
If I follow you, the fork stays.
no subject
... Nothing, I suppose. Stay there if you like.
[ She really doesn't want to stay here. But what are you gonna do. ]
But can you at least tell me what you were doing here?
no subject
[ It sounds like a lie. She says it really defensively. But. ]
After... After that briefing.
[ That's something she doesn't want to think about too much right now. She grips her fork even tighter. ]
no subject
[ She's not particularly keen on thinking about that right now, either—nor does she really want to think about the corpse that's laying right there on the floor. There are way too many things nagging at her and making her want to stop dealing with everything and just get sick to her stomach. But no, focus, focus...
That situation actually sounds very similar to hers... sans the whole murder set-up scenario. She gives Peridot a good, long look, evaluating her expression, her reactions, and the way she carries herself, until she seems to have satisfied herself with some sort of conclusion. ]
The same thing happened to me. Though I didn't exactly wake up here, but in another room.
[ Now what... She thought it might be better to be discreet, but she senses that this isn't go to go anywhere unless she fully explains the situation. ]
—Please don't be alarmed, but I think you've been set up.
no subject
[ She's trying to not be alarmed, like she was told, but she can't see anything but negative connotations here. Was she going to be punished?! ]
For what? Who would do something like that? Have I really become that much of a threat?! [ That's maybe a little... optimistic? Pessimistic? Exaggerating the situation. ]
no subject
[ An avoidant answer. She really has no idea and she can't presume to answer. She doesn't even know who she's talking to, after all. ]
But that man by your feet—he's dead.
[ She says it gingerly. This girl doesn't appear to be human, so she can't predict how she's going to take that, but it's still a little bit hard to say to someone. ]
no subject
[ She finally does let the fork clatter to the ground, stepping away from the body and stretching her hands up into the air. ]
I-I didn't do it!!
[ Which is pretty useless to say after she was already told she was set up, but everything only just clicked for her, and she has to get that reflexive reaction out of the way, even if it's belated. ]
no subject
Yes, don't worry. I more or less got that impression... You don't seem very much like someone who just committed a murder. You're not even familiar with blood, are you?
no subject
[ She peers down at the dead body suspiciously. ]
no subject
... You're not human, huh.
[ More of a prompting statement than a question, since that much is pretty obvious at this point. ]
no subject
[ She looks at the blood more closely. That explanation is one that actually makes sense to her. ]
Well, of course I'm not human. I'm a gem! We don't need constant nutrients and oxygen like humans apparently do. We already got what we needed when we were first forming! That's a far more practical physiology. Humans are so... delicate. How much time do you have to fix the leakage before they die? Are you a human? [ That ends up being an afterthought, after already being so deep into thinking about this. ]
no subject
[ She has certainly never seen or heard of a gem in humanoid form. A gem spirit, maybe...? That sort of explains the peridot on her forehead, in any case.
She feels some kneejerk discomfort at the phrasing of "fixing the leakage," like a person dying is some kind of plumbing issue. But this girl isn't human, so of course she wouldn't hold the same reverence for human death. It wouldn't be the first time she's encountered this difference of values with a non-human. ]
Well, that depends on the size of the wound. Typically a loss of over 40% of the body's blood will lead to death... And yes, I am human.
[ Honestly, she has to worry about her own reverence a bit now, having this conversation right next to a dead body. ]
—Would you mind if we took this conversation elsewhere for the time being? On top of our physiology, I'm afraid we humans have a delicate mentality, too. [ That comment was just a touch tongue-in-cheek. ] This isn't a pleasant sight for me.
no subject
Uhhh... I guess so. I don't have any preferences, so I'll allow you to lead the way.