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
Well, and what's a little more dust in this dusty place anyways?Maybe the butlers are dead because they weren't doing their jobs. [ Not that she thinks that butlers should be sacrificed should they fail in their duties, but, you know - semantics. Still, the challenge here is finding a fire starter, and, eventually, Re-L decides that she ought to look for some kind of metal in order to chip them together and make a spark, if possible.
So that's her current mission, for the moment, looking through what she can find here. ]
If I can find a few pieces of metal that can make a spark, this might actually work out. Give them something more to clean up.
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[she, too, roots through those she took apart, ignoring the screeches of injustice from the others until she finds what she's looking for.]
Here we go. Also: don't even think of using my glasses to help either.
[is this a joke, is she serious, will we ever know]
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Something like a flint and steel would be very useful... [ Vincent usually handled messes like fires, but it didn't mean that she wasn't watching him in all the ways he knew how to survive. Sure it had taken her a long time to figure out that her survival instincts were strong, but her knowledge was very, very small. Thankfully she was very good at studying new things.
Still, there's a bit of a sardonic look at the comment about not using the other woman's glasses, a brow raising and then settling, placid, as if she'd never had an expression in her life. ]
Unless you're completely blind without them it's foolish to not even consider it.
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[she crosses her arms over her chest, harrumphs. Then her gaze sweeps the other woman from head to foot.] What about you...? You've got to have some kind of goth jewelry on you.
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Mmmn... Not many people had glasses where I'm from. If they did it was usually in some sort of 'show' to make them look more intelligent or something.. [ Mainly because it was an imperfection in a place where perfection and the ends to a mean were everything, but she goes back to her searching for another sliver of metal that looked like it would work. For once the question genuinely hadn't been a slight on her - at least this time. She finds a scrap of metal, tries them together to no result, and moves on. There's the occasional protest from the pile of destroyed painting below, still, but the placid teen doesn't seem at all flustered by it.
At least until 'goth jewelry' is processed, and then she looks up, dark brows arching upward and in, slightly, in confusion. ]
What the hell are you talking about, 'goth jewelry'? [ Goth was not a trend that really existed, in Romdeau, and well... black and other basic colors were more the norm than anything bright and ostentatious... Sure, she had Vincent's necklace, but she wasn't about to use someone else's jewelry (expertly tucked away in her layers of clothing) to start a fire. Hell, she didn't even know what metal it was made of.
Either way, she isn't sure if she should be flattered or insulted or benevolent, and in a moment of thought reaches for her rifle. ]
I wonder if this might be a good type of metal to scuff off of...
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Glasses characters are-- okay, a lot of them are useless perverts. But in manga they're useful!]
It sounds like a very tasteless place, your home. With loud shounen.
[nice job, Michelle. Insult the homeland of the person you're dealing with here. Her eyebrows hike up to her hairline dangerously.]
Why didn't you mention your weapon earlier? Jeez, some situations just make kids freeze up. And goth jewelry, as in that stuff. The black clothes and dismal atmosphere.
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What the hell is a shounen? [ The technical 'shounen' of her world is a pretty quiet guy, strangely enough. Either way, she's not too impressed, it would seem, by the other woman bristling so easily, looking a little bored with the mood already. As much as she professed her dislike for the world she'd grown up in... she still valued self control quite a bit, it would seem. Whatever was going on in Michelle's head was a bit of a non-factor at the moment, for Re-L at the very least, turning the rifle over as if finding the best place possible to scuff up trying to start a fire. ]
Whatever you think of it at the very least we managed to control our tempers for more than a span of thirty seconds. [ A dry comment, before Re-L seems to find a good spot and strikes the bit of metal across it, making a few sparks fairly easily. - Though it comes to a grinding halt at the next comment. ]
It's fairly obviously strapped to my leg - maybe you need a better prescription. I'm more than content to leave you alone screaming at paintings like a raging lunatic if that suits you better - there's no skin off my nose in leaving a perfect stranger to whatever oddity you're up to, at the moment. The only grave you're going to be digging, at any rate, is your own.
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A shounen is someone who wouldn't keep their temper, would probably scream and punch out the goth.
[a tiny 'oh' escapes her as the sparks work their magic. ah, the genius of cavemen and fire.
she knows Re-L is right, and as much as she hates it, hates her own weakness, the tampering rage in her gut, she takes a deep breath.]
You're right. It'll be just as embarrassing and dangerous if my subordinates find out I behaved no better than they would-- without thinking. Thank you, for that. [a small smile and a nod]
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Cute while I have a rifle in my hand. [ She's had six foot tall monsters come and make her house look like it had been blown up and flown halfway across God's dead Earth with all sorts of dangers around, another woman who can't seem to keep her own calm? Let's just say Re-L is, possibly cockily, not too worried about what Michelle could do to her.
At least not with a short-barreled shotgun in her hand. ]
You have subordinates? [ Momentary shock paints her features, but it's quickly tempered back in to neutrality, a perfectly neutral pale face turning back to her work without acknowledging the thanks, tucking her hair behind her ear before striking the metal to her rifle again, sparks fall on the paintings below and smolder, but quickly go back out. ]
Shit.
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[and definitely not anything like a threat here. It's said oh so casually, her gaze only for the tiny sparks that leave all too soon. The question doesn't insult her, just makes her scoff, bemused.]
I do. They're not as in control of themselves as you are...but for that I'm glad. Surprised someone so young is in charge?
[she stoops down to take a better look at Re-L's work, hums.]
Put a tad bit more power into it.
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[ There's another one of those dead pan stares, after that comment, a slow blink, as if processing. Many things about being out of Romdeau made little sense to her - mainly comments like those. Not that she wouldn't expect it, but actually beginning to hear these kinds of comments outside of people from the Commune and... well, those she'd generally thought less of in her life?
She was working on being a little less shocked about it. Slowly. Either way, she deadpans: ]
Your insults are lacking.
Not so much surprised at your age as that you would be allowed to be in control of others younger and less experienced than you with such a lacking level of self control. Cage Seal would have never allowed me to be an inspector for citizen's intelligence behaving that way.
[ Calmly ignoring the fact that her own snap temper just hasn't reared it's ugly head, just yet. Just wait until they go in to a room with too much dust or she sees someone with a hole in their sock. Then she'll lose her mind. ]
If you're that determined, then you can pursue it. [ There, handing over the piece of metal but just.. gonna put her rifle away. ] No sense in scratching up a perfectly good rifle for something like this. Not with someone running around murdering butlers. There's other metal in this pile that will work.
no subject
[Speaking of observations here. Sure, Michelle's kind of fucking annoyed this fetus dares say something like that, but, but, but!! She can't dishonor 'her kids' like that. Nor her father. Nor herself. She's better than this.]
Must be nicer, putting it to adults and thinking it gets you karma points.
[with another sigh, she starts rooting around in the metal.]
You just keep an eye on that.
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How nice to still be called teenage on the cusp of twenty. [ And no, that isn't sarcastic - she's genuinely pretty pleased by it, particularly if Michelle is including looks. It's a syndrome, in a place where looks were absolutely everything. ]
Karma isn't really something to subscribe to - fallacies about doing good in the world make people think they deserve things when in reality the world is entirely luck of the draw -
[ She pauses, looks at the pile of paintings again, and then amends. ]
Except, I guess, in Romdeau. But that was more an exception than a rule.
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[speak for yourself, murderer of giant fucking cockroaches. But all this at least draws her gaze away from her task.]
How was this an exception? Did your good deeds go down the crapper?
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It .. was a utopia for most of my life there... [ Until that came to a crashing end -
ANYWAY - ]
No, nothing like that. Just that every fellow citizen was created for a specific purpose, so.. your life, from your inception in the wombsys until your death is fairly well pre-mapped out for you. [ Unless you're a creature like Re-L and throw all of that aside for a grand adventure. ]
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[The very thought of it makes her fingers squeeze way too tight in wood, shattering more pieces in the fray. To be created for something....some purpose.
(That must be how Akari feels, huh.)
She shakes her head.]
That's bullshit. You were born from chance...you continue to be alive for your own reasons.
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Without it humans would have been extinct with no mode with which to give birth naturally. It's actually pretty ingenious once you get past the look of the system... [ She'd only ever seen it once, by accident, and it had been... unsettling to say the least. Not particularly upsetting, just... odd for someone who wasn't a doctor and who hadn't seen the process of citizen creation done right in front of them before. ]
Heh - [ Oh, a little scoff at that, huh? ] No. Daedalus and my grandfather left little to chance, with me. I was very purposefully cloned, I've come to find.
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How does your entire soul not cry out...?
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It kept everything running in good order for long enough - [ Until it had all come crashing down, predictably, but that was a bit of a non-story at the moment. She wasn't particularly interested in explaining how everything worked where she'd come from. It's a long and complicated story and well, she wasn't even sure that she understood all of it herself. ]
Who's to say it isn't just because it's apparently not loud enough for you to hear? [ In reality : hers isn't, that's why. But when she has a chance to play coy? She's gonna do it. ]
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You seem to be good at hiding your pain with this sarcasm. Reminds me of my subordinates.
[only a little. not enough to be bemused or anything, jeez!]