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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[This is his defense! But as they turn the next corner, as carefully as he can, the source of the voices becomes clear: paintings.
Leon looks immediately annoyed.]
Not this, again...
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Goodness, they're quite eager. [For... what? Do they just want them to walk down this hallway??]
Do they sound a bit threatening to you?
[Is this the hallway of reject paintings?? It might be.]
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[They're all yelling many things. Leon can't tell who they're talking to or what about from here, aside from it being vaguely aggressive, so he inches closer.] But getting past them could mean the way out of here. Let's just ignore them.
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[Ignoring them is definitely going to work, he can feel it. These paintings are so much angrier than the ones downstairs, they're actually getting to him a little. It's angry paintings that finally inspires him to stick close to Leon, putting a hand on his arm so he doesn't whip around and start shooting stuff before absolutely necessary.
Paintings...... are they reaching out as well as yelling?? If it weren't so dark in here-] Let's proceed quickly.
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Some of these don't change appearances, but this one had morphed. Was that his mother...??
This hallway was never a good idea.]
https://postimg.org/image/yl0592uwx/ this thread
Detective, I think we may need to move— [faster, he means to finish, but a suspiciously familiar painting reaches out and interrupts. D clutches automatically at Leon's shirt, tugging him forward purely because it's further away from those two grabby paintings. They've already gone this far...!]
honestly exactly
[He's tugged, and he moves along, hardly even registering the second painting that reaches out. His eyes are forced to move forward as the yelling gets even more aggressive, and a painting with particularly long nails scratches his cheek. Rude?
He can't exactly shoot all of them, so he just grabs onto D and pushes forward. Right, it's not like that was actually her. He didn't want to stick around for being called these things anyway.]
Damn it, these things don't quit! I think there's a door up ahead. Let's see if we can duck in there.
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A door, though— that's good enough for him. Once he spots it he doesn't wait for Leon's careful gun-waving (but what else is new), hurrying up to it and pulling it open, reaching back to pull Leon inside.]
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He sighs heavily, forgetting about checking the room as he turns to D instead. His own cheek has some shoujo level scratches he hasn't noticed, but—]
You okay? Did any of those things get you?
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No— I'm alright. [He looks at Leon and immediately has a hand raised to hover close to his cheek.] You're scratched.
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[You see, he's more concerned with that stamina than the scratches on his cheek. He watches D with concern, tucking his gun away for now before they're pointed out. At that, he blinks, reaching up to touch the blood.]
Huh. [So he is. It happened when they started seeming a little too familiar, right...] I guess I am.
[But he glances back into this room. It's pretty dark in here... He can't even tell how big it is.] We should try looking around. Maybe there's a lightswitch.
[He will drag his hand across the wall to find one!]
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Leon— Hold still for a moment, for heaven's sake. [Where did he produce a handkerchief from?? I don't care, he has one for the sole purpose of fussing after Leon and holding his arm again to get him to hold still while his shoujo scratches are dabbed at.
Like, he's free to keep groping the wall, but only as far as he can reach from here.]
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This is D here. Hadn't he been looking for him for something?]
This really isn't some dream, right?
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Not at all. [He would know, probably... He frowns anyway, thinking about it.] They may have people behind the walls, to pretend to be living paintings.
[Right?? Surely this is cheap special effects.]
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[This is the first bit of calm they've had, isn't it? Thankfully, Leon doesn't swat the hand away while he's thinking this much. It's like a forced stop to make him acknowledge his own thoughts. These, plus other feelings that he's still recovering in the midst of all of this...]
...One of them definitely looked just like my mother.
[The other ones, now that he thinks back on it...] Weren't the other ones familiar, too?
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Unfortunately he can't fret over Leon's face forever, pulling back with a sigh when he thinks the bleeding has mostly stopped.]
I suppose some of them were.
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That doesn't creep you out?
[With that question out, he turns and resumes looking for a light switch on the wall. It doesn't seem to be in any of the usual places, if there is one...]
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[No, it does, but hell if he's going to come right out and say that. Nor is he going to help look for the light, unfortunately... He's just going to watch.]
What are you insinuating, Detective? We're being harassed by ghosts?
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[He snaps, glaring at this wall in the dark as he thinks. He knows it sounds crazy, and he doesn't want to hear the Count of all people pointing this out to him. But he knows what he saw!]
We could be drugged for all I know. This place is doing some weird shit.
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Let's not make any assumptions... I'd like to get out of this house before we worry about what it has or hasn't done to us.
[He'll go... look for a window, or something?? An attic door. Anything. It's so dimly lit, this is stupid.]
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Yeah, yeah, I know. This sure doesn't look like a way out, but I'll take it over those things. Come on.
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I've always wanted to be stranded in a dusty library.
[More like not at all, ever. But he'll wander forward to look at what's on the shelves as they pass by. Math textbooks... This is a lot of textbooks. And-] A Brief History of Doors?
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What the hell kinda place is this? [He walks over to stare at that book with him.]
They've got a whole shelf of doors?
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Door styles, door heights... goodness, even door trends. How... unnecessarily thorough.
[He looks to the side, at the next set of shelves. Hmm.] Are those equally useless?
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...This library is stupid. [Let him just shove this book back on top of the other books because he can't put it in the shelf properly.] What a waste of time. Why aren't there any god damn windows anywhere!
[He stomps further inside.]
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