pandatreasure (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pandatreasure) wrote2017-12-24 12:44 am
pandatreasure) wrote2017-12-24 12:44 am
GRAVEYARD
[You know you must have died—nothing is ever easy around here, certainly not quick, so you must remember burning, bleeding, falling, dying?
And yet. You're waking up.
Do you recognize it here, once you pick yourself up off of the hard floor, maybe half-strewn across a couch or beanbag chair? This room died, too: you're in the library, good as new and maybe better than that, only barely smelling of burnt paper and you only sometimes kick up ash, just like those old wounds that finished you off only ache every now and again, dully.
The book selection isn't quite the same as you remember it—all the bad erotica that didn't die is missing here, sorry to say, but so are the books on everyone's home worlds. Snoop around enough and behind the librarian's desk, you'll find tablets: one for each participant of the game, and with enough experimentation, you'll find the one that reacts when you press the button. You're already logged into your Recyclr account and can read the feed, but the same rules apply: 140 characters, one tweet a day. The voting app is gone, replaced by a sort of security monitoring kind of app. Characters can view different rooms of the school, or even place a few side by side so they can view a few at a time, and they'll be able to see the living go about their day to day lives. There's even an archive of recordings, but only the important ones: murders, executions, investigations, trial highlight reels, and major events like libraries being burned down. Was watching yourself die once not enough? Boy have I got good news for you!!!
It's kind of exciting that you can go around touching stuff, probably, despite being super dead and vaguely transparent in a way you notice like your own breathing; you don't and then you do and it's all you can think about, but your tangibility only extends to the inanimate: try to touch any of your fellow deceased and you'll find that you just pass right on through like touching cold air.
The windows aren't bolted up with those big metal plates on this side of things, but look out of them anytime and it's just pitch-black and still outside, so that's demoralizing. There is, of course, the door out of the library—but for now it's locked up tight. Whatever is a ghost to do?]
((Recyclr
Offerings/Letters
Day 11
Day 14
Day 16))
And yet. You're waking up.
Do you recognize it here, once you pick yourself up off of the hard floor, maybe half-strewn across a couch or beanbag chair? This room died, too: you're in the library, good as new and maybe better than that, only barely smelling of burnt paper and you only sometimes kick up ash, just like those old wounds that finished you off only ache every now and again, dully.
The book selection isn't quite the same as you remember it—all the bad erotica that didn't die is missing here, sorry to say, but so are the books on everyone's home worlds. Snoop around enough and behind the librarian's desk, you'll find tablets: one for each participant of the game, and with enough experimentation, you'll find the one that reacts when you press the button. You're already logged into your Recyclr account and can read the feed, but the same rules apply: 140 characters, one tweet a day. The voting app is gone, replaced by a sort of security monitoring kind of app. Characters can view different rooms of the school, or even place a few side by side so they can view a few at a time, and they'll be able to see the living go about their day to day lives. There's even an archive of recordings, but only the important ones: murders, executions, investigations, trial highlight reels, and major events like libraries being burned down. Was watching yourself die once not enough? Boy have I got good news for you!!!
It's kind of exciting that you can go around touching stuff, probably, despite being super dead and vaguely transparent in a way you notice like your own breathing; you don't and then you do and it's all you can think about, but your tangibility only extends to the inanimate: try to touch any of your fellow deceased and you'll find that you just pass right on through like touching cold air.
The windows aren't bolted up with those big metal plates on this side of things, but look out of them anytime and it's just pitch-black and still outside, so that's demoralizing. There is, of course, the door out of the library—but for now it's locked up tight. Whatever is a ghost to do?]
((Recyclr
Offerings/Letters
Day 11
Day 14
Day 16))
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that said. Room 204 is located to the right of the nurse's office, room 419 is two down on the left from the DO NOT ENTER door, and room 422 is directly to the left of the shrine—all unmarked, locked classrooms on the living side.]
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[with that bit of knowledge noted!! he abandoned ye old computer to pull up Recyclr, and I will officially free Courtney from the bonds of having to mod this thread
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[anyway, with the map finally figured out, Akira's returning to the bomb! does it look like it can be dismantled?]
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Eeeehhhhhhh???? Maybe with the right tools, but they aren't really ones we've got here.]
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Congratulations???]
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[okay maybe he'll flip the bomb over to see what's on the underside!!!]
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[can he press some buttons on those futuristic panels]
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there aren't any buttons, though, just wires for days.]
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[surely it won't explode if he shakes. . . it]
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you can kind of hear its contents rattling about if you listen real close]
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Tell me your secrets, bomb from beyond the future. . .
[this is stupid and dangerous but now he's just going to unplug wires and plug them into new ports to see what happens. also: what color are the wires???]
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anyway, now the wires are in those places now instead. there's a veritable rainbow of them though! they're mostly very thin, though there's one thicker black-colored wire.]
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[ooooh Akira's drawn to that thicker, black-colored wire. TIME TO UNPLUG THAT ONE TO SEE IF ANYTHING SPECIAL HAPPENS]
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[. . . okay, messing around with the bomb indiscriminately isn't working. TIME TO HIT THE BOOKS]
[is there a book about making bombs in this mess]
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