pandatreasure (
pandatreasure) wrote2017-12-24 12:44 am
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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))
no subject
That and they already explored once together. Akira said he was trying to escape by traveling with a different person each night. Even if you accept the raccoons wouldn't have separated them despite them having met once already, it's a clear contradiction!!
no subject
And besides which, not everyone finds Akechi-kun that sketchy. Which is always funny to me, but. [shrugs a bit. what can you do? some people are more naturally sketchy-looking. case in point: this guy.]
no subject
Akira is the only possible culprit. There is no 'sudden third party'.
Not to mention the clue I left them in my message.
no subject
And even after I warned you that they might do such a thing.
no subject
Really? Was that the only clue in the message?
no subject
no subject
I mean, don't get me wrong, the cypher I included was solvable and pointed to Akira, but that wasn't the main point.
"It's elementary."
no subject
no subject
After Honda Futayo-san's execution, Akira was my new assistant, my 'Watson' as it were. Kaiba at least would recognize that.
"It's elementary, my dear Watson..." is the completion of that commonly accepted phrase. In other words, 'Watson' was the guilty party.
no subject
Or... Kaiba-kun has stronger loyalties to Akira-kun than you.
no subject
They really are idiots... like I would ever go out with that loud, raving, moron... or even Kaiba-shacho...
no subject
Aside from that, Akira-kun just had a good cover with Akechi-kun and then Hiyori-kun causing a stir.
... knowing Akira-kun, though... it won't sit right for him. I wonder how long he'll go without saying anything. Possibly not very.
no subject
Ha. This might actually be it, come to think of it.