INTRO 001: BEGIN

[706mod]

INTRO 001
NAVIGATION
⩕ ARRIVAL

It’s arrival time. Or is it? For some, this situation seems eerily familiar. In fact, this has happened before, you are sure of it. The voice makes the announcement and the door rolls open. You hear the frightened voice and it begins again.

There might be memories of this place but things will seem… off. As if walls are a slightly different colour, corners a bit sharper, the door handles a bit higher. If you explore the rooms of interest you will find a few things have changed.

The cooler with the tongue is now gone, and in its place a locked door with a strange device placed next to it. It looks like an intercom. The yellow message on the wall has changed, it now reads:

There’s sunshine, daisies, and tulips too
Just remember that when you’re feeling blue ☺

The writing is clearly different than the previous message.

The room with the tube is mostly the same, except the rusted cabinets are now shiny and brand new. The tube’s liquid is now dripping a rust colour fluid.

Any items collected will be somewhere nearby.

⩕ ODE TO BEVERLY

After exploring the new (?) developments something strange is now happening throughout the complex’s floor. A shrill crying. It sounds hysterical.

It leads you to the bathroom with the shattered glass. The sound is coming from the drain of a sink.

There’s broken words, too jumbled to really understand. But the hello from earlier? Definitely the same voice.

As your face nears the sink suddenly long black hair springs from the drain, shooting up and strangling and snaring any bit of you it can. The more you struggle the more it becomes aggressive, cutting in to your skin, peeling away flesh. All the while the shrieking and wailing grows to thunderous levels.

The only way to escape is with outside help. But your rescuer has to be careful not to also get caught.

The hair or whatever it may be seems intent on blood.

⩕ THE CHASM (PART ONE)

Some of you might have escaped the hair with most of your important parts in place. But any open wounds will freely flow blood and not seem to want to staunch. Any materials found seem to be useless in treating the cuts. And when your droplets of blood hits the ground it hisses as if like acid and then unexpectedly the floor around it cracks into a hairline split. The more blood that is dropped the more the cracks appear.

Throughout the following days and nights the cracks randomly split wider and deeper.

Investigating further you will notice that the same nausea you might have experienced before is now back-- and wait! Did you just see a pair of eyes inside those fissures?

Somehow you know in your gut that the only way to stop the progression of the splits is to drop more blood in to it, but not your own. In fact, this idea takes hold despite your better judgement. It is a compulsion. Better find a willing volunteer or perhaps it will come down to a fight.


⩕ HELLO GOD? IT'S ME 7░ ░

Something odd happens many hours in to your stay. Those of you who have found a walkie will receive a broadcast. It is a man speaking. It sounds like an old recording. Soft conversation is happening in the background overlaid with a hum of machinery.

Obviously I am a man of logic. In this day and age how could someone not be? Our primitive instincts are only a tool for survival so our higher minds can concentrate on things like advancement and discovery. This a belief everyone should have. Or isn’t it? It frustrates me that few are on this level of thinking. Too many are preoccupied with that in which cannot be seen. What cannot be hooked in to.

His voice then says your number. You are certain that you have never met this person, but he definitely just addressed you specifically.

I know you are reasonable. Tell me what you believe in? In this moment, what do you believe?

As you answer, you get the distinct impression that the entire complex stills to listen. But whatever frequency he was using is now dead. The question seems to be one to ask one another, broadcasted far and wide.

⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕

⩕ The Chasm will continue to grow throughout the next month. It becomes more and more cumbersome to navigate but the blood does seem to help to keep it at bay.

Comments

the chasm :))))))

[gunslung]

[ You don't ignore a man with a weapon, so Teddy says: ] Then ask it.

[ The idea lodges itself into Teddy's mind with all the sharpness of primal instinct. You see a man with a weapon, and you either engage or run away, and though his grip tightens around the hatchet he carries as well, he doesn't raise it to attack.

Not yet.

Even when every muscle in his body longs to surge forward, to lift his arms, to lodge the weapon in the stranger's head (and, God, it has nothing to do with the fleeting feelings in his chest of it being the right thing to do), he doesn't.

But his posture certainly stiffens with the effort to hold back. ]

But you might not like the answer.

;)))

[juddas]

[Kraken is a hard man to miss and a harder man to ignore - his broad shoulders seem to take up more space than they actually do. He seems a bit... distant at first. But when Teddy answers, his gaze seems to sharpen with a purpose. The corners of his mouth turns downwards, into a serious frown. When he speaks, he has a voice like a saw scraping on bones - a rumble in his chest so deep it may be difficult to make out his words at first.]

I'll be the Judge of that.

[Kraken tilts his head down slightly at Teddy to address him, turning the head of his hatchet with him. He seems utterly unbothered to see Teddy's posture change into something more aggressive.]

Are you aware, [Kraken asks slowly, deliberately. ] of the terrible burden the living bear?

[gunslung]

No.

[ His eyes flick from Kraken's face to the weapon. He towers over him, looks like a brick shithouse in human form-- but Teddy has seen worse, and Teddy doesn't cower.

He wants to hit him. Already he can tell Kraken intends to hurt him, so what's the shame in hurting him first?

The things with the eyes are telling him to hurt him. The voice in his head is telling him to hurt him.

Teddy's fist tightens. Control. ]

But I gather you'll be telling me about it anyway.

[juddas]

[If Kraken were capable of smiling in this state, he probably would have. As it is, the corner of his mouth twitches spastically up, then back down.]

The living have one res- responsibility. To live by the law. [He says this with grave conviction in his voice.] Every person is a potential criminal. Criminality becomes a matter of time, without doubt.

[Kraken takes in a rasping breath. In the quiet, dead air, it sounds very much like an ultimatum. Or desperation.]

The dead don't commit crimes. The dead don't cause trouble. The dead are quiet. [He takes two steps forward, deliberate and heavy.] You either help me pass sentence, or be judged for your crimes.

[gunslung]

[ What Teddy had initially computed to be a threat turns into an upswing of hope. Even the way he speaks is different, his pitch a little higher, his mouth a little softer. ] Judged for my crimes?

[ Crimes. Actions. Past. History. ]

Do you know who I am?

[ The grip on his hatchet doesn't waver, but he takes a step forward, the metal end dragging over the floor. ]

Is this-- is this now?

[juddas]

[Apparently the wrong thing to say, Teddy. Kraken's mouth twists into a subtly unhappy frown, but deeply meant. The corners of his eyes crinkle with regret, as he opens his mouth and says;]

The living. You are the living. And you are all the same. I'm sorry.

[Sorry that he doesn't have his answers. Sorry that he has to do this. But he must. He takes inevitable steps forward, meeting him halfway, stumbling then running at him, the wicked edge ready to come down. But even as he does, strangely enough he's not taking any measures to defend himself.]