THE GRAVEYARD

[divus]

THE LANDING

You’re having an out of body experience. That’s how it starts, dying. There isn’t any pain anymore, and for a moment, not much of anything else. Your thoughts are a dim hum in the back of your brain, the tips of your fingers seem miles away. Despite that, you find yourself moving, moving, moving from the last place you were in your own body and forward, until you reach a door that you haven’t seen since the beginning of the game. A door that wouldn’t open. A door cold to the touch and seeping with mist. It opens before you, and as if of someone else’s design you walk through it. As it closes behind you, you get the distinct feeling that if you turned around, you’d find it vanished.

What takes up most of your attention, however, is the tolling of church bells. They clang in rhythmic, almost maddening persistence--seems you’re just going to have to try and ignore them, as they show no signs of slowing or stopping, wherever they are.

Once the cacophony becomes easier to manage, the bong, bong, bonging evening out to a pulse inside your ears, you realize that where you are seems to be a world that's incomplete. The floor is nothing but a landing of invisible matter, a spooled red carpet leading you to a few rows of pews and a lone confessional.

You will notice, immediately ahead of you, a cute little mailbox fit for a suburban home. It bids you welcome, though the cheery paint job is a bit muted in this dark place.

Simple and neat furnishings dot the edges of where the landing seems to be: railings mark the unseen edges and draperies and sconces float in the void, giving an illusion of walls. Be careful, however, because they can easily be fallen through if leaned against. Fortunately, someone seems to have kept that in consideration, as a helpful sign warns just this.

On one side of the confessional, a room with bookshelves, a writing table, and pens and paper has been provided: a minimalist study for when you need a bit of privacy to think. On the other side, a wing of dorm-sized, lockable bedrooms provide another bit of space to oneself. There may not be enough for everyone, but nobody really has to sleep--so just take turns!

To the left of the pews, it looks like a miniature bar has been crafted with a small but decent selection of drinks. There's a small television seated on the counter, but it only seems to ever work two times a week: the week's opening announcement on Monday mornings, and Saturdays, tuning in at the beginning of the trial and tuning back out again at its conclusion. There's also a piano to one side of the bar, allowing anyone to provide musical accompaniment to their drinking.

Perhaps most interestingly, an ornate black doorway at the far end of the room leads to a curving hallway that ultimately leads to what appears to be a temple. It's similar to the altar room they'll remember from the living side, but there are no power inscriptions, and the only furnishings are wavering, grayscale candles on the walls that never seem to burn low and great sculptures of leaping rams. The two black-marble statues meet in the center, curved horns joined above a platform, decorated with nothing but a lone offering bowl. The dark marble of the item is cracked, but it seems like it'll still get the job done. Try sending something, if you wish!

Maybe this place is meant to be more. But for now, Patience is the only notable figure you have to place your attention on, and she comes forward to welcome you immediately.

"Welcome to my dominion," she greets in her usual, cheerful candor, and points at your hand, where you hold your godly token. "Now that you've been eliminated, I'll take that back and return it on your behalf. Don't worry, though, I'm not leaving you empty handed."

OOC NOTES

Hello, eliminated competitors, and welcome to the graveyard. Although it isn't much to look at, now, this area will be growing and expanding in time with the help of your characters' actions and participation in weekly events. What they unlock will have an impact on the living side, overarching plot elements, and ways to communicate between both planes!

When it seems like there isn't much to do, there's always one option left: gathering information. So sit back, enjoy the afterlife, and put on your thinking cap!

full navigation.

locations ♦ taken ♦ profiles ♦ weekly curfew ♦ murder proposals
ic rulebook ♦ temple offerings ♦ private convos

Comments

[hymned]

[ that's fair, but on the other hand, Julius by default is a fairly soft spoken man so, ]

That's... quite impressive. I don't think I could boast any equivalent feat of memory?

[ in fact it's probably quite the opposite.

doot doot doo mapping out these mysterious bridges in the void. don't be surprised if by the end of the time they have allotted Julius has ended up mapping out the entire walkable area they have in here. it's okay, fieldwork and reconnaissance was also a regular part of his job so this is. fine, probably. ]

Eidetic memory, or are they just that ingrained into you through familiarity?

[goatsongs]

Wouldn't be much of a poet if I didn't know my own poems.

[...Many poets can't recite their poems while falling down drunk, though, so Chuuya's exceptional in that regard.

To demonstrate, Chuuya starts reciting a poem of his, fitting in with the rhythm of the church bells.]

My life, too soon taken in hand
by clumsy gardeners, is sad!
Thanks to that, most of my blood
rises to my head, seething, boiling over.

Uneasy, impatient,
always seeking something in the outside world.
Such behaviour is foolish,
such thoughts are hard to underrstand.

Thus, this pitiful tree,
rough bark, in the sky and wind,
my heart always sinking in mourning thoughts;

my mien is indolent, fitful,
susceptible to others, liable to flatter; thus,
despite myself, I do the stupidest things.

[hymned]

I doubt I could recite to you every line of code I've ever written, but that doesn't make me any less of an engineer or programmer, I'm pretty sure.

[ Julius isn't exactly much of a literature person, but he was properly educated at least. Well enough to pick up on obvious symbolism when he hears it, in any case, and pause just a bit in his very diligent mapping. ]

'Clumsy gardeners,' huh. Quite an angry piece, isn't it? I can't entirely tell whether it sounds more resentful, or regretful.

[goatsongs]

They were clumsy, not intentionally cruel. There's no point in resenting them now.

[there's not much point in a lot of what Chuuya does, he knows.]

[hymned]

A lament for what simply is, but could have been otherwise, then? ... Maybe just the former. You don't much strike me as the type to dwell overmuch on what-ifs, somehow.

[ hm, yikes. looks like that sure is as far as he can go in this particular direction, then. he's probably done a rough perimeter of the entire room already, given that he's sketched in decor to mark the edges for anyone coming in after them, but in that case, looks like the only way left to go is through whatever narrow seeming corridor it is he'd marked out earlier as a possible gap, but didn't follow through with exploring just yet. ]

Then again, maybe that's just projection speaking? I never was much for these sorts of things.

[goatsongs]

[You have fun doing the actually useful mapping, Chuuya will just be over here fleshing out the book selection.]

All writers have to dwell on something or they don't have anything to write about. But you're not exactly wrong.

[hymned]

[ Well what else is he going to do, draw up a bar and lounge for all like, five of them here? ]

Hah. I only meant that it's a bit of a bad habit for some, losing sight of what's in front of them. Maybe I should have said 'get lost in' instead?

[ Thus begins the squiggle hallway to someplace mysterious. Chuuya's doing important work for making sure that anyone who comes in after them doesn't get bored, at least.

Unless they're Luke, then they're just screwed. ]

[goatsongs]

[Obviously not, Patience can't drink with the mask on and Gau's too young to get into the habit.]

When you're already dead, you end up looking back more than forward. That's just how that works.

[hymned]

[ His head doesn't tilt only because it's a useless gesture when they're talking from across a voidy room anyway. ]

That... doesn't sound right, somehow. You still exist as yourself, don't you? Then there's still a forward for you in a sense, even if I'm not necessarily clear on the particulars.

Though admittedly, I'd also meant that less in the sense of looking back versus looking forward, as opposed to- well, reality, versus what isn't.

[goatsongs]

There's a forward, sure, but hopefully it's not that long. Depends when we figure out how to permanently deal with the Taints I was summoned to fight instead of just how to hold 'em off, but we're talking years instead of decades.

If I die back home, they'll just summon another 'Nakahara Chuuya' anyway. He won't remember anything that happened to the me that was summoned here, but he'll remember my - our, his? - lifetime.

[So that's a unique position to be put in.]

[hymned]

Taints? -No, never mind, I can probably guess vaguely enough at the general gist of it. Yours is an existence with a purpose, I see. Almost wish I could say I weren't so familiar with that sort of thing, but.

[ It's a bit distant and disaffected, how he says that. The note's gone again when he continues though. ]

So you're essentially- what. Forked off of a base template? Each and every one of you who might ever be starting from one original baseline 'Nakahara Chuuya,' but then going on to have differing experiences and developments?

[ Julius don't make it sound like it's just some base program hosted on github or something, yeesh. This is a person you're talking about. ]

[goatsongs]

[hey I'm sad]

A collection of memories given physical form. Whether I'm really 'Nakahara Chuuya' or just a copy is a fun debate that I don't give a shit about.

[He's not that interested in the what-ifs.]

[hymned]

[ wait I'm not even trying to do anything??? ]

Haha. That's fair. I'm pretty sure the more philosophical sorts have a word for something like that too, where the only thing you can really be sure of is yourself. But as far as you're concerned, you're Nakahara Chuuya.

[ He 'hm's a little, adjusting the path he's drawing to account for the ring trying to cut off the bloodflow to his finger. ]

Whether there's some objective truth as to whether you are or aren't, well. Maybe it doesn't matter until you run into another of yourself?

[goatsongs]

[that's just your standard state of being, upsetting]

Ughhh, I hope I don't. I didn't run into him myself, but from what people who ran into that 'me' with the Mad Hatter looks said, we wouldn't get along at all. Plus when Shiga met another Shiga it almost turned into a fight, so. It's not great.

[chuuya vs chuuya, weenie vs weenie]

[hymned]

[ i can't believe that you of all people are now also calling me out let me live ]

I imagine it isn't. Running into yourself, finding out you're only one of many, even if you're already aware of the possibility in an academic sense... Well, it's different having to face it when it's staring you in the face, isn't it?

[ how the hell did this conversation get so existential. Julius, for his part, just huffs a wry laugh, which is probably getting a little fainter got how far he's wandering now. this mysterious discovery better be worth it. ]

That sounds terrible even before you consider you'd likely hate trying to get along with someone just like yourself.

[goatsongs]

[exuse me I'm not upsetting??]

People like to think they're special.

[Chuuya's finished up with bookshelves and is now adding a writing desk.]

Even if there's only one of you, nobody likes to be told they're replaceable. Forgettable. Not important in the flow of history.

[In that sense, Chuuya is one of the lucky ones.]

[hymned]

[ if being upsetting is my standard state of being is it really my fault then!!! ]

How convenient for so many that they'll never have to confront such a thought, huh.

[ this is very much a meandering, winding path; it almost feels like he's doubled back on his route at least once or twice, but no, there's the twin trail of white chalk to suggest otherwise. still, hm...

do you think we're at a good point to yell at danielle for deets or. ]

[goatsongs]

[yes!!!

also I forgot danielle was going to give us deets ever]

Won't they? Doesn't everybody ask sooner or later, in different words, what the meaning of their life is?

[hymned]

Sure they might, but it's not always that that specific answer— that you aren't unique, that you're replaceable and interchangeable, easily substituted for, that all you've done and ever will might simply be in vain— will be staring them in the face quite so directly.

For most people that sort of thing stays a doubt in the back of their head at most, doesn't it?

[ well do you want to ping her or should i-- ]

[goatsongs]

[julius is the one actually exploring so]

Maybe. I can't understand what it's like to be anything but a poet, anyway.

[divus]

[Eventually, there's a break in the void. They'll see a soft light up ahead, dull and muted like it is in the landing. Closer, still, and a similar cliff's edge begins to appear. It looks like they can finally end this hallway through the void!]

[hymned]

[ Not knowing what it's like to be anyone else, huh... Before he can respond, the pathway brightens up, so that ends up distracting him from that line of thought.

Another cliff? Don't tell him he went all this way for nothing, come on Patience.

Does the hallway open up a little, at least? Either way: ]

Well, I think I've found whatever little bit it was she was telling us to go look for?

[goatsongs]

Oh, looks like it.

[Chuuya will finally leave his library to go follow after Julius and peer over the cliff's edge.

Don't push him off or anything.]

[divus]

[The cliff's edge drops ominously off into more void, but fortunately, as they connect to it, they'll be able to step off onto a new stretch of solid land. Once there, it's as if they've stepped through an unseen doorway and out into what seems to be...a temple. It's similar to the altar room they'll remember from the living side, but there are no power inscriptions, and the only furnishings are wavering, grayscale candles on the walls that never seem to burn low and great sculptures of leaping rams. The two black-marble statues meet in the center, curved horns meeting above a platform.]

[hymned]

... well, you're the poet here. Does the symbolism here strike you as meaning anything in specific?

[ The best he's got is something about rams, sheep, eternal sleep as a metaphor for death or something.

If it's like the altar room, though... Still, no offering bowl. A platform instead? ]