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

i haven't even looked at the trial yet

[goatsongs]

Why is it always kids.

[hymned]

To be fair, an overwhelming majority of the people brought here were such.

[ adults thin on the ground ]

[in_a_bottle]

I wondered what the TV was for. Why so many every week?

[arockstar]

Oh, relax. The dead will just show up here in a couple days.

[says Newt from like ten pews back because he's not getting beat up again.]

This is actually one less than usual. They're slacking.

[in_a_bottle]

[She jumps a little, but restrains herself to a glare over her shoulder and stays w a y over here.]

[arockstar]

[He sighs.]

I'm not gonna hurt you.

[in_a_bottle]

[hymned]

This wasn't exactly my intention. We have so little contact with the realm outside of here, for understandable reasons, but Mr. Nakahara and I figured it was at least worth a shot at establishing a method to keep up with what's been going on outside.

Results were mixed.

[in_a_bottle]

So we can only see the "highlights," I'm guessing?

[hymned]

Sure, if that's what you'd call it. Patience was responsible for the final touches, anyway.

[in_a_bottle]

Hm. It'd make sense that everything goes through the god in charge.

[goatsongs]

Nothing about this is fair.

[hymned]

You're right, it isn't- and yet we all agreed to it anyway.

I wonder what that says about all of us?

[goatsongs]

That we're desperate.

[hymned]

That sounds about right.

... But if that's the case, then this sort of conclusion was only inevitable.

I've looked at trial too much

[artificialhighness]

Ray has always been a threat. It was likely a matter of time, though I didn't expect him to be successfully targeted this early.

[Luna is probably settled near where Newt is, farther back and disinterestedly paging through a book of some kind. It's debatable whether she's really reading it, since she glances up occasionally to check the TV.]

Zoe and Jude were working with him. It was inevitable.

[arockstar]

Were they? Damn, then someone really cleaned house this week. Good for them.

[Newt's like sipping on a martini or something because that mental image is really good.]

[artificialhighness]

We shall see what happens at trial -- they may yet stumble on some lucky clues, given the ring of them trying to work together.

[Keyword: try. She uses a finger as a bookmark and taps the volume gently against a knee. She's curled with both feet up on the pew, not that it makes it all that much more comfortable, but.]

Of course, even if they win this week, I doubt they'll stop the deaths.

[arockstar]

[He reclines against the pew.]

Anyone who honestly though they could prevent killing in this game doesn't deserve to be here.

[artificialhighness]

Of course. That doesn't prevent the majority from fruitlessly trying, given the tools that the gods have provided, does it? Moreover, I'm sure the trial allows them to feel that they are finding justice.

[It's not exactly rocket science, given what's happened so far.

And of course there's enough of them who know what the trials are really for, despite both the gods' and individuals' ways of attempting to circumvent it.]

Either way, it's the least efficient way to run this game.

[hymned]

[ dryly: ] You make it seem as if a high body count will be what wins the game for anyone here.

[arockstar]

Oh, please. I'm done caring about winning. I just want a good show.

[hymned]

Oh, is that all? Guess that saves me the trouble of going out of my way to drop some friendly advice, then.

[ buddy julius can tell you that massacring your way to one key target is actually a whole lot more effort than it's worth. ]

[goatsongs]

[If Chuuya was holding a book, he would have thrown it at Luna's head.]

[artificialhighness]

[It would have bounced off and she would have given him a deadpan look, so it's good that he didn't waste a book!]