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THE GRAVEYARD
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."
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!
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!
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Any particular reason for the sudden curiosity?
[ he's been eying the follower counts on the living side, himself, but... ]
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[they make for good guinea pigs? is he joking or serious, who knows.]
I've always been curious. But since it looks like we're not getting any new company and we're probably in the final week or so, might as well get a survey now.
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[ was that February, seriously. ]
Apparently, along with lacking a certain amount of foresight, our hosts also have a bit of difficulty counting.
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No kidding. At least chances are, unless they pull a new god out of nowhere to host for next week, this should be it. I'm ready to say goodbye to this dimension and these goddamn bells.
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[ unless someone doublehosted during the week ruin was killed and therefore denied cunning a chance to host, but you know. ]
How ironic that Piety has had to wait so long for this when it was their idea to simply resolve everything via discussion in the first place. Then again, perhaps the impressions they make will be all the stronger for it.
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[is ray petty and he just doesn't want catra's god to win after she murdered him for it? maybe.]
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I just worry for their prospects of actually creating and maintaining a world, though, if this is any indicator of what their collective organizational skills can account for.
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[he shrugs.]
Unless one of us wants to write a handbook on "How to Create and Maintain a World Without Screwing It Up"...
[doesn't seem like there's much they can do about that, in the time they have left.]
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[ no comment, it seems, on the Cunning thing. ]
... I wonder how long it might last.
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Well, I didn't have any experience with gods before this, so I'm not the expert.
[humans have done a great job on creating a horribly corrupt world system all on their own, after all.]
Guess it depends on how much you believe that "Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
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[ said in a tone that suggests 'someone has to do it, though.' and it's true that humans have messed up plenty on their own, because he just shrugs and says ]
People are weak. There's a lot we'll do to chase the things we want, or protect the things we care about at the cost of others. The problem, then, might be this: gods who can understand, will empathize with their followers... They'll be weak in the same ways we are.
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[a pause.]
'Course, finding people like that and sticking with them is easier said than done. So, it's a matter of how able the gods are to cooperate with one another after this competition—which was a point the players brought up a while back, but I don't know how much came out of it, beyond the gods who have formed alliances for that reason.
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I'd discounted it back then because I wanted to wait and see how well all these gods actually got on, as well as actually meet Ambition for myself. A tyrant isn't any good, but a puppet leader isn't much of one either.
[ a beat. ]
It's good to hear they apparently are taking concerns like that into account, though. Makes me feel better about thinking that all of us just got roped into the worlds' most ridiculous teambuilding session rather than whatever it was they originally intended this to be.
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The world's most ridiculous teambuilding session is definitely one way of putting it. [IT'S NOT WRONG... AT ALL...] Meanwhile, at least a couple of bridges are probably on fire right now on the participants' parts, over in the land of the living.
[apparently they can ALL use teambuilding sessions,]
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Meanwhile, some people are discovering their actions have consequences, and others are living out those consequences.
[ like sasuke, catra, guy, all the outed murderers who got cucked from death-- ]
Honestly, though. It was going to happen eventually with the factions that formed, and it isn't as if we've ever stopped the deaths from occurring on curfew night. At this point, after those bridges finish burning, I'm pretty sure most of the living know where they all stand.
[ where's the wednesday trustfall event smh. ]
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[he was thinking of something else, though he's apparently in no hurry to elaborate.]
This game has always been a matter of who you care about and who you don't, and not just in terms of gods. Whoever took weeks to fully realize that is naive.
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[ he says it with a distinct lack of affect, which is funny considering how cynical the sentiment is. yikes. ]
Naivete isn't necessarily the worst of traits, but I can't help but think that anyone possessing it to the degree you state should never have been brought here by the gods in the first place. But that's pretending the gods thought their decisions through to that extent.
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[these disorganized gods, smh.]
Though there's value in facing situations you're not suited for, and there's value in meeting people with views that oppose your own—for both sides of the coin. [a pause.] The main issue is that people, as a whole, prefer to dig in their heels and be right, rather than benefit from the opportunity.
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The worst people to deal with are the ones who think they're in the right. But that's just how we are, I suppose.
So what have you taken away from all of this? If we're still talking about learning from each other, and meeting people with views that oppose ours, that is.
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I already went through the whole song and dance of realizing that I can be pretty wrong about things not long before coming here, so I'm allowing myself a break from self-reflection.
[he shrugs.]
More seriously, though, it's been interesting just to learn about other people's lives in general. Human society is essentially nonexistent where I'm from, so I'll admit my experience with other people is actually pretty limited.