You're probably woken up by the explosion first. A loud, deafening boom comes from behind the walls of the residential district. When you look outside your window towards the darker, more secretive area of the city, you might see the structure around it... crumbling, the land falling in on itself slowly but surely. That might be what wakes you up first. If it doesn't, you may be awoken instead by the sudden jerking feeling behind your navel pulling you from where you are to somewhere... else.
It's dark. The first thing you notice is that it's dark -- and then come the scrabbling sounds of creatures in the dark, like metal being dragged across metal, a chilling, sharp sound. The first thing that becomes clear, as your vision adjusts, is that you're on a rickety pathway, metal and rusting and frail, above what appears to be yawning blackness. Far, far below, there's the faint sound of rushing water, a ways away.
The second thing that becomes clear is that you are very much not alone. Something is out there with you, and from the screeching metallic noises that come ever closer, it seems to be stalking you.
Thankfully, you're not alone -- right?  ...
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PHASE I [ ??? ] It’s drafty here. You’re below ground, that’s for certain from the echoes of the wind in the darkness. If you continue on forwards along the rickety, metal railing that serves as a walkway, the skittering noises of creatures in the dark follow -- but they don’t appear.
It seems everyone has been dumped along this pathway at random; you may be with friends, with enemies or with someone you’ve never met before, but either way, it soon becomes clear. There are only two ways to go along this path: up or down.
If you choose to take the path that follows a gradual slope down, the sounds of water lapping against a surface increase bit by bit, the air growing heavier and danker, until finally, the metallic platform gives way very suddenly (watch your step!) to a muddy bank. Down here, everything is darker, and not far away there’s the water. It’s cold and frigid and there are unfriendly creatures that await if you choose to delve into it. However, if you brave those creatures, and dive deeply enough, there is a mask. It rests half-buried by silt and rocks, but it’s there, and can be found by any intrepid explorers.
Somehow, it feels a little familiar.
And if you carry on in the cave system underground, eventually you will come across what appears to be an altar. There is blood on it -- not fresh, but not more than a month old -- and pieces of trinkets. Old bits of cloth, locks of hair, and some of them may even be familiar. Any dropped character who has a reasonably large amount of spiritual or magical power may have left scraps, such as pieces of clothing, trinkets, hair, or the sort behind at the altar.
Maybe that's why they weren't in the Nexus Code.
PHASE II [ ??? ] If you go up, you will eventually make your way above ground. It takes some time, and some luck -- you’ll have to avoid rusty railing and pathways, the path crumbling under you and that creeping sensation that something is following and watching you -- and then you’ll suddenly be in fresh air.
Well. It’s not so fresh, really.
The landscape is broken down and crumbled. It may have once been part of the city of Cerealia, but now it is in utter disrepair and decay. Buildings have crumbled, and debris is everywhere. There are signs of the same level of technology that Cerealia has -- but it is all broken down and utterly inaccessible.
And you’re not alone.
It seems the technology and metal and broken down destruction has gained sentience over its time sitting alone, waiting. And it is not happy to be disturbed. The creatures are made of pieces of everything around them, and when cut down, they’ll just slowly rebuild themselves from the debris.
It might be time to run.
They aren't happy about being disturbed, and you're in their way.
PHASE III [ ??? ] Above ground, there are a lot of broken down buildings.
Some can’t be accessed at all; some are too broken, too reduced to rubble. For those looking for shelter, they'll be able to find buildings where the doors can be forced open and they can camp out on the inside to various degrees of stability. Though the ceiling may cave in or the floor fall out from under you at a moment's notice, it's better than being out there. Be careful, because none of the architecture here can be trusted anymore.
And other buildings... are even less trustworthy than that.
There is a series of buildings in the midst of the wasteland, somehow still standing. They stand there silently, towering over the rest of the rubble in their two-story glory, and if the doors are forced open, it soon becomes clear that the building itself is full of mirrors.
Once, the mirrors had perhaps covered the walls and ceiling. Once, this building might have been akin to something of a ballet studio, somewhere to express yourself creatively. But now the mirrors are shattered and broken into pieces and the building lacks the joy it might have once held. Shards of mirror cover the floor, some big, some not so big, but they still hang from the walls as well and everywhere you look, you can see yourself.
And then, the reflection changes. From one blink to the next, you see a memory playing in the mirrors. Your memory. You’ll see a glimpse of one of your most traumatic or life-changing moments, broken up but clear in the shards. Blink and look away, and it’s gone, only to show up again in the next mirror a few moments later. Surely it’s just a trick of the light, right?
Except if someone else is with you, they’ll see it too -- and you might end up seeing a bit of their own past as well. Hope you're fond of sharing.
PHASE IV [ ??? ] If you survive the monsters, the crumbling landscape and the untrustworthy buildings, you may eventually find a terminal. It is buried deep among the rubble. One turn around a corner, one stumble into a hole, and you will find it. It sits there, out in the middle of nowhere; the building in which it used to be housed is apparently long gone, reduced to nothing but rubble.
And if you turn it on, there is a brief message.
Transmission Broadcasting.
Transmission Connected.
And then, there is a face.
BONUS [ ??? ] For those who have been wearing their masks a little too much, they might also start to notice that there are some strange effects attached, which worsen the more they’ve been wearing said masks. How badly they worsen is up to your discretion.
➝ Broken Mask: An intense feeling of paranoia, focused on whoever your character is with. They might also begin to remember fabricated memories of being betrayed by those people.
➝ Barcode Mask: Everything will begin to have value to them. There will be whispers in the back of their mind of the worth of their friends, the worth of a monster, the worth of everything around them. An intense need to own and consume as much as possible and as quickly as possible.
➝ Dripping Blood Mask: An intense lack of self-worth, a hollow feeling and thoughts of being weak and empty. Feeling as disposable as possible and an intense listless along with it.
➝ :( Mask: A need to prove yourself, to show everyone how strong you are as quickly as possible. You can do things, you can be of worth to everyone around you. Why won't they see that? Why?
➝ Ivy Mask: A choking sort of terror from all things metal and technology based, and a need to lash out against it. An intense distrust for anything that they feel is against the laws of nature.
➝ Grey Mask: More personable than normal, more emotional, more empathetic. An intense feeling of kindness and gratitude to those around you and a renewed love of life.
➝ Feather Mask: A dulled, lack of emotion. A detached feeling to everything around you. A sort of bland curiosity towards things without any empathetic reaction.
➝ Bloody Fingerprints Mask: They'll feel absolutely fine. No change.
The effects of the broken mask can stack on top of the others, if they chose to break their mask after the other effects began to appear. No other effects can be stacked, as no other changes can be stacked.
PENALTY [ ??? ] For characters who die while in the dark parts of the city, things will get... a little strange. They will die as normal, but they will wake up almost immediately after their death -- in the Nexus Code. They will have a few surreal moments to be there, to see their friends who have left Cerealia hanging lifelessly from odd, glimmering strands (though there are some faces, of course, that are missing, anyone who was spiritual, or magical, seems strangely absent) and then --
They’re back to being dead.
When characters revive in Cerealia, anywhere from one IC day to three or four IC days later, they will find that things are… not quite right with their code. They’re glitching, for a lack of a better word. Sometimes, their fingers will phase right through an object, their own limbs registering as cold and lifeless. Sometimes, they will see a face watching them -- but when they turn around to try to see who it is, the face will be gone.
These effects will last an IC week, before slowly things go back to normal.
That was strange.
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
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open; warning for Dangan Ronpa spoilers and gore in the link
[Of course he'd gone for the buildings that looked the most intact, once he'd stumbled across them. Leon's had one too many chunks of ceiling narrowly miss his head during his "adventuring" through all of this bullshit rubble, and these incongruous, structurally intact buildings look downright inviting compared to everything else. He's desperate for a place to just take a goddamn minute and sit and think . . .
He should have known; this place is never that kind.
At first he thinks he's seeing things, but since when has anything ever been just him going crazy here? He's had a dozen moments in this colony of being worried he was losing his mind, starting to hallucinate—but it's always actually happening, which makes him feel less crazy but not better. So he looks again, his throat working—
At first it's just a glimpse of metal as a cuff locks tight around his neck. The rushing past of the walls, the retreating faces of his classmates—back when he'd thought that was how he was going to die, by being dragged until the shock killed him, but Monokuma hadn't been any more merciful than Cerealia is, and so the flashes of the memory don't stop there.
He should be used to this by now, he thinks, he sees it in his dreams at least once a week, but he isn't—it happens now like it happened then, and in a screwed up sick way it's even worse without the agony that came with the real thing, because like this he can watch the whole damn thing happen again without being preoccupied with dying.
He makes a choked, gurgling sound, thick with tears and nausea, and tries to back away, but stepping away from one mirror only brings him closer to another.
There's no escape this time, either.
When he stumbles backwards into a hanging shard of mirror and turns to see himself in that too, he shrieks.]
SSSTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPP!
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She doesn't precisely run when she hears the shriek but she traces her steps towards it carefully, doing her level best to look at none of the shards on the ground or littering the walls. If she does she knows what she'll see, simple replays of her own folly or confusion she can't quite understand.
It's a difficult task and in the end when she does reach where she thinks the shriek came from she might be more in the doorway of a room than in the room itself when she speaks.]
Don't look at them.
[She firm about it, if her voice can be heard over his. Firm and insistent.]
Looking in any of the mirrors will only show you more. So don't look.
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I know, he wants to say, but he can't manage it the way it plays out in his head. He doesn't even start to get words out; he just gasps. But he hears her, and at least that's something outside of himself, which is both comforting and horrifying.
Someone is here seeing this. That's so messed up—!
But that's something for his mind to latch onto that isn't the scene playing out before him, and so it breaks him out of the spell he's held under. His hands come up to cover his face first, following her instructions on pure instinct. Don't look, don't look; of course she's right. Stop looking! His palms touch his face and feel damp, and for a second he assumes it's blood pouring out of his eyes, but of course it isn't, of course he's just crying like an idiot, here in front of this girl . . .
He shudders, bending a little at the waist and trying to take deep breaths into his hands. But at least he's not looking anymore. Slowly, reality begins to seep back into him and ground him again, the horror of the memory ebbing gradually away until it's—no less horrific, but at least a memory again. Not reality. Right now, anyway.]
Shhh. Shit, I . . . don't . . .
[He cuts off with a choked swallow. Don't look at me either!]
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The first instinct is to perhaps comfort him in the way her Elder's had done for her after the death of her grandfather or after Princess Yase's collapse. That had all been directed at her though and she herself had never had to direct such words at another before. She stands awkwardly in place for a moment, simply watching him so bent over and feeling thoroughly useless herself.
Then she looks away pointedly. She doesn't know him well enough to say how best to comfort him and it strikes her as somehow humiliating for someone who is by all accounts little more than an acquaintance to see someone like this. Would she feel bad to be seen at her weakest? She thinks of Chitose's aid during her fight with the bandit and the helplessness she felt afterward. None of it was blamed on Chitose of course but still...
She doesn't want to leave him though. It's too easy to fall back into the memories when left alone. So she takes easy and soft footsteps over the shards of glass as she walks further in.]
I'm not watching but I'm still here. When you feel prepared, let's find a way out together.
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Of course that changed as she stepped into another room twinkling with broken shattered glass, stopping on the edge as she watches...an execution? She doesn't know what to think as she stands back and watches the way the cold metal claps tightly on Leon's neck, the way his body's dragged like rag doll down a hallway and she cringes suddenly, eyes averting as the onslaught begins.
What a horrible thing to happen. The shriek is what gets her to act and even when she glances at the mirror and spots someone familiar looking back at her she grabs onto the boy's wrist firmly to get him to look away.]
Hey, look at me! [It's better for him to face her than what's still playing out behind them in full stereo.] I'm right here with you. ["Please look away."]
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Dammit, how stupid, he thinks, but it's like a whisper in the back of his head compared to the shout it usually is when he fucking embarrasses himself in front of someone. There are some things that social mortification just can't stand up to. Reality filters into his head like maple syrup moving through cheesecloth or something, slow and thick and dense, one thought after the other:
It's that girl from before. She's here. I'm seeing things. I'm here in the colony . . .
His embarrassment wars with his relief for another, quicker moment, but eventually he turns his wrist in hers so he can grab onto her wrist too. Screw being humiliated. That'll come in a few minutes. Right now, it's all he can do to focus on being alive.]
—I'mmm, I'm, here. I . . .
[The slow drift back down to reality isn't the best for his verbal skills.]
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Why couldn't she do the same for someone who absolutely needs it? So no. She's not thinking about how this might be embarrassing for him and she's not thinking about the fact that Leon's fumbling again. This time she doesn't laugh though. This time she allows his wrist to rotate so he can hold on and give himself an anchoring point as she takes his other hand in hers.]
Come on, we need to go. Can you walk? Can you follow me? [She's cringing a little at the sound of the baseballs hitting flesh while it echoes in the mirror, but she can't let it get to her, too.]
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Still. His instinct to act is, perhaps surprisingly, quicker than his instinct to judge. So he just grabs Leon's arm tightly, trying to drag him out of the room. ]
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When his arm is grabbed onto, he automatically jerks at it with a sharp cry, but not quite hard enough to break Togami's grip. And then, in the next moment, he just goes along with it. He's not with it enough to fight. He doesn't want to fight to stay here. But he's not even thinking clearly enough to realize that—rather, right now, reliving his death in this detail, he can barely conceptualize himself as having will, power—a life, anything to preserve—
He doesn't even realize it's Togami for a long few moments as he lets himself be dragged away, gasping and pressing his free hand hard to his face. Like he's instinctively trying to hold back everything that could come out of it right now.]
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Ugh. Leon is an utter wreck right now. Togami was fine with sparing him from further torment, but hopefully he won't be expected to be comforting or anything... ]
Kuwata. Are you aware of your surroundings?
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[ Inaba's voice is loud, harsh and cold - it's clear that she's trying to catch his attention, even as she hears him screaming and even sees the flicker of a memory, of "herself" being somebody else. Of being anyone besides "herself", while looking at the person who was "Inaba Himeko", someone who wasn't her.
That crap doesn't matter, not compared to... ]
If you're freaking out like that, you're letting Monokuma win, you know that? [ Wait, how does she know that name??? ] You're also letting CERES win, so stop being a dumbass and just stop looking at the mirrors. Or do I have to drag you out because I will.
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But it doesn't, just blurring with tears instead, and what comes out of his mouth is actually:]
What?! Whaaaa . . . what . . . ?
[Not the most eloquent he's ever been, but a part of him is surprised he even managed words, and isn't entirely sure they even came from his own lips. It feels like he's somewhere else.]
Inaba—?
[But there's one thing: he's looking at her now, not the mirrors. All at once, it feels like he's standing in a room with a girl he knows, not strung up to a pole—the drop back into reality comes to him slowly, but surely.
He hasn't even managed to parse yet that she said Monokuma's name, but the knowledge is there waiting, in the back of his head.]
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[ She sighs in relief as she places her hands on her hips, relaxing a bit. It's been a few long days, that's for sure. ]
Sorry that had to be in full view for people to see, though.
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She turns to Leon as he stumbles backwards, mirrors swaying and showing him the grisly memories. And her first thought, is a surprising "who cares", her feathered mask still hanging from her hand. But she hasn't worn it and the horrible thought is quickly quashed: 'I care.'
And like that, she is immediately close, taking his hand and trying to pull him away.]
Do not look.
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[He whips around to face her, eyes huge and wet. Right now . . . having someone take his hand is as alien to him as if, under ordinary circumstances, someone suddenly walked up to him and took their own face off like a mask. It's so shocking that someone else is here and engaging in a normal, tender activity like touching him that for a few beats, he can't react more than that: he only stares dumbly, lips parted in disbelief.
That's right; he's in a building with mirrors. He's standing here. He's alive—well, that's debatable, but here in the colony, he's alive.
He even knows this person, the memory filtering into his head slowly through the fog of the lingering trauma. Leon's throat works, and he tries to blink tears out of his eyes, still too confused and numb to be embarrassed about the fact that he's crying in front of a girl.]
I'm—I won't—
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It will be all right.
[He looks confused and she gives his hands a squeeze, her tone soothing as she repeats her words.]
It will be okay. [And if not, she'd do everything in her power to make it so.]
Can you walk? I will help you if you cannot. You should not stay in here. [And in the mirror behind her, an old priest shows a young Veronica a small, cold bundle. The fox that she had not been allowed to save, which she thought of every time anyone was in need of help.]
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he stops dead at the entrance to the building, though. ]
U-um -- you need to get out of there!
[ even if he shouts it, it's still a fairly meager attempt at snapping leon out of his panic.
he's not even sure if this stranger will hear him, if he's in too much distress. but frankly, lop dearly doesn't want to have to look at those mirrors if he can avoid it; he can if he has to, but it's so hard to bring himself to set foot in there until he has no other choice. ]
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He gets a look at who's addressing him, and his expression crumples into confusion, tinged with desperation and anxiety.
What the hell is happening here?!]
—Huh?!
[Is all he manages, and it doesn't even feel like it comes from his own lips. He hears it echo off the walls before he realizes he spoke at all. And he doesn't move, yet, but at least now he's looking at this, this person, rather than at the mirrors. (But they're still there, fighting for attention out of the corner of his eye.)]
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[ it's said more sharply this time as soon as leon's eyes look like they might wander; even from this distance, lop can clearly see the way leon's expression strain, his body fighting to glance at the mirrors, and lop repeats firmly, ]
Please don't look at the mirrors.
Can you come this way?
[ an anxious, forced exhale before he steps slightly forward. there's the awful temptation to look at the mirrors, his gaze naturally drawn towards that movement, but lop forces himself to resist. if he keep this stranger's gaze, maybe they can be led out of there, to safety. ]
Please just look here, towards the exit, while you walk forward. It'll be best not to look around.
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in one corner of the room, she throws up.
she'll be with you shortly. ]
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His lips frown against his hand, eyebrows knitting as he tries to figure out where it could be coming from. He's so not with it that he doesn't even think to turn and look around the room to see. The idea that it's a second person doesn't make it through to his mind. Had it happened in the memory? He doesn't remember, and he doesn't want to look. Had one of his classmates . . . ?
Well, if they had, he was probably dead for it.]
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[ It's a piece of blue and white cloth torn from dangerously unsuitable pyjamas, faded and dusty but otherwise clean.
In perhaps her most passably helpful move in all four days of this hell, Rapunzel steps back after the offering is made and retreats to a darker corner of the mirrored room where each angled corner of glass comes to a centre point. Light scatters her image over the mirrors, papering wide green eyes over Leon's blue ones. Her head drops slowly to one side as she stares at him with absolutely no trace of emotion whatsoever. It's an uncanny imitation of the feather-printed mask still hanging at her hip despite the fractures in its surface.
Also there's blood on her cheek??
After reflecting her hair and vacant eyes, the surrounding surfaces begin to show a fuzzy combination of light and swirling shapes: nauseating and overwhelming, but made largely of impressions - feelings and sounds, nothing more. Her most traumatic memory is incomplete even here, but for a brief moment it's overpowering his own.
She smiles blankly. ]
Don't be afraid, Leon. [ Recalling his name from the network a few days ago, but only barely. ] None of this is real.
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This is a dream.
That's the only explanation, right? He's had these nightmares dozens of times since coming here. Maybe he'd been hit in the head by a bit of rubble after all; maybe he's passed out somewhere in one of the less stable buildings, dreaming this dream all over again. As the images of his own past fade away into images of—that girl, the cutie from the network, Ra, it has a zuh, foreign names are so hard—
And all of those swirls of light, enough to turn his stomach all over again if he looks right at them, but he doesn't. He's staring at her and how wrong she is with that look on her face, even if the words coming out of her mouth are right. None of this is real. Don't be afraid.
His gut clenches with anxiety at the sight of her, which is a step up from how it felt a moment ago. Why is she—
He glances down again at the cloth in his hand, then takes a few unsteady steps towards her.]
. . . Hey, your face.
[Is this part real? When does he wake up? When does the real part begin? Was even the falling down into this fucked up landscape real? (And it goes back, and back, and back, the same things he's wondered since he got here months ago: if Cerealia is virtual reality, was Hope's Peak real? Was his own death real? Was Maizono's death real? How long has he been plugged in, or asleep?)
He lifts the cloth in his hand, demonstratively. Let me wipe that off for you.]
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I think you're going to have to try a higher pitch if you want to break the mirrors.
[That's not helpful, Nice.]
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This can't really be happening. Can it? There's no way that right now, Leon's being tormented by sickening images from the past playing back at him from every corner of this bizarre, hellish room, only for this guy to just stroll in and—what? Just make some comment like that, like nothing's happening?! He has no capacity to handle this being reality; it's like he reaches down inside himself for a reaction to have and comes up empty-handed. In the background he can still hear the dull, fading thumps of baseballs hitting flesh, just barely winning out over the buzzing in his ears. Nice's words sound like they're traveling to his ears through fifty feet of water.
He stares dumbly and blankly for a few long moments, eyes and cheeks wet, face colored with patches of pink and pale, shocked white.
. . . Then his expression tenses, and he begins crunching his way through broken glass right towards Nice.]
What'd you say?!
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