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Taisho Roman Revolution
[ Everything fades to black...and you awaken in an opera house.
You're wearing servant uniforms, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME% in the year %CONTEMPORARY%+1. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing the results of a recent attempt at revolt in a city in %COUNTRYNAME%: worker’s success at managing a nearby gold mine led to dreams of every man being a king - the revolutionaries may have been successful had it not been for a concurrent jailbreak and mass slaughter putting local authorities on alert, buying time for military intervention - the town was nearly levelled to the ground, with few survivors.
But you seem to remember - you survived, didn’t you?
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh.
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
You're wearing servant uniforms, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME% in the year %CONTEMPORARY%+1. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing the results of a recent attempt at revolt in a city in %COUNTRYNAME%: worker’s success at managing a nearby gold mine led to dreams of every man being a king - the revolutionaries may have been successful had it not been for a concurrent jailbreak and mass slaughter putting local authorities on alert, buying time for military intervention - the town was nearly levelled to the ground, with few survivors.
But you seem to remember - you survived, didn’t you?
...Also, below the main headline about the failed revolution, there's something about Those Who Crave Hands? Huh.
Anyways, you've got marketing to do! ]
Valour
no subject
straight into the trash bin. And along with you falls a shimmering orb which explodes into a beautiful cloud of glitter after making contact with one of the other bits of rubbish. It doesn’t seem that bad at first - maybe a little itchy, but it’s not the worst that could’ve happened.
And so you’re there for a few hours. And minute by minute it grows worse, more intense. But it’s slow and building and honestly almost maddening - and worst of all, you don’t notice when you start idly scratching at your skin. But as time goes on it becomes absolutely unbearable, and eventually - ah, it feels like you need to tear all of this off, doesn’t it? Your clothes, your skin, your flesh - anything to make it stop! Skin flakes under your fingernails as you claw at yourself, tearing your own body apart. And yet - it still doesn’t stop. The itching doesn’t stop at all. Your blood, by this point, is flowing freely, and the only mercy you receive is that eventually you’ll pass out from the blood loss.
But at least once you’re back with the rest of your unit, you’re all sewn back together again - the itching is still present, just barely below “unbearable”, but at least your skin seals back up a bit. That’s nice, isn’t it? Another chance to be worth something! ]