idolpro | Lucifel's Ideal World v.Mom

Entry tags:

!ideal world

Lucifel's Ideal World v.Mom

—The world is ugly, he once declared.

Chaos is inevitable in this world. Pure good can’t be achieved, and pure evil breaks down. And these two extremes are always incompatible with each other. There is still some evil in a good world. That is how the world is, and it is what continues to create ugly things. Evil sneers at good, and good rages over evil. But, in a world where good and evil oppose each other, there is a group that is far more numerous that always appears.

That is ‘grey’. Neither good nor evil. A group that drifts through life haphazardly and merely exists. They don’t believe in goodness and are simply proud that they aren’t evil. Even though they affirm evil acts, they deny evil intentions. They happily say that ‘I am not evil, I am a good person’ and pardon all forms of cruelty.

They kill people while sneering. They kill people out of contempt. They kill people as part of a game. They use the excuse that they can’t restrain their desires—That’s how humans are. That’s how the world is.

Yes—this world is extremely ugly. Neither dyed by good nor fallen into evil. Unable to decide on a color, the wills of people continue to waver. As long as such evil intentions and such foul-smelling corpses aren’t destroyed.

The world will surely continue to rot eternally.

While wrapped within a curse-like fog in darkness frozen to its core.

He thus concluded.

Powers are off.
Corruptions are off.
Carry-on Weapons are not available.
Other carry-on items are available.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Your phone is no longer able to be accessed beyond the instructions, which hold the following: ]

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

Convince Lucifel to leave his ideal world, make him lose all of his WILL, or corrupt the world, making it no longer ideal.
Do not dawdle. The world is against you, regardless of how things might appear.
Your greatest opponent will be Lucifel himself.
The War has already begun.

[ Scroll farther down and you'll find one more instruction, or rather, a choice: ]

CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON:
Knights
Cavalry

[ She lingers for a good five minutes over the choice.
Is this the weapon she wields by her own hand, or what she would have as her army? Cavalry triumphs over footsoldiers, but she herself is a knight.

Maybe that means it is the more honest choice. If it is for Lucifel, she ought to be the most herself she can be. ]

> Knights

[ Upon selection, a white-and-blue light blooms in front of you, producing a handful of cards. There are nine: ]

[ —? ]

[ No—it seems you're granted twelve cards from the white-and-blue light: ]

[ Your phone reflects further instructions, and behind every card you can see a description. ]

[ . . . ]

[ It seems the very last card is stuck to another card; the light that fades from this card is black-and-purple. ]

[ This card feels different from the others, somehow. You know, instinctively, that you may only use this card once. ]

[ You open your eyes. ]

[ Upon selection, the options disappear, leaving behind the following cards and supplementary information: ]

Welcome to this humble dream.

In this dream, violence and death is prohibited. All altercations are instead handled through the following system:
You are granted 5 WILL and 9 cards to use in battle, with each card used once per battle. One card is used per turn, per player.
Your cards are determined by your choice: Knights or Cavalry. You receive three of each class, one of each color within that class.
Every card played is tied to WILL. You may only play as many cards as you have WILL.

Determine who takes the first turn. Those with higher WILL go first automatically. If there is a tie, the person that goes first is determined by a coin flip.
The first shall declare battle with their card. WILL is associated with this card.
The second shall declare battle with their card. WILL is associated with this card.
Should the second card overpower the first, the first player loses the WILL associated with their card.
Should the first card overpower the second card, WILL is not lost on either side, and becomes Standing WILL.
Standing WILL is left on the field until returned via later ties or other means.
Should both cards tie, both sides lose the WILL associated with their card. The field is wiped clean of all previous cards, and any Standing WILL on the field is returned to the players to be re-used during this battle. However, cards cannot be reused in the same battle.
Exact matches in class will be determined by color. Exact matches in color are declared to be ties.

The first player shall declare reinforcements. Should their card overpower the second player's starting card, the second player loses the WILL associated with their card.
The second player shall declare reinforcements. Should their card overpower the first player's reinforcements, the first player loses the WILL associated with their card.

The battle continues until:
Either side forfeits—forfeiting may be done at any time.
When one side loses all playable WILL.
When one side has used all playable cards.

When a battle is ended by forfeit:
All Lost WILL is exchanged with the opponent on both sides.
Standing WILL is returned to their original owners.
The person who has the highest WILL after exchanges and returns is the winner of the battle, regardless of who forfeits.

When the battle is ended otherwise:
No Lost WILL is returned or exchanged. It is lost, and denizens must recover their WILL.
Standing WILL is returned to their original owners.
The person who has the highest WILL after returns is the winner of the battle.

When all WILL is lost:
You will succumb to the world.
However, there is nothing to be afraid of. In loss, there is something to be gained.

Knights vs Knights:
SABER beats LANCER.
LANCER beats ARCHER.
ARCHER beats SABER.

Cavalry vs Cavalry:
CASTER beats ASSASSIN.
ASSASSIN beats RIDER.
RIDER beats CASTER.

Knights vs Cavalry:
RED beats BLUE.
BLUE beats GREEN.
GREEN beats RED.
Please, by all means, enjoy your time and sleep well. I look forward to seeing you.

[ On the back of each card is a short descriptor of their card; SABER cards will have the SABER description, etc. ]

Knights
SABER: Those who do battle using swords. This card is weak to ARCHER but strong to LANCER.
ARCHER: Those who do battle using projectiles. This card is weak to LANCER but is strong to SABER.
LANCER: Those who do battle using polearms. This card is weak to SABER but is strong to ARCHER.

Cavalry
CASTER: Those who do battle using magic. This card is weak to RIDER but is strong to ASSASSIN.
RIDER: Those who do battle on a mount. This card is weak to ASSASSIN but is strong to CASTER.
ASSASSIN: Those who do battle in the shadows. This card is weak to CASTER but is strong to RIDER.

█̸̻̘̼̟͓̆█̷̢̞̣̺̮͙̗̲̫̱̝̭̞͔͉̺͇̎͂̉̋̀̈́̾̈́͒̒̌͂̀̄͒̆̆̀̎̒̕͝█̷̢̦͖̫̯̹̜̟̳̻͉̉͗͐̿͑͊͛̈́̈█̸̡̣͇̤̝̟̰̺̘̓̏͝█̴̡͈͙̠̤̥͙̱̦͎͍͔͉̜͔̰̝̩̐̍̈́͑̿̅̏̈̐̋̃̈́͊̍̽͂̔̆͜
BERSERKER: Those who lose their minds to battle. This card collects all WILL left on the field, but will always lose to the card succeeding it. Do not use outside of battle.
RULER: Those who preside over battle. This card will always tie with the succeeding card, save for one exception.

[ Well that's just not realistic.
The lance will beat the sword in close combat every time! And of course an archer can defeat either, or be defeated by either, depending on who has the advantage of the first attack. Likewise with the assassin. If anything, the archer would be weak to the sorcerer, would they not? And mounted warrior defeats those without mounts, except for those that might attack her at range.

Lucifel, her immersion is ruined. ]

—You could not think of yourself as anything more than ugly.

In human terms, you were aware—by sole virtue of your likeness to your brother alone, and by sole virtue of the praises you were given—you were aware, yes, that this appearance was acceptable. Even with your scars and your marks, your blemished skin, some would even go so far as to call you beautiful—

But you could not say the same for yourself. Beyond what was skin-deep, beyond your outer appearance, you could feel with disgust the blood that coursed through your veins; the faint, unpleasant pulse against your forehead and the back of your skull; skin touching skin, thin packaging for the flesh and meat underneath; the strain of your eyes; the beat of your heart, thudding so loudly you could hear it behind your ears; your lungs as they pumped desperately; the beads of sweat on your brow that only grew with the pain; your throat and lips parched, a terrible reminder of the single need your body still has left. You still remember the lesser need—you still remember how your stomach twisted and craved, how the offending organ threatened to eat itself alive if you didn't find sustenance, how your traitorous mouth would grow moist to the thought of entertaining the demands of your greedy body just for a few hours of peace only to start all over again before the sun even made much headway through the sky. That hateful need, that base instinct—if you never had to consume another thing besides air and pure water again in your lifetime it would still be too soon.

In this cage that you so deeply resented, of course you could not stand to endure another humiliation. If only it was painful—then perhaps you could grin and bear it, but this was no injury; it was only insult. The white, white wings that sprouted from your back—you did not need to be told its likeness resembled the silhouettes of the heavenly messengers; your silhouette reminded you just fine—they weighed heavy on you, yet beyond the initial growth which you hardly remember there was yet to be very much pain whatsoever.

If it were painful, then you could say, "This is painful," and be understood; but it was not, and you could not. The pain was in your heart, in your sense of self; you could never call this body beautiful, nor could you ever understand this body to be anything beyond ugly, but now it was, to you, grotesque—and more than anything, you knew. Not one person would understand.

When you returned you spent a long time in front of the mirror, dragging your fingers through to pluck and tear—not pointlessly, of course.

You only needed enough to grip, so that when you took the sword to your back, you could have a better handle on the invading appendages—so that you could hold them properly when the blade went down.

[ When you open your eyes, you find yourself floating in a sea of nothingness. To call it a pitch-black void would be ignorant of the fact that you can see yourself, as though your body produced its own light—yet, despite your surprising visibility, you'll find yourself lacking in color, as though someone ran you through Grayscale.

You only need to wish for it—then you may leave this void.

What do you think of?

A place of comfort?

A place of familiarity?

Somewhere, anywhere, far away from this place? ]

[ What she wants is to find her children.
Is that comfort or familiarity? ]

[ Neither.

It would be purpose. ]

[ You stand at a white-capped hill with a bright light. Something is at the top, there—something with purpose. Something that would grant you purpose.

As you climb to the top of the hill, you realize—it is not snow that caps the land here, but rather, an impossibly large field of white flowers. There are hundreds here—no, surely thousands—and as you step through, you see the flowers spring back up as though they were never stepped on at all. These flowers are varied for the most part in terms of species—poppies and daisies are plentiful, as are anemones—but the lion's share of flowers are the roses. ]

[ Yes, this is what she was looking for.

This long on LiliS, and she cannot but stop to consider the blossoms as she passes among them. White roses were for innocence in flower language, weren't they?

But if the top of the hill is where Purpose is, then that is where she will go. ]

[ At the very peak of the mountain, you find yourself stepping into wet, red mud, the scent of metal spoiling the floral scent.

The mud seems to correlate with the flowers that presided this area—not white flowers, but red. Spider lilies, all of them—or perhaps not. The very border of the divide between red and white flower seems to be moving, white flowers overtaking the red as you can see the lily petals fold in on themselves, only to reopen as white roses. ]

[ At the epicenter of the red flowers, at the zenith of this hill, the source of bright light is more clearly visible now: it comes from a strangely, almost completely spherical rock—it's huge, big enough to be a second story building. Though it certainly looks like it's made of rock, there's a distinct feeling that it's quite alive: it does not have any cracks to speak of, save for the cave-like opening in the front, but with each layer of rock is a little bit of light that peeks out, the layers themselves shaped like dozens and dozens of wings that have folded on top of each other and fossilized, just like that. ]

[ ...The scent of metal? As in the scent of blood, soaking the soil? If so, she would recognize it anywhere.

Also, she's not so poor at poetry to avoid noticing the significance of white roses erasing her son's image flower. Before she finishes the approach to the rock...... can she pluck a spider lily before it becomes a rose? ]

[ It's definitely blood.

And she can, though upon doing so she'll find there's blood where her fingers come into contact with the spider lily; moreover, it seems that doesn't deter a white rose from blooming in its place.

She will notice, however—incidental to the plucking, if she stands in one spot long enough it'll feel as though there's something liquid beginning to pool at her feet, thick and metal-scented. ]

[ ...Ah well. All the better that she claimed this lily before it disappeared, in that case. She weaves the stem into her braid for safe keeping.

She lets herself stand in place a little longer, though: long enough to gently touch her fingers to the pooling blood. ]

[ The blood seems drawn to her, the pool seeming to grow more quickly as though pulled from the rest of the flowers' roots; like this, she can see the border of lycoris to rose: as the blood pulls, leaving a red flower, it transforms into a white one.

At the same time, she can hear—it's as though the blood itself were speaking to her.

—Let him rest. He's been through so much. It's been so long since he's had a pleasant dream. ]

PHONE INSTRUCTIONS & CARDS

GAME INSTRUCTIONS

Re: GAME INSTRUCTIONS

1/2

Re: GAME INSTRUCTIONS

WORLD INSTRUCTIONS

CARD ENCYCLOPEDIA

Re: CARD ENCYCLOPEDIA

『』 (body dysphoria, self-harm/feather plucking, eating disorder/saliva in blacked-out text)

Re: 『』 (body dysphoria, self-harm/feather plucking, eating disorder/saliva in blacked-out text)

Re: 『』 (body dysphoria, self-harm/feather plucking, eating disorder/saliva in blacked-out text)

『Heaven's Grass』

Re: 『Heaven's Grass』

Re: 『Heaven's Grass』

Re: 『Heaven's Grass』

Re: 『Heaven's Grass』

Re: 『Heaven's Grass』

Re: 『Heaven's Grass』

『A Place of (Un)Familiarity』

Re: 『A Place of (Un)Familiarity』

Re: 『A Place of (Un)Familiarity』

Re: 『A Place of (Un)Familiarity』

Re: 『A Place of (Un)Familiarity』

2/2 whoops 『A Place of (Un)Familiarity』

Re: 2/2 whoops 『A Place of (Un)Familiarity』