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Betrayal 3: sensitIV
[ You spill out of the elevator into the Photoshoot Studio—the elevator is gone when you look back.
It's a huge room, and… so white it practically feels prismatic and glowing, from wall to wall, with a large drape of backdrop covering one end of the room to make it as formless and featureless as possible. A sea of endless possibility… or maybe a discomfiting void. But here, you can be anyone a photographer cares to dress you up as. A rack of rental costumes sits behind the camera, out of sight but key to putting together the illusion. Sequins and beads glitter under the bright light, like they’re so ready to be photographed that the flash bulbs of cameras are already going off.
There's a small vanity area with makeup—both conventional and with some exciting options, like full metallic body paint—and a mirror, for getting ready for your close-up. And as you walk around, the lighting rigs across the ceiling seem to… follow you? It's no surprise, right? After all, you're the star of the show while you're here, and everything in this room seems to focus on you.
You almost expect the white here to be spattered with red, and your clothes as well—like when your friend turned to you, with a strange expression, axe in their hand. They smiled a terrible, wrong smile, and said to hold still, as you backed up, arms raised, looking for some means of escape, something to help you. And then, the solid thing your hand found purchase on, in your time of need—
It's in the script someone's written for you, in your hand. Now, you have your own history, your own words and you can give those to the audience instead. But enough pain, enough destabilization, and you don't know if you'll want to keep sharing. They've set the stage for someone else, given you a prop, and you feel that. Reality isn't wanted here—no, you need to be larger than life, in this place, to not be devoured by the narrative, reduced to an extra. The script whispers for you to lock that troublesome self away, and try on this new role for size, and you'll be a star.
...but there's no point in casting a top-tier idol like you if you can't put your own spin on it, of course. At the bottom of the script, there's a note someone's written with a smiley-face: "just ad-lib, you're gonna be great :)"
A friendship bracelet hangs loosely from your wrist.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the basic goal (explore the rooms of the casino) as well as the item that you've been given (Friendship Bracelet). Only once you leave your starting room does your phone update to display your role's traitor goal (to kill someone who attacks you first). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is an exit to the South. ]
It's a huge room, and… so white it practically feels prismatic and glowing, from wall to wall, with a large drape of backdrop covering one end of the room to make it as formless and featureless as possible. A sea of endless possibility… or maybe a discomfiting void. But here, you can be anyone a photographer cares to dress you up as. A rack of rental costumes sits behind the camera, out of sight but key to putting together the illusion. Sequins and beads glitter under the bright light, like they’re so ready to be photographed that the flash bulbs of cameras are already going off.
There's a small vanity area with makeup—both conventional and with some exciting options, like full metallic body paint—and a mirror, for getting ready for your close-up. And as you walk around, the lighting rigs across the ceiling seem to… follow you? It's no surprise, right? After all, you're the star of the show while you're here, and everything in this room seems to focus on you.
You almost expect the white here to be spattered with red, and your clothes as well—like when your friend turned to you, with a strange expression, axe in their hand. They smiled a terrible, wrong smile, and said to hold still, as you backed up, arms raised, looking for some means of escape, something to help you. And then, the solid thing your hand found purchase on, in your time of need—
It's in the script someone's written for you, in your hand. Now, you have your own history, your own words and you can give those to the audience instead. But enough pain, enough destabilization, and you don't know if you'll want to keep sharing. They've set the stage for someone else, given you a prop, and you feel that. Reality isn't wanted here—no, you need to be larger than life, in this place, to not be devoured by the narrative, reduced to an extra. The script whispers for you to lock that troublesome self away, and try on this new role for size, and you'll be a star.
...but there's no point in casting a top-tier idol like you if you can't put your own spin on it, of course. At the bottom of the script, there's a note someone's written with a smiley-face: "just ad-lib, you're gonna be great :)"
A friendship bracelet hangs loosely from your wrist.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the basic goal (explore the rooms of the casino) as well as the item that you've been given (Friendship Bracelet). Only once you leave your starting room does your phone update to display your role's traitor goal (to kill someone who attacks you first). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is an exit to the South. ]
Re: SESSION 13 DISCUSSION
. . . . If only we could sleep the game away.
[ He's still covered in the same blood from before. ]
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That would be convenient, wouldn't it?
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[ He's still feeling progressively worse on the sick front but getting up to go check on him. ]
Are you alright?
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[He's just. A crazy twice-dead fuck who's gonna pick up Noah and squash him in front of everyone.]
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. . . We are altogether right now. No matter what this place throws at us, we will do our best and overcome it together somehow.
I am glad that you are as alright as you could be in the moment.
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[well about that...]
Unfortunately, I have an agenda, so I won't be staying.
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[Sometimes you die really really mad and your crazy manifests as "weh weh this is all their fault and I have to stop them!!"]
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[ Checking him over for injures... I guess I see below that he has blood! ]
What happened??
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[but reaching to pet levi.]
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I am sorry that I was unable to protect you.
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[ Who was responsible for killing them? ]
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Thancred and I shall deal with it.
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[ Frowns. ]
But I hope you know that the rest of us are here for you.
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[ He sighs sadly. ]
When I was in the prop room, Miss Ao and Dante's brother cornered me so that I was unable to leave.
[ Sorry, he failed everyone that round :( ]
They are very traitorous, it appears.
Re: SESSION 13 DISCUSSION
That—that's just wholly unnecessary. Just why did they have to kill you!?
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[ He shakes his head. ]
I've always just wanted to spend my time in good company with you and everyone else, so it... feels like a very upsetting blow.
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We'll stay together—alright?
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Ah-- I do not want you to get sick again.
[ But returning it. ]
Mm. I know that Noah and Thranced wish to leave together. But it would be good if you, myself, and Susanoo were able to continue on.
[ A glance at Susanoo, coughing into his sleeve. ]
I am worried about him.
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