pep!pep!

[idolpro]

[ You spill out of the elevator into the nursery— the elevator is gone when you look back.

A nursery doesn't seem like something that should belong in this house. Though it hardly seems to be a nursery, on first sight. The walls are plain, unadorned wood. The desk has an inkwell and a blotter with the handle shaped as a coiled serpent. Inside the desk are ancient papers, rough-cut from a time before mass-production and each perfumed differently: red wine, black musk, myrrh, and attar of rose, with sigils unfamiliar and largely unreadable from stains and blots written out in shaky hand. The room is piled with atlases, scrolls in dead languages that detail nations long fallen, records of people met far in the past, never to be met again. They look well read. The only real sign this is a nursery is the bed— it's too small for an adult.

Time feels so agonizingly slow. Does the cramped space of the nursery tweak your perceptions? Or perhaps the shallow breathing that is starting to overtake you. After all, you don’t have much time left. This is your only chance to prove that their hard work was not lost in vain. You want to prove that you were worth it, didn’t you?

You look upon the works in the room and feel a great sense of despair. Resentment. Disappointment. But if you begin to pick up that job once more, you won’t be able to cross back. If you lose your sanity, or are damaged too far, the sensation will overwhelm you.

A bloodstone sits on the desk.

A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the sanity goal (explore rooms) and your traitor goal (to get a smile or a laugh from your victim before killing them) as well as the item that you've been given (bloodstone). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.

There is one exit: South. ]

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wednesday's child Sanbreak

[idolpro]

[ With that last blow of damage, everything snaps sharply into focus.

That corner of your mind that you weren't touching before, because it wasn't yours, not something of you is no longer held back. You can't be you right now-- you're in too much pain, too much agony. And this thing is clear. Vengeance is sharp and sure, and it tells you the story and what you need to do next:

Sleep deprivation weighs your(their) eyelids down, and your(their) hands are shaking. Still, when the door slides open with an automated hiss behind you(them), you(they) stand. On the desk, your(their) keyboard glows with faint blue light from beneath, and the screen is covered with rows of text-- the fruit of your(their) labor.

You(They) had called on the intercom that you(they) were prepared. This is before deadline, but you(they) are positive this is what you were searching for. All your simulated models have shown the results that you were seeking. Where your siblings failed, one, after the other, after the other, after the other, you have plodded through and grasped in your weak hands. You're smiling, a hint of pride-- you did this. After everything else, your parent's cold faces, it was you.

Your results have already been sent to the central hub, where the rest of the team can examine it. You're not sure why they sent down someone in person, a woman you've never seen before, but the cut of her uniform signs her off as important in a severe line. There is a bloom of red at her waist. She's bleeding, but she doesn't seem to care. There is a gun holstered at her side, and a ceremonial sword on the other. Her hand rests on it, as she reads your conclusion, then turns around. In an instant, it slides out, and rests at your neck.

"Don't struggle. It will do you no good."

You don't struggle, but sit down heavily. Her look remains menacing in its nobility, steeled but not unkind. She sheathes the sword and takes out her pistol instead. The gunshot won't kill instantly-- she is giving you more time. Betrayal is hot at the hit of your stomach, and you hate that noble look, like her reasons and whatever honor she's holding herself to is going to make up for your life being ended. You weren't a failure. You did everything right! You studied. You got the results. If the plan works, it will be only on the back of the foundation you built, and your corpse will be buried outside the door. You are maybe hyperventilating. This is not a small cut. This will be a lot of blood. This will be the end of you.

Now that you are crying, she smiles, and there's the cruelty you knew had to be behind this, behind everything you'd almost had that had slipped through your fingers. "Your parents would have been proud."

The gunshot is your world dyed with pain, fraying, agony punches through your mind like the lead punching through your chest-- physical agony, emotional agony. You succeeded, and yet: you'll never see the faces you sought, your parents all lit up with pride. There will never be any of that for you. The only smile you'll get is this woman's, and she has done her work. This is all you get.

You reach out weakly, and she stands up and crushes your hand beneath her heel as she strides from the room.

The door shuts behind her. Bleeding out takes longer than you'd like.

Sanity break effects: you may continue to play your character as mostly their normal self, but in pursuit of this goal, through whatever justification you prefer.

You may also play it with the vengeful spirit's personality overlaid on your character to some degree: if you choose to play with this, your character may become impatient to the degree of being frantic: everything needs to happen now. If you wait, who knows if you'll get it! There's no time! Characters may be jittery, keyed up as they try to do everything before the end can close in. They may also focus on the aspect of wanting what you want now, which can also translate as a lack of patience or sympathy for others. Frustration at not being rewarded previously can also read into that: you did everything right, so others clearly didn't, and are being rewarded unjustly. Your character may also be seeking approval, that they were unable to find. This can be being needy or over-eager to please, but in a selfish manic way, seeking the reward they get out of it and with murderous rage at being denied. Give me a smile!!! All of these aspects are optional, and may be individually played up or toned down to whatever degree would be fun for you, so long as they ultimately motivate your character to pursue the traitor goal.

Traitors are aware of the full layout of the house, which can be found here. ]