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future is now
[ You spill out of the elevator into the library—the elevator is gone when you look back.
In the library shelves form labyrinth corridors of books, between which are heaped precarious piles of paperbacks. Leather wing-back chairs provide privacy around the crackling fireplace at the back—if someone was sitting in one, you'd never be able to tell until you circled the full way around to the front to see. Expensive looking paintings line the walls, and you'd expect the shelves to be laden with rare editions. However, there's hardly any hardbacks at all, most everything is cheap spy novels and erotica. No accounting for taste, really.
The library has been disturbed though—something is missing from it. Through the books, through the stacks, notes have been removed, pages torn out. Aching wells up in your throat, the raw urge to scream, to exclaim some truth about the knowledge missing but it's just not there. Your mind has been scrubbed clean just like these shelves have, of whatever truth you can't recall—though, that's for the better, isn't it? Better not to know, than to meet that fate again comes the thought twinned with another one: how dare they bury your knowledge from you. You feel this distantly, in some distant and uncertain corner of your mind—but you probably don't want to linger too long on the thought that you have more materials around than they did. If you lose your sanity, or are damaged too far, though, it will overwhelm you.
A book sits open on the counter, not all the pages torn out: some are empty, and a scant few are filled out with deductions.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the sanity goal (explore rooms) and your traitor goal (accuse your victim of their crimes with recorded evidence before killing them) as well as the item that you've been given (book). 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. ]
In the library shelves form labyrinth corridors of books, between which are heaped precarious piles of paperbacks. Leather wing-back chairs provide privacy around the crackling fireplace at the back—if someone was sitting in one, you'd never be able to tell until you circled the full way around to the front to see. Expensive looking paintings line the walls, and you'd expect the shelves to be laden with rare editions. However, there's hardly any hardbacks at all, most everything is cheap spy novels and erotica. No accounting for taste, really.
The library has been disturbed though—something is missing from it. Through the books, through the stacks, notes have been removed, pages torn out. Aching wells up in your throat, the raw urge to scream, to exclaim some truth about the knowledge missing but it's just not there. Your mind has been scrubbed clean just like these shelves have, of whatever truth you can't recall—though, that's for the better, isn't it? Better not to know, than to meet that fate again comes the thought twinned with another one: how dare they bury your knowledge from you. You feel this distantly, in some distant and uncertain corner of your mind—but you probably don't want to linger too long on the thought that you have more materials around than they did. If you lose your sanity, or are damaged too far, though, it will overwhelm you.
A book sits open on the counter, not all the pages torn out: some are empty, and a scant few are filled out with deductions.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the sanity goal (explore rooms) and your traitor goal (accuse your victim of their crimes with recorded evidence before killing them) as well as the item that you've been given (book). 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. ]
no subject
Wait, why do you get weapons and all I get is a book?
no subject
... Ah, yes. [He needs to explain.]
A lot of idols, including myself, have had to play this game for multiple rounds. We do keep our belongings between rounds, though.
no subject
Multiple rounds? But I just got here. That's not fair!
no subject
[Then he seems to get an idea.] But I do remember finding an armory the last time I went through. Perhaps you would like to stop by there and search for a weapon of your own?
no subject
An armory? That's a great idea! It's important to arm ourselves as soon as possible.
Not that I could take down anyone in our way. We'll pave a way to victory!
no subject
[He turns... And pauses just short of the door.]
Oh. And a word of warning. A couple of idols have managed to turn traitor in the previous rounds, and quite a few of them are armed. I'll try to fend off anyone who makes an attempt on our lives, but tread carefully and trust no one.
no subject
So they've snapped under pressure, huh? That just means they're weak. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to us.
Only victory awaits us. .that's the only outcome for me. [PATS HIS BACK]
no subject
[Bold to assume Medusa is sane, that is.]
Right then. Lead the way out. I'll guide you from there.
no subject
let's get going south!]
no subject