Betrayal - WILD CITY

[idolpro]

[ You spill out of the elevator into a room with stale air— the elevator is gone when you look back. The room is circular, and through barred windows you can see far below you the distant lights of the hotel and hospital. Nearer— the lights of a mansion below. The room is comfortable, furry bean-bag chairs, a large wide-screen television. Snacks. A singular shelf full of snack wrappers, that might have lasted someone a week, if that.

You know, with a clawing hunger in your gut, that it did not last them any longer, the person that was here before you. The door outside was deadbolted— and still is— and by the time they managed to get it splintered they were too weak to get down with the wind howling on the roof and wedging the door to the mansion from up here shut. You feel this knowledge vaguely; like something you crammed for on a test and aren't positive of it, it's tentative— you need to reach for it. You probably don't want to. If you lose your sanity, or are damaged too far, though, it will overwhelm you.

A backpack with a skull sits near the exit, and Exael's hologram floats above it, perching on her knees and looking down at you. If you have questions and she's not busy with hosting or another unit, she'll appear here to answer them.

A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the sanity goal (explore rooms) and your traitor goal (commit an act of cannibalism) as well as the item that you've been given (skull). 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. ]

Comments

Whiskers' Sanity Break:

[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:

You (they) didn't last a week; you (they) didn't last more than four days. Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food: this rule of thumb is something you turned over in your head over and over again in desperation and panic alternating determination and anger as you used everything in your power to break the door open, but there's nothing here that could help you, and you wonder if they did that on purpose.

At first, you'd thought they were going to come back for you, weren't they? They weren't. . . . really going to just abandon you here, were they? You're so hungry. This is some kind of test or joke, a poor one to be sure but surely you'd hear the click of the door and they'd open it and explain themself, they'd pet your head and take you back downstairs and they'd love you again. After all, that's the last thing they told you - "I love you." Surely they didn't love you just for this.

Hours went by - you saw the sun set (you're so hungry) then you saw it rise again, and by the end of the next day, after you burned through all the treats that you had (you're still so hungry) the feeling finally sank into your stomach (you're so hungry), deep into the pit of your core: they abandoned you (you're so hungry). This is what they loved you for, in the end - or maybe they never loved you in the first place.

With every pang of hunger your thoughts turn from hopefulness to bitterness and you scrape at the door again and again, throw yourself at the door in panic - you won't let yourself die here at least, that much you promise yourself. Your throat burns all the way to your gut and you feel your lips dry, swallowing is painful by this point and you'd do anything to get out of this, to find relief. When your lip splits and bleeds, you lap up your own blood in desperation, if only you could just do the same to fill the emptiness in your stomach; this thought crosses your mind more than a few times, the revulsion bleeding out with every reflection, until you start to wonder what your flesh might taste like. The blood on your lip taunts you - the taste of copper is just enough to whet your sense of appetite again, just enough to keep your hunger alive, but not enough to quench any thirst of yours.

Between eating yourself and breaking open the door, the latter comes first: the deadbolt is still completely secure but you've splintered the door open and you fall down in a battered and bruised mess. You're finally free, but you're still hungry, so hungry, why did they leave you, why did they leave you? The last thing you remember is the empty hall, killing off your very last hopes of thinking that maybe they were just behind the door and waiting for you to get out of it; they've left you for good. Your spittle gathers against the floor, wetting your cheek, and your eyes fall on your arm. You won't die, you already decided - even if you aren't loved, you won't die.

You bring your arm up, struggling to clamp down - but you're much too feeble by this point. You can hear your own blood pounding through your veins, but you can't tear the skin and open the floodgates; you don't have enough strength to.

The last thing you see before you fade into oblivion is a dream: they are here with you, and you're surrounded by all of your favorite foods. They pet your head and stroke your hair and tell you you've been good, you deserve all of this, and you open up your mouth to start eating - you sink your teeth into them first.

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 more temperamental and impulsive based on their carnal needs - primarily hunger, of course. They may be more overtly needing for attention and praise, both physical and verbal, to the exclusion of the others' comfort - who cares if they want to do something else, when they could be paying attention to you? Your character also may feel possessive and paranoid of being left behind; it's better to stay with you, they should want to stay with you, there's no reason for them to be around if they won't stay with you. These feelings may come coupled with a sense of protectiveness, however only in your character's comfort: this makes you feel good, so it doesn't matter what they want. They won't be hurt, so long as they stay with you - so long as they're in your stomach. 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. ]