[ The room is BRIGHT YELLOW, as all the rooms you will enter are. Black tiles make up the floor, changing to your unit's color when pressure is placed on them. There is a button in the very center of the room standing on a podium; it's slightly smaller than palm-sized.]
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Hallucinations - Cardigan
But when you stepped on stage you lost control of your limbs: you did not fall, nor did you even slump, but you could feel that your body was no longer yours to own. If you looked up—as far as you could with your head being kept exactly straight—you could see thin wires reaching up to the back of the stage, tugging and pulling to have you move along. You try to fight it, to scream—but you can do nothing. This isn't your body anymore.
The story must be told. Even if you can't move the way you want to, you have a role to play—right? So you have to do the job right. You're sure.
...Even if you can’t help but keep straining against the wires and the razor-tight way they wrap around your joints. They want you to play this part, and you’ll do it—you’ll be flawless, if only they just accept that you know better. That you know best of all. But, just before the climax of the performance, the steel beam above you snaps. You were not meant to move beyond this spot in the play. And all those wires you tried to resist with your meaningless struggle are still tight enough that there is nothing you can do now except watch helplessly, as the beam hits several other beams, and then—
The whole stage collapses.
You wheeze your final breaths, wondering—
Who are you?
Why are you here?
What was the reason for you being born?
What is the reason now, for your death?
Was there ever a reason at all . . . ?
Effects
Physical:
> Unable to control a limb (or two!)
> Wires through your fingertips
> Crushed arm or leg
Non-Physical:
> Temporary amnesia
> Obedience to someone of your choice
> The desire to keep telling stories