Search Results

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|| grasshopper jump ||​

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SAVED!!
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+ PHONE < [it's your phone.]​

+ BAG OF ALMONDS < [you're always hungry.]​

+ SCHOOL TABLET < [trashy useless device. friends keep their porn on it.]​

+ FACE MASK < [so you don't die.]​

+ TAXI TICKET < [need this to get home.] ​

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You stare directly at INGRID.​

Out of the three here, she was the one you knew the least. Always quiet, but something really as strange as the EYES suddenly just ... stopping, well, it crawled under your skin as something nasty too. So maybe she knew things. And maybe she was HIDING things too.​

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Was it time to start a REVOLUTION? You thought so.​

You break your sour gaze at the window and slowly turn to INGRID. Her doll-like features continue to be fixated at the scenes outside; more and more EYES appear to be freezing in mid-air, and it seems to be causing a stir among the pedestrians too.​

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No matter.​

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YOU GAZE INTO INGRID'S EYES ...​

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... And suddenly, you fall asleep, unconscious.​

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...​

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"Wh-what? I-- uh, Simone, look at this! She's fallen asleep again! She really is a narc o ​

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You wake up inside INGRID's PSYCHE.​

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Or what you can see of it right now, anyway. Your stand up upon a cold marble floor, checkered in black and white like a chessboard. You notice a cold black void around you; in fact, it is almost like you seem to be in space, but without stars, galaxies, or anything else. You look up and notice the RINGS OF A STRANGE PLANET.​

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You SHIVER and walk forward a few steps. You see GLOWING LIGHTS hovering across the marble floor, far, far away. Was that some sort of clue? You run over to them, as fast as your feet can take you, and slowly the specks of light transform into enormous floating kerosene lamps. The sharp scent of gasoline stings your nose, and the sound of MECHANICAL CLOCKWORK seems to grow louder and louder beneath your feet.​

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You widen your eyes.​

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This was unmistakably a CLOSED PSYCHE. ​

This meant two things.​

INGRID was either a MENTAL DISSIDENT, who should have been RELEASED a long time ago, but had hidden it from society somehow, or is simply a MASTER OF DOUBLETHINKING.​

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But it was showtime.​

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You call out.​

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music​

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|| ingrid's psyche ||​

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SCENE: INGRID'S PSYCHE, a VAST, CHECKERED MARBLE FLOOR. FLOATING KEROSENE LAMPS bob around the surface. The distinct sound of CLOCKWORK TICKING is heard from nowhere in particular. Around you is a vast BLACK VOID.​

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ENTER PLAYER and INGRID'S VOICE.​

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INGRID!​

I summon you, INGRID! ​

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ENTER the sudden display of TWO ENORMOUS PEARL-WHITE GATES that EXTEND FROM THE GROUND in front of you.​

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...​

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INGRID!​

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Silence. Characteristic silence.​

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...​

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INGRID! This is of utmost URGENCY!​

I know you are there!​

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...​

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Oh. It's you.​

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You swear for a moment, you hear an OUT OF TUNE CELESTA, tinny and hollow, as if echoed through the floor, but it suddenly re-tunes itself on-key.​

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I-- Is that you?​

What are you doing here?​

This is m-- mine and mine alone,​

Nothing for you in my little home!​

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C-- Can't you see the peril outside?​

The EYES weren't ever like this until we arrived!​

Is there something wrong? There-- there can't be--​

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Enough!​

I've come here to debilitate with you​

What could be the reason behind ​

These EYES, so let me into the recesses of your mind!​

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(ACTION: KNOCK ON THE GATES)​

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T--there's no way, no-- no.​

I'm not letting you in! You can't, you can't!​

So shimmy f--forth right here with your little rant!​

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Let me begin by saying this!​

When an EYE-tuned malfunction exists,​

We better get out of here REAL QUICK.​

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Bad things will happen.​

Bad things will happen ...​

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I KNOW BAD THINGS WILL HAPPEN!​

But why would they stop? Don't you-- you have​

A-- a clue? Too easy to be true?​

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They've done, it is, a similar thing a few before.​

INGRID, stop denying yourself! A star student!​

Your quiescence is simply the inability of your own psyche!​

This falseness of defence must end.​

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(ACTION: SIT DOWN ON COLD MARBLE FLOOR, IN FRONT OF TWO GATES)​

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We live in a society of ignorant fools!​

Where the smoke and the soma make all of the rules!​

Do you not remember the EYES, when they acted like this before--​

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(ACTION: INGRID'S VOICE is briefly SILENT.)​

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... No.​

N-- no.​

No-- nonononono-- no--​

Do you mean--​

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I do mean!​

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You are the true meanest to--​

To-- to say--​

That this is a repeat of the GENOCIDE ON THE NINTH OF THERMIDOR?​

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aahahaha ... ahaha​

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The name of that COLONIST SLAUGHTER on the fifth colonial planet struck a nerve in you. You instinctively look down and your teeth begin to rattle a bit.​

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You touch the LEFT GATE, and you are surprised to feel that it seems to be SHUDDERING IN FEAR AND SLIGHT TERROR.​

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This was your chance.​

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While they fought it was we who forgot!​

The smoke has all let your minds roam free.​

Rot and succumb to a forgetfulness of the past!​

Were I to say this in public, it would surely be a sin​

Of the highest degree.​

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...​

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(ACTION: The GATES begin to shake violently, but they suddenly turn GOLD and you are PUSHED INTO THE BLACK VOID. The GATES EXTEND INTO THE SKY at the rate of your ascension.​

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The CELESTA suddenly becomes OUT OF TUNE again.)​

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You will stay out. ​

This is no time for games, little girl. ​

Be that you may be right, then joust in your play.​

ASK ME QUESTIONS, and I will strike you down,​

So never again may you be foolish enough​

To think that a cancerous little wretch like you can meet me on my terms again.​

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ACT ONE​

SUCCESS​

INGRID is NATURALLY DEFENSIVE, and you did not gain FURTHER ACCESS into her PSYCHE yet. You now have 9 DOUBLETHINK POINTS remaining.​

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((​

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DOUBLETHINKING (usually) has THREE ACTS. Congratulations, act one was a basic idea of what it shall be like.​

When DOUBLETHINKING, the object of your commands is to PRESS WITH QUESTIONS, generally.​

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TRY AND MAKE SURE THESE QUESTIONS ARE POIGNANT AND DEAL WITH THE ISSUE YOU ARE DOUBLETHINKING FOR. (Though other questions are fun to ask.)​

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IN THIS CASE, IT WOULD BE ABOUT THE EYES, WHY THEY ARE ACTING LIKE THIS, AND HOW BAD THINGS CAN BE PREVENTED WITH THEM.​

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It should be safe to WORD YOUR POSTS WITH THE TONE YOU WISH TO ASK QUESTIONS WITH. For example, if I wish to ask questions gently, I would try keeping my word choice gentle, kind, and apologetic in my questions. If I wish to be angry or persistent, I would probably add rage-like words and sprinkle a few swears here and there.​

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THE OPPONENT WILL ALSO ASK QUESTIONS FROM TIME TO TIME, so try your best to answer them.​

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You LOSE doublethink points if the opponent trips you up with questions, or in certain cases if the answer is inadequate for them. You ALSO LOSE doublethink points if your TONE makes them DEFENSIVE.​

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On the other hand, you GAIN doublethink points if you can trip up the opponent and force yourself deeper into their PSYCHE. Each character has a DOUBLETHINK THRESHOLD; the number of points you must have at one time to DOUBLETHINK with them. (One of the three three girls is basically the tutorial level so they start off at threshold: 0 even though you begin with 10 points).​

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If the opponent completely dominates you, it is a FAILED ACT and you are EJECTED OUT OF THEIR PSYCHE. Their domination of you depends on your questions and your tone. Otherwise, successes can be common.​

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))​

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{OOC: This is a name banner to be used until after finals when I can create a proper banner, so alas. Will add status information for next post, still deciding. MICHAELA and ALBERT are filler names until I can discuss things with hyuge.}​

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{OOC2: I have no idea who is actually in the auditorium besides Maria so the below post assumes that the only people in the auditorium at the moment are Maria + "other cast members" + Torvald with nobody in the audience or some such. Viewer discretion is advised (???) } ​

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Torvald cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie.​

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...​

<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >>​

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<<I! I HAVE SEEN THE COMRADE WHO CALLS HIMSELF TANNHAUSER!>>​

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Torvald's booming voice echoed through the empty hall. He stood at the very edge of the enormous auditorium, frowning menacingly as he held his arms aloft. He held a death grip on the crumpled script in his right hand; there was certainly, oh so certainly, no possible way in the deepest retches of the dingiest proletarian slums he would lose this dear little script for the wonder that was the Girl in Watercolours. And in his left he held a biting blue rose, with marbles and beads of dew resting upon its cool petals.​

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He would dream about this absolute classic when he was but a young boy. The beautiful, tear-jerking melodrama of class romance and proletarian struggle; of defeating the tyranny of hollow, bourgeois love and replacing it with the immaculate rawness and feeling of love that only those who felt the struggles of the oppressed could feel. And here he was, today, in this terribly baroque, tasteless, ornate, disgustingly richly-built auditorium. He spat and winced at the pain that burned a thousand billion fires in his heart as he had to perform in this ridiculous vespasian of a musical hall. Music and arts were to be celebrated in their purest form, not simply ridiculed and placed on hollow pedestals to be eaten by the rich masses alone!​

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But alas.​

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He gently closed his eyes and rubbed the red feather in his pocket between his thumb and forefinger. The black suit he wore for his Albert costume was a perfect fit, even if it was much too ritzy for his taste. He prided himself on his acting, so it wasn't off for him to have to wear the shell of the infinite enemy to the oppressed.​

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It would be simply one step in a necessity for the greater good of all.​

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Torvald clutched the script close to him and eyed Maria at the very end of the stage, her legs dangling and her beautiful satin dress shimmering in the auditorium's warm lights. A few other cast members seemed to be preparing themselves for the rehearsal as well, but his eyes were fixated on the blonde girl that left him a bitter taste. He clicked his black Oxfords on the tiles, narrowing his eyes at that blonde comrade that seemed to care little about the world around her while lounging so irreverently at all the despair and sadness that continually hid behind the walls. He felt his teeth clench almost involuntarily at having to see her face once again.​

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He walked over to her slowly, his shoes tapping in step to a rhythmic beat that echoed through the empty auditorium. And as he grew closer, closer, he narrowed his eyes menacingly at Maria, like a cornered cat. She deserved little place in this work of art, for how the aura of blazing self-arrogance rose around her. He had no tolerance for people who consider them above the working folk, who strove dearly to make the best of society.​

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The loud taps stopped by the stage. Torvald looked up at Maria in her obliquely rococo dress, a dark frown crossing his face. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, sighing, moving his hands in the slowest and most careful of motions. But like lightning, a switch flipped on and he shot his gaze straight towards her lucid eyes; the strange, glassy ones that shimmered in the light, but held scars and fog beneath their shine. And he met her gaze with his own reflection of stern intensity. A bright blue flame burned in his eyes, and he threw forth the embers for Maria to catch.​

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Torvald cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie.​

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He rolled up the script and pointed it towards Maria.​

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<<COMRADE!>>​

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<<I ASK AND HOPE OF THE HEAVENS THAT YOU HAVE READIED YOUR LINES, FOR TODAY IS THE DAY THAT WE SHALL CAST OFF THE SHACKLES OF OPPRESSIVE DISCONTENT REGARDING LINE MEMORIZATION, AND KICKSTART THE INFINITE STAR-CROSSED REVOLUTION THAT IS OUR DUET.>>​

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He dropped himself to his knees.​

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<<FIE, FIE, MAKE SURE YOUR THROAT IS NOT BLOODIED AND SULLEN BY THE ANNALS OF EVERYDAY LIFE AMONG THE BOURGEOIS, YOU WHO SHALL SOON FALL. YOUR VOICE, THOUGH TINGED WITH THE POISONS OF LUXURY AND EXUBERANCE, IS LIKE LIGHTNING TO THE MASSES; TO INCITE THEM, AS IT WERE, LIKE AN OPIATE.>>​

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What was that? His voice echoing throughout the auditorium again? Perfect practice. If Torvald could smile when not playing some sort of character, this would have been his chance. He looked again at Maria, and grit his teeth.​

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<<I SIMPLY ASK OF YOU, DOLL OF THE BOURGEOIS, TO MAKE SURE YOU DO NOT CAUSE RUINOUS HARM WITH YOUR DUET LINES.>>​

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<<TO BE CAST AS THE BEAUTIFUL MICHAELA IN THIS VERY PLAY IS AKIN TO BEING CAST FORTH INTO THE MASSES WITH HOPE AND EQUALITY. AND TO YOU, MY DEAREST KITTEN OF THE REVOLUTION, I WISH ONLY TO SEE YOU STEP UP YOUR GAME, AND TO NOT LET US FAIL THE PATH TO SUCCESS.>>​

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Torvald stood up, keeping his tight, confrontational gaze on Maria. He couldn't stand people like her, and he would make sure that she understood this well.​

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<<So let it be remembered, let it be recalled,>> He whispered.​

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Torvald jumped onto the stage next to his partner, brought out the blue rose and extended it forward, offering it to Maria. He did not turn once to look at the other cast members, yet.​

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There were only Allies and Enemies in this world, nothing more, nothing less. And when an Enemy of Equality and Prosperity confronted themselves, he had to be certain that they would understand their place in the clockwork mechanics of the passage of time. That they would change, or be eliminated.​

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<< CEASE REVOLUTION >>​

Now now, there is no need for any white supremacy on the forum.

*purchases Pacific Mall*

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music​

|| grasshopper jump ||​

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SAVED!!​

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"Hey! Wake up, girl!"​

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You fail to continue your nap, opening your eyes to SIMONE's sharp, buzzing voice, and the warming, teak-and-granite decor of the Grasshopper Curry restaurant. The delectable scent of fried meat tickles your nostrils. You yawn and stretch out your arms in a soft yelp, almost hitting SIMONE in the face.​

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"Jeez! Don't attack me for tryin' to teach you to not be a rude duckling!"​

You hear a light cough. "Is she always like this?"​

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You snap to attention. Your eyes grow cold as you locate the source of that uselessly stupid ghostly noise. The voice of a bitch. You hated bitches.​

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It was RAVENNA, who sat in front of you, keeping her hands to her mouth in a barebones attempt to stop her laughter. ​

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"You are always like this, aren't you?" She said, after a while.​

"No! N-no." Your voice lowers instinctively.​

"Are you a narcoleptic, now?"​

RAVENNA rests her elbows on the table, lowering her head in suspicion. She narrows her eyes. "Man, you sure look like one. Those bags under your eyes aren't a healthy sign. You used to be so much prettier, you know."​

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Oh ...​

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SIMONE jumped up from the table. "RAVENNA! You said you wouldn't act like this when we called her over!"​

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We? You feel a lump in your throat. ​

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RAVENNA yawned, closing her eyes. "Jeez jeez jeez, calm your hormones, SIMONE. It's just a question. I mean, yeah, come on, how long has it been since I've talked to this girl?"​

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Ugh. This was terrible. Your head collapses to the table and you cup your hands to your ears as your nose touches the black granite table top. You feel your heartbeat turning strained and tough, and your breath grows heavy, as if rocks litter your lungs.​

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"There she goes again!" You hear RAVENNA cry. You wanted to punch her. You really wanted to punch her. But-- but you just couldn't bring yourself to. You tried to lift your head but you didn't even want to look at her face right now.​

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"INGRID, hey, don't you know how to deal with this?"​

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You close your eyes.​

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"INGRID. INGRID! Can't you take your attention off the window for one second? You're just as bad as what she's doing right now!"​

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You quietly call for SIMONE's name. She leans over to your side, while RAVENNA is distracted with INGRID.​

"Yeah?" She asks, gently.​

"This was a bad idea. This really--"​

"It isn't." You feel her warm hands pat your head. "RAVENNA isn't the same person, you know-"​

"Are you blind?! She hasn't changed a bit!"​

SIMONE gently taps the top of your head with a finger to silence you. "She's been really apologetic recently, and you know how it is, with the HOUSEHOLD and the BUSINESS and all the stuff. Yeah? Don't make her feel even worse--"​

"That's precisely what I want to do!" You bury your head further into the table.​

You hear SIMONE sigh. "Look, just-- just one lunch. One lunch will be all it takes to fix this up. She really does care, and you're the entire reason why she--"​

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SIMONE stops. You hear footsteps.​

You raise your head, and you see one of the WAITERS appear with the menus. The swarthy man hands them to your party and says, in his thick, incomprehensible accent, he will be back in a few moments. You quickly grab a menu and hold it between yourself and RAVENNA, using it as a leather-bound barrier. ​

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"... Um. What're you doing?" RAVENNA asks.​

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Is it a crime to look at food at a restaurant?" ​

RAVENNA doesn't say anything. You feel her shift over to INGRID a bit, as if she is whispering something to her.​

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"So, uh ..." SIMONE says, exasperation lining her voice as she desperately tries to claw at a topic of conversation. "That man."​

RAVENNA pops up to face her. She points at the direction the WAITER walked off to. "That man?"​

You continue to stare down the menu. Maggot burgers, grasshopper steak, fried crickets ... ​

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"That man. I haven't seen--uh--" SIMONE lowers her voice. "I haven't seen his kind 'round these parts before."​

RAVENNA snickers and coughs. "He's a Colonist, that's why."​

"What?" You hear panic in SIMONE's voice. "What're they doing here? They don't--"​

"Shush! Don't let them hear you, idiot!" RAVENNA clears her throat.​

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Mealworm spaghetti, roach soup, katydid pie ...Trying to ignore their conversation was tough, even with this delicious food. Such nutritious, tasty bugs were a delicacy in the Infinite Metropolis. How did RAVENNA even have the money? ​

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"They're probably all here from the EPIDEMIC."​

"So he's-- he's one of them?" SIMONE pauses. "Ew."​

"Don't be like that, SIMONE. It isn't contagious, and it isn't their fault, and--"​

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"Guys."​

RAVENNA and SIMONE immediately stop whispering to each other. Your eyes dart to the source of the gentle voice. You had never heard it before; it was so calming and thoughtful, like the wind playing a celesta.​

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You all turn your attention to INGRID. Your menu slowly tips over and falls onto RAVENNA's. ​

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INGRID points outside. "There's more of them--"​

"More of what? Your brain cells?"​

"More of the-- the EYES are like, glitching out."​

RAVENNA is silent for a moment. "Glitching out? They can't glitch."​

SIMONE presses her nose to the glass. "See for yourself, she's right! They're like, stationary!" ​

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It really took them that long to realize? You snicker to yourself as you pride your observational skills for noticing something like that. While half-asleep too. Ten out of ten for you. ​

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But now that they've noticed it, maybe it'd be a good time to figure out why the EYES seemed to be glitching out. You turn your gaze a few inches away and sure enough, more of the floating white spheres seem to be frozen in time.​

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Maybe this would be a good time to talk about it. You, actually, hadn't seen it before either, and something so different and strange like this really did send a few chills down your spine. Perhaps DOUBLETHINKING would help. ​

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Your PROFESSOR did say that CONTRADICTION WAS THE KEY TO STIRRING DOUBT, AND DOUBT WAS THE KEY TO STIRRING SOCIAL CHANGE.​

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Your belly rumbles. You should probably decide on some food, too. You feel like getting home as quickly as possible, but you can't leave just yet, or you feel SIMONE will kick you. Again. Like last time.​

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((​

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The DOUBLETHINK ability, unique to ADENINE'S CROSS, draws upon the NAMES in your menu, and the people​

-- directly around you at the moment.

You must choose one person out of the selection to undergo DOUBLETHINK. ​

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You have gone through an INTERACTION.​

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Prolonged interactions facilitate updates to the NAMES section. ))​

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music
|| eyes in the sky ||​

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SAVED!!​

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|| SIMONE ||​

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One of your closer friends. She apparently likes architecture, and droning on and on about some old people from a time in history when humanity wasn't so "perfect", so she says. A DOUBLETHINKER, like you, and a master of keeping it away from the EYES.​

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|| INGRID ||​

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A mutual friend of Simone and Ravenna. You don't know much about her, but she doesn't seem so complacent and apathetic as the other students in the HIGH SCHOOL. Her hair is also an unnatural colour. Interest? Piqued.​

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|| RAVENNA ||​

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Asshole.​

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verve [10|10]​

doublethinking [10]​

freedom [50]​

pandemonium [0] ​

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BEAUTIFUL HARMONY SERENDIPITY ACADEMY​

BLOCK 52-8 : 0920374 NNE SS 7.392 CL -3.94 IBC 388429028​

SECTION 92943 7CF NNE ​

TYPE: EDUCATION AND ASSIMILATION INSITUTION​

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The school you've attended since you were born, really. It's all still the same; the familiarly twisted walls, like crumpled up sheets of tissue paper, and the throngs of dumb-faced students entering to and fo. Then the EYES which float around like it's nobodies business. What a utopia.​

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Classes aren't that bad, you guess. At least they keep the curriculum interesting. It'd be even better if they didn't have that goddamn SOMA smoke all over the place. My ALLERGIES really can't cope, even after all these years.​

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+ PHONE < [it's your phone.]​

+ BAG OF ALMONDS < [you're always hungry.]​

+ SCHOOL TABLET < [trashy useless device. friends keep their porn on it.]​

+ FACE MASK < [so you don't die.] ​

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You look at the time on your SCHOOL TABLET and realize that, yeah, it is getting pretty late. Stuffing it back in your bag, you pick it up, shaking the glass tree a little, and sling it over your shoulder. With a sigh, you slip your FACE MASK on and enter the school. Damn, you're such an ORDINARY HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT.​

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But the bitter taste still lingers in your mouth. You take out an ALMOND and gulp it down quickly to taste familiarity.​

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- - - - -​

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music
|| education system ||​

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You shuffle quickly inside, letting the wave of students carry you into the building without a second word. It felt so calming, this anonymity - it would, at least, give you some alone time for now. You looked around and felt your heart relax at how everything seemed the same. Everyone wore the same white uniform; boys with pants, girls with skirts. Designated name tags on the familiar double-winged badges pinned close to the baby blue ties. The lazy, flat faces of the children who would talk and mumble to themselves, with only their content, apathetic smiles and little laughter. ​

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Their youth was a hollow little farce, yeah. You narrow your eyes at them, hiding beneath your FACE MASK. That's what kept you away from them - this little surgical tool that was perfect enough to show your own "individuality" as the others were wont to exclaim. But it was absolutely necessary for you to survive, here.​

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The biggest feature you would remember about this HIGH SCHOOL would be the SOMA SMOKE that filled and clustered the hallways. ​

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It was thick and white, with a purple tinge, but it was harmless to most people. In fact, it was considered as healthy as ripe vegetables to the content public. When scientists, so many years ago, uncovered the existence of a SMOKE from the LOTOPHAGE trees that would "change the world", the world itself went into uproar.​

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And sure, who can contest the usefulness of puffy, cloud-like SMOKE that staves off depression and grounds people in reality? In a world where one's individual existence was meaningless, the people would have taken up SMOKE that prevents you from sending yourself down a flurrying descent into super-solipsism and the nature of reality. The opiate of the masses. You would love to think that to yourself.​

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You don't know, there were wars fought over the stuff. You don't know what it's like because inhaling too much of it could make you sick. Allergies do that to you. But it's all over the place now, and as a result, you've been labelled the "Masked Girl". You can live with that, if it means keeping away from the throngs of faceless ones. It was the life of one of the DISSENTERS.​

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You cough. One of the robotic SOMA DISPENSERS hands you a vial of the SMOKE, but you promptly throw it in the garbage and continue off to class. Time to get this day over with.​

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The HEADMASTER's burly, rough voice sounds through the INTERCOM SYSTEM.​

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" Welcome to another wonderful day, students!​

Class has begun, and the EYES are now set across the school to make sure you are all safe!​

Lunch time periods are as designated in your HOME ROOMS."​

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His voice drones on and you barely pay attention to it as you step into your FIRST CLASS.​

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"Today's headlines are as follows. ​

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WE ARE WINNING THE REBELLION AGAINST THE CONDEMNED ONES ON THE THIRD COLONIAL PLANET. THE REBELS HAVE BEEN RELEASED, AND HAVE UNDERGONE METEMPSYCHOSIS BY OUR MAGNANIMOUS MEDICINAL BRIGADES. ​

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SCIENTISTS HAVE REVOLUTIONIZED THE DISTRIBUTION OF SOMA SMOKE THROUGH WIRELESS ENERGY TRANSFER ..."​

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You enter class and sit by your familiar white desk. The room was just as shiny as usual, and everything looked like it was made of cheap breakable plastic to you. The PROFESSOR wasn't here yet.​

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"... NEURAL CELLS HAVE BEEN SUCCESSFULLY REGROWN IN FIFTY THOUSAND INDIVIDUALS. SCIENTISTS REPORT THAT LIFE EXPECTANCY HAS JUMPED TO AN ALL-TIME HIGH OF FIFTY YEARS. THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED IN THE RECORDED HISTORY OF HUMANITY. ​

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GENETIC PRION DISEASE CONTINUES TO BE RAMPANT IN AN EPIDEMIC SPREAD ACROSS THE FOURTH AND FIFTH COLONIAL PLANETS. THE SECOND ... "​

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You rest your head on the table, the cold white plastic stinging your cheek. You watch the students move into the class calmly, with such little energy.So fragile, to you ... They seemed so innocent. The smoke thickly permeates the room, and to you it is almost like a perpetual fog, but those kids didn't seem to mind at all.​

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"... AND INCLUDING, SUCH, THE EXOTHERMIC METEMPSYCHOSIS OF SIXTY FOUR MILLION DISSIDENT INDIVIDUALS. ​

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A STRANGE RIFT IN THE SPACE BETWEEN THE SECOND AND THIRD COLONIAL PLANETS HAS BEEN OBSERVED. ASTROPHYSICISTS BELIEVE THIS TO BE A TIME ANOMALY, AND WILL PREPARE THE INFINITE METROPOLIS FOR SALVATION ON STANDBY IF NECESSARY.​

​

These have been the headlines. ​

HEADMASTER, signing off. ​

The Eyes Are Always Watching."​

​

You don't even notice the ANNOUNCEMENTS end as your eyes slowly flutter off to take a brief, pre-class rest. ​

​

- - - - -​

​

music
|| education system ||​

The puppy leaps to lick your face.​

"Wake up, STUDENT," It says in its tinny robot voice.​

​

You wake up in a flurry of embarrassment. It wasn't your fault that this class was so goddamn boring. Who wanted to know about basic physics in this day and age anyway?​

​

You stare down at the small white puppy; your PROFESSOR. ​

He barks. "Pay attention! This will be on your examination. DISSENTER individuals are not entitled to sleeping in class!"​

​

You hear the class snicker around you. Idiots.​

You sigh and lift your head, gazing at the text and diagrams written on the virtual whiteboard. The smoke waltzes around your head. You cough.​

​

The PROFESSOR hops back to the front of the class, and turns back to the board. His voice echoes through the speakers lining the room.​

​

"... And as I was saying, that was the concept of a CARDINAL. The CARDINALS are really only theoretical scientific concepts, like LAPLACE'S DEMON, or METATRON."​

​

"Wait, sir! Sirsirsirsir!"​

​

You hear the voice of the familiar boy Theodore, whose voice you were so damn tired of hearing at this point. You lower your head again.​

​

Theodore claims that the METATRON effect is what is holding the universe together. How many goddamn times had you heard that stupid crack theory?! You scowl and look away from the class. The PROFESSOR just snickers to himself and continues with his lesson.​

​

You knew well enough what CARDINALS were already. This was just exam review at this point, really. You just wanted to get out of here--​

​

Beeeeeeeeeep.​

​

The PROFESSOR turns his puppy head upward, before leaping to the ground. For a canine robot, he had the reflexes of a cat. Don't tell me that the Engineers got basic biology wrong? This society was a confederacy of idiots. You didn't know why you were born into this place sometimes. Maybe if you prayed to the CARDINAL enough ...​

​

"Class is over, LUNCH has begun. We shall continue the lesson tomorrow."​

​

The puppy-bot shuts down and falls lifeless to the ground, its glossy eyes black.​

​

- - - - -​

​

music
|| eyes in the sky ||​

​

Off on the edge of the school's enormous building, you meet RAVENNA, SIMONE, and INGRID for a quick LUNCH TIME. This better be quick, anyway. ​

​

SIMONE seems excited, as she begins going on and on in your ear about what happened in class today. The fire in her heart seems to be burning bright to you, at least. You look at the other two girls; RAVENNA is talking to the FLOATING TAXI DRIVER to get the right place. INGRID is just standing there looking like a combination between a confused hipster and an angry rabbit. What a motley crew we have today.​

​

RAVENNA does not say a word to you, and as the other two girls enter the cab, she allows you to enter last. The TAXI DRIVER lets out a guffaw upon seeing your FACE MASK. ​

​

You just want to sleep.​

So you do, napping the entire time until you get to GRASSHOPPER CURRY. Hoping that the ass didn't do anything to your face in your little naptime. ​

​

When you arrive, RAVENNA violently shakes you awake, pays the fee to the TAXI DRIVER, and your little party take their seats inside the restaurant. You're still a bit too groggy to notice anything about where you are yet, but you're wondering about the food and why the hell RAVENNA wanted to do this.​

​

As you sit down beside SIMONE, directly across from RAVENNA while INGRID leans against the window that looks out into the pristine forest of buildings outside, you cannot help but notice one of the EYES acting strange out there. ​

​

It wasn't bobbing up and down. It wasn't moving anywhere. Hell, it wasn't moving at all. It was static, not moving. Frozen in place.​

​

You turn back to RAVENNA.​

She eyes you with a mischievous smile.​

​

Asshole. ​

​

​

​

​

​

- - - - -






music|| eyes in the sky ||


Welcome!!

Groggy, groggy. You wake up by one of the many trees outside your familiar HIGH SCHOOL. Damn, how long did you fall asleep for? You turn around towards your school, breathing in the familiar, rusty stank of the city all around you. A soft breeze ruffles your hair, and you place a hand above your delicate eyes to shield them from the sun's harsh summer rays.

You still weren't sure whose idea it was to build such a ... twisted, curvaceously moderne school on the very top of a skyscraper. To you, it looked like a bunch of weird white tissue papers cobbled together, but SIMONE would go on and on about how it was "one of Gehry's greatest architectural works". Pah. You would tell yourself this all the time, trying to make sure that you didn't spend too long on who really built this place. It was just a part of the Infinite Metropolis, right? From birth, from germination, sprouting most like a bud or maybe even a cancerous tumour on the gleaming needle-like skyscrapers that carpeted your life, your memories, your entire planet.

And up here, standing amiably on the roof of one of the city's thousands of boxy skyscrapers, where the winds played with the skin of your white shirt and danced with the tip of your tie, you just wanted time alone. You always wanted time alone, but you never had the chance. There wasn't anyone in this goddamn city who could get any alone time, when everyone was watching everyone else's backs. Yeah, right. Even here, far away from the school, hiding by the glass trees and staring at the kids who filed like robots into the school's enormous front doors, you could see the Eyes watching everything.

Sure, okay, you always felt like something was watching you. No, someone, maybe an entire panel of people on some strange dimensional plane were watching and controlling your every move and action.

They saw all from inception. They were like floating balloons, or featureless wads of cotton, that drifted lazily throughout the skies of the city. But at the same time, they were everywhere. You couldn't look a peep angle in any direction without seeing those alien white bubbles bobbing up and down on the sky's canvas, like they didn't even need to exist. It's the price for the Utopia, they'd drill into the minds of the other kids. It's the price for being able to live up in the sky, and never having to touch feet with the dirty, heathen ground ever again!

Yeah, yeah. You scowl, the winds whipping around strands of your hair to clasp your face like a dirty hand. There is a beep on your phone, and you momentarily break your gaze with the school to answer the incoming text.


Oh my god.
It was the clown. What was she doing? This was dumb. Why did she want to talk to her after all this time? And invite her to lunch? Ass.
But shit, she was right. You glare at the Eyes that float a few meters away from the glass trees. If those things caught you, you wouldn't even make it to lunch.

But something really seemed off about this.
RAVENNA never texted you. She seemed so different. Why would she go out of her way today, of all days?
You taste bitterness in your mouth, and it isn't just from the recycled, rusty air.



((

Welcome to Adenine's Cross, the heavenly utopia of the sky, and the pinnacle of humanity.
It is the first of the four planes of humanity in cardinal space.

In Adenine's Cross, all individuals are entitled to freedom of choice.
It is a utopia, after all.
This means:

When replying with an action, you have variations. You are not restricted to simply saying "go to school" or some such,
but you can comment on various factors in your environment, or whatever else may interest you.
You can also conduct a chain of actions, similar to:

go to school -> throw spitballs at teacher -> visit RAVENNA at GRASSHOPPER CURRY RESTAURANT

Actions from the menu above can be included, and saves can happen anytime save for certain special situations.

And so on.
However, freedom in Adenine's Cross comes with a price:

The outcome of the post depends on how you word the actions in the post.

Have a wonderful day in the utopia.
The Eyes Are Forever Watching.

))
​

​

Good luck sir. I have the trailer for the Blu-Ray releases below to pump you up.

Spoiler

Oh dear! It appears there was a bad ending, so in memory and hope for a better future, I created another thing:

Spoiler

That is, after discussing with Jayn, of course. So here we go for them to appear when they get the chance.

ＴＯＲＶＡＬＤ　ＴＡＮＮＨＡＵＳＥＲ ◊

❥Full Name: Torvald Tannhauser​

❥Appearance: ◊​

❥Age: 24​

❥Likes: Marxism ◊ The Proletariat ◊ Working-class individuals ◊ Communism◊ Left-wingPolitics◊Marxist Economic Theory◊Long Speeches◊ Dramatic Flair◊ Revolutions◊Equality◊Fairness◊ Oncology◊Medicine◊Healing Others/First Aid◊◊Human Experimentation◊ Theatre Groups◊ Orchestras◊ Swing Ensembles◊ Dadaist Art◊ Socialist Realism◊ Socialism◊ Acting◊ Masks◊ Black Gloves◊ Combat Boots◊ Ibsen's Plays◊ Opera◊ Fire◊ Trains◊ Children◊ Vegetables◊ Tennis◊ Cats◊ Conducting◊ Playing the trumpet◊ Painting◊ Artsy people◊ Yelling◊ Standing on things​

❥Dislikes: Capitalism◊ Stalinism◊ Maoism◊ Twisting around what "Communism" actually is◊ Moderate Political Beliefs◊ Moderate Opinions◊ Lack of "fire" in one's soul◊ Boring People◊ Cancer◊ Cancer Surgeons◊ The Bourgeoisie◊ Rich People◊ Arrogant People◊ People Who Care Little about Working-class individuals◊ Dogs◊ Silence◊ Paper currency◊ Nationalism◊ Fog◊ Multinational Corporations◊ Hats◊ Bow ties◊ Meat​

❥Weaknesses/Fears: Snakes◊ Spiders◊ Dogs◊ Water◊ Paranoia◊ Swimming◊ Others' deaths◊ His origin◊ His own hypocrisy◊ His identity◊ His weak ability to socialize◊ His potential failure of a working-class revolution◊​

❥Strengths/Talents: Speeches◊ Yelling◊ Acting◊ Good with animals and children◊ Medical prodigy◊ Puzzle-solving ability◊ Abstract thinking◊ Trumpet and conducting◊ Leading others ​

​

❥Personality: A larger-than-life, fiery young man who enjoys standing on tables. Torvald's entire character is dictated by the radical, passionate, and revolutionary. A highly eccentric yet talented medical student specializing in cancer, he does not take liberties in letting the world know his extreme political beliefs and his prophecies of society's economic collapse; his voice can be typically heard from meters away, as it appears he is in a perpetual state of yelling, and prone to exclaiming large, hammy speeches. He seems to change around animals and children.​

❥Sexuality: Pansexual​

❥Favorite Color: Socialist Red​

❥Instrument(s): Trumpet (can also conduct orchestras)​

❥Crush?: ---​

❥Cupid's Brew?: No​

❥Availability: Four Days from the table sort of thing.​

❥Other: When he meets new people, he asks them to call him "Tannhauser". To give out his first name is a grave sign of trust.​

... But the anger! Oh, how the blood of a thousand reddened men flowed through his veins at that moment. How the fires of revolution danced in his eyes, and how it drove him towards the sky, like a phoenix reaching the sun. He grabbed the conductor's baton and stood upon the table, looking down at the members of the orchestra below.​

​

❝ LET THE BIRDS, FLY AS THEY FLY UPON THE WINGS OF INFAMOUS CALUMNY! BROTHERS, SISTERS, CAST UP YOUR ARMS, WEAPONS OF SOUND, NOISEMAKERS OF THE PROLETARIAT TO CRUSH THE HEAVENS WITH THE FORCE OF A BILLION STRIKES OF THUNDER, SO THAT THE FETID CESSPIT OF THE BOURGEOISIE MAY FOREVER ECHO IN THEIR EARS THE LAST THING THEY HEAR; THE SOUND OF OUR FREEDOM AND EQUALITY! ... ❞​

ＦＡＴＩＭＥ　ＣＹＧＮＥＴＴＥ ⌘

❥Full Name: Fatime Cygnette　​

❥Appearance: ⌘​

❥Age: 15​

❥Likes: Books ⌘ Poetry⌘ Reading⌘ Birds⌘ Painting⌘ Sketching⌘ Trees⌘ Big cities⌘ History⌘ Bones⌘ Observing others' relationships⌘ Quotes⌘ Lyrics⌘ Singing⌘ Piano ⌘ Theatre⌘ Rugby⌘ Programming⌘ Silence⌘ Water⌘ Monkeys⌘ Eggs⌘Anonymity⌘ Crowds⌘ Atheism⌘ Minimalism⌘ Philosophy⌘ Monochrome⌘ Impressionist artwork⌘ Chopin's music⌘​

People⌘ Games of chance⌘ Dogs⌘ Fog⌘ Detective shows⌘ Sweet foods⌘ Dresses ⌘ Disorder​

❥Dislikes: Non-readers⌘ People who forsake relationships⌘ Misanthropes⌘ Vegetables⌘ Pastel colours⌘ Rainbows⌘ American Football⌘ Surgery⌘ Staying in one place for a long time⌘ Elaborate artwork⌘ Spanish⌘ Bitter foods⌘ Rain⌘ Her old house⌘ People who talk too much⌘ People who think their opinions are important ⌘Cats ⌘ Swans ​

❥Weaknesses/Fears: Her terrible memory⌘ Cats⌘ Swans⌘ Bright locations⌘ A lack of reading material⌘ A lack of things to quote⌘ Being without her electronic devices⌘ Inability to communicate using her own words​

❥Strengths/Talents: Deep thinker⌘ Extensive knowledge of books⌘ Fairly fit from rugby⌘ Down-to-earth⌘ Childlike wisdom⌘ Extreme determination⌘ Very quiet​

​

❥Personality: A greyscale girl, cast in black and white. Fatime is a cunning, quick-witted, mousey individual, who prefers to watch over others from the perspective of an experimenter rather than someone who directly engages in socialization. Although she generally comes off as warm (though at times a bit abrasive too), she is often cryptic and quiet, preferring to watch others tumble over understanding her statements. This is because she does not say a word for herself. Instead, she solely quotes passages from books, poetry, and song lyrics to communicate, amusing herself at the confusion and disorder of others. Because of this, she typically carries around a bag filled with books, along with her e-reader; a device as black-and-white as she is. ​

❥Sexuality: Bisexual​

❥Favorite Color: Black, Grey, White​

❥Instrument(s): Singing voice, piano​

❥Crush?: ---​

❥Cupid's Brew?: Yes​

❥Availability: Four days (same as Torvald)​

❥Other: (I am going to be using a mix of real and fictional books/poetry/etc for her statements)​

​

... He looked puzzled, absolutely puzzled at how all of this had happened! Oh no, oh no. She slumped down and helped picked the egg shells off of the muddy ground, but when she turned her gaze towards his bright blue eyes, his bulging, tumescent despair almost rendered him speechless. Almost.​

​

"Wh- why does this happen? I- I ... This is the third time this month ..."​

​

But that was good enough for her to read his troubled face. She took out a book from her bag; an old, dusty hardcover, and flipped it to the first page.​

​

❝ It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair ... ❞​

​

​

I can barely recall a time where Repliku was ever negative.

And so the meat of the story begins. Good luck everyone.

Spoiler

​

​

​

Headcanon Prologue: End​

​

Give him twenty dollars.

Am I doing it right.

But that goes against the entire premise of My Little Fearless Can't Be This Insane!

(Psst.)

(What.)

(They're shipping me with your goddamn white board.)

(It is not my fault you decided to pop out of that thing. And besides, you are dealing with the Spam Zone. They thrive on nonsensical comments. You shall be lucky if your little questionnaire thread gets six or so replies.)

(But I can tell them all they need to know about the universe! Someone who's as cocky as you should get their ass out of the closet already and tell me how to fix this. I don't even know what a "Peace and War" is.)

(Your whiteboard smells like permanent marker anyway. Disgusting pig.)

(Excuse me, you are the multiversal demon who decided to possess it.)

(Because of your sloth! Using this turns my face into a weird anime thing with giant fish eyes.)

(It is your problem for the next fifteen minutes until I get changed.)