quitplayinggames | [??? Day 465]

[you wake up.

the first sensation you feel is your key, warm and alive against your chest. you know immediately that this place is responsive to this power, the power of your will applied to magic. if you've started to experiment with what your special ability is, or if you want to, that realization might be easier to find here as well - though it's not strictly necessary. all you need for sure is a question: what are your desires. . .?

. . . you're in a blank white room. the walls and ceiling are featureless. the floor is covered in a million feathers and scraps of cloth, which drift up in muffling gales around you if you so much as move.

up in one corner high off the ground, you glimpse a splash of bright electric blue through the drifting airy debris. the only other thing of note in the room is the door on one wall: it's white and featureless as a piece of paper, and you get the sense that it will vanish into the wall again if closed. undifferentiated noise pours through the place where it's cracked open, unbearably loud. even with the feathers in the air shutting out the noise a little, it's hard to hear yourself think.

there's something hard and clanging underfoot too, hidden by the feathers. you trip over it immediately because of course you do; ow! what is that?]

((This is a short, individual, play-at-your-own pace plot explore, which will run until 11:59 PM EST on Tuesday, June 2. Anyone jumping in before then is welcome! This is not directly connected with heartgames, so people are free to jump in regardless of whether they've played or run another heart this round.))

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[this is a weird way to fix a phone, but your key keeps glowing on your chest. . . and eventually, your Red Green bullshit succeeds.

what now?]

[sometimes all you need is bullshit.]

[NOW THAT IT'S FIXED can I pick up the handset and hear anything on the line?]

[dial tone!]

[...picks up the phone to look under it. are there any phone numbers hidden somewhere on this thing?]

[NOPE. . .]

[...dials a random number to see if it works. It's not prank-calling if I'm just testing something.]

[. . .

the phone rings. . .]

[...picks it...up?]

[the ringing stops. there's no reply, but you get the sense that it's not the same dead air this time, just someone not speaking...]

...Hello? Someone there?

[the voice is. . . insubstantial. an echo, or a memory, or even something imagined. still, it's horribly hard to resist.]

Wipe the paint off the wall. Take the pictures down.

[unless you actively try not to, you'll find your legs standing up to move you across the room.]

[...why am I moving? TRYING TO RESIST THAT.]

Who are you?

[silence. it takes a moment of struggle but it IS resistable.]

[taking that moment to struggle. i'm not letting something move me and tell me what to do if it can't even explain what it wants.]

-- What was that about?

[CAN AN ECHO/MEMORY EVEN ANSWER MY QUESTIONS...We'll find out.]

[this reply is even more scattered/faded, with a sense of struggle - whatever is bringing the voice to you is grasping at a motivation they don't fully understand, piecing together an expected response out of guesswork. you have a strangely vivid visual-tactile impression of rummaging through a box of whispers to put together an answer, for a moment.]

He should die.

[...THAT IS. A CONCERNING ANSWER.]

...You're going to need a really good answer for 'why' if you're going to say stuff like that.

[. . . click. the line goes dead.]

[...hangs...up.]

[and then Tetsu will stand up and take VERY SLOW AND CAREFUL STEPS to where he was being moved to, stopping every now and then just to make sure he's the one controlling his steps and nothing else is attempting to move him.]

[nothing else is!

[if you can focus long enough to wallow over to the splash of color, you’ll find "DON’T LET YOURSELF BE KILLED. DISAPPEAR IF IT LOOKS DANGEROUS" daubed on the wall there in neon paint. it looks like a fairly old message, the paint long since dried into the wall. tacked up next to it are some photographs, a little yellowed at the edges but still vivid.

there’s a sense that this little setup is all to one purpose -- a reminder that stays, sometimes obscured but not forgotten.

behind you, the phone starts ringing again.]

[...oh good god.]

[going to walk back and ignore the phone in favor of grabbing the paint...and come back to write a message: "Not letting yourself get killed is a good plan. Don't listen to anyone that says you should die; they're an idiot."]

[the ringing increases in volume, earsplitting and blinding -- it's very hard to get the message onto the wall, and it's a bit drippy, but you very likely won't be able to concentrate enough to do much more. the intention is there, anyway.]

[...no, I can't concentrate. goddamn it.]

[going back to the phone to pick it up.]

Hello?

What would he do if this was real, instead of an echo?

[that awful compulsion is still there, even if it's not directly telling you to do anything now. the force of it is terrifying...]

Edited 2015-06-03 03:16 (UTC)

[hesitates at that, a bit unsettled, but making sure he's ready to resist whatever it is.]

...Who is the 'he' you're talking about?

Dream.

If you care about what others desire, what does it take to resist your own?

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