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.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[with a little effort and persistence, you unearth at least a few things from the pile. you now have:

a crowbar
a pile of paint tubes in crazed bright colors
an antique-looking hotel telephone with the cord cut.

the crowbar was probably the clangy culprit]

[DID I JUST STUMBLE ON SOFTCORE MECHANICAL GURO

I MIGHT HAVE JUST

…picks up… all of those… alas, the crowbar is probably too big to pry open the rest of the hotel telephone, right?]

[you can try! it's pretty clumsy and you will probably break it in the process - crowbars aren't usually known as fine tools.

are you doing that thing]

[nah I got needles instead. not intended for deconstruction, but if delicately applied…]

[he can definitely start loosening up the top panel of the phone, though he'll have to cut the bolts on top to get it fully off. y/n?]

[well his needles might be strong enough to cut through, but like hell is he going to risk it. settles the phone in his arm and takes his prizes towards the wall.

hesitates, then takes out the paints to try to apply some to the wall.]

[if you can focus long enough to wallow over to the wall, you get close enough to see the splash of color a bit better. 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. perhaps you could use the paints you found to do more in this vein, or find some other way to express yourself…?

your key tingles on your chest, and you note that your attempts to paint leave the wall quite drippy. this may take more than just pigment.]

[hmm… what about focusing on key a la MAKE IT REALITY wishing as he focuses on a garish but otherwise highly accurate picture of a… well, spark, which most humans would probably call the heart or soul?]

[that seems to be working. . . the warmth of your key and focus is helping the paint dry faster, fixing your image to the wall.]

[enjoy your brightly colored soul painting

then also writes in cybertronian TURN DOWN THE MUSIC PLEASE]

Edited 2015-06-02 23:37 (UTC)

[the music does not turn down! it sounds more like voices than any kind of tune, honestly.

your paint sinks into the wall as if it had always been there. the process of applying your will to the space around you with your keys is more familiar, now; it's not the same effort of mere imagination as it was in the cloud realm, but this is still a power you can access.

whatever you left feels like a rebuke, a message to see through even the haze of noise and feathers and listen to. get a sense that this disruption of the white in the room will at least last for a long time. . .]

[#itried

sigh, heading towards the door despite the loud.]

[before you can do that, you hear a tinny sound, somehow cutting completely through the noise each time: it layers itself on top of all the other voices rather than removing them, so now it's really loud in your head.

it's coming, improbably, from the cord-cut hotel telephone you're carrying.

the sound is impossible to ignore, hideously compelling - who's even calling? it would be very, very hard not to react to the ringing.]

[uh

what

how even

…………removes the [ shaped piece and holds it up?]

[THAT'S A REALLY GOOD QUESTION!

picking up the phone does nothing right now - the cut cord is sparking a bit, with no indication of where - or if - the other side is in the mass of feathers. THIS IS A TERRIBLE SYSTEM.

R I N G]

[are there buttons to press?]

[yes! it looks like this, albeit with a much looser, rattling top now that you've almost pulled that panel off except for the bolts.]

[hesitates, then presses 1865594]

[still dead air!]

[focuses on key and wishes for OBNOXIOUS SOUND TO LEAD TO SOMETHING OR MAYBE TO JUST STOP]

[well the obnoxious sound is not leading to anything. . . but your key reacts to your urgency, blowing the feathers aside. there-- the cut cord disappears into the floor over that way, hanging loose. there's a couple of feet of slack there.

god, human technology]

[…tighten up phone, go to cord and press ends together and WISH FOR THEM TO CONNECT and yes there is absolutely a lot of THIS IS NOT ACTUAL TECHNOLOGY in there.]

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

the phone comes off the receiver as you finish. there's a moment of silence. . . then a click. they've hung up.

you feel a powerful emotion, hard to identify. . . mixed hope and dread. . .? it hits you so hard that you physically double over.]

[OW?

DID THIS PIECE OF SHITTY HUMAN TECHNOLOGY JUST PUNCH ME IN THE ARMOR PLATING?

THIS SEEMS UNFAIR.]

[LIFE'S NOT FAIR, CHROMEDOME!!

ah. . . the noise is dimming around you, as if it was drowned out by that shock of emotion; perhaps this is all for today. You hear Dream's voice, a little uncertain, as the noise finishes fading out.]

"Well, that's one way to do it. . ."

[. . . you wake up. don't forget how your key worked here; you can keep using that.

don't forget any of this.]

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allinyourhead - 2015-06-03 00:43 (UTC) - Expand

quitplayinggames - 2015-06-03 00:45 (UTC) - Expand