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Entry tags:
- !event,
- 2064 rom: turing,
- dangan ronpa: hajime hinata,
- dangan ronpa: kiyotaka ishimaru,
- dangan ronpa: kokichi ouma,
- dangan ronpa: shuichi saihara,
- elsword: clamor ventus,
- elsword: noah ebalon,
- fate: sherlock holmes,
- hanako-kun: nene yashiro,
- mo dao zu shi: meng yao,
- my hero academia: shoto todoroki,
- red dead redemption: arthur morgan
May event/tdm
Golden Week (closed to current characters)
On the 28th, Aiko Okane's body is returned to the auditorium, rotten and still thawing when the first student walks in upon her and screams themselves hoarse. She is swiftly removed and the auditorium is closed for the rest of the day for deep cleaning, the smell of disinfectant lingering for days after. In honor of the late student council president, a gorinto is later set up on one of the windowsills in the art room, stones perpetually damp and causing those who touch it to experience vivid flashbacks of flashing strobe lights so bright it's nauseating, a spinning room, hands covered in soot, a shadow moving from behind a bookcase, sharp pain in the back of the head—-
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
05/06 06:00 (open to all)
You open your eyes.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
05/08 16:27 (open to all)
After school on the 8th, when Clamor is headed up the second floor stairwell to the clocktower, he'll find that the door doesn't push in easily, as if there were something blocking it. A harder push and he dislodges something heavy, dark red blood pouring out from the open door to soak through his shoes and those of anybody nearby as the world spins and pitches and falls apart.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
OOC
- ✽ This event log doubles as a TDM, with new characters experiencing the recurring feeling of drifting in (school life) and out (canon life) of sleep up until they "open their eyes," after which they will have full awareness and come to their senses. Pre-established cr is possible to some extent, as a varying degree of familiarity may remain, but all characters will be strangers to one another unless they know each other in canon.
- ✽ A new closed prompt will go up on the 10th for auction results and body investigation, and on the 31st for the student council assembly.
- ✽ After the 8th, any blood spilled in the school will result in characters in the vicinity seeing its transformation into a dilapidated version of the same building. Nearby npcs turn into shadows, while nearby pcs are brought into the other world together. Finding a mirror and breaking it will return the character to where they originally were, as if no time had passed.
- ✽ The layout of the transformed school is exactly the same as the original, with inaccessible locations remaining inaccessible. The exception is the auditorium which has been replaced by a void, and fully stepping into the void will result in permadeath and a drop from the game. TDM characters may step into the void as their "exit" any time during the month, but if they are apped into the game, that death will not be considered canon.
- ✽ Applications are always open on a rolling basis. The player cap is currently set at 40, but will lowered to 30 in June.
ii. the burning
Ah- I'm sorry- I heard someone- is everything okay?
( if her voice sounds somewhat panicked, please don't mention it. but she's 15 years old and trapped in a strange school in the 90s, and everything is awful. she's 15 and her parents don't even know something is wrong, her hamster is left alone and she hasn't seen her friends in weeks now. she's 15 and her heart is full of so much love it hurts and she just wants to help. so what will you do, kirigiri? )
ii. the burning.
' i'm alright. so sorry to bother you. i was the one who screamed, just now. something startled me, is all. but are you alright? you look like you've seen a ghost, poor thing. '
[ there is a psychology that says if you are looking down at someone, one might find themselves intimidated by your presence. being that kyouko is already taller (and older) than the girl, she squats down, hands moving to press her skirt to her thighs until she is looking up at the other, a gentle smile on her features. ]
' i'm kyouko. kirigiri kyouko. do you mind to tell me your name? '
no subject
she misses hanako-kun so much.and she wants to press, but...wait. something startled her. could it be?
no matter how unsure nene seems, because she could never hide her emotions to save her life, she nods. because even if she's not alright, there's not a lot they can do about it at the moment. )
Did you just... "wake up"? Oh-- um, I'm Yashiro Nene. It's nice to meet you.
( if only it were under better circumstances. )
no subject
[ she doesn't move, nor rise just yet, if only to save her knees the trouble of getting up and down again. after all she's been through, she feels like a forty-year old woman in a the body of someone in her early twenties. life is hard when your mind and your knees both have trauma, she guesses. ]
' i don't know what you mean by just 'waking up', though i will say that i don't really remember being here prior to now. and somehow, also, i do. it's very strange, but this isn't the first time i've had memory issues. do you mind to tell me a little bit more about what you mean by that? do other people wake up like this? '
no subject
( but she's more than welcome to confirm that information herself- shoto had to, too, and it does sound unusual when told for the first time. it's just life for nene at this point, though, having been here since the start of spring break over a month ago... it's an unfortunate fact of life.
it must have been an awful awakening, to garner such a reaction. just what was it from home that she saw last? )
no subject
' transfer students. '
[ well, that explains how she, a twenty-some year old woman, is donning a school uniform again. she really wasn't ready to deal with the psychological effects that was going to have on her in the long term. she stands up, dusting off her gloves, and looks around at the decrepit nature of the school before her. ]
' well, i'm a detective - a very good one at that, according to the DSC - so. do you mind to tell me what you do know, yashiro-san? no detail is unimportant. '
by all means u dont gotta match nenes been here from the start shes seen a lot
( not that they can prove it right now, but like. she sees ghosts. she is in absolutely no position to disbelieve anything. after a moment of deep thought, nene straightens up where she stands, like she's reciting something in class. )
A majority of us have been trapped within the school since the graduation ceremony in late March. We can't open the doors or windows, nor pass through them. As more people 'wake up', they also can't leave. Other students and the faculty haven't noticed anything strange and act like we're weird if we try to mention it, and we're supposed to know who they are but we... don't.
There's also been... There's been people coming in to school with injuries they won't explain, and a couple disappearances. ... The student council president was found dead in the auditorium last month too. The- the students were asked to investigate, and we've been working on that but a lot was going on when the meeting happened, I don't... really remember everything. I'm sorry.
does she know i love her
' well. i do not come from a world with superpowers and people with magic, but impressive people do exist. people who could inspired hope in others just by speaking, miraculous soldiers... we were called 'super high school level', once upon a time, but that title has long since returned. i suppose when i get there to speak to some of these people, i'll know the truth about what they are really able to do... thank you, yashiro-san, for sharing this information with me. it will be very important to my success here. to our success in finding an exit. i have been in situations similar to this before. '
[ she wishes she didn't speak like a seasoned veteran, but here she is. sirius observatory does not feel familiar to this at all, nor does the final killing game. if anything, kibougamine settles most familiarly into her bones here, and she wishes it did not. she does not miss hope's peak in the fucking slightest. ]
' you don't need to apologize, though. you're doing the best you can. you say 'student council president', though, and that he was dead... has it not bothered anyone that a faculty of adults have asked a class of mixed-bag students to investigate? '
she loves you too!
( ... oh dear.
wait, no, that's rude. but. komaeda-san was a lot, and ouma-kun... they were friends, yes, but sometimes it felt more like he was just jerking her around for fun. but she supposes that as "ultimate supreme leader", that it's both intentional and inevitable.
hadn't ouma-kun said something about... being trapped in a school before? he claimed it was a lie, but he also admitted to being a liar. she mostly went with the flow, but this just proved she had reason to revisit things he's said. )
It's very strange. And we're being offered a reword in 'merit points' for information- we get those naturally just by being good students or inciting strong emotional reactions in others, which is really weird? And it's used as a currency to get things from the vending machines. But it feels like bringing up unusual things makes us look like the weirdos...
no subject
' yes! exactly that. i actually know komaeda-kun. we have a... nn, we'll say a few mutual friends. '
[ because 'mutual friends' is easier to say than 'i assisted my best friend in taking a whole bunch of homicidal maniacs scorned by society to put them in a virtual simulator and implant memories in their mind so that they can be rehabilitated from a permanent headspace of despair but in actuality they started trying to kill each other because someone uploaded a virus to the program and we had to go into the program to save them from themselves'. ]
[ she crosses her arms over her chest, thinking pensively. if nene looked hard enough, she could probably see the steam coming out of kyouko's ears as she wrapped her head around all of this new information. her hand still burned, in a way, but she chalked it up to her own ghost pains. ]
' how do you get this currency? is it a physical thing? '
no subject
( NENE )
No, it accumulates and is assigned to your ID in your PDA. When you use the vending machines, you pay with the PDA too, by tapping it against the sensor.
( she kind of pantomimes tapping an imaginary device to something else as she talks, unaware that she's doing it in the first place. )
I think you can ask Mr. Clamor- ( Mister, because he's a foreigner and she's trying to be polite. ) about the details of the meeting when we last discussed the murder. A lot of people are acting independently though.
no subject
[ KYOUKO. ]
[ ... but for the most part, that makes sense. this mr. clamor person is someone she's interested in checking out, especially when she gets a little bit more freedom from her own mind. still shaken from the visions she had in the bathroom, kyouko knows that if she's going to take a case, she needs to have a clear head, and she definitely does not have one of those right now. ]
' well, thank you for all of this, yashiro-san. i really do appreciate all you've told me. it's more than i was able to obtain on my own. are you alright? you must be horribly strong, handling all of this on your own. '
no subject
Oh- yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?
( says the girl sleeping on tables in the library with a blanket she's made herself and little else, bathing by rags and handsoap in the bathroom when no one else is around, stressing over the supplies available to them in the home ec room- but really. she's fine. )
We're all together, aren't we? Even if we don't always get along, it's important to support each other.