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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.
no subject
What...? "So early"? What do you mean by that?
[ She thinks she knows, and that scares her. Kokichi is implying the game went on longer, isn't he? That it didn't just end with her and Rantaro's deaths.
That thought makes her feel sick, but she tries to stay positive. What if he's lying?
For once, she hopes he is. ]
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[Kaede isn't stupid. Naive, maybe, but Kokichi doesn't think she's dumb. He looks thoughtful for a moment, almost exaggeratedly so. It's always so hard to tell when he's lying given he makes everything so theatrical.]
We were down, like...nine people? That's as far as I got, anyway. Saihara-chan's probably got a more accurate bodycount than me.
[That implies a bit more than he's saying, too. But maybe she'll be too caught up in the rest of it to notice. He doesn't really feel like spelling it out for her.]
no subject
She can't. It's weird. For once, Kaede wants to think he's lying, but she just can't. ]
So, it really kept going...
[ Was she the one who started it all? That worry creeps in and she has to hold back tears. ]
What you said just now... That Saihara-kun has a more accurate count. You died too?
[ She hates that she has to ask this at all. ]
no subject
Yup! It sucks, doesn't it?
[At least they have something to bond over now?
Seemingly nonchalant compared to her obvious distress, Kokichi turns to keep heading down the hall, tugging her along after him. This is a very casual conversation and definitely does not require eye contact or anything!]
I'd tell you all about everything that happened, but you'll just think I'm lying if you don't like what you hear, right? So I'll leave that up to Saihara-chan!
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That smile she saw for just a second before it's covered by a grin... Was that honesty? Whatever it is, she wants to see it again.
In that moment, Kaede decides she's going to draw more honesty out of Kokichi. As she thinks about how she'll do that, she lets herself get dragged along. It's not like she knows where she's going anyway. ]
I won't think you're lying just because you tell me things I don't wanna hear.
[ Instead, Kaede will just wish he was lying. This is the second time he's mentioned Shuichi, though. It was easy to dismiss it the first time, what with the other bomb he dropped, but now she can't ignore it. ]
...Is Saihara-kun here?
no subject
It doesn't matter right now. She gives him a good alternate subject to latch onto, and he carries right on.]
I'm surprised you didn't know! I thought you two just automatically attract to each other. Like magnets, y'know?
[That'd been one of the few constants of those first few days. Himiko babbled about magic bullshit, Miu was gross, Kaede and Shuichi were attached at the hip. Obvious. Doubtlessly they'll pick that right back up as soon as they find each other again.]
no subject
[ But he isn't completely wrong either, they were always with each other for those first few days, after all. That much, Kaede can't deny.
However... The thought of being together like that all the time again makes her sad. What if she does something to mess everything up again? ]
I really don't know if he would even want to hang out with me anymore anyway.
[ He's a very forgiving person, but would he still want to be friends with her after all of that? ]
no subject
[Blunt. He still smiles as he says it, pleasant and casual as can be. It's just the truth, isn't it? Everyone always wishes he'd just tell the truth, right? He pats her arm where it's hooked through his, the picture of a supportive friend.]
Relax! You were hardly the only one. Some of our best friends are murderers!
[Is this comfort, or the stabbing delivery awful truths? Who can really say? With Kokichi, sometimes those are the same thing. Then again, with Kokichi, some would say offering comfort was never ever remotely a possibility. Kaede never really got a chance to know him all that well, did she?]
no subject
As much as she wants to get angry at Kokichi for that question, it's not like he's necessarily wrong either. Ugh.
What he says after lets her take some of the attention off of herself, or at least make an attempt to. Thinking about what she did... She can't take it. ]
...Right. You said that a lot more of us died, didn't you? So I guess it was the same, huh... Trials and everything.
no subject
[Just drips of information. Teensy hints. She can put the pieces together, she can count. God forbid he says anything in a more straightforward manner, but he can give her this little bit.
Maybe it's pity. He knows he'd hate to be totally out of the loop.]
no subject
Is that because...? Kaede frowns, trying not to let the realization show on her face. He was one of the victims. Why does that feel like such a revelation? It's not like Kaede thought Kokichi was capable of murder, but his blasé attitude about it didn't help, so it was easy to assume—
She takes a deep breath so her thoughts can slow down. She stops in her tracks too, probably forcing Kokichi too as well. ]
Four more...
[ Part of her wants to apologize, but is that really even her place? She missed out on it, and part of her is thinking that maybe it's a good thing she died so early on. Going through all of that would have been torture. ]
no subject
That aside, it won't do anyone any good if she completely falls apart right here. No one would ever call Kokichi "nice" or "considerate" or anything like that, but he does know how people work and how to give them a push when needed. Call it thoughtfulness or pragmaticism or whatever you want.
Biting back a sigh, he turn back to face her, leaning down so he can peek up at her.]
It could be a lie. I am a liar, after all.
no subject
Yet at the same time, she knows for sure that things wouldn't be that easy after she left. ]
It could be, but I don't think it is. I don't think even you would lie about this.
[ Maybe she just has too much faith in other people to think Kokichi would be telling the truth, or maybe it's because she doesn't know what he ended up doing later on.
Regardless, she believes him. ]
And if you are lying... I'll be pretty mad.
no subject
[God, who knows how she'll feel once she learns about shit he did later on. If she learns about it, anyway. Jury's still out on whether Kokichi will spill the beans himself, and who knows what Shuichi will do. Maybe he'd rather let her remain blissfully ignorant.
His grins shrinks by a few molars. The smile remains, but it feels more wry somehow.]
But it's okay. I wasn't lying this time.
no subject
Turns out, Kaede still doesn't know how to react to him. Maybe she'll never figure out how. ]
I wish you were, you know. But even I'm not that naïve.
no subject
Well, we don't have to worry about all that now! I mean, we're both alive, right? I guess death isn't as permanent as we thought! Either that or...well, we're both in hell.
[One could even argue they'd both deserve it, for different reasons.]
no subject
[ And quite frankly, she's still not convinced that it isn't. The only thing keeping her from fully believing that is that both Kokichi and Shuichi are here.
They wouldn't be in hell. ]
no subject
[Shuichi's the real counter-evidence. Most people would probably say Kokichi definitely belongs in hell.
Smirking, he lifts a hand to shield the side of his mouth, mock whispering.]
Unleeeess... Maybe Saihara-chan's actually been evil all along?
no subject
It's working. But still, she can't even joke about Shuichi being evil. ]
Oh, come on! You know he's way too timid to be evil!
[ She doesn't mean to dunk on him, but... ]
no subject
Are you sure? You know what they say... It's always the quiet ones, right?
[He snickers, but then leans back again, cheery and conversational.]
Besides, I think he got waaay bolder after you died. I mean, I guess he kinda had to, with you dumping all the responsibility on him and all...
[Are you trying to cheer her up or make her acknowledge uncomfortable truths??? Make up your fucking mind, dude.]
no subject
Yeah... I guess I kind of did, huh?
[ But she didn't do it without reason—she fully believes in Shuichi. All of that responsibility was something she knows he can handle. ]
I'm glad he got bolder. That... makes me happy to hear.
no subject
[But enough about Shuichi. They've got a whole new murderschool to talk about. Kokichi perks up, grinning.]
Oh, but the good news is there haven't been any trials so far here! It seems like there's barely any kind of repercussions for killing at all! Which is good, since getting these idiots together for a discussion is somehow even worse.
[...Ominous. But hey, at least she's been warned.]
no subject
Kaede frowns. ]
So, someone here has already killed someone else...?
[ Well. That's not good, to say the very least. ]
no subject
["Doll-chan" actually told him quite a bit more than that which implies murder is the goal here. Or at least, one of the goals. But Kokichi's sitting on that info, because he's Kokichi, and also because the last thing this crew needs is motivation to kill.
Pleasantly:]
Oh, and there's a body in the pipes too! We still don't know anything about that one, either. By the way, you prooobably shouldn't drink the water here.
no subject
What? In the pipes?
[ That's so much worse than anything else. ]
What's... what's wrong with the water?
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I NEVER GOT THIS NOTIF AHHHHHHH