E
Exvind
Guest
Original poster
(This is largely a conceptual project based on the COYAs and MUDs of old. It really is a chance for you to really explore your characters, whether they be from a certain Mythos, or series, or even if you make one up on the spot. Every player who joins will be given a separate number, and largely kept from the other players except for key moments. So, please, enjoy the show.)
Waking up in a strange place is always an uncomfortable experience. Waking up in a strange place with a headache and no memory of how you arrived in said place, is worse.
You are in a white room. True white, with not even the faintest smudge or layer of dust to be found. It is a fairly large room, with no features - not even a door. You've found yourself sitting in a chair that feels, for all intents and purposes, that it was made for you. At first glance, it would appear to be a simple, indistinguishable white metal office chair, but it is molded to fit your back in that one perfect position, making it strangely comfortable. The table you wake up facing is an extension of the room - fused to the ground seamlessly, like a quasi-organic piece of art. Above the table, attached to the ceiling in the same 'organic' fashion, casting a dully, incandescent glow with strange, shifting shadows.
You are not alone.
Sitting opposite you, is a man in a black suit. He's older, and seems vaguely familiar to you, like a forgotten memory. Every time you try to get a bead on his features, you notice something different. All you can say for certain is that he is older, and it looks like a smile is a foreign concept to him, if the lines on his face are anything to go by. He's waiting. Watching you. His fingers are folded together while his arms rest on the table. He hasn't blinked yet. You're not sure if he ever will. He waits only for you to really open your eyes before speaking. His voice is familiar too. Maybe you've heard him speak somewhere before, perhaps he reminds you of your father. It doesn't much matter.
"Before you ask, no, we're not going to hurt you. Nor are you the only one. In rooms identical to this one, others are waking up, and being told just what I am telling you. This is your Interview. I will be asking you some questions, and you are to answer them. At the end of the interview, we'll do some considering, and then you'll be free to go."
He leans back in his seat, and the light brightens, casting away some of the shadows, before a number appears on the wall, glowing a bright, almost neon green. The Man in the Suit glances to it, and nods, though for all your effort, you cannot make out what the number is, though you are certain it is a number. Its name simply eludes you.
"Welcome to your Interview."
Waking up in a strange place is always an uncomfortable experience. Waking up in a strange place with a headache and no memory of how you arrived in said place, is worse.
You are in a white room. True white, with not even the faintest smudge or layer of dust to be found. It is a fairly large room, with no features - not even a door. You've found yourself sitting in a chair that feels, for all intents and purposes, that it was made for you. At first glance, it would appear to be a simple, indistinguishable white metal office chair, but it is molded to fit your back in that one perfect position, making it strangely comfortable. The table you wake up facing is an extension of the room - fused to the ground seamlessly, like a quasi-organic piece of art. Above the table, attached to the ceiling in the same 'organic' fashion, casting a dully, incandescent glow with strange, shifting shadows.
You are not alone.
Sitting opposite you, is a man in a black suit. He's older, and seems vaguely familiar to you, like a forgotten memory. Every time you try to get a bead on his features, you notice something different. All you can say for certain is that he is older, and it looks like a smile is a foreign concept to him, if the lines on his face are anything to go by. He's waiting. Watching you. His fingers are folded together while his arms rest on the table. He hasn't blinked yet. You're not sure if he ever will. He waits only for you to really open your eyes before speaking. His voice is familiar too. Maybe you've heard him speak somewhere before, perhaps he reminds you of your father. It doesn't much matter.
"Before you ask, no, we're not going to hurt you. Nor are you the only one. In rooms identical to this one, others are waking up, and being told just what I am telling you. This is your Interview. I will be asking you some questions, and you are to answer them. At the end of the interview, we'll do some considering, and then you'll be free to go."
He leans back in his seat, and the light brightens, casting away some of the shadows, before a number appears on the wall, glowing a bright, almost neon green. The Man in the Suit glances to it, and nods, though for all your effort, you cannot make out what the number is, though you are certain it is a number. Its name simply eludes you.
"Welcome to your Interview."