ITP: Consolidation.

[fracta_anima]

OOC: So we don't wind up spamming the Network Comm and because some people just want to write: comment here to post your nightmares/punishment as you have written them. Please specify if it's a nightmare or a punishment in the subject line.

If it's a punishment, please also put in the subject line if it's viewable and on what day(s).

Remember to add your character's tag to the post.

Thanks guys!

--Random

Comments

Punishment - Starting Day 5 in the early morning; Public

[tortileghostwriter]

A chill had swept through him as the great tree, that gnawer at the roots of the world, that poisonous vine had taken control. He was dead. That much was obvious. When his powers were restored, hers were as well. It was almost a blessing at that point, horrific as it was.

The next thing he knew, he was here.

He had found himself in space, a dark void. It was cold, but that damnable twisting within him was gone at last. All around him were other worlds, other Incipispheres, other sessions. After a moment, he realized he could view them.

==>

Your name is JADE LALONDE and you've made a horrible mistake. In retrospect it seemed almost ridiculous to have trusted Jack Noir, but it was too late now--Prospit has fallen and your dreamself is dead, and worse still Rose had prototyped...something, you don't even know what it is, but it doesn't matter now. John messaged you moments ago, Jack caught up with Dave, and knowing David it was a heroic death, trying to take the Slayer down once and for all. He never had a chance.

Strider is back at the Land of Shade and Clockwork now, he has a plan, and you have a sinking feeling you know what it is. You can't even be scared anymore, there's nothing that can be done. You watch as he bypasses Rose's denizen altogether and brute-forces the system, and you scarcely even feel it when Jack runs you through. As you bleed out in the Land of Frost and Light, you can see the light erupt from LOSAC, and you feel as if you'll be fine, this is giving you all a second chance--besides, that wound can't be more than a

scratch

==>

David feels a headache starting to come on, and he feels almost sick at what he's witnessed. He goes on. They are all like this. Always different versions of himself and his friends, or of the trolls, or stranger still, of some version of what appeared to be his mother and his friends' guardians in their youth, or a session occupied by both his friends and their guardians in some iteration. One way or another, Skaia's fucking thresher of a "game" ended them all, or they erased themselves to try again in some form, whether they went through proper channels or carried it out improperly as he once had.

While victory is certainly possible in Sburb, Skaia has no interest in whether players win. It's a parasite, a plague on existence, destroying entire dimensions so that it can continue to feed itself. The game scatters countless seeds, and even a Scratch gives it a means of some propagation. A new universe will be created one way or another. Whether the players win is absolutely insignificant to the game's goal.

Old life is sacrificed to make way for the new. The children go into the woods and don't come out again, eaten by the witches and wolves, and from their bones and spilled blood, new life is created--beginning the cycle anew. It's a fucking deathtrap, designed to kill you and everything you love. Everyone you love. While he had every reason to fear Yggdrasil, she was right about every last thing that she said to him. He had known this before, but it had never been demonstrated so thoroughly.

The pain in his head grew, the pressure building in his skull constantly with his outrage and desperation at every doomed world he saw. He was forced to watch all of them die, again and again and again, and occasionally Skaia had fun with it, leaving them waiting for weeks, months, sometimes years for oblivion to finally reach them, whether due to the game's challenges or the group breaking down, or simply running out of food...

He can't bear to see what would happen next in the ones that went that way. He knows what the result will be.

He screams now. He can't stop.

He cannot watch anymore, but watch he must, in desperate hope that in all the myriad worlds, there is one where they win the game or else break it.



Your name is David Lalonde. You are thirteen years old, and you are in indescribable agony. You want nothing more than to be killed to stop it in this moment(it occurs to you that you are already dead, this is your hell), but you refuse to stop checking these worlds. As your mind starts to slip away from you, you only grow more defiant.

You faintly realize that your screams have gone almost silent. Your voice is gone, but still you scream.

Do you think I'll cry?

I won't cry.

My heart will break before I cry.



I will go mad.