Lelouch Vi Britannia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doublechecks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
animus_network2012-07-06 01:05 pm
doublechecks) wrote in animus_network2012-07-06 01:05 pm
002 // Madness receding, trouble brewing (Anon Text)
Riddle me this.
What would you do to achieve your ideal self?
[Private to OU! Minato; Not Anon]
We need to talk, do you have time to meet?
What would you do to achieve your ideal self?
[Private to OU! Minato; Not Anon]
We need to talk, do you have time to meet?
Re: [anon text]
There is still much, much further to go. Once this tower's deceptions have been pierced, I will not stop--will not be stopped--until it is done.
[He'll give some details if he's pressed, but...]
[anon text]
[anon text]
There is a...thing, a monstrosity, that has the audacity to call itself a "game". Individuals who are predestined to play it--typically children at the cusp of maturity, I think, such as my friends and I--link together in a chain, and from there are physically transported into another realm.
We found our own tailored personal quests waiting for us, and we began.
We didn't know just what waited for us.
For a start, the game is heralded by a massive meteor storm that razes the players' planet entirely. A species at its apex, destroyed. It doesn't matter if the players choose not to play, the end will come anyway. The game is the only means of escape.
It's all predestined from the start, of course. Breaking from the plans of the game only creates a doomed offshoot timeline, a dead world where some die and others may wait for days, weeks, months, possibly longer still, waiting for the curtain to drop, waiting to either die or be erased utterly from existence.
Not that the proper timeline is guaranteed success. There are innumerable ways for a session of the game to go wrong, and I'd wager only a fraction of game sessions are set to end in success. Many are doomed for failure before they can even begin. Mine was one of the latter, and I cannot, will not accept that.
For some, victory is achieved only for it to be ruthlessly snatched away by the hands of fate before they might claim it.
There is a failsafe, but it guarantees nothing. It erases the players from existence, alters their conditions, creates a hard reset, but it yields nothing! Nothing is remembered, we are the same fucking people making the same fucking missteps and mistakes, our folly is the same. This has all happened before, and unless I can personally put an end to it, it will surely continue again and again with the same pointless miseries.
The goal is to create a new universe, and the game acts as a crucible to that end. Burning away all that touches it, and giving birth to new life from what enters it. It creates its players and sends them back so that they might grow and one day enter the game that created them, all so they will very likely die in the process of their fool's errand.
It's a creation myth, to be sure, but like all good fairy tales, the children go into the woods and don't come out again. Eaten by the wolves and witches, dead and devoured, the game christens a new world in blood and from that blood and bone and ash springs flowers, and new life is created.
It's circuitous, it's cruel, and it has ruled my life since my birth and I will have it no more.
I will not die for the sake of birthing a world I'll never see.
Not again.
Either I will win this fucking madhouse of a game, plumb its secrets and snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat, or break it, so that none shall ever suffer as we have. It is a fucking blight. A curse. A parasite on existence, a gnawer on the roots of creation, and one way or another, it will be ended. In the end, if I'm to be a sacrifice laid bare on the altar, offered to the hands of fate and chance and consequence and the whims of whatever cruel invisible hand guides paradox space, I am DAMN WELL going to take control of how--going out like a flame, defying the whole goddamned shithouse mess and taking out as much of it with me as I possibly can.
Does that answer your question?
[anon text]
[This information gathering side-project appears to be even more fruitful than he thought. While he couldn't reveal himself right now, he made a mental note all the same to file this man, ah, right, where are his manners?]
And what is your name, young man?
[anon text]
[anon text]