as you awake in arpéchéle, the country beloved by death, a second life becomes your own. memories that feel as real as anything that you've ever experienced before. thoughts of space, distant planets, and the people that you met there come and go only in brief flashes. the primary life that you recall, that guide your choices and your beliefs, are these:
in this country, no one lives past the age of 23. the curse takes root in people's lungs, rotting away at their systems until they become bedridden and die from organ failure and gurgling on their own blood. miraculous technology has given the people a way to escape this fate. to become a reliver means to have a chance at a longer life, even if it comes with certain... drawbacks.
luke, you know it all so well. before your parents died in a car crash in chedis, they were researchers at the institute. they wed, had you, and you've been roaming the halls since you were even able to walk—a bright intellect earning you a spot as a researcher to follow your parents' footsteps in no time at all. you support the deputy director's team: pursuing research to let relivers keep all of their emotions. you hope some progress will be made, as you are already 22 years old. your coughing fits grow bloodier by the day. but if you become a reliver like this, with this technology so incomplete, you won't be hold onto the love you feel—for anyone.
dahut, you've known love all your life. how could you ever begin to let go of it now? you were abandoned far too young to ever know your parents, but that's fine since sister salome took you in—she's the only mother you've ever known, and will ever need. the others in the orphanage are sweet, even that maiden of death that so many of the other townspeople abhor. you volunteered to take the room next to hers just because everyone else was sheepish, but it's alright. surely this odd murmur in your heart and tickle in the back of your throat lately is just a cold. a coincidence. with sister salome's recommendation, you were invited to work at the institute despite your young, youthful age of 15 years old. true 15. it's fine, you've got plenty of time to show them what you can do.
sheba, your path is a bit different. while you were similarly an orphan, you were given right to the institute. it's not a fond place for you to think of. how narrowly you escaped the grasp of some of those researchers, one of them too vibrantly admiring your eyes and your hair. instead you found yourself taken in by a group known as the corps, local townspeople who've taken it upon themselves to ensure the defense of the country since the royal guard is so useless. the group of gruff souls are rough around the edges, but sweet. they're like family. all you know about defense and chivalry come from them. at a darling 15 years old, you don't worry about the curse coming for yourself—but there are so, so many ways to die without worrying about the supernatural.
the sun is setting.
dahut and luke, you are still working at the institute, because of course you are. what are your current projects? who do you think of? maybe you're in the lab together like a silly little sitcom.
sheba, you're out on your last patrol of the evening. the town is bustling, the people are laughing, and a newly dead corpse is being wheeled out of a home. no one blinks an eye. what's on your mind? ]
as you awake in arpéchéle, the country beloved by death, a second life becomes your own. memories that feel as real as anything that you've ever experienced before. thoughts of space, distant planets, and the people that you met there come and go only in brief flashes. the primary life that you recall, that guide your choices and your beliefs, are these:
in this country, no one lives past the age of 23. the curse takes root in people's lungs, rotting away at their systems until they become bedridden and die from organ failure and gurgling on their own blood. miraculous technology has given the people a way to escape this fate. to become a reliver means to have a chance at a longer life, even if it comes with certain... drawbacks.
Dion, you're a gallant man who values life far too much to be happy with it ending at an early 23. Your mother died young of a disease unrelated to the curse, and your wealthy, doting father took you to Cerneveaul to be closer to the life-saving technology of the Institute. You became a Reliver at the end of your 22nd year when the curse had nearly eaten you through. Now, you're on your 52nd year and your second Reliver body, whiling away your days in a mediocre sort of peace that's only occasionally interrupted by the presence of your father's new suitor. Having experienced death before, does it feel a little rote now?
Diluc, you're a member of the Royal Family by marriage rather than birth. You were born to two Reliver parents in Cerneveaul whose loveless union ended in bloodshed after a violent spat - a fatal flaw of a society doomed to a future of broken emotion. Still, at 21 years of age, you have hopes and dreams of your own, things that only you can do, and the easiest way to unlock doors is by having as many keys as you can, right? Unfortunately, despite the care of your spouse, the Royal Family at large hasn't taken kindly to you and you often feel unsafe in the castle walls. There are a handful of people that you can trust even in this den of snakes, though.
Scien, you're a member of the Royal Family by birth, with a distaste for most of your relatives, including the mother who looks at you with scorn and the father who was assassinated in your youth. You've always preferred doing things with your own two hands. You've meddled in countless affairs and irritated the King dozens of times, and you get better results than anybody, though that's getting harder for you to do. Now at the end of your 21st year, your body is beginning to break down at a faster clip than expected. It's only a matter of time before you have to make your decision: do you die before finishing all that needs to be finished?
The sun is setting.
Scien and Diluc, you are both within the Castle walls. A banquet has just ended and everyone is clearing from the room, or had done so hours before. Where do your thoughts drift as you walk through the halls? Where do your feet take you?
Dion, you are out in Chedis. Another day's work, another day lived, and endless days ahead of you yet. As you walk through the well-manicured streets that speak to the wealth of its residents, what do you think of? What do you do?]
[Memory iS a fiNiCKy t█in█ ████████. Mem0rYy is █ MEMORY ████████
As you awake in Arpéchéle, the country beloved by death, a seco██ THIRDfourth 5█h life becomes your own. Memories that feel as real as anything that you've ever ███ EXPER█ENCE█. Thoughts of space, distant planets, and the people that you met there come and go onl█ ██ █████ come and stay, in the jumble of everything else you remember. All you've loved, all you've lost.
You awake in a place somewhere between a dungeon and laboratory. It is not as clean and pristine as the Institute. It is underground, and you distantly hear the sound of rushing water. Where are you? Why are you? There are chains that bind your wrists and ankles to posts, all separate from each other, saving you from each other... for now.
A distorted voice comes in.
"Won't you reveal to me what is stronger? Memory or emotion? In this land where so many people view them as one and the same, can't we do an experiment? Show me. Show me, show me! What will you cling onto? Your desire to live, or your loyalty to each other?” And then briefly, softer. "How pointless would life be if she did not still love me?"
One by one, each of you will be taken into a cell—but don't worry, those remaining will still be able to watch through the holographic screens that flicker to life. Those of you who are still alive to watch can do so, or may be forced to do so. Outside of the matches, your memories from the Eudora are clearer—you know who these people are to you.
And you know that they will all destroy each other.]
[As Dion and Luke breathe their last, the room finally stills for good. No more suffering. No more struggle. No more tearing yourselves and each other apart, trying to find balance between the logical drive to survive and emotions from bleeding hearts that both do and don't belong to you.
Sheba, Diluc, Dahut and Scien's corpses are all lined up tidily in the observation room, while Luke and Dion remain where they fell in the cell. There's a peace in death, even if it doesn't come gently. It's the last and most permanent rest from a cruel, unkind, unchanging world. It would be nice to stay that way, cradled in the cold and ceaseless silence. Anyone that has been through what you have would agree.
A lone set of footsteps echo through the silent building as your captor and tormentor comes to tidy things up. Did they receive a satisfactory answer to their question? Did you?
...No matter. This is Arpéchéle, after all. Death is more nuisance than respite, and the living just keep on living regardless of how long ago their clocks ran down to that last, ugly second.
Your rest is cut short as your consciousness is wrenched back into your body. You blink awake in a blinding white room, and before you can even get your bearings, you're being ushered or shoved or bodily thrown back out through a rift and into the familiar halls of the Eudora's underbelly once more.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ACT I: THE INSTITUTE.
as you awake in arpéchéle, the country beloved by death, a second life becomes your own. memories that feel as real as anything that you've ever experienced before. thoughts of space, distant planets, and the people that you met there come and go only in brief flashes. the primary life that you recall, that guide your choices and your beliefs, are these:
in this country, no one lives past the age of 23. the curse takes root in people's lungs, rotting away at their systems until they become bedridden and die from organ failure and gurgling on their own blood. miraculous technology has given the people a way to escape this fate. to become a reliver means to have a chance at a longer life, even if it comes with certain... drawbacks.
luke, you know it all so well. before your parents died in a car crash in chedis, they were researchers at the institute. they wed, had you, and you've been roaming the halls since you were even able to walk—a bright intellect earning you a spot as a researcher to follow your parents' footsteps in no time at all. you support the deputy director's team: pursuing research to let relivers keep all of their emotions. you hope some progress will be made, as you are already 22 years old. your coughing fits grow bloodier by the day. but if you become a reliver like this, with this technology so incomplete, you won't be hold onto the love you feel—for anyone.
dahut, you've known love all your life. how could you ever begin to let go of it now? you were abandoned far too young to ever know your parents, but that's fine since sister salome took you in—she's the only mother you've ever known, and will ever need. the others in the orphanage are sweet, even that maiden of death that so many of the other townspeople abhor. you volunteered to take the room next to hers just because everyone else was sheepish, but it's alright. surely this odd murmur in your heart and tickle in the back of your throat lately is just a cold. a coincidence. with sister salome's recommendation, you were invited to work at the institute despite your young, youthful age of 15 years old. true 15. it's fine, you've got plenty of time to show them what you can do.
sheba, your path is a bit different. while you were similarly an orphan, you were given right to the institute. it's not a fond place for you to think of. how narrowly you escaped the grasp of some of those researchers, one of them too vibrantly admiring your eyes and your hair. instead you found yourself taken in by a group known as the corps, local townspeople who've taken it upon themselves to ensure the defense of the country since the royal guard is so useless. the group of gruff souls are rough around the edges, but sweet. they're like family. all you know about defense and chivalry come from them. at a darling 15 years old, you don't worry about the curse coming for yourself—but there are so, so many ways to die without worrying about the supernatural.
the sun is setting.
dahut and luke, you are still working at the institute, because of course you are. what are your current projects? who do you think of? maybe you're in the lab together like a silly little sitcom.
sheba, you're out on your last patrol of the evening. the town is bustling, the people are laughing, and a newly dead corpse is being wheeled out of a home. no one blinks an eye. what's on your mind? ]
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ACT I: THE CASTLE.
as you awake in arpéchéle, the country beloved by death, a second life becomes your own. memories that feel as real as anything that you've ever experienced before. thoughts of space, distant planets, and the people that you met there come and go only in brief flashes. the primary life that you recall, that guide your choices and your beliefs, are these:
in this country, no one lives past the age of 23. the curse takes root in people's lungs, rotting away at their systems until they become bedridden and die from organ failure and gurgling on their own blood. miraculous technology has given the people a way to escape this fate. to become a reliver means to have a chance at a longer life, even if it comes with certain... drawbacks.
Dion, you're a gallant man who values life far too much to be happy with it ending at an early 23. Your mother died young of a disease unrelated to the curse, and your wealthy, doting father took you to Cerneveaul to be closer to the life-saving technology of the Institute. You became a Reliver at the end of your 22nd year when the curse had nearly eaten you through. Now, you're on your 52nd year and your second Reliver body, whiling away your days in a mediocre sort of peace that's only occasionally interrupted by the presence of your father's new suitor. Having experienced death before, does it feel a little rote now?
Diluc, you're a member of the Royal Family by marriage rather than birth. You were born to two Reliver parents in Cerneveaul whose loveless union ended in bloodshed after a violent spat - a fatal flaw of a society doomed to a future of broken emotion. Still, at 21 years of age, you have hopes and dreams of your own, things that only you can do, and the easiest way to unlock doors is by having as many keys as you can, right? Unfortunately, despite the care of your spouse, the Royal Family at large hasn't taken kindly to you and you often feel unsafe in the castle walls. There are a handful of people that you can trust even in this den of snakes, though.
Scien, you're a member of the Royal Family by birth, with a distaste for most of your relatives, including the mother who looks at you with scorn and the father who was assassinated in your youth. You've always preferred doing things with your own two hands. You've meddled in countless affairs and irritated the King dozens of times, and you get better results than anybody, though that's getting harder for you to do. Now at the end of your 21st year, your body is beginning to break down at a faster clip than expected. It's only a matter of time before you have to make your decision: do you die before finishing all that needs to be finished?
The sun is setting.
Scien and Diluc, you are both within the Castle walls. A banquet has just ended and everyone is clearing from the room, or had done so hours before. Where do your thoughts drift as you walk through the halls? Where do your feet take you?
Dion, you are out in Chedis. Another day's work, another day lived, and endless days ahead of you yet. As you walk through the well-manicured streets that speak to the wealth of its residents, what do you think of? What do you do?]
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ACT II: ██████ █████
As you awake in Arpéchéle, the country beloved by death, a seco██ THIRDfourth 5█h life becomes your own. Memories that feel as real as anything that you've ever ███ EXPER█ENCE█. Thoughts of space, distant planets, and the people that you met there come and go onl█ ██ █████ come and stay, in the jumble of everything else you remember. All you've loved, all you've lost.
You awake in a place somewhere between a dungeon and laboratory. It is not as clean and pristine as the Institute. It is underground, and you distantly hear the sound of rushing water. Where are you? Why are you? There are chains that bind your wrists and ankles to posts, all separate from each other, saving you from each other... for now.
A distorted voice comes in.
"Won't you reveal to me what is stronger? Memory or emotion? In this land where so many people view them as one and the same, can't we do an experiment? Show me. Show me, show me! What will you cling onto? Your desire to live, or your loyalty to each other?” And then briefly, softer. "How pointless would life be if she did not still love me?"
One by one, each of you will be taken into a cell—but don't worry, those remaining will still be able to watch through the holographic screens that flicker to life. Those of you who are still alive to watch can do so, or may be forced to do so. Outside of the matches, your memories from the Eudora are clearer—you know who these people are to you.
And you know that they will all destroy each other.]
>TALK
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MOVEMENT I
DAHUT & LUKE
1/2
2/2
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PEANUT GALLERY
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MOVEMENT II
SCIEN & DION
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PEANUT GALLERY
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MOVEMENT III
LUKE & SHEBA
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1/2
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PEANUT GALLERY
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MOVEMENT IV
DION & DILUC
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PEANUT GALLERY
(junji ito voice) this is my top level, it's made for me
MOVEMENT V
DION & LUKE
margaret's gonna be so mad
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FINAL BOW
Sheba, Diluc, Dahut and Scien's corpses are all lined up tidily in the observation room, while Luke and Dion remain where they fell in the cell. There's a peace in death, even if it doesn't come gently. It's the last and most permanent rest from a cruel, unkind, unchanging world. It would be nice to stay that way, cradled in the cold and ceaseless silence. Anyone that has been through what you have would agree.
A lone set of footsteps echo through the silent building as your captor and tormentor comes to tidy things up. Did they receive a satisfactory answer to their question? Did you?
...No matter. This is Arpéchéle, after all. Death is more nuisance than respite, and the living just keep on living regardless of how long ago their clocks ran down to that last, ugly second.
Your rest is cut short as your consciousness is wrenched back into your body. You blink awake in a blinding white room, and before you can even get your bearings, you're being ushered or shoved or bodily thrown back out through a rift and into the familiar halls of the Eudora's underbelly once more.]
>EFFECTS