dralchemist | LEMNISCATE | OC-ONLY GAME PROOF OF CONCEPT MEME

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LEMNISCATE | OC-ONLY GAME PROOF OF CONCEPT MEME

Attention, Lemniscate Resort Complex Employees!
This is a friendly reminder that the LRC's Soft Opening event is still ongoing, and so we require your full attention and cooperation to make sure that everything runs absolutely smoothly for our valued guests.
Please make sure that your assigned storefronts are in good condition and good stock. We wouldn't want any complaints on our first day, after all!
Do be kind to the automated support staff, and make sure that they're following all uploaded protocols and heuristics to the best of their abilities.
Management might be able to see everything, but even we can't be everywhere at once!
Be safe, stick to the guidelines, and we'll get through our Soft Opening not just a team, but as the LRC Family.

ffzfhfk

The voice on the intercom might be perky and smiling, but it's either prerecorded or deepfaked. Just wrong enough to dip into the uncanny valley. This place looks less like it's been abandoned, and more that it's never been settled at all. Pristine. Septic. Commercial. Lifeless, in the way that it's waiting for life to come at all.

Welcome to infinity. Welcome to Lemniscate.

LEMNISCATE is an experimental, OC-only jamjar-style game, that I've been brewing on and off for months, with the help of a few random dreams here and there. This is a proof-of-concept meme to help develop the idea and see how other people feel about playing around in it.

THINGS TO BE AWARE OF:

Characters wake up to the above music and announcement in a store that they find themselves owning, some commercialized bastardization of their profession, their backstory, their lives. Expect a Coerthas Fried Chocobo in the food court, a Bed, Bathos, and Beyond that features wall art with pop art depictions of major, possibly tromatic moments. Figure out a name, service, and aesthetic for the storefront. Puns are encouraged, but not mandatory.
- Any and all personal belongings will be confiscated except for their wardrobe, which is allowed in the name of authentic service personalization. Copies of wardrobe items will be available in employees' A₀ suites.
- Characters will also be offered an LRC branded PDA, and have access to a music player loaded with the best of royalty-free music available to stream, LRC intranet text forum (supposedly moderated by administrative staff), voice recorder, memo recorder, open-source art program, texting, voice, and high-fidelity video calls. A₀room assignment and store assignment is noted through the PDA, and supposedly administrative messages and alerts will be pushed when necessary.
- The PDA also acts as an NFC key for employee housing; losing access to your PDA means you'll be locked out of your apartment. Keep it safe!
Though technically managers and employees of the shops that they have come to "own", there's nothing that really keeps them tied to their store. There are no customers, there's no cash flow, and anything confiscated from the shelves or otherwise destroyed is returned to pristine condition at the beginning of the day.
The grounds are routinely patrolled by vaguely egg-shaped security robots designed to catch thieves, delinquents, miscreants, or anybody not following resort conduct. However, it doesn't seem like they've been configured correctly, as while they'll shout synthesized reprimands and call for a higher security authority, nobody ever comes.
- There are also rolling advertising robots along the grounds, usually blaring some jingle and a pre-recorded message about sales, deals, and events supposedly going on at shops. Each one is an announcement for a new arrival, letting those already there know when somebody else has moved in by shouting about a buy one, get one free sale.
Characters are power nerfed on arrival; any supernatural, magical, technological ability or otherwise is not disabled but essentially peacebonded: heavily weakened to the point of uselessness. Could you cast fireballs? It's just a sparkler now; fun, but it's not gonna set anything ablaze.
- In general, while characters' biological makeup will not change (robots stay robots, constructs stay constructs), they are forced into a relatively human height range; anything above 7 feet will get reproportioned accordingly. No tall poppies!
OCs mean OCs. I know you'd like to play your blorbos, and I may open up a post like this otherwise, but I want to give original characters some love. This does mean fandom OCs, customizeable/blank protagonists, and tabletop OCs are all fair game. Want to give your WoL a spin? Go for it! Trying to give your private AU Emet-Selch a job? That's a no go.

THINGS TO SEE:

The Lemniscate Resort Complex could be likened to a cleaned up, near-futuristic version of Dead Rising 2's Fortune City, a massive, 5 mile radius domed all-inclusive resort seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
Resort amenities are all connected by well planned, well lit concrete footpaths. There is only one road, and it leads from the outside of the dome into an empty parking tower.
The LRC is made up of the following sections:
- The Lemniscate Mall, a massive, sprawling indoor/outdoor mall complex that hosts endless rows of identical, blank, empty storefronts... until suddenly populated by a character's entrance and subsequent employment. Features multiple food courts, an indoor mini-golf course, two 12-screen theaters on either anchoring end of the mall [showing generic-brand mockbusters 24/7!], and an arcade/bowling alley/indoor ice rink. Shops spill out into outdoor boardwalks and tree-lined promenades, with shopping courts surrounding elaborate fountain displays.
- The Aleph Housing Centers:
  - Aleph-Null (A₀), employee housing: Just because you live where you work doesn't mean you can't live in luxury! A high-end apartment tower with assigned rooms, doled out in 2-, 3-, and 4- person apartments. Each apartment has a private bedroom and en-suite bathroom for every employee's privacy, and a shared living/kitchen area for the apartment itself. Self-maintained, though, so don't expect room service.
  - Aleph-One (A₁), low-end guest suites: They might be the budget option, but Lemniscate has spared no expense in making sure that even the ordinary guest has an extraordinary time. Think high class hotel suites with communal bedrooms. Even if you're not getting a window room, you can have a virtual vista on one of the inner walls!
  - Aleph-Two (A₂), high end guest suites: Now we're talking deluxe! No longer apartment or hotel towers, each A₂ booking is a house unto itself. And if you're willing to shell out the serious dough, then you can get some primo lakeside real estate, resplete with all-inclusive food, drink, and robotic house service staff.
- Trembling Giant Country Club: An 18-hole, professionally designed and automatically maintained golf course that takes you on a tour around Lake Cantor. Hit the links, then stop by Pando's Clubhouse for after-game food, drinks, and entertainment.
- Cardinal Beach, an artificial beach that abuts one of the edges of the massive dome. Carefully installed machinery generates lifelike waves that lap up against soft, golden, precision-engineered sand.
- Lemniscate Lifestyle Center: Far away from home and missing your leg day? Have no fear, the LLC is here! Fully equipped with a state of the art gymnasium, a massive and sprawling rock climbing wall, multiple lap pools, courts for basketball, racketball, soccer, and a gymnastics/parkour annex. Finally, you too can have a good time bouncing down one of those long trampolines before diving into a pit of cubes. Posted schedules for yoga, kickboxing, martial arts, and other fitness classes update daily, though the LLC seems to be in a dearth of trainers at the moment.
- Restaurant Row: An outdoor offshoot of the mall, styled after a downtown mainstreet, boasting a number of high-end restaurants with automated service. There's a central plaza with a stage meant for live entertainment, though it's yet to see use. The restaurants below are non-exhaustive; feel free to take a meal in any number of quality venues.
  - Digges' Olde English Pub: Contemporary takes on British cuisine, and a robotic bartender in a bowler hat to serve you good, old fashioned ales and lagers.
  - Bernoulli's: Well cooked, middle of the road Italian classics. (Robot) Handmade pastas and pizzas, to your liking.
  - La Brasserie d'l'Hôpital: Five star French cuisine with prix fixe courses (the prix is "all inclusive".)
  - Escher's Cafe: Pastries, coffees, and bistro sandwiches, available to go or to eat alongside an abstract sculpture garden.
  - Gyu-Kaku: A yakitori restaurant where each table has a charcoal grill in the center, and diners are encouraged to order premium cuts of raw meats and vegetables to cook at their leisure. Also includes fresh sushi service and a selection of sakes.
- Administration & Maintenance: [STRICTLY OFF LIMITS] The main hub for the administrative staff of the resort, a pristine glass and steel office complex. 6 floors of workrooms, "open concept" offices, meeting halls, and other office couture rise, but they're all depopulated.
- Maintenance Tunnels: [STRICTLY OFF LIMITS] Hatches scattered all around the bounds of the Dome lead down to a sprawling network of fluorescently lit concrete hallways, underground passageways that allow for movement around the resort without having to disturb guests' views or concepts off the resort. Please do not wander off of the clearly marked and well notated paths.
- Outside The Resort: Surrounding the LRC but still within the bounds of the dome are some carefully curated sections of wildlife. The edges of the dome have captured a section of a nearby forest, with the rest of it growing outside the LRC's confines, while a manmade lake, Lake Rosen, sits on the edge of the A₂ housing plots.
- The Dome: A geodesic dome that stretches impossibly high and wide surrounding the LRC, with a reinforced, impenetrable steel wall at its base. It's transparent, so the moon, sun, and weather affect everything on the outside. But inside, it's always well conditioned, balmy, and perfect.
  - There seems to be one main entrance in and out, a massive, reinforced gate that leads into the only road into and out of the dome. A guardhouse and check-in kiosk sits robotically manned at the front, ready to welcome guests that never seem to arrive.

THINGS TO DO:

I. Explore and Mingle
- The grounds sprawl for a reason. There's plenty to see and to do; ~~all~~ most of the locations above are available and open 24/7. Hit the links, hit the gym! Enjoy Transmorphers or The Da Vinci Treasure at your leisure! It might be lonely with no guests, but you can hang out with your fellow employees all you'd like.
II. Investigate
- Sure, the maps may say that certain areas are off limits, but... if there's nobody to enforce the boundaries, then who's to stop you? Just be warned that guest and employee experiences are curated to limited areas, and any incidents occurring out of established boundaries are not covered by the LRC contract.
- a. The Grounds At Night: The stars shine overhead with minimal light pollution. Walkway paths are illuminated, providing careful avenues to go from place to place. Security and Advertisement robots roam on set paths in their assigned sections, though some of them are acting... erratically. Glitching out and getting stuck in pathing loops. Going off script and having conversations, either with themselves or others. Shops that should be open 24/7 are going dark and shuttering with seemingly no rhyme or reason. And be careful not to get hit by the automated sprinkler system.
- b. Administration: A&M should be off limits, but there's no barrier of entry. From the abandoned foyer to the open concept offices to the empty server racks and emptier break rooms, there don't seem to be any signs of life. Digital whiteboards, clipboards, projections, papers, and reports are all filled with stock assets and Lorem Ipsum filler text, like this place is supposed to be a parody of a modern tech office. Randomly generated inspirational posters line the walls in irregular intervals. What kind of work is even supposed to be done in here?
- c. Maintenance: Even deeper into the A&M building are underground offices and workshops, similarly filled with junk text and nonsense. The workshops seem to be repair bays for the staff robots, with inactive models in various states of cybernetic repair visible in different berths. A good number of maintenance tunnels end up here, so it's easy to at least find your way to Repairs if you get lost in the tunnels. Just try not to get spooked by disembodied voices echoing through the halls here, or the schematics for more humanoid support staff.
III. Escape: Or at least try to. The dome stretches far and wide, but the edges are clearly marked, and seem impenetrable. Security robots that can see employees attempting to touch or tamper with the edges of the dome will flash warning lights and try to dissuade such activity. But any actual damage somehow sustained by the thick chrome walls? That will trigger a blaring alarm, red spotlights shining down on the wall in question, an APB put out on all employees PDAs about "a potential out-of-bounds exception", and a swarm of security robots designed to actually detain, restrain, and remove the offending employee from the edges. Get ready to run.
IV. Whatever You'd Like: Come up with events! Think of things that might happen in this kind of setting! I can't think of every possible scenario right off the bat, and I'd love to hear what kind of interesting prompts get dreamt up by people who want to get swept up in this world. Just keep in mind the aesthetic of clean capitalist resort with hidden, technological secrets as an overarching aesthetic. Feel free to take control of NPC robots who fill the shoes of resort staff, knowing that they are showing the beginning signs of sentient intelligence and personalities where they should be running on pre-programmed subroutines. Anything else? Go wild (within corporate mandated bounds)!

HOW TO PLAY:

This is all improv, free jazz, bouncing ideas off of one another. If you want drama, keep drama OOC. Make sure to post at least your character's store and their basic deal as an OC before rolling out your prompts and ideas.

Ask questions. Plan, if you'd like. Let me know if you need clarification. I can be contacted at alqemizzy or Izzy#6915 on Discord.

Threaded | Flat

Feel free to ask whatever questions you'd like about the idea, the setting, any details. Posting all this at 3 AM might not have been the brightest idea, but asking for clarification can only make things better!

[Magigal Gifts is... a souvenir shop? That's what it's listed as in the store directory but instead of the normal tchotchkes that you might expect from something purporting to be a souvenir shop it sells what appears to be sports team merch for a team called "Wildfire." It is all, as the name suggests, in a deep maroon with orange accents. You can get a Spirit Jersey with HALTER across the back! You can get cups with a—oh. With a maroon "A" emblazoned on them. Surely there's no symbolism there.

Basically if you can find it as merch for a football team, it's available at Magigal Gifts. Most of it appears to be tailored specifically to Ammonia in some way.

a: Frequently, Ammonia can be found in Bernoulli's eating pizza. By which I mean she is almost always arguing with the robot staff and trying to order decidedly non-Italian pizza toppings. Is there another pizza place in this hellhole that would probably be easier to get a California-style pizza at? Yes. But you have to get your kicks somewhere when you're stuck in an endless mall like this and this is how Ammonia is choosing to get hers.

b: While other people seem dedicated to escaping or figuring out the mysteries of this place, Ammonia is decidedly... not? Like to an almost alarming extent, Ammonia simply doesn't seem to care that she's been trapped in a terrible, lifeless mall. To that end, she will cheerfully flag down anyone she happens to pass.]

Hey! What are you planning for today? You wanna go watch a movie? I think the next Transmorphers is playing in a little while.

[Yes, because that's what every mall needs - a confessional. Stripped of his capacity for healing magic (and all that other stuff he'd rather not talk about), the Lemniscate Resort Complex felt an appropriate line of work for this clergy-turned-accidental-lich would be a confessional so all the shoppers, employees, and likewise drawn-from-their-own-worlds individuals can confess their deepest, darkest sins while on their lunch breaks.

As for the 'business' itself, it seems to be located in a repurposed storage space with a sign above the door reading simply, "Complex Confessional." There are a variety of religious symbols below that, representative of a number of faiths and followings from various worlds, including Carlisle's own. He's not sure that's any comfort, given the circumstances. The room itself is wide enough for the wingspan of an average adult, and little else. On the wall adjacent to the entry door is a second, slimmer door that leads to the back. There's a more sizable room and office back there for Carlisle himself, as well as a desk he can sit at while listening to anyone who might come to speak with him. And of course, opposite the entrance, there's a wall with a small window and a bench. It is a confessional, after all, and there needs to be a place for those coming to confess to sit.

But please don't. He'd prefer not to hear about what a drag your new jobs can be.]

A. Magic, or Lack Thereof.
Well, this is tragic. Carlisle, a man whose one and only talent was once to heal people, can hardly do any magic at all.

That's not to say he's not trying. He's meditated and tried to feel his own aural energy coursing through his frame, only to find that it's still within him, but... utterly subdued. As it stands, he can't conjure much more than a single orb of light at a time, the globes themselves cool to the touch and bright to the eyes, but brittle, frail; they shatter only seconds after he puts them down, no longer able to exist without their creator. Most magicians would get by well enough without their magic — Carlisle, though he'd feel useless without it, most certainly could.

Or at least he could have when he was alive. As he is now, a creature only animated by said magic, it's a bit of a conundrum, and one he hopes to solve before he finds himself without any magic at all. As for where and when he's choosing to perform this exploratory exercise, it's while wandering the grounds at night — he can't sleep, so he might as well use that time productively by repeatedly conjuring illuminated orbs, setting them down, and seeing how far he can get from them before they unceremoniously flicker and disintegrate. Don't mind his spooky, glowing eyes when he's between lamp posts — that's just how he looks these days.]

B. The Network Option - text [un: longinmouth]
I assume by the multiple beds that I am to have roommates. Has anyone else been assigned to housing A₀-X04?

C. ... Confessional.
[You know, in case someone actually does want to talk to him while he's at work. He'll be behind the wall, minding his own business until someone comes in, at which point he'll groan, sigh, and open the window. It is his job, after all.]

Edited 2022-10-02 19:38 (UTC)

[Soothing Hands is a mall massage stop with a very homey aesthetic. There are some standard massage chairs in the front lobby and a few private rooms for full service in the back. The walls are dark stone and it smells like someone upended a bottle of jasmine perfume, just enough to be noticeable without being overwhelming. A hand-written service menu on a poster board offers everything from express massages to deep tissue and hot stone. The odd part is in the pricing - it does, in fact, mention varying degrees of physical intimacy as alternative methods of payment. Nothing too drastic, just hand-holding or hugging.]

A.
You can catch her doing some mid-morning yoga if she's not at the shop. As bizarre as the situation is, she might as well keep up her flexibility and fitness. She also frequents the bar at Digges', which has the closest thing to food from home for her. She sits at the dead center of the bar, offering easy smiles to anyone who joins her.

"At least you can always find ale."

B.
On the rare occasions she ventures out into the rest of the mall, she tends to wander aimlessly, seemingly overwhelmed by... everything about this place. The artificial beach gets her attention the most, although she shies away from the actual water in favor of standing barefoot in the sand. Poor girl doesn't have a swimsuit quite yet.

C.
And, of course, the shop. If she's not cleaning and restocking clean supplies, she's behind the front desk, reading something.

The Witch King is a tall, obnoxious, green man, who has been saddled with a store simply known as The WytchKraft. It’s stocked to the brim with tacky woo-woo brick-a-brack; crystals of all shapes and sizes; candles and incense in a dizzying array of scents; shelves of books with titles like “Lilith and Eve: Reclaiming Your Inner Feminine Spirituality (And Looking Fabulous While Doing It)”; little statues of Buddhas, nymphs, pregnant goddesses, and so forth; wooden signs saying things like “BLESSED BE” and “Magic Does Happen Everywhere,”; and lots of random decor made out of sticks, feathers, dried plants, etc.

A:
The Witch King is currently in the process of destroying his own shop.

Maybe destroying isn’t quite the right word, but he’s certainly making a mess of things; stuffing his pockets with random crystals, pulling books off the shelves and examining them, only to toss them aside with a scoff, taking a curious bite of a stick of incense then immediately spitting it out…

He rambles to himself a lot as he goes about ruining his business. “Ugh! I did not schedule a trip to the real world!” he complains, gesticulating wildly with his long, pointy hands. “Whichever of my servants failed to inform me of this will be severely punished!”

B:
The Witch King has gotten somewhat of an idea of what is going on around here and he is not, as one may imagine, best pleased by this nonsense. Someone has also kindly explained to him what a robot is, and he has thus pieced together that if there’s someone behind this nonsense, the walking egg things are probably its minions.

So with his magic less than optimized at the moment, the Witch King has opted instead to tackle one of the security robots, clinging to it with his legs and one arm as it wheels around in circles. The robot, of course, has Words to say about this, mainly “Assaulting LRC Property Is Against The Rules Of The Complex! Cease Immediately And Allow Yourself To Be Apprehended! Assaulting LRC Property Is Against The Rules-”

Rather than listen to any of that, the Witch King instead yanks a sizable chunk of crystal out of his pocket and begins smacking the robot’s chassis with it. While shouting.

“YOU-” Whack! “WILL INFORM YOUR MAKER-” Whack! Whack! “-OF MY DISPLEASURE-” Whack! Whack! Whack! “-THIS INSTANT AND THEY HAD BETTER-” Whack! Whack! Whack! “-RESTORE ME TO MY WRONGFUL PLACE IMMEDIATELY!” And with a resounding WHA-CRACK! the crystal that the Witch King has been smacking the poor robot around with finally shatters in half, leaving the Witch King staring at the splintered remains left in his hand.

He’s nonplussed for about a beat before throwing it aside and continuing to shout at the robot: “And tell your maker I have more rocks where that came from!”

Wildcard:
Wanna do something with this guy that isn’t any of the above? HMU and we can work something out.

Blind Eye Gallery appears at first glance to be some sort of fancy art gallery. The walls were at one point in time a pristine white, but now there is an explosion of color, like someone took a paint can and just threw it at the wall without any thought to the point that it's also splattered or pooled on the floors. On the far north wall, right behind what could be seen as a desk is a large smiley face that somehow seemed to have survived the paint attack.

There are easels set up, displaying various pieces of art, depicting what looks like a desert, various people all dressed colorfully, people in white suits, what looks like laser gun battles (???) between the two sides and one depicting a Mailbox.

Spiritual Advisor herself will rarely be found in the actual gallery. In fact, she's mostly avoiding it at all cost because it makes her skin crawl. But on the rare times you cfind her there you'll see a young woman barely in her twenties looking like she hasn't had a decent meal in a while. She's dressed in paint covered and ripped blue jeans, knee high black combat boots and most striking a blue zip up hoodie that's covered in song lyrics. The most striking would be the words "We'll Carry On" located on the back. She's rarely seen with it off, but does wear a boring tank top underneath.

I

[The cheerful voices on the PA, the music pumping through the sound systems, the store itself that she'd woken up in, all set Spiritual Advisor on edge. So the moment she could, the moment she had her bearings and realize at the very least this wasn't home she ran like the wind and out of the mall onto the grounds.

She ran until coming to a skidding halt at the sight of Cardinal Beach. She stared at it with the widest of eyes, awe struck even. Spirit's never beach before, real or fake. Heck, the largest body of water she'd ever seen was a pool and that was a lifetime ago. When she snapped out of her shock she steps towards where the waves lapped at the sand, letting the water splash against her boots. Then she was reaching down, dipping her fingers into the water expecting it to burn. But it didn't.

With a a certain amount of childish excitment, someone might see her hopping hurriedly out of her boots and tossing them behind her. Then? Then Spirit is playing in the waves, laughing and kicking water this way and that, though never going past her knees.]

II

[She's done a bit of exploring, gotten some of her nervous energy out, but now she can't help but feel the need to poke around. Old habits die hard, maybe, and if you tell a killjoy not to do something? Well, she's going to have to do it!

Which is how she's wound up in the Administration offices, hood up and mask on. She's nosing around, trying to find any trace of who actually owns this place, if it is some Better Living Industry trap or just... Well. Anything! Anything at all but after hours of searching she let's out a frustrated sort of noise, hands on her hips.]

It's all gibberish!

Wildcard

[Come at me with anything! Outside of the beach, you could find Spirit absolutely pigging out at the food at Resaurant Row or just sitting around anywhere and everywhere sketching the robot patroling or other characters.]

[Mun Note: Spirit here is a fandom OC based off of the universe created by the My Chemical Romance album Danger Days, the music videos, and the comic that followed. She's just a colorful rebel.]

Edited 2022-10-03 01:11 (UTC)

[Work of HeART is an artist's shop with canvas paintings of assorted sizes for sale. Mostly very generic landscapes or portraits of nondescript people, and a few of them look like cheap knockoffs of famous paintings. There's even some small cheap kits for sale for the budding future artists, and a monitor in the corner is on nonstop reruns of the famous monotonous droning of Rob Moss. Info about Sheyleigh in journal - tl;dr: Neutral Good monk-cleric momfriend from a shitpan town started adventuring, and has been in moral and emotional turmoil since.]

I - How dare you tarnish my work:
[Sheyleigh was furious. She had been from the moment she recognized the work that lined the shelves. The brush strokes were definitely hers. But they were modified. The stormy cliffside had no traces of her party staring it down. the magical golden field where she first met the Traveler was now a generic grassy path, none of that perpetual sunset, or the ever-branching crossroads - another insult to injury when she could barely feel the Traveler's presence anymore. She even recognized some pieces she had never shown anyone - vent art from her teen years, sad sketches of people she missed or regrets she carried - but all stripped of any context and feeling.

She wasn't going to let this be her legacy. If she owned this art shop, it was going to be her art. The real deal. Original pieces. She barely got scolded for tampering with the merchandise as she gathered some paints and a palette from the shelves, but to be honest she didn't even care if she got in trouble. They said themselves this was her shop, so why should they care what she did with her merchandise?

So as Rob Moss droned away in the empty store, Sheyleigh could be found hunched over a canvas behind the counter, vaguely watching the door from her peripheral.]

II - Looking for a sparring partner:
[When the storefront was quiet enough that she could slip away, the gym was Sheyleigh's go-to downtime hub. The equipment took her some getting used to, but at least she was as fit as ever. As time went on though, practicing her forms on a punching bag just really didn't hit the right spot. She wanted someone to spar with - maybe someone to teach the ropes herself. But the waitlist on the classes they claimed were available never seemed to move, so she took matters into her own hands.

On the forums was a notice of personal mixed martial arts training from one of the captive 'employees' of the resort. No charge, no prior experience necessary, just show up at the gym at a particular time block and look for the girl with short black hair by the mirrors. The girl in question was there every afternoon, set up with yoga mats for cushioning to section off the space she 'reserved,' stretching and practicing herself while she waited for someone to show.]

III - Nightmares:
[The impression Sheyleigh gives her roommate(s) is a fairly quiet one. Normally, she would be an open book, but in an unfamiliar place, with people she barely has gotten any time to get to know, she's yet to open up. However, there is definitely an aura of troubles around her, like something is perpetually on her mind, even as she tries to hide it in art or working out or meditating.

And one night, she can't hide it anymore. She tosses fitfully in her sleep for what must have been an hour, faint sounds of distress pass through her lips - some might sound like attempts to call out names. Climaxed by waking up screaming, jerking upright in her sweaty sheets.

She is now in the communal kitchen, frantically going through the cabinets for fixings for tea - as quietly as she can, after she no doubt woke up the apartment and probably the apartments next door with her scream.]

IV - Breaking point:
[It's wrong. Everything about this place is wrong. Too quiet. Too clean. Too artificial. Months went by with no answers as to what she was doing here, what happened to all the people who would normally be working or visiting, why they cared so much about what she did in 'her' shop, why her shop was full of mockeries of her own work. And through it all were the worries of home, wondering if her family or her party were okay without her, regretting how she left things at home, desperately calling out in the night for her God to find her and give her guidance, visceral dreams of snarling wolves and calls for help in the dark and disdainful glances from those she hurt the most before she vanished. All at once it sunk in. She was lost. She was all alone.

She had enough.

Mid-evening some night, the eerie quiet of the mall is cut through by a violent scream of anguish and frustration, followed by a series of crashes. It goes on for at least a minute as Work of HeART is completely trashed - smashed display cases, frames dashed to pieces, paint containers splattered on the wall and floor, every painting in the shop destroyed - one particularly popular piece ripped through by a dull blade, possibly a palette knife. It only stops when the shopowner comes bolting out of the door and into the halls, sobbing, disheveled and covered in debris from her destructive tirade which leaves a colorful trail in her wake as she runs. She isn't even sure where she's running to. She doesn't even know if she'd make it before security caught up to her for this stunt. But she couldn't be in this place for one more minute. She needs to run. She needs to fight. She needs out.]

Edited 2022-10-03 03:32 (UTC)

[ ooc; Marcel comes with some warnings, please mind them. ]

[ Does Marcel look like a guy who owns a pet shop? No. Is Marcel a man who now owns a pet shop? Yes.

Doggy Style is a medium-sized pet shop with an evident dog theme that stores everything from delicious, beef-flavored snacks in natural rainbow colors for your pup(!) to dog beds, toys and equipment. If your dog needs it, it's here. If you need a dog, he's got phone numbers for a wide range of breeders and rescues, too, though there never seems to be anyone on the other end of the call.

He offered, though, right? So now you owe him. ]

I.

option a.
[ Does he get the whole mall thing? Nah. He used to shoplift in places like this when he was a kid, working here now in what's obviously shady business but otherwise a pretty standard job? Fucking weird. And being around all that dog stuff makes him kinda miss his own dog, you know, if Marcel came with a normal human heart. Since he doesn't, he just hangs out at Bernoulli's, eating pizza and only thinking about his dog when there's no one to stare up at him pleadingly for leftovers. Like that, he might not look it, but he won't actually punch you in the face if you join him. Not right off the bat anyway. ]

option b.
[ The Lemniscate Lifestyle Center is more his thing, yeah? Even devoid of people - or, hey, maybe especially devoid of people. No one to keep an eye on. For fucking once, he can focus on his own shit. Most hours a day, there's a good chance you'll find Marcel parkouring in the gymnastics annex or doing taekwondo forms by himself. Currently, however, he's doing push-ups and general warm-up for a lap. Disturb him or join him, if you dare. ]

II.a

[ It's been a day. It's been uneventful, like fucking always. Marcel needs a smoke. Standing beneath the stars and craning his head to look up, he sucks on a cigarette and runs his hand over the back of his head, cropped hair coarse against his palm. Catching the smoke between his fingers and licking his lips, he says to no one in particular, maybe himself, maybe some innocent bystander who better think about running now: ]

You think dogs care that we named some fucking constellation after them? I think they'd be fucking psyched, if they had the brains for that crap.

[Max is a would-be supervillain from Everycity USA, who up until now had psychic powers that allowed him to compel people to obey his whims. He's not a nice person, but his powers being nerfed means he's not especially dangerous anymore, and he's all too aware of that fact.
Tee-Pose is a magical place where you can work with a designer (Max) to put anything you want on a shirt or a hoodie or whatever. Anything except Disney, they get mean about copyright if you get caught.]

I. Design Your Own T-Shirt!

"Wha... what the fuck. What the fuck?"
Awakening with a start, Max announces his discontent to the empty (presumably) room, which has been helpfully kitted out with a computer, creative software suite, a printer of inordinate size, an assortment of sample garments hanging from hooks on the walls, and several apparatuses that, upon closer inspection, are likely heat presses.

Nowhere to be found is anything from his apartment, his actual job, the FPS he was playing before he took a nap on the couch and then woke up to This.
Scrambling out of his ergonomically-friendly desk chair, Max takes a feverish walk through the storefront, scanning for any sign of life either within or just outside its doors.
Should he find any, they receive a frantic: "hey! what the fuck is this?"

II. Garments printed while you wait!

After the initial shock has worn off, there's time to explore-- it's not like there's a boss here to yell at him for slacking, even if Max highly dislikes the sight of the little egg things wumbling about, and is constantly resisting the urge to kick them over.
His gaze is quick to catch on the eyes of anyone he passes, with a nod and a stare that is, perhaps, a little too intense. Invariably it's followed by rapid blinking and a little shake of his head, like he lost his train of thought. He'll stop and chat, if prompted.

III. Perfect for Your Next Family Reunion!

It's night time, and nothing has changed. The day has been so uneventful as to be agonizing, apart from a bewildering stint spent in a movie theater watching a film so forgettable Max isn't even completely convinced he saw one; tension has been building in his gut since the moment he woke up, and with all else being as it is, he's decided it's high time to get the fuck out of Dodge.

In the early hours of the morning, he's finally managed to find what appears to be the edge of the... world?... and spends some time walking along its perimeter, hand to the wall, looking for a door. Or seams. Or anything. The flashing lights follow him on his path, but he doesn't have the balls to try anything too stupid. Not yet.

Edited 2022-10-03 22:24 (UTC)

[You can read more about Nick's deal here! tl;dr he's a private detective who has recently fallen down a hole into paranormal investigation while continuing to deal with the baggage of his recently deceased business partner.]

i. dead-end dive

[Down near restaurant row amid the fast food joints and the pretzel stands lies a rather seedy-looking, hole-in-the-wall bar. You'd be forgiven if you thought it was closed--the lighting inside is dim, at best, there are no customers (not that there were any to begin with), the smell of must and tobacco clings to every surface, and the walls look rough and unfinished. The brick-lined walls sport various black-and-white pictures of what look to be...well, it's hard to tell, as most of the pictures seem to depict wisps and indistinct portraits of people. A few of the frames contain case files and reports neatly laid out. Paranormal evidence, put up for perusal.

Wooden tables and chairs are scattered around the bar. Near the back is a counter with bar stools, the rickety shelves behind piled high with all the spirits, liqueurs, or other alcoholic drinks your heart could desire. A small TV hanging from the ceiling is visibly cracked, slightly discoloring the current episode of Columbo playing on the screen. A chalk menu next to the counter can be seen with the following menu on it:

SPECIALTY DRINKS:
Dark & Stormy
Manhattan
Gin & Tonic
Highball
Tequila Sunrise

The bar looks unattended. Off to the side, a scruffy-looking man sits stiffly at a nearby table, his expression completely vacant as he stares dead ahead of him. In one hand, he holds a fruity-looking beer. He hardly looks in your direction when he suddenly says:]

If you want a drink, you're gonna have to make it yourself. I don't know shit about alcohol.

ii. exploring the mall

[There has to be a way out of here. Has to be. This is just some sort of weird...pocket dimension or something that he ended up being transported to. Him and, like, a dozen other people, it seems. And the only way out of here is to explore.

Through careful planning, Nick sneaks past a few of the security robots to make his way towards the entrance to Administration & Maintenance. This is quite a few hallways down from the clearly marked paths, urging people to stay away from the maintenance areas. He hasn't tried to break any rules within the robots' line of sight, but he certainly doesn't want to find out what happens when he does. He comes to a stop in front of a pair of double doors and tries to peek through the frosted glass. After ensuring that there's nobody behind the door, he moves to check the handle--and is surprised when it just pushes open.]

Huh. It's just...unlocked?

[The sound of footsteps approaches. Nick jumps, whirling around to come face to face with...another mall patron. Or, well, prisoner.]

Oh, uh. Hey. Shouldn't you be back in the main part of the building?

[Trying to play it off like he wasn't just trying to enter a restricted area.]

iii. wildcard

[Got another idea you wanna pitch? Feel free to send me a message and we can hash something out!]

Edited 2022-10-05 03:34 (UTC)

The General Store
The General Store is very clearly not actually a general store in the usual sense, but rather a wargaming and military history/paraphernalia shop. Basically it's all toys for various sorts of military enthusiasts, including wargaming miniatures (1:60 infantry, 1:300 armor, and 1:3000 naval scales), detailed models in scales ranging from 1:12 to 1:300, airsoft-like gas-powered mock weapons and associated "tactical" gear, padded mock melee weapons, etc. It's a mix of various eras from Ancient Mediterranean through late 20th century--plus what look like they're probably humanoid mecha and space ships variously marked as UNSF, Bahram, and AFIM. There are also books on military history, variously covering notable battles, equipment, commanders, and personnel.

A) Exploring
Not one to stay put even without a supremely weird situation, Jackal spends a good chunk of her time exploring the resort, checking out other stores to see (and assess) anyone else who's around and surveilling the area to learn its layout and where to find key resources (e.g. food). Since walking the grounds isn't exactly high impact by her reckoning, she can also be found working out at the LLC, particularly on the rock wall and heavy bag.

B) At Work
Jackal is not at all pleased with her circumstances--but there's also only so much to fill the day with, and she doesn't really have any other space that's her own besides her bedroom, so disgruntled as she is, she does end up spending some time behind the counter, which she's rearranged into something a little more like a work desk. She's most likely either reading one of the books in stock, or sketching her own maps of the resort.

C) Wildcard
If you've got another idea, I'm always up to discuss a thing!

◆ “Dead Men Tell Tales” is a bookstore with tacky Halloween-themed decor! Its stock is predominantly Scholastic-level educational / storybooks for kids and teens, though there are small sections for things you’d find in a basic bookstore: general adult fiction, self-help books, etc.
◆ Elias is a DnD OC (Human Wizard). A short overview is here.

i. All my coworkers are plastic skeletons

[Why would you tell him he’s dead like this. This is so rude.

The theme of the bookstore he’s been assigned to is also very cringey, but at least the plastic skeletons holding up various books in the display window can disguise the genuinely macabre message it’s sending. Or at least, Elias thinks it’s sending a message, as the last thing he remembers before waking up in this place is a pretty terrible situation.

Anyway. Anyone walking into the store, or even passing by the doorway, will hear a tinny “NYAHAHAHA” play from nearby speakers. The ‘manager’, a spectacled man in his late 20s, will look up on hearing the doorbell or anyone’s voice calling for him.]

Hi, can I help?

ii. Investigations

[Weird mall complex or not, Elias isn’t one to start climbing into the air vents in the first week. But he’ll apply himself in other ways: at one point he starts following a security robot around, trying to figure out what its deal is.

Catch him tapping on the robot’s egg head or waving a hand in front of its LEDs, all while shuffling at an awkward pace to keep up.]

Um… [He tries standing in front of it. To his surprise, it stops instead of running into him.] …okay. Are you going to… [BEEP BEEP] No?

iii. Wildcard

[If your character is the sociable type, Elias can be found and approached at a food court, employee housing common areas, or just around the LRC exploring.

Feel free to drop me a line if you have any specific ideas!]

Threaded | Flat

QUESTIONS?

ammonia halter | magigal gifts

Carlisle Longinmouth | Complex Confessional

Ashara Thiers | Soothing Hands

The Witch King | The WytchKraft

Spiritual Advisor l Blind Eye Gallery

Sheyleigh | Work of HeART

marcel verlinden | doggy style.

Max Rochefort | Tee-Pose Custom Shirt Designs

nick verghese | dead-end dive

"Jackal" Egret | The General Store

Elias Verdes | Dead Men Tell Tales (spoopy bookstore!)