expiationlogs | EVENT #11: ADVERSITY 4590683

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EVENT #11: ADVERSITY 4590683

EVENT #11: REMEMBER YOU ARE MORTAL

This event takes place in conjunction with a player plot that is open for participation! Participation in that plot is not needed to experience the world effects outlined in this log. You can find the log for the player event here!

THE STORY SO FAR (click to expand)

-Over time, characters have discovered that the world of Expiation is actually a large, elaborate simulation run by an AI that seems to be intent on helping them atone for their crimes. This news is well-known by the Chosen, enough so that any new character who wishes to handwave this knowledge is able to do so.

-In September 2024, that AI needed to be reset as a consequence of some catastrophic systems failures. So far, there has been no downside to this reset–but the AI has also been strangely absent since then.

-Things have been quiet in Aldrip since September, aside from the routine arrival of new Chosen. The locals seem less than happy with the Chosen, though, as if they have already branded them all criminals. As if they no longer trust them…

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 11

The moon looms large and full over the buildings of Aldrip this morning.

… Wait. The moon?

It’s true: Aldrip seems to have settled into an eerie perpetual twilight, lit by the full moon and little else. The ambient lighting is dim, but not dark, still light enough to see by. Which is good, because nothing else seems to be serving as a source of light. No sun, no street lamps–nothing. How odd is that?

In fact, it seems that no electronics are working during this strange week. Tablets don’t turn on, computers won’t work, even the lights inside the houses are unresponsive. STEM club’s dark web devices remain capable of some rudimentary communication, however.

The Dark Hour permeates Aldrip entirely. Well. Almost entirely–more on that in a minute. But first: monsters of all kinds will be more prominent during this time. If you would like to add new monsters to the bestiary, you can do so here! Monsters will be more aggressive and enterprising, freely roaming the streets of the city and attacking more boldly than they otherwise would.

Now, all is not lost, here. Because some Chosen-owned spaces remain immune to its effects. Notably: the Inn, the Willow Clinic, and some other player-run businesses can serve as safe houses, as well as some storehouses that were constructed long ago. The lights will still go on in these locations, though the network restrictions above still remain in effect.

For the most part, monsters and other event happenings will avoid safe houses, though if you’d like to play around with that, we see no reason why you shouldn’t. Just remember that characters and players who choose to limit their participation in the event are making use of these spaces, and be respectful of that.

As for outside of the city…who knows? A thick, impenetrable mist surrounds Aldrip, keeping all characters within the city for the duration of the event. Anyone who may have been outside of Aldrip before the event began will mysteriously find themselves inside the city as the Dark Hour takes hold. Better make your way to a safe house…and good luck out there.

MY OWN WORST ENEMY

Who is the monster and who is the man?

It seems that monsters aren’t the only obstacle roaming the city. The Chosen may find themselves facing doppelgangers, of themselves or of fellow Chosen. In terms of appearance, they may be identical to the Chosen they reflect, to the point of being difficult to tell apart. Some may have minor changes–different eye color, different clothing, things like that. But in many cases, it may be impossible to tell which is real and which is not based on looks alone.

These doubles reveal a dark reflection of the characters they look like: their deepest fears and regrets, repressed desires they refuse to admit, feelings and experiences they’ve never told anyone about…all of these things and more will come to the surface with them. These doubles desperately want to see a character’s accused crime confronted, and they will do anything to make that happen, even resorting to violence if they must. The doubles have all the original powers and abilities of their real counterparts, making them extremely difficult (but not impossible!) to fight one-on-one.

Some characters may find themselves inexplicably drawn to their doppelgangers, as if called by some force. They may feel compelled to seek them out, as if they’re unable to rest so long as their double roams free. This is an optional effect, but should you be looking for an excuse to get your character out and about–please feel free to utilize it.

Doubles can be injured and incapacitated, but not killed; the only way to eliminate them is through acceptance and recognition. Characters do not have to do this alone; in fact, having some moral support or coaching may prove useful. Confronting the double and accepting or seriously reflecting upon the crime they’re charged with will make the doppelgangers first turn docile, and then disappear, leaving the original character feeling lighter and more sure of themselves.

A MINOR TECHNICALITY

What happens to a simulation when the electronics stop working?

Good question.

Occasionally, you may see what looks like a strange, thin line, just from the corner of your vision. Early in the week, trying to look at this line straight on reveals…nothing. It seems to vanish.

As the week continues, this strange happening seems to intensify, bit by bit. By midweek, Wednesday or so, you’re able to look at this line head-on. It seems to be a small crack, little more than a hairline fracture, outlined in light. As the weekend creeps closer, this crack seems to grow, bit by bit, becoming more pronounced, the gaps between it getting larger.

By the weekend, it’s wide enough that you can see through it.

What you see is difficult to describe. You seem to be looking into a large metallic structure, so large that the end seems to curve off into the horizon. How far does this go on? There’s a ceiling overhead, so high up that you can’t make out details. Much of this structure seems to be empty within, but you see a floor at foot level, made of metal.

The gap is wide enough that you can stick your hand right through it. When you do so, you begin to feel a strange tingling, starting at the tips of your fingers and extending to the part of your arm that goes into the crack. Nothing about your hand changes, really, but when the tingling subsides, you get the strange sensation that you’ve been unable to feel anything with that hand, up til now. Something about the air against your skin feels more real, here. As if your senses were muted before…

The crack never widens more than this. It is sometimes visible to just one person, and sometimes it can be visible to a group. This crack can appear in any surface, in any location, but it always looks the same and always reveals the same structure within.

Interesting…

ENDING In conjunction with the conclusion of the player plot, the Dark Hour comes to an end one week later, on November 18. Monsters vacate the city, the sun reappears…this happens slowly, over the course of the day. By Tuesday, the network and electronic usage is restored. By Wednesday, the crack in the world seems to be gone for good. By the weekend after the event, all doppelgangers seem to have vanished.

This is fine, we always say. And it is! Everything is back to normal!

…

Or is it…?

WILDCARD Make your own fun! Just because it’s not in the prompts doesn’t mean it’s not possible. Have at it! Go crazy! Try not to break anything (too much)!

♡

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Back in your home, perhaps! What is common to you is less so to me.

Oh, I have seen strange things attached in the place of heads...

[He gestures around vaguely with the pistol]

Inorganic objects, however? You are my first!

So... The way I see it...

You can offer up your head for my study or I shall blow my own head off from the tedium of being left alone with yonder shadow. Come morning one of us will have much lighter shoulders!

[Behind him, his shadow self drifts forward.]

So? What to you say? Care to make my evening more interesting?

< No. I'm not giving you my head. Period. Throwing a tantrum to try and convince me isn't going to work either. >

[The tightrope frays, nearly gone, and Dante is well aware that they both hold the knife that cut into it. But they've heard far more convincing arguments for their head than that, and a threat like this is going to receive all the respect from them it deserves.]

[Defiance! An unexpected reaction. He had thought that Dante would keep trying to reason with him...

Well, this is more fun.

Fandaniel's eyes widen and shine as he wills a few unshed tears into them.]

Oh! Oh how wounded I am!

[He staggers backwards and clutches his chest.]

You care not at all for my wellbeing and would sentence my night to one of drudgery with only this miserable creature for companionship.

[A creature that is the representation of...]

My thoughts! You leave me alone with my thoughts.

[With a mad giggle, he lifts the pistol to the side of his head. He is enjoying the theatrical absurdity of the moment far too much now.]

Bang!

[He squeezes the trigger.

The pistol sparks and a small colorful flag unfurls from its muzzle with "bullet" written across it in Eorzean script.

Fandaniel shrugs and the pistol dissipates into aether.]

Well, that was a fun little vacation from sanity, wasn't it?

[...They should have known.

Still, the tension never quite leaves their shoulders, even after the gun is gone.]

< I don't think this counts as a vacation. >

[For multiple reasons.

They look to the shadow. It seems... calm, compared to Fandaniel, which wouldn't be much of a surprise except for the fact that it appears to be connected to him in some way.]

< Anyway, I'm not leaving you alone unless you try and go after my head again. I can even see about talking with your, uh, "thoughts" too. >

[Fandaniel's eyes widen.]

You do understand that when you say you refuse to leave me alone it sounds like a threat?

[From the edge of his gaze he notices the scarlet glyph of his tormentor flashing aggressively.]

It does not seem to approve of your meddling, either...

Which, of course, makes me very interested in what you might say to it....

< It might be. >

[They joke, but before they can say much more, the shadow's glyph flashes, drawing their eye.]

< I figure I should start with the basics first. What is it you want? >

[A simple question, asked cautiously. They've still got a wound in their shoulder from the last of these things they encountered.]

[The shade ripples.

Fandaniel feels something like a hand glide down his forearm and grasp his fingers but when he looks down there is nothing there.

I want... him.

The voiceless words radiate outward into their minds.

Without looking up, the Ascian knows the creature's attention is focused upon him. He also knows what this means.

This shade wants him, wants his attention, wants his love and acceptance. Well, he thinks, he refuses to give it. He refuses to love himself.]

Between this and that Fathom of yours, I am wondering if you enjoy communing with my thoughts?

< The Fathoms aren't "mine," exactly... >

[A rather weak protest--if only because they can't deny that they technically may have been the cause of it.

There's another moment's pause as they examine the sight before them. A shadow reaching out for the real Fandaniel, wanting him. Meanwhile, Fandaniel would prefer to ignore it at all costs--all costs.

The flow surrounding Fandaniel seems murky and still. Like stagnant water--not much of a flow at all. As such, the path forward seems equally obscured. But as they stare at the glyph in the shadows, a question comes to mind. Something they've been wondering for awhile, actually.]

< ...Can I ask a question? Why do you call yourself "Fandaniel?" >

A curious question.

[Fandaniel crosses his arms, pulling his fingers loose from the grasp of the phantom hand at his side.]

Why do you call yourself "Dante"?

[As he speaks he glances back at his shade and the glyph within it, the glyph that is his title and the closest thing he's had to a name for thousands of years.]

< Because it's my name. But... that's not the case for you. Your name is Amon, isn't it? >

[It is the sound of a ticking clock that he hears, but meaning forms in his mind as if through the Echo and it speaks his name. His real name.

On rare occasions, he's spoken it himself but feeling it spoken by another being tenses him. Knots of strange emotions snarl in his stomach. Hate, anger, nostalgia, longing...

His face settles in a breezy grin but one hand clenches into a fist.]

Is it?

Oh, I suppose it was. Many, many years ago. Thousands in fact!

'Twas another lifetime. "Amon" is a name I've long since discarded.

[Which still doesn't explain why he calls himself "Fandaniel"]

[Thousands... An amount of time they still have trouble wrapping their head around.]

< Okay. So "Fandaniel" is the name that you've chosen. And you don't want to be called "Amon." >

[...is what it sounds like, but Dante can't help but feel like there are pieces missing.]

If by "chosen" you mean "had foisted upon me" then yes, you have the right of it!

[Fandaniel chirps.]

[And there's part of a missing piece now.]

< Then... what do you want to be called? You said something about being the one to take the final bow in the lab that day. So why stick to something you didn't want in the first place? Who do you want to be? >

Me?

[Fandaniel bats his eyelashes coquettishly. One hand flutters to his chest.]

I care little for what others call me. "Fandaniel" is as good an appellation as any. It has a charming whimsy to it!

Besides...

[He prowls forward and stops an inch from Dante then, with a small grin, he hooks an arm around their shoulders. With his free hand, he holds his fingers to his temple, thumb elevated, suggesting a gun.]

All I want to be is dead. Care to do me the honor?

[They watch him approach without flinching, but tense slightly as he puts his arm around them.]

< Not particularly. >

[They will if they have to, but that doesn't mean they want it. Still, that leaves them with the question they've never asked.]

< ...Why? What does death mean to you? >

[They can guess, given what they've seen. But they'd rather hear it directly from him.]

Death means...

[His voice drops into a purr but he cannot he hide the giggle beneath it.]

Not having to be alive anymore! What else would it mean?

[Mercy, freedom, peace, recognition, vengeance, atonement, kindness, victory...

All things those who had sought death one way or another had desired. Death had never been the goal, but a means to an end.]

< There's no other word that comes to mind? Nothing else that death would give you but itself? >

[Rest, nothingness, a permanent end to all sorrow and strife...]

Need death grant me more?

[He chirps and unhooks his arm from Dante's shoulders.]

We all die. My aim is to do it sooner than later.

Why are you so curious?

< It means something different to everyone, and you say you want to die, but you also wanted to preserve your soul and remain yourself. To die, but not necessarily fade away... or something like that. >

[Complex and contradictory--or maybe only contradictory from their perspective. A very limited perspective, they'll admit, comparing their year to Fandaniels' thousands.]

< I'm just trying to understand. >

Aye. I wish to die as myself.

Imagine the alternative! Fading not into nothingness but into the simulation. I'll not become a mere stage prop for another's show.

My death must be spectacular.

[His smile grows, then he reaches out and pokes Dante's hand shaft.]

Boop!

< Wh--? Hey! >

[They lean back, trying to swat Fandaniel's hand away with their own.

They're serious about trying to understand! ...So it should be expected that Fandaniel is, of course, not.

They check both hour and minute hand to make sure nothing's been stuck to them, then promptly stuff both their hands into their pockets.]

< So If I'm hearing you right, it's somewhere between a performance and spite. >

Mmm...just so.

[A spiteful performance is not the worst way to describe The Final Days. Etheirys witnessed all of his thespian talent wrapped into a spectacular explosion of mass suffering.]

My death is a final statement about the vulgarity of existence itself.

[As he speaks, he busies his hands with straightening Dante's tie. Behind him, shadows darken.]

[There's a part of them that wants to argue over whether or not there's truth to that statement. But they have some idea of what he's seen and done, and they know what they've seen of their own world. And with one year to his thousands, they can't help but think that any argument they could make would seem... hollow.

They've been watching as he adjusts their tie, just in case, but at the edge of their vision they catch the deepening shadows, and they lift their head to look past him. Their ticking quickens, insistent.]

< Behind you! >

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT #11: ADVERSITY 4590683

cw: suicidal ideation used in a pretty gross way

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cw: suicidal ideation/suicidal reference

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cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation