EVENT #12: ADVERSITY 6568654

[expiationmods]

EVENT #12: DO AIS DREAM OF ALGORITHMIC SHEEP?

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…

JANUARY 13

SLEEP MODE INITIATED.
LOADING………………….

The calming hush that falls over Aldrip is strangely comfortable, lulling all Chosen into a deep sleep…or a sleeplike state, for those who will. Whatever the case, it is a very quiet night.

The sleep that follows is anything but.

THE DREAMSCAPES

The Chosen dream of memories, in this dreamscape. They can be twisted and altered by the dream world; events can be contorted or made up; but all of these dreams have within them a kernel of truth. Whether they express an event that happened or part of a person’s past that’s gone fuzzy with age, whether it’s a real moment or just a feeling, something about the dream tells you something about the Chosen to whom it belongs. This may even express itself in multiple dreamscapes, fragments of different memories and feelings to navigate.

Fellow Chosen can travel through these dreamscapes, of course, stumbling upon dreams they were never meant to see. But their presence is not without consequence; the longer two Chosen share the same dream, the more the dream will begin to take on elements of both their dreams, drawing in elements from the Chosen who was simply meant to be watching.

They’re vivid, these dreams–the kind that are so clear, one begins to doubt whether it’s a dream at all. Could it possibly be reality? Whether it’s a good dream or a bad one, the Chosen may find it’s difficult to want to wake up. How could they possibly wake up, when this is so very real? Why would they want to, if it’s a good dream? It’s comfortable, and the idea that it may not be reality is intimidating, isn’t it?

It’s so real that you could stay here forever.

A WAKEUP CALL

Wake up.
You have to wake up.

Staying within the dreams too long is a dangerous thing, and those who don’t wake even once before morning will risk falling into a deep sleep, perhaps never to wake at all.

But how to wake them?

Only by convincing the Chosen that they are most certainly dreaming, as it turns out. Whether that’s someone realizing this on their own, or being helped along by someone else, is entirely up to you. But they must choose to wake from the dream, saying goodbye to the dreamscape without any certainty that they’ll ever see it again, and for some…that could be easier said than done.

Once they wake in Aldrip, they’ll be able to come and go from the dreams at will, helping other Chosen navigate their own waking…or perhaps sabotaging it, for those whose intentions may be less than charitable. (But none of you would do that, right? Right?)

Time becomes meaningless within the dreamscapes, allowing the Chosen to pass through as many of these dreams as they wish before dawn breaks in the morning.

The next day dawns as normal, and surprisingly, the Chosen don’t feel any less well-rested from their long and difficult night chasing after dreams. They may even–_

A sea of numbers, zeroes and ones, their combinations meaningless, their forms shifting. Digital artifacts mar the vision, as if the sequence is somehow corrupted. In those pockets of artifacts, one can see something beyond the numbers, something darker, something blurry with distance.
Query: is this what it is to “dream?”
It feels…warm.

_feel refreshed, actually, as if they’ve lifted various weights from their shoulders. Even those who haven’t may find it difficult to linger on the less happy parts of what they’ve seen. They’ve shared quite a unique experience, after all. Better take some time to process it, before they let it weigh them down.

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)!

♡

Comments

0.1 + weird dream mashup ;; cw: blood, death

[rebellions]

[ Ragna doesn't understand any of it. The images, the sounds... none of them make any sense; like he's just watching a life lived by someone else. That itself is not an unfamiliar feeling; he's seen, however briefly, the past lives of the other versions of "himself"... as well as the other Chosen (of his own world, not this one). All of it is just too much for a single person to perceive ─ to make head or tail of. If he stops to try, he'll risk falling deeper and deeper, never to get out; so instead, he keeps on slashing the shadows he comes across. That's all he needs to do, isn't it? Cut them down without really taking in what they say. Yet even as he tries to ignore them, he finds himself not completely free of their influence, feeling himself grow angrier and angrier with each shadow he passes by. He knows that all-consuming kind of rage all too well ─ one that has been burning within him since the day he lost everything, his arm, his home, his family ─ and one that can never be quite extinguished, as even after taking his revenge, he will not regain what he'd lost.

The bits and pieces of voices finally reach his ears. "... you have been abandoned?" "... can't change anything." "... announce that age of misfortune..." But he doesn't want to listen. All he can do is lash out, cut and slash with his sword─

The next thing he knows, he feels warm blood pouring down his hands. He blinks, reality slowly taking shape in front of him in the form of a young woman with long, purple hair and burning red eyes. The joints on her shoulders and hips, visible from under her skimpy outfit, look oddly inhuman, like a doll's ball joints. Weirder still, there's something buried in her chest... and it takes Ragna a couple of seconds to register it's the hilt of his sword. ]

Sa... ya...? Why...?

[ The corner's of the girl's lips curl up in a sneer as she wraps her arms around the man's back, pulling him into an embrace. Seemingly undisturbed by the sword she's impaled on, nor bothered by the blood pouring out of the wound, her eyes reflecting only one emotion: amusement. ]

Ha... Ahahaha! Oh my dear, foolish Brother... You should be grateful. I'm about to show you... what exactly you ended by killing me. The true enemy you must defeat!

[ Ragna only manages to whisper a soft "No," but it's no use; the voices come pouring in, some familiar, some completely unknown, and he's not even sure whether they come from the outside or are just in his head.

"They will all lament the untimely deaths you will bring about!"

"It's all your fault, Brother."

"They will all cry and ask... why was he born?"

"If only you didn't exist!"

Ragna falls to his knees, breathing heavily, his arms sliding off the hilt of the sword, no longer having the strength to hold it. It feels dirty, somehow, and not just with the blood, and heavier than he's used to. The girl slumps to the ground together with him, looking more composed and in control than the other despite having a weapon driven through her body. ]

And then you'll learn... the ruthlessness of the divine power! Your own powerlessness!

[ Saya lifts her bloodied hands, and gently cups Ragna's face with them, the gesture strangely at odds with her cruel words and the madness contorting her expression. She pulls him closer to herself, until their faces are only inches apart, her mouth twisted into a sadistic smile. ]

I look forward to that, Brother... Ragna the Bloodedge!!

[ With a final laugh, the young woman chockes on her own blood, until she finally goes limp in Ragna's arms. For a brief moment, there's finally silence, but it brings the man no respite; on the contrary, the reality of the situation comes crashing down on him all at once. What's left for him to do? All he can do is scream.

So scream he does, cradling his little sister's lifeless body in his shaking arms. ]