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

[chimericalclaw]

[Chaos and its pawns never had trouble taking hold of the ethereal, although the dream appears to be helping Octavian to some extent by allowing him to slip free. A sharp white grin appears as it mockingly answers:]

I won't let the fear of failure paralyze me.

[Perhaps the ghost won't easily stay within that grasp, but he'll nevertheless feel an unpleasant sensation of being eaten away where touched—like acid applied directly to the spiritual equivalent of his skin. It won't leave a lasting mark, but it can certainly hurt.]

[manifestering]

[Ah, and he can crawl away hastily enough, but the feeling— the feeling, that is a bit much. Octavian has been without so many feelings for so long, and he enjoys a sort of immunity to the worst ones while in his spectral state, so to feel pain here and now is more terrifying than he'd like to admit.

Still, he crawls a little faster now, and actually manages to raise his voice above its usual low and even cadence:]

Imbecile! Use your own eyes and not the madness of this creature!

[chimericalclaw]

[Slippery, this one. Onyx momentarily pauses the endeavor of attempting to crush the spirit; it's no matter, ultimately. It would simply be satisfying.]

Oh? [it laughs.] What is it you want so badly for me to see?

[manifestering]

[He's going, he's skittering, behind a more solid piece of this collapsing place that's big enough to conceal him. As much as he can actually hide, considering the thing he's up against. It's the spirit of the thing (hah).

He still has to raise his voice, which is terrible. It's scratchy; he hasn't actually yelled in many years.]

The truth! You are asleep in your bed and your childish fantasies are only that! Useless!

[chimericalclaw]

[There's a pause, momentary, where the rasping and snapping of Chaos's energy is the only thing that reaches Octavian's ears.

Then: a single laugh in a dozen different tones.]

If it's useless... then why are you so afraid?

[Onyx reaches in the direction of that "hiding" spot, such as it is, palm up like an offer. He doesn't bother to hide the fact that he's mocking the ghost.]

Why don't you let me test how useless it is, and we can both be enlightened? You can think of it as one of your projects.

[manifestering]

[If only he were the type of man who'd take this opportunity to say "why don't you go fuck yourself," that would be very biting, alas he is not legally allowed to swear--

He slouches down in his little spot with a huff.]

Are you jealous? You rely on that monstrosity to achieve your little goals. Like a sniveling child. Too enamored with the false importance of kicking down your own sandcastles.

[He reaches for a... piece? Of this place? The metaphysical nature is getting weird, but it's something he can throw, and so he chucks it around the hiding spot. He isn't much of a shot, but it's the principle of the thing.]

Enlightened. You are weak. Wake up.

[chimericalclaw]

[The piece shatters with a single touch from Onyx, and from there more cracks web through the memory; it's getting even more unstable than it already was, perceptible pieces breaking away, making even the echoing voices blank out in spots before all of them reach the ghost. This memory never was truly solid; more of a strong impression than anything he could feel with his physical senses.]

▇ou think you ca▇▇▇▇tsmart your o▇▇ feeli▇▇▇? ▇ow quai▇▇.

[Despite the missing sound, it remains clear enough that he's not bothering to acknowledge Octavian's words as they are; there's nothing to be said that can reach him now.]

Enj▇▇▇▇▇▇tending you▇▇▇ invulne▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ile you can. It wi▇▇▇▇ll br▇▇k ▇▇wn in ti▇▇.

[Apparently he's decided he's spent enough time with the phantom; a snap of clawlike fingers breaks the rest of it, leaving nothing remaining of the dream.]