Fighting For Your Life!

[strangerpeople]

WELL SH*IKSSHSH*

[The first thing you feel when you finally come to is a headache.

The bad thing is that it's not even a painful headache - it's one of those annoying headaches that's just below the threshold of pain, and it's centered right in the middle of your forehead. Just...ugh. Where's the aspirin?

For that matter, actually, where are you? This is not your beautiful house! In fact, as get out of your bed, you realize this place isn't even remotely a home. And whatever you're wearing isn't even remotely what you recall wearing. (I mean, yeah, it's not uncomfortable, and whoever dressed you was kind enough to make sure you had underwear on, I suppose. That's one less thing to worry about, right?)

Also, you have a weird wrist...watch...comm...thing on you, which is nice. Or at least it would be, if it and every other computer in the place didn't suddenly start making the second most ungodly noise you will no doubt come to hear in this place. The noise is followed by a a message on every desktop in the area, which won't be disappearing any time soon. Thankfully, your nifty wristwatch comm is spared this unavoidable screen, and tapping a button let's it disappear to reveal a simple profile interface, alongside a a text, calling, and photo function. Something tells you those latter two won't be particularly useful to you in the long run.

In any case, apparently you now have a Title, as well as a power, even if you've never had one before. Why? Where the hell are you? Who else is with you? Can you get out?

And...is someone laughing? The sound seems to bounce off and echo faintly throughout the floors. It's high-pitched, and - as you get closer to the theater - it gets just a little louder and just a little more grating. It sounds like a rabid hyena that huffed helium. Hopefully, it's just a movie or something that can be turned off. Someone ought to go in and do that.

In the meantime, welcome, Titled - and good luck.

There are fifteen strangers in this place.]


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Comments

[fashionfever]

[Good thing she's got some mixes with significant milk and sugar and that is the one she shoved at him shhhh don't tell anyone GOD WHY ARE THERE LITTLE CHILDREN KIDNAPPED HERE!!! HER ROOMMATE WAS ONE THING BUT CHRIST THIS GUY IS LIKE A LITTLE BABY BIRD

she gives him a wry smile.] If you did have """currency""" and the rest of us didn't, it'd be pretty unfair, huh?

[losergod]

[ Excuse! You! This body is sixteen that's plenty old. He'd have preferred it black--he doesn't like sweet things, but he'll drink it anyway.

... A warm drink is really nice right now, actually. Considering how unfamiliar all this is. ]

... Well, I don't know that. But I suppose, for once, I'm not the only one disoriented. You woke up much the same way, then?

[fashionfever]

[IT'S LESS THAN HALF HER BODY'S AGE, SHE HAS A FRENEMY WITH A BIOLOGICAL CHILD YOUR AGE...]

Yeah, pretty much. [She waves at her head.] Helmet hair, the whole shebang.

[losergod]

My body's hair was also a mess, I had to comb through it quite a bit...

[ He smiles into his coffee, taking a sip of it. ]

Did you read the rather... informative note we were left?

[fashionfever]

[N E R V O U S SMILE]

Yeah, haha, uh... pretty wild murder mystery dinner prank, right?

[losergod]

I'm not sure it's a prank, the weapons in the weapon room are definitely real. Myself and someone else burned some bread pretty badly with a lazer gun. It was a real sight.

[ Said nonchalantly. ]

[fashionfever]

[jamie lee curtis reaction image]

...okay. A real weapon room. Because that's a thing they needed to have. Right.

[losergod]

With real, functional lazer guns.

[ He says, smiling, then sips his coffee. ]

Just like in the movies.

[fashionfever]

Hey, uh, doesn't that seem kind of... convenient? I've been on some reality TV sets, you know, they love their special effects.

[losergod]

It burned the bread. Would you like to go burn some more bread? I don't mean that it made it a little crispy. I mean that it charred it beyond all belief.

[ Seriously, that bread is dead. It's bread, Jim. ]

Anyway, I don't know why it's so unbelievable we're in space. A story set in space is cliche, but it's certainly doable.

[fashionfever]

[HONESTLY THE SPACE PART IS EASIER TO SWALLOW THAN THE MUTUAL KILLING PART BUT YOU KNOW WHAT SHE'LL GET HUNG UP ON THE SPACE THING NOW TOO]

Because... because real life isn't a story? There's escape velocity limits and stuff!

[losergod]

Everything is when you're playing to the audience. Those sort of things don't... really matter. For example, there are people that regularly ingest Soap in the House. It's becoming a real drug problem.

[ Said nonchalantly, like you talk about the weather. ]

Although to be honest, I think the soap industry is enabling them with the flavored soaps. Really not helping.

[fashionfever]

Is this like...

[ugh god she's rattling her pathetic little life so hard waiting for pertinent experience to shake out]

That spice stuff they used to sell in gas stations?

[losergod]

... Kind of, I guess. As far as I know, it's a literal addictive substance to aliens. Who knew?

[ He shrugs. ]

Or at least, so Miss Wiltshire tells me.

[fashionfever]

[Oh god this is almost a relief maybe it's Miss Wiltshire who put all these ideas into his little head.]

Hey, you never know what chemicals they put in soap these days. I try to stick to organic when I can. You know, for cleaning, like God intended.

[losergod]

I don't really know what I intended, though.

[ I'm sorry friend but That Is Not The Case. It is NOT just her influence. ]

That's the thing. I can't fully remember. Can you recall everything right?

[fashionfever]

Ahaha... uh...

[please let this be anything other than a young person with a god complex]

Well, I don't remember how I got here, but that's everyone, you know? Haha.

[losergod]

[ Rude, it's not a complex, he is God!!!! ]

Yes, but what about other things? Someone else here can't recall his own name. And I have holes in my own memory. I can't recall what my Heavenly Domain actually is. Which is... odd. Because I should definitely know that. And there's other things. People. Faces.

[fashionfever]

That, haha, uh... That sounds tough, kid!

[SHE DOESN'T HAVE MUCH ELSE TO OFFER...]

[losergod]

... So you haven't forgotten something?

[ He seems undaunted by her reaction, at least. ]

And I would appreciate not being addressed by "kid". This body may appear sixteen, but I'm actually older than that.

[fashionfever]

[she doesn't stare into the camera like she's on the office but judging by the twitching of her jaw, she wants to]

...I'm sorry, could you maybe clarify that a little?

[losergod]

I don't think the statement needs much clarification. I'm not sixteen. I'm older than that.

[ A simple statement. But his gold eyes seem rather serious, and he'll just stare right into her own eyes, as if looking through her, almost. ]

I am God of this world, after all.

[fashionfever]

[long face journey goes here]

Milord. Sir. Isn't this "not your domain"?

[losergod]

Well...

[ Okay look. ]

It's not. I belong in the heavens. But I'm also God of this world... well, I think it's this world. I'm certainly God of some world, at least. They seem to have removed my memories. But I can clearly recall... some of it. How I became God, even.

[fashionfever]

Let me get this straight. I'm the narrow-minded one not believing we're in space. When nobody even said that's where we are. And meanwhile you're over here all "I'm a god" even though lost your memories?