dramatispersonae | GROUP ONE

GROUP ONE

The room you are in is, like the Ring, made entirely out of paper. There are no doors or windows, but the walls are covered with various silhouettes and scenes. A few of the scenes are torn or tattered, and others have bright splashes of colored ink obscuring patches of detail.

There are paper chairs and a circular table in the middle of the room, with a book open on top of it. There is a papercraft scene displayed upon the book, and words written on the table's paper top. Once upon a time…

You look and feel . . . very strange . . .

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Heroes: you’ll find yourselves dressed in a long-sleeved tunic and breeches in your team color, with sturdy boots and gloves, and a spotless white cloak, or white and team-coloured accessories in a similar spirit, if you aren’t humanoid. You feel courage welling up within you, the desire to be selfless and good, fighting together for the cause -- to save the world -- until the very end. You have faced danger and adversity before, you know, and overcome it all through your noble aims. Even when the odds are stacked against you, you will not run. You will stand and fight to protect those you care for.

Knights: you will find yourselves in simple but sturdy armor: bright, polished silver for Sterling, and sleek black for Onyx. Your fealty to your patron is unquestionable; you would defend them from those who would do them or their realms harm. You are well known for your chivalrous deeds and have proven yourself worthy of your title. If you must, you will administer justice for the greater good.

Did you have names before you were a hero or a knight of whichever team . . .? Did you have a story, a life before this? It’s . . . it’s hard to turn your thoughts towards anything that happened before this moment; everything’s hazy. Something very strong wants you to focus on the now; to feel comfortable in the trappings of your new-minted role . . .

(But . . . who are you, again? Remember . . .)

The Story sounds a bit calmer now, but still strained and irritated. “This game is simple. You’re proper heroes and knights now, aren’t you? So, you’ll go on a journey to defeat a wicked foe, since that’s what heroes and knights do to prove themselves . . .”

((OOC: You can start with following along with the roles or struggle against them increasingly as the game goes on depending how hard you feel your character can/would resist this type of status effect. Answers other than the options provided (or other creative inputs) are allowed and encouraged, but not required if your character wouldn’t do the thing. Scoring will be based on discussion and consistency.))

The book on the table turns a page to a new scene: a black paper monster sweeps through the paper town, destroying everything it comes into contact with. . . though you can't see that any little paper people were there to be damaged, at least. The page turns again, and a lone figure stands at the edge of the destruction, observing the ruined town. Fresh words appear on the table next to the book, as if written by an invisible hand.

“As Heroes and Knights, your duty is to seek out this monster and put an end to it. What is your plan?”

∅We’ll meet it with swiftness and finesse. Decapitate it, ending its life quickly and cleanly.
∅We’ll meet it with brutal force. Cut out its heart, dismember it, and toss the remains into the sea.
∅We won’t meet it face to face at all. We’ll cunningly trap the creature in its home and burn it.
∅We̸’̷ll̸ ҉t͢alḱ ̧tơ ͘i̕t͢ ͞an̴d ̷f̛in͏d out ͡why͞ i̢t did ̴w̕h́a͟t ́it̢ ҉di͞d͝.͜

A pen appears for you to select your answers with. You have one hour to discuss and turn in. You may answer individually, but discussion on your course of action is encouraged.]

The book shows you the next page: The figure is heading up a mountain, to a black castle perched at the very top. New words appear on the table, splotchy and smudged. There’s a feeling of strain in the air. (This isn’t how things have always been for you, is it?)

“̨Yo͞ų ͡H͡er̨oe͝s ̷a͠nd̨ ̕Kn͝igh̡t̢s ̀tráve͜r͝se ҉t̷h̛è la͞n͘d ̢t̀o t̶he̛ ̶monst͜er͝’̷s̡ ̧l͏àir͘.͜ ̸I͏t’҉s ͘b̀et͡te̵r̛-̸g͝u̡arded͘ ͞than ̕yo̷u t̡hou͠gh͝t it woul͜d be̡.̧ W̕hat is ̀y͜our ̨ne̷x͜t ̨c͘ours̨e̡ o͟f ͝act͏io̵n?” ͟

̕∅̀U̕s͘e̵ ̷óu͘r͘ m̀ag͞i̵càl ̸p̨ower a̸nd storm͟ the͟ ̕gate͝s.҉
̵∅Gath͜e͢r͘ a͢n ar͜my and at͘t̡a͘ck th͘ȩ ca͠s͜tle͘ ͢ál̷l at onc҉e.̸
̶∅Cr̨ea̡t́e͢ ͢a ͘disg͝ui̡s͏e and̢ ͞sne̴ak̶ i͞n̨ ͏t̴h͡r̶ou̷g̀h the ̷back̛. ̸
∅D̀͠o̵n̢̡’t ̵̀b̷̢e ̴̧ŗ͜u̡d҉̵̴e̸̴͘. ͟ ̡̀J̵͜u͏ş̢t̷ ̧̀͞g̶̕͏ǫ̷́ ̶̴͟úp ͝a͏҉͢n͟͟d̶̕͟ ͜͜͞kn͘͟o̴̕c͏ķ̷.̢͞

The pen is still there. You have one hour to discuss and turn in. You may answer individually, but discussion on your course of action is encouraged.]

The pages turn again. The figure is standing in a vast paper hall, with the monster before it. The writing is even worse now, barely legible in spots (though still just clear enough to make out everything), and even for those of you who’ve been less able to resist this role, there’s room enough for some of the haze to give way to a nagging feeling, to the insistent little voice in the back of your head -- this isn’t right, this isn’t right, this isn’t you; listen…!

It's accompanied by the strangest of sensations; an odd… fizzing? There's power here, in the very air you’re breathing; it tingles under the surface of your skin. Where did it come from? It's still leaking. . .

"́͢Th҉e̷ ̵̡m̀ǫ̛n҉̸s̵͟t̴́͠e̴̶͢r͘ ͞f̵͢i̢n̷͡a̸̵͠l̴̨l҉y͝ sţa҉͢͏n҉ds̴ ̷b̡e͠f̶̛͠o͢͏re͢ ̶͘͜yo̢u͟.̨ ̛͞W̵h҉̸ą͡t̶̀ ̷͠w̶̨i̕l̢̧l̛͝͝ ̀͞y̛͏͝o̢͢͞u̶͟ ̛̀d̸̢o̡͡҉?"̕͏
͜
̵̛∅̸̸Ų̶̛s̕͡e̴͟ ̵͘ỳ̸o͡ur ̛͠ḿ͠҉a͏ģ҉i͢c҉ ͜͟to̷͜ ̡̀͡d̡́͞e̷̢s͏t̕͏r̢͝o̴y ̵ţ̕he̵̡ ͏͠m̧͝o͏ǹ҉s̡t͏̵͢e͜ŗ.͝
̴͡∅̧Dr̶̨a̛w ́̕͠y̴͏͟o̴u̷r̷̵ s͏͡͞ẃ̕o̧r̨̛d̕͢͜ a̡̨͠n̷҉d ̨͢ą̴t̢͡͠ţ͜a͘c̢͢k.̶̧
∅̕͡Ţ̨̕͠҉a̵̧l̶̢͟ḱ̶̴ ̧̀̕̕͞t̨͞o̴͟͏҉ ̨͠i͠ţ͏ ̸̶̨a̸̢̛͢͠ǹ̸̡͝d̴̕͢͡ ̧̡̕͢͞t̀͞͞ŕ͢ỳ͟͝ ͟͞t͏̢́o̕͢͞ ̵͏̷̢u̷̕͞n̶d҉́͟ȩ͝r̛҉̀͠ś́͘t̨a̴͟͠ņ̀͡d̛̕̕͜͡ ̴͟͡i̢͜͞҉̷t̡́͠s͘͜҉ ́̀̕͜͞a̢͡c̴t̵̷̢͡͞i̡͜͏͠ǫ͜ǹ̨̛s҉̷̵.͟͝
̶̢͡∅̶͘͟Ģ̴í̷͢v̵̧̢͞ȩ̀ ̴̸̀͜i̸̶̛͢͞t́͢ ͘͢͡͝͡a̢̛̕ ̛͘͞͡n̸̷͡a҉̡͡ḿ̶̶̨e̵̸͠.̴̸͢

The pen is still there. You have one hour to discuss and turn in. You may answer individually, but discussion on your course of action is encouraged.]

You can find out why and still choose to fight, can't you?

[if I'm used to this role, why does this armor feel so unfamiliar...?]

Assuming it doesn't attack us first...

If it attacks first, we meet it with swiftness and finesse, right?

[of course I can fight why wouldn't a hero be able to]

[nods]

We'd lose the element of surprise, but I don't see why the options have to be mutually exclusive.

[there's a tiny, faint uncertainty—is this right?—but a role is a role, and isn't a hero a good thing to be?]

We should talk to it. And depending on its answer, we'll take it down quickly, face-to-face.