another 6 rooms from this dungeon
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| better luck next time! |
3: the lobe
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| tickletaste |
- on stage. the boards are covered in silk and perfumed, dribbling candles. more curtains to the left and right. Ahead, different seats in a different theater. This one opulent, cobwebbed, molding velvet.
- If you leave through any other theatre but the one you first entered by, you're in the Yellow City instead. Your imitation is there too. As usual. If you kill them, or if they kiss you, you get to return to the normal world.
- Bulging up from the cracks, a human-size lobe of skin and flesh, surrounded by devoted worshipers in loincloths and sopping with baby oil, which they rub on the lobe.
- As they pray to it, it takes on the shape of the most devout. When it does, the impious roll around in the silk and cry about invisible devils and lakes of fire.
- they expect you to do this as well. If you don't, they will, with much grumbling and irritation, assemble themselves in slippery oily cheerleader formations to create a hellish landscape and monstrous tormentors and then torment you monstrously. arms made of wet wet guys gripping each other and a third guy who's pretending to be a pitchfork. that sort of thing.
- if you successfully make the lobe take on your image, for as long as it remains that way, you will be exalted. two of their number will grab you by one shoulder each and hoist themselves into the air to become your wings.
- this doesn't let you fly but it does mean that whenever you explain something to someone, it will be as if you personally invented that concept and are delivering divine revelation.
4: squirmy worship
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| get comfy :)) |
- on stage, perfumed and silken as 3. nude worshipers squirming on the ground like snakes, following your every move.
- they mutter prayers, adoring you under their breath. none of these prayers are accurate to who you are, and always paint you as having some quality you don’t possess or doing some great kindness to the squirming worshiper
- kiss my feet...
- forgive me, I killed my sister...
- give me everything in your wallet...
- tend my boils...
- let me walk again...
- make me beautiful...
- the longer they follow you, the more you start to resemble the figure in their ode, and you feel yourself compelled to take the actions they beseech you for.
- if more than one follows you, you are torn between multiple conflicting visions of yourself
- if not halted, eventually you will be reduced to an amorphous lobe of flesh like the one in 3, constantly changing shape in response to whichever worshiper prays the hardest
5: cyril the craftsman
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| type shit |
- Cyril the Craftsman (Hated and successful brother of Cereal the Counterfeiter in 2) carefully etching flowering script into a ball of violet glass. An enormous hissing wicker basket with a closed lid sits next to him. He's got his own stage and everything; small, black box theater style. the seats are metal folding chairs, close and intimate. a single exit sign glows behind them.
- to leave through it would be to enter the Yellow City, of course.
- Cyril is modeling his etchings on the contortions of Donnovan Joy, a nude model, painfully bent into shapes that stretch the possibilities of anatomy. Donnovan has a thick iron collar, connected by a chain to the floor; he can move about, but not leave.
- Donnovan was a corporate agent for Hershey Chocolate, who want to put real kisses in their kisses. He's deeply deeply evil and painfully neoliberal. He's trying really hard to believe that the market wants him here for some reason.
- If Donnovan falters, resists, or talks back, Cyril opens the basket, pulls out a viper (one of 40) and places it on him to keep him still. He's got no tolerance for distraction.
- The etchings sings the praises of the Violet and her Humbling of the Bishop-Whales (22).
- Cyril wishes to exchange the ball for the freedom of his lover Anymelis from the Violet’s court (6). She's a water spirit who wants to use the Sovereign Scent to return the ocean after Violet stole it and placed it in 13.
8: crawlspace
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| try being less ugly 4 a change |
- A dark, hideously dusty crawlspace. The trapdoor to it is under Cereal’s work station in 2. Pink fiberglass insulation bulges out of the walls and gets in your eyes and nose.
- If the players helped Ceareal and he has started to fashion replicas of them, this crawlspace is packed full of malformed, half finished copies of the characters, grabbing them, slumping mouths slurring praises of their perfection. They want you to teach them to be better. They really really really want to be better.
- A locked door leads to the closet where Cerril hangs the finished replicas; the unfinished desperately want to go in there. Another closet door leads to 9. It's unlocked and the unfinished aren't interested in that one. They say something ruined and ugly is in there.
- if they get to the finished replicas, each one will either
- begin to worship them
- become suicidal
- try to eat them
- try to fuck them
- the crawlspace stretches on towards 10, getting lower and more cramped.
9: wyrm-wound
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| need u to tell me what all my bits r called |
- in an unlocked closet off of the crawlspace (8), a nude woman sits slumped against the wall, bleeding out from a wound in her gut. she’s entirely tattooed in blue ink script, lines so close together that her paper-white skin can hardly be seen
- this is Klara Waldrep, friend of King Kazuch or something. she can't really remember and she doesn't really care about stuff like that. She needs to get to a hospital and she needs to call out of work. She is definitely dying.
- the script that covers her details her battle with a terrible dragon, which left her wounded and sure to die, if not for your brave sacrifice, which will let her go on and strike out anew.
- once you have read these words she is now bound to you
- she mimics your every action. the longer she does so, the more her ink fades from her skin and seeps onto yours. it blossoms from inside you, winding tighter and tighter towards your heart.
- you feel a stabbing pain in your gut, a tight tight twisting.
- when the transfer is complete, your gut ruptures, unzips as hers heals over
- she now possesses all your knowledge and personality; she does not look like you, but acts and thinks as though she was. you possess all of hers: , a checkout clerk at Walgreens, a history of parking lot fights (7 wins 2 loses), easily talked into community theater.
10: the iconoclastic wasp
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| they like it in there they really do |
- a man-sized wasp nest blocks the crawlspace. There's a small opening on the side closest to you and the side opposite, large enough to worm your way in. Inside, an empty rocking chair made of the same gluey paste as the the nest and paintings of Cape Cod on the walls.
- A little man in horn rimmed glasses dangles from the ceiling of the nest on strings. he's dressed in a black half-zip, pastel yellow chinos and boat shoes and has long sharp teeth and nails.
- he can't speak, but he'll try to bite the hands of anyone who looks Jewish.
- He devours prayers, odes, and praise, spoken or written. Anything he eats is forgotten forever, and its cultural impact is attributed to John Cheever.
- For him to eat spoken words you must speak them directly into his mouth as though you were kissing him. His tongue is completely dry.
- He is potentially a deadly weapon against the wyrm, and afraid of the mimicry club (you'll just have to wait and see)
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