Ingame
You are inside a classroom of Pridmore Way School, a high school. The windows have been covered with sheets to block interior light and movement. Mattresses, cushions, blankets, and dirty fabrics function as sleeping arrangements. Sinks and faucets built into counter-tops have long since gone dry.
Names have been written across the whiteboard, resembling a guestbook.
- You pick up and hold the pencil in your hand. Having never held one before, you handle it near the middle. You feel rather giddy, and you take seat in a chair broken with three legs (and nearly fall over). You put pencil to paper and the paper moves with the pencil. You rectify this by holding the page so it does not move while you doodle. You experiment with both ends of the pencil, finding that one end makes smudges and the other black lines. If you were less excited, you would feel insulted at yourself.
You form the letters R, D, W, N, O, T, H, L, I, E. They look pretty (ugly). You suppose that you could have some natural talent for words if you combined the letters, making thoughts on paper, making yourself a writer, one who would be lauded and praised long after your corpse becomes like dirt. Your work would be studied and memorized forever in the classrooms of future generations. You exhale. Now is the reveal. With strokes both awkward and stiff, you write.
- DOWN WITH THE WORLD.
- You lean back and query your work. You had no idea such radical thoughts were brooding in your unconscious. Whatever does it mean?
- DOWN WITH THE WORLD.
DOWN WITH THE WORLD.
DOWN WITH THE WORLD.
DOWN WITH THE WORLD.
- You repeated the line without realizing. You never suspected that inhabiting your mind were these opinions, very serious and bold ones, and they may have been there all along, this hate for 'everything' and 'the stuff out there' and 'all things contained in reality,' and you really think something ought to happen, now that you have written these words, these thoughts which expose your personal indignation, and you need to be struck down and you must be punished and you necessarily should have these rebellious ideas squelched and killed and made as though they had never existed at all whatsoever.
You must tell everyone. It feels as if it is uniquely your duty. You are important. Everyone must know, everyone must rebel; everyone will never know to rebel. It is you alone. You are resigned to this. The end is inevitable.
- theyll get me i don't care theyll get me in the neck with the teeth i dont care down with the world they always get you in the neck with the teeth i dont care down with the world
- Immensely proud of yourself, you set the paper with the rest, imaging that a passerby will see and be interested in your work.
Possible actions:
- Read the whiteboard Leave the classroom
Inventory:
- You carry a knife; a journal and a notebook; a bloodied radio and a flare gun. You have a shotgun (2), a pistol (12) and three spare magazines inside your vest pouches. You are wearing a tactical vest, blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a pair of shoes.
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User:A Helpful Little Gnome
