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Realistic or Modern Insylum

Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
INSYLUM


Welcome to the Carlsbad County Schizophrenia Annex.


You may not remember why you're here. And that's okay, we're going to help you. You'll receive the best psychiatric care we can provide. There will be Group Therapy every day, you'll get some TV time and some relaxing arts & crafts. If you need some extra time with a therapist, you only have to say the word. Don't worry. We'll help you remember. We'll help you confront what happened, and overcome your issues.


But it's late now. Let's show you to Ward 23, where you'll be staying. I'm afraid we've got quite a strict lights out policy.


...and the lights go out and the clock strikes midnight strikes thirteen the bell tolls tolls thirteen times in the hour between midnight and twelve oh one and the doors the doors open every room of Ward 23 the doors open and THE DOOR opens THE WAY is revealed in a childish chalk outline in a gaping maw of mahogany teeth in a trapdoor the WAY into the Night World into The Clock Factory into The Whisper Labyrinth into the Castle where twin suns sink behind the lake and


No one will believe you


Gameplay


Light System: A light system intended not to be intrusive and allow for fluid interactions.


Dark and Surreal: This game will be quite dark, the theme, tone, and events quite surreal at times.


Short Arc: This game will not go on for very long but may require intensive posting for a while.


Requirements


All you need is a tolerance for horror and the surreal, comfort with building your character through play and developing their history by dialogue. You'll also need to be prepared for some dark material and provocative discussion, and if anyone is interested in playing I need to be aware of their limits on what is offensive or triggering.


Your character sheet should look like this:


Name:


Apparent Age:



Appearance:



Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truth:


You may list five true things that your character remembers - one of them can be your actual name. Here are some examples:


'...If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, you will speak when you are spoken to!'


A black dress, torn at the shoulder.



We drank coffee in his kitchen and tried to connect to one another.



Blind with panic. Deaf to the roar of the caged traffic. Heart stopped on the road to Damascus. Paul, sat at the roadside hunched over like a gull, like a bloody gull! As useless and as doomed as a dying goatherd, a syphilitic cartographer, an infected leg.
 
Open for criticism.

Name: Logan Seymour


Apparent Age: Late twenties


Appearance: Scruffy, dirty blond hair, green eyes, stubble, light scars all over his face and body, pronounced one running along from his left pectoral to his right hip, 6'1", 169 lbs, lean build.


Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truths:

  • "I told you, everything will be alright, love!"
  • Ruckling and medical equipment
  • "FASTER, THEY'RE UNTO US!"
  • Shiny plates spinning, slower and slower
  • "Mister Seymour, glad you could make it to our little meeting!"
 
Name: Ash Marling


Apparent Age: Young adult. Somewhere in the 19 - 22 range.


Appearance: A vaguely middle eastern teint, though leaning towards the lighter end of the scale. Maybe from Israel? Palestenian? Who knows. Dark, thick hair with slightly shorter sides than top. Light scruff. Unsettlingly glimmering dark eyes. Long but slim nose, high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Lips are noticably wider than on most people, bordering on plump. Standing at 184cm, his build is of average proportions, maybe a little underweight.


Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truth:


● "Yes, Mister Marling, her entire leg."


● White powder. It sticks to his every last poor.


● "...possibly induced with hallucinogens and..."


● "Your father never wanted you!"


● Mistakes were made.
 
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LET'S GO GO GO (Also I reject your format and substitute my own.)


full
Rhea Orland


19

She's conventionally attractive, though she can't be bothered with more than basic hygiene. She's charming, though not very sociable. She's intelligent, though she lacks discipline. She's talented, though she lacks passion. She's a big ball of wasted potential.


And she hates mirrors.


Stats


Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0
Truth

"Rhea. Jonah. Shut up and let your mother tell you how much having twins sucks." They were arguing then, but he was and is her everything.


"Rhea... Wear my dogtags. Someone ought to." She never took them off. Why doesn't she have them anymore?


"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year." The verses play out of order in her head, unsettling and confusing her. Once, this meant something to her.


"You smell nice. Sort of like pine. New cologne?" "Yeah." Sometimes she swears she can still catch a whiff of it.


"Jonah? Where are you?" He had said he'd be at home, waiting for her. He wasn't.
 
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I'm interested, and here's a cs - open to criticism and corrections.

Name: Loretta (Lucy?) Lane


Apparent Age: Mid-twenties


Appearance: Loretta stands short and thin, though she doesn't know her exact height or weight; she has to look up at all but the smallest among her. Her bleach-blond hair is starting to brown at the roots, the dry and damaged strands capable of making it down her back if they were not tied. Her eyes are forgettable, a light, washed-out blue.


Loretta's nails are short and ragged, chewed in her anxiety, little stripes of red around the edges that could be nail colour or blood. Her skin is pale, showing off her veins and a few small scars, as well as one tribal-print tattoo, black and spiraling up her left arm.


Vitality: 5


Lucidity: 5


Memory: 0


Truth: "There was a day, way back when, when we danced in the rain and were happy..."


The click of metal rubbed against metal and far too close to the ear.



The grit of dried dirt on her knees, digging into her flesh and scratching it open.



"Lucy, you're a fool. Go back to bed."



That old, pasty yellow sundress, stained red.



 
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Name: Carson Hart


Apparent Age: Appears to be in her early twenties



Appearance:<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/57a8c6d53553c_CarsonHart.jpg.69ff9c63d11701a66d896ffd7ae8a6e7.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="96487" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/57a8c6d53553c_CarsonHart.jpg.69ff9c63d11701a66d896ffd7ae8a6e7.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>



Around 5'7 in height. Usually has bags under her eyes from lack of sleep.



Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truth:


The smell of lavender lingers in the room.


A loud slap echoed.
"Disgrace." a voice muttered in disgust.


"Do it." The voice shouts. "DO IT!"



Carson, That sounds familiar.



...
"Stabbed eight times each"..... "Unrecognizable".....




 

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Name:???


Apparent Age: 80+


Appearance: She is confined to a wheelchair. Her skin is loose, veined, and spotted. She has silvery-white hair down to her mid-thigh from years of neglect. Physique is skeletal, but build is medium. She has a squarish face. Her voice is a soft rasp. Difficulty understanding her indicates an accent as well, Eastern Europe maybe? Her eyes are a pale blue, yet more cloudy due to the weakening of age. They are not, however, the confused eyes of senility.


Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truth:


There was a gown once, shimmering and crystalline, then there was the blooming of poppies.


They always come when you least expect it, and the price is always higher than you are willing to pay. The currency, well the currency is...



Heavy Breathing, "All shall be well... " Rustling, "All shall be well..." Distant echoes, "All manner of things shall be well." Silence.



Sonorous voices, darkened doorways, old walls.



" It's a trip I'll likely have to make one day. I'm no sure whether it's one I want to make or not. For the best or for the worst, will you come with me?"



 
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Name: ??? (Andrew LaFollet)


Apparent Age: 31ish


Appearance:
latest



He has a large scar in the middle of his forehead, he keeps it mostly covered with his hat.


Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truth:


"Few more months, then we'll be back what possibly could go wrong?" Desert air, and a comrades voice.


My own voice. "Lucy, my lovely little lady. Perfect curves, knows just what I like." Smooth feeling and a click


"1358 meters, windage at 5kp/h North-North-West, we got the bastard." Desert grass, an elevated position.


"What do you mean team two just engaged? We have a confirmed kill. It wasn- GET DOWN!" Ringing then darkness.


A haze, and a muffled voice. "Every thing will be alright, just hang in there. Medic! Someone get a fucking medic!"
 
This sounds pretty awesome. I don't know if you're still recruiting but I'll do a CS anyway.

Name: Xavier Vox


Apparent Age: Twenties


Appearance: Though he did not remember his exact height, he knew he was always looking down on people(6'7). His form was muscular, thought not hugely so. His brown hair was cut short, though not much else was done in grooming. His face was clean shaven save for stubble on his chin. His eyes were a cold blue, often staring blankly at people. Has large hands and feet, almost absurdly so.


Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truth: "If you're not winning what's the point in living?"


"X, you have to run, go now!"


A constant ticking sound.


"What do you mean you're out?!" Gunshots, silence.


"But what happened to her!? What did you do to her!?"
One thing I have to mention is, intensive posting is fine with me. Just depends on the time. Not available M-W 6-11 EST. That's about it.
 
Eh, well, I put a CS up anyway, Vitality/Lucidity is an easy thing to change. ^-^

676dab2483caf192e2026d0209573273.jpg

Name:
Jonah


Apparent Age: Maybe early twenties, or late teens.


Appearance: The first thing you'll notice is his entire left arm is missing. Lucky for him, he's a rightie. Or.. Maybe he's only a rightie because his left was chopped off. You cant be sure. If you could somehow get past the sunken, dark eyes, miserable look, and depressed attitude, you might find he was attractive.. Once. Black hair, clearly untouched, stubble of the same color. Deep green eyes, sharp jawline, but rather small compared to some others standing at 5'9".


Vitality: 5


Lucidity: 5


Memory: 0


Truth:


Pain. So much pain. So much blood. A ghost of a feeling. Knowing it's not there but pretending it is. Remembering it was.


"Jonah, you foolish, foolish boy.."


The crackling of a fire. Comfort. Safety. Lies. Trophies of hunts on the walls. Bear skin rug stained red. Trail of blood leading into a dark, dark room.


"Goodbye."


Running. Running through the forest. Heart pounding so fast you'd think it popped right out of his chest. The brush scraping at his bare legs. The wind, howling. Urging him to go faster, as if he could. As if he had any chance. Any chance ever at all. And a blood curdling scream.
 
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I don't remember exact proportions, but Vitality can be converted into Lucidity, and Lucidity into Memory, iirc. You use Vitality and Lucidity for physical and mental tasks respectively, so you should definitely consider that before converting things right off the bat.


Source: I totally asked the same question in the last iteration.


Anyway, I think the proportion is 1 vitality into 1 lucidity, and 10 lucidity into 1 memory, but I don't feel confident in that so don't quote me on it. Grey can let you know when he gets online.


EDIT: If that's meant to be Rhea's Jonah you should probably PM me rather than go ahead and take liberties. xD
 
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Anomaly said:
I don't remember exact proportions, but Vitality can be converted into Lucidity, and Lucidity into Memory, iirc. You use Vitality and Lucidity for physical and mental tasks respectively, so you should definitely consider that before converting things right off the bat.
Source: I totally asked the same question in the last iteration.


Anyway, I think the proportion is 1 vitality into 1 lucidity, and 10 lucidity into 1 memory, but I don't feel confident in that so don't quote me on it. Grey can let you know when he gets online.


EDIT: If that's meant to be Rhea's Jonah you should probably PM me rather than go ahead and take liberties. xD
Oh, no, it's not meant to be Rhea's Jonah, my bad! I can change the name, I swore I looked through CSs to make sure I wasn't doing duplicate names but I forgot to look at Truths. ^^;
 
All well and good, just checking. If you want, you can leave it. Poor Rhea won't know what to do with herself.
 
Anomaly said:
All well and good, just checking. If you want, you can leave it. Poor Rhea won't know what to do with herself.
Haha! I can see why. :P If you want me to change it, let me know, I've no problem at all with it. ^.^ Sorry again!
 
Oh you illusive beast insylum


Name: Farrah St. Yves


Apparent Age:
36


Appearance:
A taught woman of early middle age, lines just starting to show. Hair overdone and dry, cut and styled in the dreaded 'speak to the manager' fashion. Physically a specimen of modern health, six pack, healthy curves and human excellence fought for by brutal regimentation. Copper colored brown eyes with black hair that resonate with a smoldering heat. Quite possibly the origin of the resting bitch face despite a perfectly practiced smiling face.


Vitality: 5


Lucidity 5


Memory: 0


Truth:


"There is no way you'll have me packed into that thing for another one of your wild goose chases"



"It's not a pyramid, more of a funnel"



"A broken glass and stained white carpet"



"Locked in, the screeching voices and insurmountable pressure growing in my head, makes me wish I could be dead'



"It's not nostalgia, just bitter cynacism'



 
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Wow, big turn out.


Hrm. I must consider who I will turn away, but I'll have the thread up later today.


Also, yes, Vitality and Lucidity should start at 5 but don't worry, those'll change quick enough.
 
Alright, in order to narrow down the selection process, I'm going to want to see a writing sample, sort of thing.


So, how does your character respond to this?

You're at a party. How could you forget? Lush venue - bright lights, bright colours, everyone in costume. Looks like the inside of some Venetian palace, covered in murals and tapestries. There's an empty throne at the end of the ballroom. Everyone is wearing a Mask too. There's a drink in your hand. Can't understand a word anyone is saying.


A huge clock over the throne reads eleven fifty-five with clawed hands.
 
I cannot believe he left me standing here...


It had been a date, one of her first in forever and his idea. Something to rekindle their flickering passions in a dying marriage.


Dom always had a flair for the exotic, part of the reason why she considered him so attractive when they met so this weird ball was right up his alley. But hey, she was just as adventurous and a masquerade ball was far better than seeing another counselor.


Or so she thought. Not one other person here spoke fucking English. They all minced around like some sort of mindless swarm while babbling in their singsong language. Portuguese? Something romantic sounding she couldn't put a finger on. If Dom had planned it like this, it had worked for a little while. She attached to his presence since they walked in the door. It wasn't a safe space around him but a familiar one she could navigate and avoid any pertinent hazards. Only his promise of returning quickly kept her from freaking out as he pulled free from her grip.


That was almost fifteen minutes ago and Dom was nowhere to be seen. The wine glass starting to become more glass than wine as she took another sip. The mask she wore starting to irritate the bridge of her nose, she tilts it forward just in time to catch sight of Dom.


He had another man on his arm, pulling the wolf faced stranger up onto the stage with him. Dom spoke loudly, his words just as masked as his face as the foreign language bounced off the walls of the court.


The clock ticked closer to midnight as she started up towards the stage, ire rising as she chambered one devastating comment after another into her throat when she was grabbed.


The glass shatters as she turned back to see several masked men and women holding her back.


"Dom! Help!" She cries out for help, pulling free of a few of the weakly grasping palms. "These people are assaulting me dammit!"


Dom looks down from his stage, the clock starting to strike. The wolf face man pulls off his mask.


It was Dom's face.


Then the crowd joined in, the men, the women, each one by one pulling the mask off to show his face underneath. No smile, no hate, just a blank perfect replica of the man she vowed to follow in sickness and death.


She fell to the ground, not screaming or crying but falling into shock gasping for air. The crowd moves in, Dom, her Dom, pushing in and pulling his mask off to reveal an enveloping darkness.


....


"She just fell over and passed out Doctor. Right at midnight. Not one issue all night and then pow, she's out on the ground"


The doctors group around her, taking stats and checking levels. Her body still shaking slightly, withdrawing at Dom's touch.


One doctor looks up, his ear close to her mouth.


"What language does she speak?"
 
It was hard for Jonah to remember exactly how he got here. Though it didn't seem to matter to everyone else, it mattered to him. He sniffed the drink in his hand. Champagne. He didn't exactly feel in the mood to drink, so the next time a waiter passed he placed the drink on their tray.


The place was gorgeous. Old, classy. Jonah liked it, the old vibe the place gave off. What he didn't like were the masks and costumes. It put him on edge, not being able to see everyone's faces, not being able to see who they were. People were laughing, talking, dancing. He knew no one here. He barely even knew himself. Pushing through the crowd, Jonah reached the end of the ballroom. There stood an empty throne.


The clock above read eleven fifty-five. Five minutes to midnight. Would he suddenly find that everyone here was a princess with a fairy godmother at midnight? This felt surreal. Like a fairy tale. Where was the exit? He didn't want to be here anymore. He felt eyes on him. Why would someone want to leave such a dashing party? Who was that creep with only one arm? It was him. Jonah. And he didn't like it here.
 
Ash made a step forward, as if he was actually going anywhere, only to, over time, tip toe back again. The glas in his hand shaking, he couldn't help but close his eyes for just a moment in an attempt to ease the fire that burned underneath the lids with the long lashes. Another step. Somewhere underneath his blazer, he could feel the faintly blue shirt he wore cling to his skin, every last pore filled with the cold sweat that pearled along his features.


Unsure whether they just spoke a language he didn't understood nor recognized or if his ears were acting up, but as far as he knew, right now where he stood, his eyes still closed, he could've been inside an aquarium, the sound of what's beneath the glass unintelligible, droning. His face strained as he forced open his palpebras, showing off the wavering, ever fluctating darkness inside his irises. They found the hands of the big clock, telling him it was just moments before the day would come to an end.


Something HAD ended already though. That's why his fingers clenched onto the vitreous body holding the fizzy alcohol. That's why his own hands were shaking more than the one counting seconds up on the clock. He was jittery. And justified in it. What had ended? For some reason, he knew he should not have forgotten. Maybe someone would come for him once midnight strikes. Or he'd come for somebody... Like a magnet, the empty throne demanded his view, mercilessly pulling him in. The sight caused a jerk of his body, and a forceful exhale through gritted teeth. The flashback that accompanied his reaction faded too quickly to make sense of it.


What am I doing?
 
And she feels like she's running out of time. Late, late late... But isn't this party pleasant? The din is overwhelming, too much to focus in on, even when she stands very close to any given person and tries. Her mask has large eyeholes, and somehow she registers without looking that it's a depiction of an owl, piercing and observant. It doesn't limit her range of view like most masks would. She takes advantage of this and casts a glance around for her date. There - the back of a blonde head - but when he turns at her touch, face encased in the semblance of a lion, Rhea just knows it isn't her Jonah.


As she turns her attention back to the crowd, she realizes with a sinking feeling that they all have the small-but-sturdy physique, the straight locks of gold, the cutting blue eyes she shares with her brother. Running up to one and pulling his mask off - peacock - reveals another mask underneath. Panicked now, Rhea tears through the guise of a geisha, a hockey player, something unspeakable, until there's just... nothing. The headless man laughs at her as she stumbles backwards.


In unison, the crowd turns towards the throne, still barren of its ruler. A man in a beautiful swan costume ascends the short set of steps to the raised platform whereupon the gilded seat rests in its place of esteem. Tears of relief threaten to spill over Rhea's eyelids; this man, she is certain, is her brother. Though graceful, he is reserved as he makes his slow way to the throne, eyes cast down, no extraneous movement or pompous enthusiasm.


Rather than sitting, he stands facing the crowd. Seized by a sudden mania, Rhea pushes past the non-beings around her to the edge of the platform, trying to catch his attention.


It works. He looks directly at Rhea, who bursts into tears. She cannot explain this surge of emotion; it's as if he has been gone for a long, long time.


Jonah reaches for his mask as Rhea reaches for him. He takes it off.


And there is nothing.




"Rhea! Rhea, it's okay, shh, shh..."


Her screams die off, replaced by gulping, hiccuping sobs. She reaches for her brother and pulls him towards her; sighing, he lays down beside her.


"Same dream again?"


She nods.


"Ray, I'm really starting to worry about you..."
 
Kanori let out a small sigh. She hated parties, to loud, to many people. Just..... aggravating. Her long fingers held the cup firmly as she stood in the corner of the room. Some would call her anti-social, maybe even an introvert. She was neither. No, she loved people, even though most didn't love her. They way the walk and talk, acting like everything was okay with the world certainly piqued her interest. Humans were strange. Bringing her arm up, she took a small sip of champagne before gazing around the room again. Everyone was in costume, detailed mask covering the monsters people can truly be. 'What is the language their speaking?' she questioned herself. That's right, She wasn't supposed to be at this party. They should really have better security when it comes to a fancy party like this.


"You know you want to...." The voice prodded in the back of her mind. It didn't sound threatening...yet. If she ignored it, it would persist.


"Want to do what?" she asked quietly, eyeing the rather large clock that loomed over the throne at the other side of the room. 'Five more minutes, you can make it.' She thought hopefully.



"Come on, you know you want to. Plus, they deserve it. Think of all the people they've wronged." It persuaded, making her impulses go wild.





"Even if you're right,
I can't let you make me do it." She said, earning a couple of looks. '11:57' she though 'It usually goes away at midnight. c'mon c'mon' Without realizing, she had already begun to make her way to a table filled with food. Sticking out of the turkey was a carving knife. She reached in front of her and hesitated for a moment before someone tapped her shoulder.


"Hey, girl, Would you hurry up?!"


"Do it." And with that, she reached for the knife and went to swing. Before she reached his neck, a loud dong echoed through the room, and another, and another. Kanori and the people around her stood frozen as the clock rung.


"Twelve o'clock......" she muttered before making a break for it through the crowed, dropping the knife in the process. Bursting through the doors to the mansion, she sprinted through the yard, disappearing from sight.



"You will not be so lucky next time..." It muttered before disappearing into the recesses of her mind.
 

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