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entrancelogs2016-09-07 07:55 am
vitaelamorte) wrote in entrancelogs2016-09-07 07:55 am
+ FOURTH WALL EVENT: FOREST PARTY +
Who: E V E R Y O N E
Where: The Forest!
When: Sept 7th to Sept 10th
Rating: G to PG-13 (please label higher ratings, thank you!)
Summary: Could it be that you (GASP!) don't want to be here? Do you maybe want to make like a tree and... leaf? Then how about you do the next best thing, and come to the woods to party! And don't forget to have a look at the Fourth Wall Master Post for event rules, puzzle clues, and more places to mingle!
The Story:
Beginning on September 7th, colourful ribbons will hang from several trees by the forest. Whoever follows their path will be guided deeper, right to the scene of a forest party.
Wooden benches, swings in all shapes and sizes, tree trunks, and other arrangements give plenty of opportunities to sit together. Tree houses and tents provide shelter, and come nightfall the festivities will light up for you.
Campfires provide additional light and warmth and a great place for ghost stories. Camping coolers store more than smores, and all around you nature twists and turns to give you room to dance to the music, to wander in the quiet, and to simply have a good time!
(...Are you the curiously perceptive, or the perceptively curious sort? If so, then you might also notice the small bird sitting on a branch nearby.)
Where: The Forest!
When: Sept 7th to Sept 10th
Rating: G to PG-13 (please label higher ratings, thank you!)
Summary: Could it be that you (GASP!) don't want to be here? Do you maybe want to make like a tree and... leaf? Then how about you do the next best thing, and come to the woods to party! And don't forget to have a look at the Fourth Wall Master Post for event rules, puzzle clues, and more places to mingle!
The Story:
Beginning on September 7th, colourful ribbons will hang from several trees by the forest. Whoever follows their path will be guided deeper, right to the scene of a forest party.
Wooden benches, swings in all shapes and sizes, tree trunks, and other arrangements give plenty of opportunities to sit together. Tree houses and tents provide shelter, and come nightfall the festivities will light up for you.
Campfires provide additional light and warmth and a great place for ghost stories. Camping coolers store more than smores, and all around you nature twists and turns to give you room to dance to the music, to wander in the quiet, and to simply have a good time!
(...Are you the curiously perceptive, or the perceptively curious sort? If so, then you might also notice the small bird sitting on a branch nearby.)
no subject
Or blue, in their case, the broken fragments still dull and faded instead of whole, vibrant, aglow with life. It aches like the jagged shards carve lines into them as they sink down, thudding heavily onto their knees.
Boy, do they wish the story had written them out. What a happier tale it would have been without them, huh? A human falls Underground, and meets a loving family that probably allowed six children to live as if they were royal heirs. A prince who didn't just have one friend who couldn't be what he wanted. Six friends! Seven, if you count the one he really wanted. They could all just wait patiently to die of old age, overcrowding and the economy and dwindling resources not being an issue to anyone at all, and some generation of monsters would get to be the one that would taste freedom. Asriel, maybe, or Asriel's children. Asriel's grandchildren?
What a shame Chara got in the way.]
I'm not so easy to shake off. I've sunk my roots in more thoroughly than you imagine, easter egg.
[They push themselves upright again. Back on your feet. Shoulders back, head up, like a soldier.]
I exist within every iteration. Every timeline. Whether anyone chooses to hear or not, I speak.
Whether it saw fit to include me or not, why not see what happens when you try to delete the name? Try to progress without a name being part of the story at all?
[It returns. Without fail, they slip it into the omitted space. A placeholder, a default, or... a deliberate choice.
* The true name.
* Here I am!]
no subject
It is what it is.
Gravity was his least favorite, always his least favorite. It was too poorly defined and easily manipulated, too easily polarized to the creation or the destruction of things. Too messy. Too difficult to control. Too like abandoning oneself to the slow press of material to the core of the world, the dragging inward of materials to their inevitable end.]
YES, YES, [he says without undue interest. One hand remains, hovering with two fingers extended in a blade as it continues to yoke increasing increments of pressure upon their SOUL, or whatever their equivalent of a SOUL is here. He does not care, and it does not matter.]
YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT. YOU HAVE AN OVERBLOWN SENSE OF SELF. UNSURPRISING, FOR A HUMAN. YOUR SUPERIORITY COMPLEX DOVETAILS VERY NICELY INTO YOUR SIMULTANEOUS INFERIORITY COMPLEX. DO TELL YOUR THERAPIST OR PSYCHOLOGIST, OR WHATEVER PASSES FOR THE ONE YOU CONFIDE IN HERE.
no subject
Their legs begin to quiver under the strain. They start walking forward.
Difficult. Ungraceful. Just lifting their feet becomes an exponentially greater strain.
But what he presses down is less than an eighth of a SOUL, isn't it? Not grabbing them by the wrist, but hooking two of their fingers with that gesture of his. Maybe determination is enough. Maybe it's enough.]
Buddy, I'm beyond help. Seems we've got that in common!
[They're still smiling.]
So how'd you go about it, anyway? It's not etched anywhere into the bones of the world.
Foolishness? Fate? Did you jump, did you trip, or were you pushed?
no subject
[They're moving forward, and he alters their trajectory in a quick flurry of mental calculations that spring from his mind so effortlessly that it's really quite impressive, he should think, considering the fact that he's fending off useless ephemera such as this mere gnat's overly-loquacious, inconsequential queries and his abrupt manifestation in this plane or brane or however he might choose to quantify this subjective experience.
In any case, he shifts their descent to an x-axis and sends them in the opposite direction.
Luckily for them and unluckily for him, his speech is not of the audible sort.]
FALLEN, IN OTHERS. IT DOES NOT MATTER, IT TURNS OUT. SUCH THINGS CANNOT BE REPLICATED, AS I AM SURE YOU ARE AWARE.
[He turns the full force of his unfathomable gaze upon them, he of the icy gaze and even tone and incisive, penetrating stare that should not and does not, in many ways, exist.]
YOU ARE QUITE THE DIRTY LITTLE HACKER, AREN'T YOU? system_information_963 IS NOT MEANT TO BE PLUCKED LIKE FRUIT FROM A TREE, NOR IS IT MEANT TO BE ACCESSED PRIOR TO ITS MANIFESTATION.
IT IS RUDE TO OPEN DOORS WITHOUT KNOCKING.
no subject
This, after all, isn't a fight, is it?
They're not going to waste their time on something that would give them -6666 EXP.]
You abject dingus. What do you think that file means? Who do you think creates it, who do you think makes sure it cannot be scrubbed away?
You are not the one who builds that door. Who are you to call me an intruder?
[Not the one who influences, who sways, who builds. A passive bonus waiting to be found, if chance and LV permit it.]
You sure seem to enjoy playing the mastermind, for a guy who has diddly-squat to do with anything at all.
no subject
[He does not regard them directly again. There is no need and no point. He is fairly certain that one should have to be allowed the privilege of physical existence in order to be killed properly.
He surveys the trees, the wood, the sky. All set somewhat on a brane apart. A peculiar world, that of which he is certain.]
IF YOU WILL PARDON THE EXPRESSION: GOD HELP US ALL, SHOULD THAT BE THE CASE.
ALL CODE CAN BE REDUCED, AND EVEN THE MOST INTEGRAL OF VARIABLES CAN BE REMOVED.
963 IS NOT AND NEVER WILL BE IMMUTABLE; IT CAN AND HAS BEEN DELETED AFTER ITS MANIFESTATION IN MINE AND IN MANY OTHER ITERATIONS. YOUR INFLUENCE IS EASILY SUPERSEDED, THING. I SIMPLY HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF OBSERVATION.
no subject
Well. That's it, then.
[Everything their partner taught them was meaningless. It had not been progress. It had been futility. There had been no point to anything they had strove to do.
Theoretically, at least. In a world they do not intend to return to again. In a universe that may not... may not even be theirs. Perhaps, for the time being, this is a line of thought that should simply be... tuned out.]
Did you just come here to pick on fifth graders, or are you going to be slightly more useful than that?
[What they're interested in is the secrets that even the bones of the world couldn't surrender.
demona
If you only wish to flaunt your arrogance, I may have to entertain myself some other way.
demonb
Perhaps by smearing my grubby little thing-paws all over things I should not toy with!
* And hasn't that poor wall suffered enough already?]
no subject
[No one seems content to leave well enough alone, let alone precocious children with delusions of grandeur and relevance.
He turns, and faces them, releasing their SOUL from the binds of the blue magic freezing them in place, at the mercy of whatever values he chooses to index. He is smiling.
He has always hated that he smiles. His facial features are indistinct at best, and now he smiles, a perpetual rictus frozen on features that are indistinct in every way they are possible to be.
His mouth opens. His eyesockets, far more pliable than anything initially sculpted from bone should be, dilate. Pinpricks of light glisten within the things that were once eyesockets, that might have quantifiable and describable as eyesockets but certainly are no longer, hot and bright and stained blue, amber, blue, amber, blue -
Something spills from every orifice.
Something dark.
Darker.
And yet, even d a r k e r.
It flows unevenly from a parted maw, viscous and oily and heavy with altered variables and altered states and divergences and binary choices, lines of ones and zeroes rendered pointless by a divergence of choices, branching pathways, unused images, locked files, source coding, sprites that were not and will never be used -
It doesn't look like tar, or blood, or dust.
It doesn't look like anything.
Something, some part of him, it tears and stutters and skips like a stuck tape, and then that blackness, that darkness, is gone.]
NONE OF THIS, [says the man with his hands, measured and controlled,] HAS OR EVER WILL CONCERN YOU. THIS NARRATIVE WAS NEVER YOURS TO PLUNDER AT YOUR CONVENIENCE. SO RUN ALONG, AND DO WHATEVER IT IS HYPER-DESTRUCTIVE LITTLE THINGS SUCH AS YOURSELF DO.
no subject
very, very
interesting.]
What did you do to Sans?
[He did worse to him than the anomaly ever did, Sans had said. An anomaly that put him into an unending loop. An anomaly that was marked to eventually kill him. More than once, even, from the sound of it. An anomaly who took away his brother, his friends, everything. And Gaster, somehow, did worse than that. Without changing the world in any way, he did worse.]
You were the creator of the DT Extraction Machine, were you not? What did you intend to do with Determination?
[Is he determined? Is that why he survived, for a certain loose definition of survival?]
What does the broken machine in Sans' lab do? How does he have reports of what's going on in other timelines?
Did you do whatever you did to free everyone, or simply to see what happens?
[He's probably not going to bother to answer. He smells like a hypocrite, the kind of guy who calls himself a scientist but hoards knowledge away from others. He's probably going to do nothing but continue to waste his and Chara's time with his pointless smugness. He's stumbling onto a pile of spent ashes and pouring gasoline over them, as if that somehow makes what's already utterly destroyed even more burnt.
But, whatever. If that's what he calls a productive use of his genius, so be it. Chara's going to ask regardless.]
no subject
[He certainly has no intention of answering any of them. They do not concern him in the slightest, just as they do not concern them. They are but a blip on his proverbial radar.
That analogy is inaccurate. They are very important in the grand scheme of things, but he is loathe to inflate their ego in any way, not when they already act as though they are entitled to every line of code that stumbles their way. That they uncover, without anyone's heed or permission or any fear of -
Ah.
Yes.]
FOR ONE WHO PROFESSES TO FAVOR CONSEQUENCES, YOU SEEM TO THINK YOU YOURSELF ARE ABOVE THEM WHEN IT COMES TO EXPLOITING THE MARROW OF A WORLD THAT LIVES ON WITHOUT YOU.
OR DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF EXEMPT?
[That said function should be available to him when he could only access it after becoming utterly lost to code himself is -
It is grating.
It is not grating. He does not care, one way or another. It does not matter, and he does not care.]
no subject
I use every weapon at my disposal, but I have never pretended that my ends have justified my means.
[It had never been justified to cut down every last monster they could reach. It had never been justified to back that plan up with a plan to buy away a SOUL, to eliminate the possibility of a happy timeline entirely. Surely it would be absurd to claim it was justified to back that up by etching the numbers 692 and 693 into the foundation of the world.
Not righteous to read the other things that formed the pillars, the crossbeams, the rafters. No more righteous than reading Mettaton's diary - because they had a key, and the key fit the lock, they simply had to use it. Oh, I won't tell, I won't use it for anything bad, I just have to be in on all the secrets too!]
Where do you intend to go with this, exactly? Are you going to stand in a golden hallway and be holier-than-thou, or are you perhaps going to be my fearsome clinging consequence?
no subject
[Again, the shape of him seems...distracted. Studying the - the "bones of the world," as they call it. Unsophisticated, perhaps, but it does not matter. They would not know the technicalities of the world which they profess to understand, even if they understand only incompletely.
Hmm. Yes, this is very much a liminal sort of space, isn't it. Hardly worth the full extent of his investigative proclivities, or theirs.]
YOU ARE A META VARIABLE GIVEN SENTIENCE, AND I THINK I SHOULD DESPISE THE THING THAT SOUGHT TO BRING A THING LIKE YOU INTO THIS WORLD.
YOUR "FULL LIFE CONSEQUENCES" ARE LITTLE MORE THAN A COMPENSATORY DRAPE OVER THE FACT THAT YOU ARE AND SHOULD HAVE REMAINED NOTHING. FROM NOTHING YOU CAME, AND NOTHING IS WHAT YOU SHALL REMAIN.
THAT IS A BASIC LAW OF CONSERVATION.
SOMETHING CANNOT BE GENERATED FROM NOTHING.