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/qst/ - Mitsuba Archive


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Cold. You feel cold. You feel as if your whole body is submerged in ice-cold water. Your eyes flutter, trying to open itself, your muscle, sore as it is, shudder under such freezing temperature.

Left. Right. Up. Down. You count the animals in your head. The childhood memories that you've experienced. The greetings and the fare-wells... You start to feel. You feel the faux leather of the seat you're sitting on, the weight of your leg pressing down on you. You feel as if your whole body is heating up; your internal forge - the everlasting engine starts to move.

You feel your hand, gripping on something - you drop it, and it falls down the ground, signifying its existance with a clink. You feel your throat; it is dry, had you move your mouth and try to utter a sound, it would crumble on itself into fine sand. Your stomach grumbles, sending signals to your head... is it hungry? Or perhaps it wants to empty what content it has left.

You... breathe. And for a moment - a momentary sign of clarity, your mind clears and your neurons start to circulate among themselves.

Your stomach starts to churn; now you understand that it does not want any nutrients, this is clearly a sign that it is rejecting something, and clearly, you MUST do something about it.


What will you do?
>Frankly, I do not care - I shall empty its content, right where I am, because it isn't of my current concerns.
>Such is the case right now, I need to find a container of some sorts, lest I hadn't the time to assess the situation.
>My legs are awake, I need to find the bathroom, and empty my stomach there, that is the most sufficient option.
>Puke in your mouth and swallow the contents.
>>
>>4827238
>My legs are awake, I need to find the bathroom, and empty my stomach there, that is the most sufficient option.
>>
>>4827238
>My legs are awake, I need to find the bathroom, and empty my stomach there, that is the most sufficient option.
Might as well get that blood pumping. Can't exactly lay around all day.
>>
>My legs are awake, I need to find the bathroom, and empty my stomach there, that is the most sufficient option.
That man does NOT look healthy.
>>
>>4827238
>My legs are awake, I need to find the bathroom, and empty my stomach there, that is the most sufficient option.
We may be a couch potato, but we're not a shit-in-pants one!
>>
>>4827238
>>Puke in your mouth and swallow the contents.
Recycling helps the planet
>>
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>My legs are awake, I need to find the bathroom, and empty my stomach there, that is the most sufficient option.


You take another deep breath, and immediate shot for the bathroom, guided by what little light there is in your abode.

The bathroom, yes - the location of bathroom is fairly known to you, with its eccentric white ceramic tiles, plastered all over it. You reach the door and open it, and to your utmost luck, wasn't closed.

The smell of clorine and ammonia immediately struck you like a tidal wave, and does not help you with containing whatever was surging from the depths of you.

In-front of you is a loo, a potty, the porcelain throne - a perfect spot to empty your stomach... but to stick your face into a place that's clearly meant to dispose waste from the other end; the thought of doing that sickens you, but you're already sick enough that you consider it.

Although that is the case, a fair distance away is a sink - the second throne to those who are daring. A way better spot to puke your heart out. But to consider what you puked later, whether or not you have to thoroughly clean up your prestine sink, you hesitate a bit.

>What an indicisive man - I say we use the porcelain throne, for we are King of Kings, the Upsurper of Rulers; it's only fair that we get to give back what's theirs.
>Despite my situation, I say we hold on to a bit of what's left of our dignity and puke in the sink; In any case, we have all the time in the world to clean it up later.
>>
>>4827298
>>What an indicisive man - I say we use the porcelain throne, for we are King of Kings, the Upsurper of Rulers; it's only fair that we get to give back what's theirs.
We're not exactly in a state to be picky.
>>
>>4827298
The Throne. Better out than in they always say.
>>
>>4827298
>What an indicisive man - I say we use the porcelain throne, for we are King of Kings, the Upsurper of Rulers; it's only fair that we get to give back what's theirs.

As a former janitor I can tell you cleaning puke out of a sink is a motherfucker and gross. Just use the damn toilet
>>
>>4827298
>>Despite my situation, I say we hold on to a bit of what's left of our dignity and puke in the sink; In any case, we have all the time in the world to clean it up later.
If it clogs fuck it, sinks are stupid anyway. More pain, more pleasure.
>>
>>4827298
>What an indicisive man - I say we use the porcelain throne, for we are King of Kings, the Upsurper of Rulers; it's only fair that we get to give back what's theirs.
You stupid? Puking in the sink is the most idiotic things you could do. All of the bits and pieces will get stuck to the drain. Toilets are MADE for disposing of that kind of shit, pun non intended.
>>
>>4827298
>>What an indicisive man - I say we use the porcelain throne, for we are King of Kings, the Upsurper of Rulers; it's only fair that we get to give back what's theirs.

Guess who's gonna be liable when our sink gets all clogged up? US. TOILET'S the way to go!
>>
>>4827298
>>What an indicisive man - I say we use the porcelain throne, for we are King of Kings, the Upsurper of Rulers; it's only fair that we get to give back what's theirs.
We can flush puke down the toilet. The sink is just gross and hard to clean.
>>
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>>What an indicisive man - I say we use the porcelain throne, for we are King of Kings, the Upsurper of Rulers; it's only fair that we get to give back what's theirs.


Dignity be condemned, you dive for the toilet and let loose.
And came the demon screeches, you old friend. The moans of damsels, the sobs of the unfortunates. Emotions well up inside you, and came forward like a fountain - both mentally, and physically. Your stomach acid sears the inside of your mouth, the crests on your gum. Your eyes get teary, and your head starts to spin. Nausea. The smell of puke. It makes you want to die.

The only sound you can hear is the ringing in your head, and the retches of the damned.
>>
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>>4827373
As you sit there, snot-faced, hazy - your mind starts to work, trying to put the puzzle pieces of your memory until this moment.
What, exactly happened... until now?
Slowly, you put the pieces together: Waking up at the couch, the strange bottle from your hand, the need to puke right after waking up, and a killer head-ache.
"So I've been drinking..." You mumble to no-one.
You stare at the bowel of the toilet, a messy thick liquid covers the side and float gracefully at the bottom. Whatever that is, you're glad that you let your body guide you instead of your mind.
>>
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>>4827393
You get up from the floor and reach for the flusher, you press down on it... and nothing happens.
You try pressing down on it again, and again, and again... But alas, your puke did not go away.
"They cut the fucking water, fuck me..." Cold sweat forms behind your back, as you stare more at the toilet; had you have the power, you'd command it to go straight down the drain and to the sewer, where nothing can be found.

The smell of vomit caught your attention, as you look at yourself. Dirty spots stains your outfit, and on your face no less, tears start welling up, blurring your vision.

You wipe your eyes and head for the sink, hoping that at least - they'd leave this alone. You twist on the faucet and heard a small rumble, before murky water starts coming out.

Joy, you thought, before grimacing at the quality of the water, while warm, is absolute filthy.
'... Shit, whatever.'
You plug the sink and let water fill up the bowl. After a moment, you turn off the faucet, scoop up a bit of water and splash it on your face.
'...'
You thought for a while, and dunk your head into the bowl of warm water.

The few seconds under water feels like an eternity, you empty your breath. Your grips on the sink tightens.
Lightheaded, you pull your head out of the water, gulping for air; In-front of you is a mirror, cracked and foggy.
'...'

Who are you?
What is your name?
Why are you here?

Questions circulate inside your head, as you wipe the mirror.

>I am a man - the child of God. I am born to suffer, to walk the Earth. I am here on a journey, to take back what's rightfully mine. No one is more rightous than me, not even my counter-part.
>I am a woman - I am a heir to the Goddess. My counter-part is nothing, it is but a small person, an insignificant actor in the grand stage; It is rightous, but I am elegant and graceful.
>>
>>4827394
>I am a man - the child of God. I am born to suffer, to walk the Earth. I am here on a journey, to take back what's rightfully mine. No one is more righteous than me, not even my counter-part.
>>
>>4827394
>I am a man - the child of God. I am born to suffer, to walk the Earth. I am here on a journey, to take back what's rightfully mine. No one is more rightous than me, not even my counter-part.
>>
>>4827394
>I am a woman - I am a heir to the Goddess. My counter-part is nothing, it is but a small person, an insignificant actor in the grand stage; It is rightous, but I am elegant and graceful.
>>
>>4827394
>I am a man - the child of God. I am born to suffer, to walk the Earth. I am here on a journey, to take back what's rightfully mine. No one is more rightous than me, not even my counter-part.
>>
>>4827394
>I am a man - the child of God. I am born to suffer, to walk the Earth. I am here on a journey, to take back what's rightfully mine. No one is more rightous than me, not even my counter-part.

Keep it up. The messy style is something I'm really enjoying.
>>
>>4827394
>I am a woman - I am a heir to the Goddess. My counter-part is nothing, it is but a small person, an insignificant actor in the grand stage; It is rightous, but I am elegant and graceful.
>>
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>I am a man - the child of God. I am born to suffer, to walk the Earth. I am here on a journey, to take back what's rightfully mine. No one is more rightous than me, not even my counter-part.


Rejoice! Rejoice all! The son of God has been born - reborn! He is walking among us! Among the frail mortals of the Earth!
The figure from the mirror stares back at you, as you look back at him.
Is this... how you look like?

You touch your face, rub it against your palm. You look at your un-kempt hair, the texture of your reddened nose, your bushy eye-brows, your breathing hasten as you look and look.
"What an ugly fucking mug." You blurt out the first thing that came to your mind.
"Christ, look at that moustache, are we back in the fucking coal mines or something...?" You glare at the patch of hair right above your lips; it stood defiantly.

>This is a shell of a man, long past expiration date; his mind detoriates as his liver shrinks - I suggest we remove it, from tops to bottoms, starting from the hair, to the eye-brows, and that freaky moustache, we remove it all with the help of our trusty shaving supplies. With this, we can start anew.
>'Ugly fucking mug' it is, but this is a part of you. You feel like if you part ways with a face like this, it will bring misfortune.
>Maybe the moustache can go, but the hair can stay. Such is life of the eco-system.
>The hair goes, the moustache stays - The twirling must go on.
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>>4827500
>This is a shell of a man, long past expiration date; his mind detoriates as his liver shrinks - I suggest we remove it, from tops to bottoms, starting from the hair, to the eye-brows, and that freaky moustache, we remove it all with the help of our trusty shaving supplies. With this, we can start anew.
>>
>>4827500
>'Ugly fucking mug' it is, but this is a part of you. You feel like if you part ways with a face like this, it will bring misfortune.
>>
>>4827500
>'Ugly fucking mug' it is, but this is a part of you. You feel like if you part ways with a face like this, it will bring misfortune.
We can worry about our appearance when we can actually remember who the fuck we are.
>>
This quest feels like binging OTC medication
I'm clean now dont judge me
>This is a shell of a man, long past expiration date; his mind detoriates as his liver shrinks - I suggest we remove it, from tops to bottoms, starting from the hair, to the eye-brows, and that freaky moustache, we remove it all with the help of our trusty shaving supplies. With this, we can start anew.
>>
>>4827500
>Maybe the moustache can go, but the hair can stay. Such is life of the eco-system.
>>
>>4827500
>Ugly mug it is
It's our mug
>>
>>4827500
>Ugly fucking mug' it is, but this is a part of you. You feel like if you part ways with a face like this, it will bring misfortune.
It is an expression of pain.
>>
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'Ugly fucking mug' it is, but this is a part of you. You feel like if you part ways with a face like this, it will bring misfortune.


You look at your face once more and come to terms with it - perhaps it isn't as bad as you thought it'd be.
Enough about your face, but what about your physique? You look down at your masculine body, the pinnacle of the human race. But all you can see is a sickly man, your skin is pale - deadly pale, as if you're patient zero that's reached terminal stage of their disease. Every movement pains you, your joints are sore and aching, your knees nearly buckle every steps you take; to think that you ran here, that was a feat by itself.
'... No point in staying here any longer.' You thought to yourself, as you look back at the still un-flushed toilet.
'... I'll deal with it later.' A smirk shows up on your face, and faded as quickly as it stayed.
And with that, you leave the bathroom.
>>
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>>4827629
Your apartment, the humble abode, your haven. It looks the same as ever.
You take a whiff of your shirt again, and nearly gag at the smell, you feel like you need to change into something cleaner.
You still didn't know who you are, perhaps your belongings may tell you something.


Pick your location:
>Bed-room
>Living-room
>Kitchen
>Bath-room
>>
>>4827631
>Bed-room
Did you know that the average human spends more than a third of their life sleeping?
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>>4827631
>Bed-room
Though it might be a good idea to grab a shower soon.
>>
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>>4827632
>>4827633
Bedroom:
You approach your bedroom, items strewn across the floor. On the left of you is your drawer, 'jam-packed with goodies' you thought. On top of it are two picture frames and an empty cup, stained with what you'd assume to be alcohol. A spare shirt hangs loosely at the corner of the drawer.

Your bed is a mess, the blanket isn't made and you can see stains on it. Whether it's from a beverage or not, you do not wish to know. A bottle of liqeur, empty, lies next to it.

You see a pair of pants, a buttoned-up shirt and a pair of shoes were thrown on the floor. Frankly, it looks like rags to you, but nonetheless they're still functioning well (unlike you).

The clock on the wall says: '05:00'. Is it night time? Or day time? You do not know.


>Command?
>>
>>4827658
>check the picture frames to jog our memories
>>
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>>4827681
You check the picture frames, inside of it holds two photos:
One photo depicts two men, dressed quite dandy - both were smiling and looking at the direction of the camera. From what you've deducted; the person on the right is you, of course; who else would have had that moustache grown? But the person on the left... You cannot recall them at all.

The other photo shows a gruesome image of a man, coming in contact with hard concrete, his head busted wide open and brain matters splatter across the surface.
To think that you'd have a picture like this, framed and positioned right at the end of your bed...
But looking closely at the picture, the man in question doesn't look like the one on the other picture, so you'd assume that this is a different person. Perhaps an unfortunate soul who had an accident, or maybe a jumper...? Or was he... murdered?

But alas, it does not help you with your memory problems.


>Command?
>>
>>4827725
>Grab the (hopefully fresher) clothes off the ground and go to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Maybe that'll help.
>>
>>4827731
second
>>
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>>4827731
>>4827752
You pick up the clothing that you've thrown across the floor. They're a bit dusty, but comparing them to what you're wearing right now? They're top-notch.
You head to bathroom, expecting to clean yourself of filth, but to your surprise, you found no bathtub - not even a simple shower head.
The fact baffles you, as you thought to yourself how you'd cleaned yourself all these living years.
"... Shit, come on..."
You lean on the wall of bathroom, a heavy sigh escapes your mouth.

After contemplating the situation, you change into the cleaner clothes without taking a shower. While feeling as clean as it can be, you still reek, like fermented food.
You exit the bathroom and reenter the living room.


>Command?
>>
>>4827757
>Okay, that is frankly bizarre but still. Head to the kitchen to see if there's anything we can eat.
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>>4827773
Also throw out all our booze.
>>
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>>4827773
>>4827776
Kitchen:
You left your bedroom and head to the kitchen.
Your kitchen, despite the looks of it, is equipped with a fair amount of appliances. First thing you do was to look for any traces of your drinkable alcohol, but after looking through every crests of the room, there simply isn't anywhere to be found, except empty ones (not that you were planning to drink them or anything).
You head to the fridge - a fairly old model from a long since forgotten time, and rummage through the contents.
'...'
It is empty - except for a box of old noodle, which you doubt it is still edible.
'...'
You take a whiff at the box, and immediately, your arm moves on its own and toss the box at the sink.
"Hrghp..." You feel as if you're about to throw up again, you push away the thought and rub your stomach.
'How the fuck did I manage to live in this condition...?'

Despite finding no food, you look around the kitchen more.
Behind you is a table, its paint has been long stripped off, on the table were some folders and presumably a card of some sorts. The chair, resting at the side of the table, creaks every time you move it - a coat hangs at the corner of the back-rest.
Nearby, on the floor, a paper bag lies - its contents poured out. Instantly, you recognise what they are - polaroids.


>Command?
>>
>>4827816
Check the folders and the card.
>>
>>4827825
This.
>>
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>>4827825
>>4827833
You head to the table and sit down on the chair, as you look between the folders and the card, you decided to look at the card first.
The card shows a portrait of a fairly young man - smiling. Under that, the name 'E. Theodore' printed in black. Beneath it is the word 'PRESS' (you did press it once out of curiosity) and the number '3' next to it. The card has a metal clip with a blue string attached to it.
Looking closely, the man looks quite familiar to the one on the photo found in one of the picture frames in your bedroom.

Does this mean that you're... this 'Theodore'?
You find the thought quite far-fetched.
>>
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>>4827854
As you look at the card, your eyes direct itself to the folders on the table. You put the card inside your pants pocket and reach for one of the folders.
The folder is beige in color and there's no indicator of a sender or a recipient. Your mind wonders what could the contents of these folders are.

As you were about to open it - a knock.
'...'
You sit still for a moment, pondering whether or not to react to the abnormal sound that you've just heard.
Knocks, again. Coming from the door in the living room.
The front door. Someone is knocking on your front door.
'...' You sit, unreactive; The knocks continue, this time a lot faster.


>Perhaps this is an urgent matter, I should open the door to see who it is, lest I make the person more impatient than they are now.
>Who is it that's interrupting me between my folders, I shall valiantly continue to ignore them and finally open the Pandora's Box once and for all.
>>
>>4827863
>Perhaps this is an urgent matter, I should open the door to see who it is, lest I make the person more impatient than they are now.
Maybe it's that one fellow in the picture...if we can manage to recover the name of that supposed friend.
>>
>>4827866
support
>>
>>4827866
support
Also liking how this quest is making a retard vomiting in the toilet and changing clothes sound like an ancient greek epic. Kinda hilarious.
>>
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>>4827866
>>4827868
>>4827870
You stand in-front of the door, the knocks - still rampant. Cold sweat starts dripping from your back.
'Maybe... I shouldn't open the door.' You thought to yourself.
Scenarios starts to fill your mind - everything is a jumbled mess, as you concentrate more and more at it.
The knocks keeps continuing.
"Fuck!" You scream, as you swung open the door.
>>
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>>4827899
"..."
"So, ready for work?" The man in-front of you smiles.

aaand i'll pause it here, because i'm tired. thanks all the anons who's given me the opportunity to run this, i had fun drawing all of these. if anyone has any complaints, feel free to tell me and i'll try to become better and more proficient at this.
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>>4827906
No complaints here, good quest OP.

Only note is it's good to end on the options so we can vote overnight, and next time you run you can go straight to posting the next update.
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>>4827906
Loving it. The quest, the art, the ideas, the writing. You da man, QM.
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>>4827906
Hey, it's E. Theodore! Give him his card while wondering if he has ours.

Extremely interesting quest, qm. Loving it.
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>>4827906
Dope quest. Is it Disco Elysium inspired?
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>>4828042
I hope its the same OP as Disco Elysium one so we can drive him off again
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>>4827906
Really enjoying it so far--thanks for running!
>>
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>>4827906
The man stands by your door, his hand inside his pocket, as he look at you with his unsubtle smirk - He then raise his eye-brow, as if he was expecting something from you.


>"... Do I know you?"
>"You are... Theodore, right?"
>"I think you got the wrong door buddy, if you're looking for the dog abuser, he's two doors down this way [points out the door and to your right]."
>"... Fuck off."
>You scoop out the card from your pants pocket and offer it to the person at the door: "This is yours right...? This card."
>[Say nothing]
>>
>>4828696
>"You are... Theodore, right?"
He'll probably realize we're blasted out of our minds with that question.
>>
>>4828696
>You scoop out the card from your pants pocket and offer it to the person at the door: "This is yours right...? This card."
>>
>>4828696
>You scoop out the card from your pants pocket and offer it to the person at the door: "This is yours right...? This card."
>>
>>4828696
>You scoop out the card from your pants pocket and offer it to the person at the door: "This is yours right...? This card."
>>
>>4828696
>You scoop out the card from your pants pocket and offer it to the person at the door: "This is yours right...? This card."

Card delivered, Sidequest COMPLETE
>>
>>4828696
>You scoop out the card from your pants pocket and offer it to the person at the door: "This is yours right...? This card."
>>
>You scoop out the card from your pants pocket and offer it to the person at the door: "This is yours right...? This card."
"Theo right?"
>>
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You take out the card that you have in your pocket and show it to the man.
"This is yours right...? This card."
The man looks at what you have on your hand - and for a moment, as if mockingly, he huffs, and his smirk widens.
"... You're still holding onto that?"
"Huh?" You blurt out.
"Yeah, that's mine all right - but you do realise that the card has been invalidated since the last time we went on a job, right?" The man speaks out. He puts his hand into his coat pocket and pulls out a similar looking card - exactly the same as the one you're holding right now, but as you look closely, instead of the number '3', it was replaced with the number '2'. After a while, he puts the card away, as you stood there dumbfounded, holding the supposedly unusable card.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to let me in?"
While your mind wanders into a wasteland full of questions - in the lapse of uncertainly, you heard Theodore addressing you, asking to be let in your paradiso. Before you could even answer the question, he forcefully walk towards you and you have no choice but to make way.

Theodore looks around your apartment, frankly - it looks like he's 'inspecting' it, like a crime scene investigator.
"... So you had another episode?" He suddenly asks you.
"Huh?"
"I mean... come on, just look at the state of this room!", he waves his hands around while circling the rooms - empty bottles of liqueur came in contact with his shoes.
He stops at the toppled box.
"...You even broke the CRT."
"The... what?" This man scares you; you simply can not comprehend him. This person is a menace to your personal life and he must be erased.

"..."
He looks at you for a moment - 'through' you, his judgmental gaze goes right through your small-abled eyes.
'He isn't mad, just disappointed.'

Finally, a defeated sigh escapes the man's mouth - deep down, you consider this a triumph; your small victory against a large adversary.
"In any case, I hope that you at least read through the dossiers that the Boss sent you."

'...Shit.'

"... You did read through the files that the Boss sent you, did you?" He asks, as if to reaffirm the fact that you did (not) read the sent files.

You start to sweat and your breath becomes shallow.


>This man, he's knocked you down on your last leg - HE MUST BE STOPPED! Such vile beast can not be left roaming on this Earth! I suggest we punch him, square in the face.
>Heh, nothing can't be solved with a little bit of slick talking. Just tell him that you've read through it, and worry about what-ever comes next, I'm sure you're well prepared to face it.
>Well, no point in hiding anything - the cat's already out of the bag. I mean... he's just did a round inside your apartment, of course he's going to notice the unopened dossiers, this man - he's just messing with you. Say that you didn't read the files.
>[Say nothing]
>>
>>4829844
>>Well, no point in hiding anything - the cat's already out of the bag. I mean... he's just did a round inside your apartment, of course he's going to notice the unopened dossiers, this man - he's just messing with you. Say that you didn't read the files.

Files just ain't your 'thing', you know?
>>
>>4829844
>Heh, nothing can't be solved with a little bit of slick talking. Just tell him that you've read through it, and worry about what-ever comes next, I'm sure you're well prepared to face it.
>>
>>4829844
>>Well, no point in hiding anything - the cat's already out of the bag. I mean... he's just did a round inside your apartment, of course he's going to notice the unopened dossiers, this man - he's just messing with you. Say that you didn't read the files.
>>
>>4829844
>Well, no point in hiding anything - the cat's already out of the bag. I mean... he's just did a round inside your apartment, of course he's going to notice the unopened dossiers, this man - he's just messing with you. Say that you didn't read the files.
>>
>>4829844
>>This man, he's knocked you down on your last leg - HE MUST BE STOPPED! Such vile beast can not be left roaming on this Earth! I suggest we punch him, square in the face.
better to ask forgiveness than permission
>>
>>4829844
>Well, no point in hiding anything - the cat's already out of the bag. I mean... he's just did a round inside your apartment, of course he's going to notice the unopened dossiers, this man - he's just messing with you. Say that you didn't read the files.

And maaayyyyybeeee say
"I don't even know my own name"
>>
>>4829844
>>Well, no point in hiding anything - the cat's already out of the bag. I mean... he's just did a round inside your apartment, of course he's going to notice the unopened dossiers, this man - he's just messing with you. Say that you didn't read the files.
>>
>Well, no point in hiding anything - the cat's already out of the bag. I mean... he's just did a round inside your apartment, of course he's going to notice the unopened dossiers, this man - he's just messing with you. Say that you didn't read the files.
>>
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"... I didn't." You answer his question.
"I figured as much..." Theodore reach out for one of the folders on the table.

"It's the details for the jobs the Boss has given you, and since he gave you two, you're free to pick between each of them." Theodore informs you, as he offer you a folder.
"I see..."

You take the folder off his hands and pull off the string - out of the corner of your eye, you saw Theodore opening the second folder.
"I hope you don't mind if I read this other one."

Truthfully, you have absolutely problem with it - in fact, if Theodore here can explain what your job is, that would help you immensely.
>>
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>>4831439
...And your name as well.
"Hey, Theodore right?" You call out to him. He looks away from the papers and at you.
"You uh..., can you tell me my name?"
"...Your name."
"Yeah, my name - I... kind of forgot."
"..."
"Honestly, I don't really know.
"Huh?"
"You never told me your name, the whole station usually calls you the Stachie Reporter and you seemed fine being called that."
"I... see."
"So you forgot your name... And I doubt you'd want to be called Stachie any time soon." Theodore rubs his brows.
"How come you're my pardner?"
"Huh...?" That caught Theodore off-guard. He stands still for a moment.
"... It just happens, I guess."
"Huh."

"You better start reading the files - In the mean time, think of an alias for yourself, I doubt Stachie's going to sit well with you."
'...Noted.'
>>
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>>4831439
...And your name as well.
"Hey, Theodore right?" You call out to him. He looks away from the papers and at you.
"You uh..., can you tell me my name?"
"...Your name."
"Yeah, my name - I... kind of forgot."
"..."
"Honestly, I don't really know.
"Huh?"
"You never told me your name, the whole station usually calls you the Stachie Reporter and you seemed fine being called that."
"I... see."
"So you forgot your name... And I doubt you'd want to be called Stachie any time soon." Theodore rubs his brows.
"How come you're my pardner?"
"Huh...?" That caught Theodore off-guard. He stands still for a moment.
"... It just happens, I guess."
"Huh."

"You better start reading the files - In the mean time, think of an alias for yourself, I doubt Stachie's going to sit well with you."
'...Noted.'
>>
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>>4831443
You take out the files from your folder, and start reading.
'To... Stachie. Here's a request for you. At 09:30PM, there will be a car accident - I want you to report on it. You can find the details of your job, about the car, those kinds of things - inside the folder. I'd prefer if you take the picture right when it happens, just like always."
"And with that, good luck, and keep up the good work. Bossa.'
You stare at the paper with such intensity that it might as well catch fire.
"...Done reading yours? Let me read the other one out-loud."

"Mister Stachie, many people had suggested your name in high regards, and as the representative of an organisation - I am asking for your service. You see, right now, we have a mole inside our organisation, and it's soon enough that we will catch it in its tracks; and when the time comes, I want you to take a snapshot of the moment - when the mole receives proper justice and punishment. Of course you will be well compensated. If the offer interests you, please forward it to your boss and we will take care of the location. I hope we shall see each other soon."

"There's no signature on this." Theodore put the paper back in the folder and throw it on the desk.

As if seeing your confused internal turmoil, Theodore speaks out.
"Hey, if you don't understand anything, just ask. I'll try to fill you in with anything, honestly."


>You can ask Theodore questions.
>>
>>4831445
>"What exactly do we do?"
>"Do you know where I can get a shower? I apparently don't have one"
>"Why does this person know a car accident is going to happen before it already has?"
>>
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>>4831464
"What exactly do we do?"
"You mean right now? I suppose you pick your job and inform the Boss about it. But if you're asking about our job in general - we're Reporters.
"Reporters?"
"Yeah, we report the daily goings in our zone, which would be D-21.
You go in, take some photos, whip up a story about it, and that's it - that's all you do."
"I see..."


"Do you know where I can get a shower? I apparently don't have one."
"Yeah, I was wondering when you're going to ask me that, because frankly - you fucking reek."
"There's a bath-house down somewhere near your apartment; don't worry, you won't miss it, just look for the sign."


"Why does this person know a car accident is going to happen before it already has?"
"You mean the Bossa? Well, I don't really know. He knows a lot of stuff; he also knows where to find a good piece for us to report about. He keeps us from going to the streets, man - I'd rather not question 'how'."
"..."

"Anything else?"


>You can ask Theodore more questions.
>>
>>4831564
"Nah, I'm gonna head to that bath house and get cleaned up. Meet you at the place where the car accident's gonna happen, around 9:00ish?"

Also see if we have a watch or phone to tell the time, as well as see what time it is now.
>>
>>4831564
>"Any clue on which organization is contracting us for Dossier #2?"
>>
>>4831564
How long have we been doing this?
>>
>>4831564
>"How long have we been partners?"
>>
>>4831564
>Do you know anything about this photo?
(Show him the gruesome photo from >>4827725 )
>>
>>4831947
+1, good quesiton
>>
>>4831947
+1
>>
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As the clock on the wall continues to tick: '05:28' - it says. Theodore is walking around inside your apartment, waiting for you to finish up any business.
"... How long have we been doing this?" You asks, while putting on your shoes.
Theodore stops in his track and folds his arms.
"... Three years."
"Three years? That's... not much."
"Three years were plenty, considering most people quitted the job right after their first assignment."
"..."
"Hey, Theodore - how long have you been my pardner?"
"How long you say...?" Theodore thinks for a moment. "Long enough." He answers curtly.
"I see..."
"Then I suppose you'd know something about this photo?" You take the photo of the gruesome death of a man from its frame and show it to your pardner.
"..." Theodore approaches you and looks at the photo.
"I thought you would know best about your achievements."
"Huh?"
"You told me about the photo a few times before; you said that it was your first assignment."
"My first assignment?"
"Yeah, your first 'gig', 'job', what-ever you want to call it." He takes the photo from your hand and examines it.
"If I remember correctly, the man was a jumper; it was ruled as suicide." Theodore hands the photo back to you. "Bossa just happens to came across the information and sent you for the job."
"..."
"...Well, keep it on you, it might bring some of your memories back, who knows?"
"Right..."
>>
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>>4835249
You put the photo inside a pocket and do a double-check of your apartment.
"Well, I guess that's it."
"Ready to go then?"
You look at the clock again - '05:32'
"Hey, what time is it?"
"You just looked at the clock, haven't you? Kind of weird for you to be asking that."
"No, I mean is it day-time or night-time."
"...Heh." Clearly, something is wrong if Theodore is smirking more than he is.
"What?"
"There isn't anything like that.
"What do you mean...?"
"... The lights outside, it's artificial."
"...?"
"No one here has seen the Sun or the Moon since after the Wipe." Theodore folds his arms.
"We count the hours up until the 12th - easier to keep track of the time that way; after that, it counts as the next day.
"So there's only 12 hours in a day?"
"Bingo."
"I see."

As you approach your door, Theodore calls out.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Huh?"
"... You really are leaving with-out bringing your trusty?"
"My... trusty?"
Theodore points at something hanging near-by the door; your eyes directing to it.

Your camera hangs on a metal hook, its lens gleaming in the light. The machine has clearly taken its toll, some of its paint is stripping off, scrapes and scratches embedded on its body. Before you know it, you have instintively took it with your hands, the straps already went over your neck.

"There we go. No crew's more reliable than your trusty camera. Theodore offers you your coat, as he opens the door.
You look back at your apartment again, it feels like you're still missing something.
"Don't worry, I picked up the dossiers; it's not like you're going to leave your nest forever."
You shrug off the thought, but it still lingers on the back of your mind. But with that resolved, you leave your apartment.
>>
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>>4835249
You put the photo inside a pocket and do a double-check of your apartment.
"Well, I guess that's it."
"Ready to go then?"
You look at the clock again - '05:32'
"Hey, what time is it?"
"You just looked at the clock, haven't you? Kind of weird for you to be asking that."
"No, I mean is it day-time or night-time."
"...Heh." Clearly, something is wrong if Theodore is smirking more than he is.
"What?"
"There isn't anything like that.
"What do you mean...?"
"... The lights outside, it's artificial."
"...?"
"No one here has seen the Sun or the Moon since after the Wipe." Theodore folds his arms.
"We count the hours up until the 12th - easier to keep track of the time that way; after that, it counts as the next day.
"So there's only 12 hours in a day?"
"Bingo."
"I see."

As you approach your door, Theodore calls out.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Huh?"
"... You really are leaving with-out bringing your trusty?"
"My... trusty?"
Theodore points at something hanging near-by the door; your eyes directing to it.

Your camera hangs on a metal hook, its lens gleaming in the light. The machine has clearly taken its toll, some of its paint is stripping off, scrapes and scratches embedded on its body. Before you know it, you have instintively took it with your hands, the straps already went over your neck.

"There we go. No crew's more reliable than your trusty camera. Theodore offers you your coat, as he opens the door.
You look back at your apartment again, it feels like you're still missing something.
"Don't worry, I picked up the dossiers; it's not like you're going to leave your nest forever."
You shrug off the thought, but it still lingers on the back of your mind. But with that resolved, you leave your apartment.
>>
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>>4835263
The artificial lights shines briliantly and intensely, you quickly shield your eyes before closing the door to your apartment.
"So, any ideas on which jobs you wanted to do first?" Theodore asks you as he leads the way.
"... I'm thinking on doing the car accident first."
"I see, that's fair."
"...About the other job, I suppose haven't a clue on which organisation is contracting us?"
Theodore shakes his head. "Nope, there's plenty of organisations in our Zone, hard to narrow it down without meeting them in person."
"How plenty are we talking here?"
"I'd say five."
"Only five?"
"... It's not about the numbers, five is quite enough, considering we don't know how many members are there in a single organisation."
"Huh."

The long walk along the hall-way of your apartment left you thinking if your view of the world is perhaps severely outdated and wrong.

"So, the car accident then?"
"...Yeah."
"That gives us about two or three more hours, give or take."
"Is there any way that I can check the time when-ever I can?"
"Your camera has a built-in clock, check there if you want.
"I see, that's helpful to know."

Theodore leads you down a few flights of stairs and a few more corridors - in-front of you stood a wooden door, and you can hear activities outside.
All-right, ready to face the world?" Theodore have his hand on the handle of the door, waiting for your answer.


"...Let's go."
>>
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>>4835266
A breeze. Like a mother's touch, sweeps at you.
"Nice, eh? Theodore comments.
"So what now...?"
"Well, I'm going to inform the Bossa about the job you picked, which would be about the car accident later this day."
"Aren't I suppose to go with you?"
Theodore looks at you for a while, "Not with that stench you will."
"Say, take these." Theodore holds out a fist from his pocket, from there, he drops you some blue, tear-drop shaped metal pieces.
"30 Nectares. Go give yourself a good scrub at the bath-house, I'll go for a drive and pick you up later- in the mean time, go explore for a bit, maybe go check out the bar over there - get yourself something...non-alcoholic to drink."
"..."
You both stood there for a moment, until Theodore breaks off with a curt wave and enters his vehicle.
"All right, I'm off, make sure you cause no trouble."
"...And don't forget your pass."

That's the last thing you heard before Theodore's car sped off.


You sat down on the stair, contemplating on what to do next.
>>
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>>4835267
all right people, and with that - we're out of the prologue. sorry for a trog of an update, i didn't have the time to start writing anything since i had some problems that i have to resolve irl. but nonetheless.
and since we're beginning the first "chapter", i might as well do a short survey for those who are participating:
-how's the pace of the story so far? was it too long or too short?
-about Theodore so far, was he useful or was he useless?
-how's the story telling? was it too simple or too convoluted?
feel free to give me any criticism

with that done and said, you can put any of your next prompts here.
>>
>>4835280
>how's the pace of the story so far? was it too long or too short?

Pace was solid, but it was a little short if you're closing the thread out here. I'd personally keep it up til you bump off the board, but to each their own.

>about Theodore so far, was he useful or was he useless?

I like him, and he's been helpful so far.

>how's the story telling? was it too simple or too convoluted?

I like the vibe you have and the idea of revealing information as it comes to us, both in character and for us as the reader. Reminds me of Disco Elysium.

>other criticism
Your art style is unique and gripping, and I can tell you've put a lot of effort into this, I love it!

My main criticism is prompts. Write-ins are good, especially for asking question segments, but having more in the way of prompts to give direction would be really helpful for the average reader. I'd generally try to include 3-4 choices as well as a write-in choice for any given thing. The interrogating Theodore thing worked alright with write-ins since we have a lot of questions and providing prompts for that would just end with all of them getting chosen, but sections like
>>4827658
>>4827725
>>4827757
>>4827816
Are harder to think of what to do and interact with based solely on environmental details. You probably noticed post counts from anons got lower here because people probably weren't sure what to do. You can get away with write-ins in dialogue sections or after a quest has been around long enough that the MC is properly established, but early on it's good to have some guidance and options for people.

Otherwise this is awesome and I look forward to seeing where it goes!

As for next prompts...
>Find our 'pass'
>Get to the bath house and clean up
>>
>>4835280
>how's the pace of the story so far? was it too long or too short?
Like the guy above me said I think you're right on tempo--generally speaking, however, these threads have quite a bit of longevity. Usually QMs use the same thread until they get to about Page 9 or 10.

>about Theodore so far, was he useful or was he useless?
I dig him--he's just the right about of informative without being an info dump! Interested to see if all this patience he has with us is an act, though--he seems almost accustomed to us being this way.

>how's the story telling? was it too simple or too convoluted?
Good so far--your writing flows pretty well and I think you've done a good job of leaving us in suspense. I've already gotten a feel for the world, too, so good on you. I'm invested!

>other criticism
I LOVE your art style--I can't imagine it taking a short time to whip up, but I do appreciate it. I can't really place the style, but I think it looks pretty rad.

That said, I would echo what >>4835303 said--you might want to present prompts with 3-4 choices INCLUDING A WRITE-IN. Leaving things too open can either A) invite a lot of posts that all want different things, B) scare off newcomers who don't feel confident in their world-knowledge or whatever and decide not to vote, and C) Triple your workload.

Right now we clearly have some options with the bathhouse, bar, and exploring. For the sake of argument your prompts might look like this:

'You sat down on the stair, contemplating on what to do next.'
>Hit the bar
>Go to the bathhouse
>Wander aimlessly
>Write-In

This way you avoid having a million different prompts with all very valid, albeit different, strategies.

That said, keep up the good work!

>Go to the Bathhouse
>>
Dead?
>>
Tfw too good to last