Hello @Samurguy990

hola

Alright. Do you have your character on genesysemporium?

yes

Can you export it and send the JSON to me?

I'll try

xD. There's an "export" tab. Just make sure to check the "export character" option as well.

that should be it

Awesome.

Alright. I am noting down the character flaw here

And then I have a few questions to ask.

On a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being very weak, 3 being neutral, and 5 being very strong, how materialistic would you say Frank is?

3. grounded in reality, but not particularly attached to anything

though i guess "grounded" doesn't really apply anymore

Awesome.

Question two: On a scale of 1 to 5, how strong would you say Frank's sense of curiosity is? (edited)

4-5. really hates being out of the loop

probably more of a 5 since its a character feature

Cool. Cool.

Last question: On a scale of 1 to 5, how eager would you say Frank is to experience/try new things?

2. he likes things consistent, but knows they get messy

Awesome.

Now, what transpires here is strictly confidential

that doesn't sound ominous at all

You may allude to certain things, but there are certain things that you won't be allowed to ask of other players due to the rules of the Grey City.

alright

Starting now.

Time seems to slow as you feel the shards of glass digging into your back. Your handgun seems to twirl, unbound by gravity in front of your face. Wind whistles past your ears, but it does little to muffle the wet squelching and crunching of the monstrosity feasting on that poor woman upstairs.

Pain lances through your body. Your shoulders hit the pavement first. Agony radiates from the back of your head, and that one moment seems to stretch for eternity. You struggle to regain conscious as you hear the snap of your bones cracking against the concrete, but it is a fight that you know you will not win. You gurgle, blood and bile rising in the back of your throat, as the edges of your vision fray. A heartbeat later, the world goes black.

When you come to, you are in another place entirely. As you pick yourself up off the floor, you feel it under your fingers. It is smooth, slick, and dusty. The faint acrid scent of burnt tobacco, gunpowder, and the coppery tang of dried blood lingers in the air. You feel dull pain in your body that fades as the seconds tick by. Otherwise, you are whole and hale.

The only light that streams into this room comes from the gap between the two curtains ahead of you, an angry reddish-yellow brightness that falls in a single beam upon a stone pedestal, upon a small golden fruit that levitates two inches above the pitted stone surface. The fruit glints in the light as it slowly bobs up and down in midair.

I check my injuries and try to stand up

(ooc: woops, didn't see the "hale..." part)

Despite the fact that you could have sworn your body was broken, to say the least, in multiple places, there appears to be nothing left of those earlier injuries.

Your footsteps echo dully as you clamber to your feet. A quiet breeze stirs through the room as the darkness around you deepens. The bottom hem of the curtains sways at the behest of the wind. The light pulses almost insistently from out of the corner of your eye and the fruit, no larger than a plump cherry, gleams ever so enticingly in the periphery of your vision.

I try to keep an eye on the fruit and windows while checking for my firearm

You pat yourself down, but other than the clothes and the things that you had in your pockets, you find yourself devoid of any other possessions. Faintly you recall the clatter of the gun on the concrete somewhere away from your broken body.

As you warily watch the fruit, you hear voices in the ghostly whisper of the draft winding through the room. The wind caresses your skin with a cool, dead touch. Suddenly, the desire to pick the fruit from its pedestal stirs in the pit of your stomach like a slimy worm twisting in your gut.

I take off a shoe and poke the fruit. I also try and see if there's anything outside the window

The fruit is briefly knocked out of its place, but it slowly drifts back. You attempt to peer through the gap between the curtains, but the darkness around you is too deep, the light too bright. Your stomach twists as the desire builds in the back of your mind, a sweet siren-song that is difficult to ignore.

F: "A'right, f* it. Probly dead anyway"

I eat the fruit

(ooc: could you amend that? Because something happens when you actually touch the fruit. :P)

(ooc: oh, alright)

I grab it

Your fingers close around the small golden fruit. Its surface is covered in a slick, oily substance that stains your fingers, making them shimmer with a rainbow iridescence in the angry reddish-yellow light. You can smell the sweet, delectable scent of the fruit from this close, but at the same time you can feel a tarry black malice underneath its flesh, pulsing almost like the beating of a sinister, putrefied heart.

Your earlier desire to touch the fruit curdles into a twisted, horrid craving to eat it. The sensation so alien that your base instincts balk at the thought, despite your openness to the idea. (There's a roll that follows here.)

== GAME TEXT ==

Make a Discipline or Cool check, your choice

Hard difficulty

With one boost and one setback die

ooc: how do I use the die roller?

Okay. The roll command is !r and to roll the different dice you use the form Nx where N is the number and x is the initial letter of the color of the die. g (), p (), b (), k (), y () and r ().

So for example !r 2b 2g

!r 2b 2g

(edited)

@Malkuthe, results:

3 3

!r 3p 1k 1b 3g

(edited)

@Samurguy990, results:

1 1

discipline

oof

I'm more familiar with the star wars symbols. thats 1 failure 1 advantage right?

Yep

Alright. Let's get back to it.

== END GAME TEXT ==

You regard the fruit for a moment. Your insides are in turmoil. Every instinct honed by active duty over the years, your conscience, it all screams at you to stop. But your desires, twisted and warped and growing with every passing moment, whispering an alluring temptation in your ear, tell you to eat it. You want to. You know it's a bad idea. But you can't resist.

The eagerness, the joy, the ecstasy that you can feel through the malice in the beating of the fruit's putrefied heart is reflected in you as you bring it up to your lips. You revel in the dark sensation, in the surrender to temptation as you bring the fruit up to your lips. You roll it on your tongue, relishing its texture before you bite down. The bittersweet tang of the fruit floods your senses. Viscous oil like honey drips down the back of your throat and settles into the pit of your stomach as white-hot, glorious agony courses through your entire being.

The curtains fly open, revealing a vast, scattered, broken cityscape adrift in a void of angry reddish-golden light. A dying star pulses weakly in the distance, its sickly radiance washing over the city in waves that seem to carry plumes of dust away from the crumbling buildings. A sphere of reddish-orange light rises from beneath the window, encircled by turning wheels of glittering gold covered by eyes that dart around with a crazed enthusiasm.

A piercing, cackling laughter that makes your ears bleed and turns your insides to mush makes the room around you tremble. The star in the distance pulses one last time before the world around you is consumed by blinding, burning light.

(is that it?)

(No. What's Frank's reaction to this?)

Frank shields his eyes with one arm and flails an the other out, trying to get ahold of something to keep steady with

For what feels like an eternity, your arm flails without finding anything, but your fingers close around the first thing that you find. The agony that is wracking your body dulls, then disappears. The caustic sensation of the light against your skin disappears as you come to the realization that you appear to be holding on to something cylindrical and slimy.

The smell of pine tar fills your nostrils as you open your eyes. A bright, fluorescent light fills your view before promptly flickering out. You hear a loud pop as a nearby light fixture blows, showering the floor underneath with sparks and shards of hot glass. You look at what you had grabbed to steady yourself and find what at first appears to be a string of sausages draped over a rack, but further examination shows that it is a raw intestine, slick with inky-black blood.

You appear to be in an abattoir of some sort, but you recognize none of the things lying on the butchers' tables with their ribs cracked open. They have too many eyes, too many limbs, too many mouths. But more importantly, none of them smell like proper corpses.

I look around to see if anyone else is here, and if there's anything I can use to defend myself

Your only companions in the slaughterhouse are the empty pairs of eyes staring blankly at you from the sockets of the dead animals, and the countless intestines draped across the metal racks that are arrayed across the floor. One of the nearby butcher's tables has what appears to be a rusted butcher's knife with a half-chewed handle buried an inch-deep in the tabletop. (edited)

I walk over to it and attempt to wrench it free, periodically glancing at the carcasses to make sure they're really dead

It takes some effort, not in the least because it appears that no matter how you elect to hold on to the handle, the gouges left in the wood by sharp teeth are likely to give you splinters. However, you eventually manage to wrench the knife free of the table. Looking around you notice no movement from the corpses themselves, but on occasion you could swear that some of the intestines appear to move on their own.

I look around for doors, windows, or other means of escape, as well as a (preferably portable) light source

There is a pair of doors down a relatively clear path through the floor of the slaughterhouse, but alas there appears to be no readily available flash light, torch, or lamp.

I head for the doors, keeping an eye on and avoiding the intestines

You reach the doors and find the words "GET OUT" painted across them in thick black blood. You push them open. As you slip out, you hear the sound of a bell tolling in the distance. The deep, sonorous bass notes make your body, your bones, your very soul tremble.

The doors swing out on well-oiled hinges. As you take your first steps out into a grey, lifeless city, into the driving ice-cold rain that pounds the front of the slaughterhouse, you know where you have to go: the crumbling edifice of the Cathedral that looms over the centre of it all.

(And Scene.) :P

cool. I have a feeling that eating that apple is going to bite me in the butt

or the other players. which may be fun