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[hr]Files.>Documents.>Introduction.docx.>[hr]

[color=c4c4c4]Gray. That was the first word that came to the mind of every poor soul unfortunate enough to awaken in the city. It was gray in color, as thick panels of fog routinely suffocated the concrete world and cut it off from the blinding sun. It was gray in heart, as every building and billboard was covered in slogans and phrases that were as nonsensically generic as they were vaguely threatening. And finally, it was gray in soul. The cityscape was dotted with others, though their status as human was questionable upon second glance. A parade of dress shirts and suitcases that filed through the dreary city, scuffed leather shoes clacking on the pavement with no hope or destination. The men and women stared dead ahead with empty eyes and no emotion. 

In truth, nobody knows where the city came from, or what it’s even called. People arrive in the hundreds, most of them brain dead, though there are exceptions. Like you, on this fateful day.

Your memories are hazy but intact, yet you´re not sure where you actually are. Hell? Heaven? Something else? There are others as confused and sentient as you, so you reasonably think to reach out to them. But then again... the world is strange and filled with irregularities. The calendars stretch into hundreds of months, the clocks have more arrows than necessary with numbers that aren´t supposed to exist, the advertisements are so generic that it´s almost offensive. And the food? The textures are off and blander than you ever thought possible. It´s as if the world was created halfway and abandoned for eternity. 

Information is hard to find in this world, and you´ll have to risk your life for any decent answers. Between conflicts with other strays, malevolent entities, and a city that defies reason, it's not going to be easy.[/color]

[hr]Files.>Documents.>Clarification.docx.>[hr]

drone from the monotone is a roleplay set in a strange world vacant of life and color. You are someone who has died, and regardless of the circumstances you now find yourself inside of a bizarre urban environment where staying alive is now a key part of your schedule. 

As the prologue has implied, you have left life with feelings of dissatisfaction and an unwillingness to let go from sentience, and must now come to terms with what that means for you. This will be a slice of life roleplay set in an unorthodox location, though expect action and problem solving elements as well. Dying is possible. Keep in mind your character has the ability to revive, however. 

[hr]Files.>Documents.>On.docx.>[hr]

There are many different emotions and feelings that one can experience at waking up from a nap. This wasn´t a pleasant awakening. Cracked lips, sore throats, the looming and dominating feeling of suffocation. Their eyes were clamped shut in a thin layer of rheum and seemed to almost beg to remain closed. The clothing on their bodies consisted of what bound and trapped them in their past lives, uniforms and formal clothing in full display, topped off by a lanyard hooked to a sheet of printer paper with a target on it. The words DO NOT REMOVE were right below it, imposing and capitalized. An inspection of their surroundings would reveal no useful information, as the offices were clearly removed from any sense of reality. There were several clocks, but none of them seemed to agree on what time it was. The calendars had days that didn´t exist for months that were random strings of letters and numbers. Even the posters on the walls made no sense, as they were coated in thick layers of unnerving and strange sentences. It was hard not to feel bewilderment at the sight of a kitten poster with the words WATCH YOUR BACK displayed so boldly.

Building 1713 BB clicked to life as the last of the new strays had arrived. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered on to the sound of hundreds of outdated computers whirring their fans in a cold fury all together to the loud ding of the elevators that connected every floor. And every floor needed to be connected, as there were one-hundred and seven of them within the enormous building, all identical in structure save for the rooftop and entrance. 

The many, many elevators of the building revealed their plain interiors at once with a slow and unsettling hum that almost seemed deliberate. They began to close and open, open and close, losing their shared tempo as they buckled and struggled to continuously do so. Some refused to open after several repetitions. Others, perhaps?

The floor that the inhabitants occupied seemed random, and though it was unlikely that more than one could end up sharing one, it wasn´t impossible. Entering one of the elevators had revealed yet another restriction imposed on them: from here on out, they had to go up. Only one button was functional, glowing the soft yellow of a used machine. Floor 107.