Mateotis

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

Inspiration was unpredictable, and a notoriously fickle mistress. Authors, artists and other poor souls endlessly yearned for its blessing, its touch, so that through them it would create the next masterpiece that would rock the world. Sometimes it never came, sometimes the conduit was inadequate and the fruits, disappointing. One needed to be careful when they felt that this long-sought muse had finally descended upon them and took them into its embrace, for such a grasp could turn into suffocation, and would not let go until they either produced a work so magnificent that it transcended even the words magnum opus, or their mind shattered under the weight.

Perhaps all of this were just mad ramblings, but Daimyon did truly feel afraid of the latter happening. The gears in his head, which usually consumed inspiration at rapid rates resulting in the poet's prolific career, were now sputtering and screeching under the constantly mounting sensations. He saw himself through his mind's eye wading through a viscid swamp in an ever-thickening fog, chasing the sun in a vain attempt to find a way out of this suffering. Whenever he snapped back to the real world, he had to realise again and again that it was not at all better. He wished to completely tune out, just this once, but he could not go against his long-established, almost subconscious nature. Like a stray cat who had wandered onto the bus highway because it was excited by the noise, the curiosity of his imagination was insatiable.

Thus, he watched and listened to everything and tried to process the unfolding events despite his failing mental faculties. The reveal that Davis, who was a figure of righteous retribution just minutes ago, was actually the mastermind of this whole ordeal was so stupefying that Daimyon was inclined to agree with Monokuma: it all seemed like the director of the play got a bit too excited and accidentally dropped the final revelations on the audience after the first few scenes. It made no sense artistically—or in any other way, for that matter—and Davis did little to explain before leaving the stunned crew behind, potentially once and for all.
Barely a minute after that, Lucas was also snatched and everyone was back on the rollercoaster, heading to the next ‘attraction’. Another classic blunder, as far as theatrics were concerned: if these two significant events happened some time apart, it would have made for excellent pacing. Packing everything too tightly together, however, made for quick desensitisation and wasted emotional impact.

Daimyon stopped himself there. Was this his new coping mechanism, ejecting himself from the harsh reality and judging everything from far away, with a critic's eye? Even still, he did not like it. Apathetic, ever objective, almost cynical—this was not him. And he never wanted to become like that.

The site of the execution was another coaster ride which was blatant repetition and a creative failu—no. Lucas was trapped in there, and while he was a despicable murderer, he was also an Infinite and shared in the group's struggle for the brief time he had been with them. Daimyon grieved for him silently and buried his head in his notebook once the deadly ride set off—his overeager imagination filled out the details just fine. He could however not help but take a glimpse at the investigator once it was all over. His body was untouched, but his face was pale and frozen in a silent scream.

Death was a major part in many an artist's work, and while it was far from being Daimyon's favourite topic to write about, he did occasionally dwell on it. And yet, despite all the wonders of the mind, no depiction, no flurry of words could come close to describing how it felt seeing death from up close. This realisation also struck the poet as the glimpse became many seconds of unbelieving gazing, and he did not reach for his notebook to attempt putting the sight into words. Earlier, before he was too caught up in his own thoughts to do anything but go with the flow, he had the idea of giving a sort of eulogy in the form of a short poem for the dead, but that thought was also lost in the moment. The off-hand and cold remarks from some of his fellows were but a further twist on the dagger entrenched in his heart, and he left the group shortly after. He heard Davis talk on the many screens on the hospital walls on his way, but barely paid any mind before entering his room and locking the door behind.

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@Majoras End I don't know if it was intentional, but in the current state those pics (especially the first one) look like the figures used in the case summaries at the end of each trial! Pretty neat. :P

@FamishedPants @Scallop I hope you'll decide to join us - plenty of space for fresh Infinites for the grinder!

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

The case carried on, with speed that could be compared to Daimyon's imagination when given the slightest creative spark. It whizzed past sensible limits and dove straight into absurdity—continuing the apt metaphor. As to how accurate the parallel was beyond this point, only those with access to the deepest recesses of the poet's mind could know. Because he surely would not tell anyone. Either way it was reality that mattered, and reality was a bunch of Infinites semi-or-more naked, stripping out of their suffocating garments at feeling the heated tension in the atmosphere.

...that was not exactly the reason for it, still, it played very well into the grand image of the case escalating into its climax. And that was it was all about, was it not?

Taking the literal centre stage like a true protagonist was Davis, whose...reveal was further assisted by a wind that was definitely not natural, convincing Daimyon that Monokuma and thus the mastermind also saw this entire situation as a play. That was...it would have been relieving, had they asked the actors in advance or if actual life-ending death was not part of the script. These itsy-bitsy details killed any chance of all but the most transcendent artistic pleasure, which it would have been thoroughly tasteless to indulge in at this point and time.

So the poet pulled his head down from the clouds and refocused on the situation. He realised that his original reasoning for it held no water—it only got hotter, and the bear's attempts to contain the madness were reminiscent of the times he had given himself a good bonk on the head to stop whatever thought process had been running amok inside. He put a hand on the ribbon that decorated his white shirt and briefly adjusted it with an awkward chuckle that expressed his perplexity in the grand scheme of things. Then he peered inside his notebook again, jotting down a few more thoughts into the drawn timeline that he hoped would be his lighthouse in the fog.

Marianne Roche, meanwhile, remained silent throughout most of the case. She recomposed herself and did not lash out at Davis when he took up defending the putain she had burned to a crisp before, but instead eyed daggers at him, Bliss and a few others that caught her ire in the procedure.
“Although I would not be surprised if her every word turned out to be incoherent babbling...” She spoke up when Cyrus called into question the validity of either Lucas' or Bliss' account. “...but even she would not be stupid enough to lie at this stage of things. The contradiction...” she paused and turned to point at the Infinite Paranormal Investigator, with her other hand still clutching the tube on her necklace. “...lies with you, monsieur!”

...Daimyon's lighthouse was made of paper, it turned to be, as its foundation crumbled when Lucas' account turned out to be errored.
“Hah, what are we but humans, flawed by design...” He shook his head, crossing out the entire timeline with an X before looking up from his book.

...at just the right moment.

His attention, like everyone else's, was immediately captured by Krista who had walked up Lucas' podium. Without as much as a word, she ripped open the man's clothes, revealing a set of bruises—they would not have been cause for alert on people like Isaiah or even Alice, but on a paranormal investigator...as far as Daimyon knew, ghosts could harm anything but one's body, being immaterial and all. That meant...

...no way!

“No...!” Daimyon cried out after Krista's bold accusation, horror previously unheard in his voice. “I cannot believe...such a heinous act, perpetrated by one of us? An Infinite, a friend? Impossible!”

Alas, the hope was for naught. The other suspect, Calvin, was forcibly cleared of guilt, and Davis, with surprising composure, broke down the crime with its every detail, from the setup to the execution. The poet tried to interject, he tried to find some way to clear Lucas' name, but...it all made sense. It all came together to form the account of a vile murder, resulting in the death of a man the whole group had treasured dearly. Daimyon hung his head down in disbelief, the pen shaking in his hands.

Even when the choices presented themselves in the final vote to determine the culprit, he could not bring himself to fully believe that one of his fellows murdered another. He let the timer tick down but in the end, afraid of repercussions if he did not vote, chose himself. It changed nothing as the majority was clearly convinced and thus, Lucas was chosen. When Monokuma confirmed it, Daimyon could only look at the investigator and weakly echo Davis' queries:

“...why?”

Starkissed

@Mae How are the timelines going to work, I wonder? Can everyone choose what era/situation to be reborn into? Because that'd almost make it like a series of 1x1s or small groups contained in one large RP (even though I'd like the freedom of it). And if that's the case, how can it be ensured that one player is not alone in their timeline and has some others to interact with?

Or will the whole thing be more centralised, with everyone (or most people) always playing one era out before collectively moving to the next? Some kind of hybrid, perhaps?

Starkissed

Wow, now that's a concept I haven't done before...also looks very well thought-out and complex, will have to give this a few more reads to get it all figured out (especially the dice/reroll system)...for now though, purely for the concept and the setting(s), I am definitely interested!

@MyCatGinger also thanks babe, I don't browse RPG often by myself <3

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

Daimyon was sad. Not because of the obstacles the group ran into in this trial, but rather how they tackled them. All sense of respect and formality went out the window, landed on a road and was run over by a ten-ton truck. At least that was how the poet felt when he heard his fellow Infinites shouting, cursing and cussing each other out. He felt the tension hanging in the air above them from the first moment, but only recently did it start feeling like a guillotine that could drop down on them in any moment. Daimyon certainly did not like the lingering dread, but he liked seeing his friends turn on one another chasing a killer who may not even be from amongst them even less.

He stayed silent over most of the discourse and tried to focus on note-taking, but even his keen ears had trouble separating the wheat from the chaff—the rational thoughts from the mudslinging. The only exceptions he found were Noel and Max, bless their hearts, who had not raised their voice so far and had not deviated their focus from the case. The poet did jot down their very much sensible thoughts, mainly about the usage of a certain iron file and the cut in the stalagmite being evidence of a trap. Caora's performance also made him crack a small smile a few times—the little boy was electrified and threw out points left and right, unyielding no matter how many times he had been shot down.

He was not out of hope just yet...!

“Fellow Infinites, my friends! Please, I plead to thee, cease this!” Gathering up his determination, he spoke up again, raising a finger in the air. “This is no way to salvation, these sinister sayings! Seeking solutions should be our scheme, shouts and screeches only shatter and split our consensus!” After this impassioned plea, he lowered both his hand and his voice. “The way forward is on a paved path and we must traverse it, facing each obstacle as they appear before us. We are stumbling in the fog right now, but we have a lantern!”
What exactly that saving lantern was, however, he did not know right away and so he looked back down into his notebook—the writing on the almost-full page was messier than he would have liked, although he did have a nifty diagram of a timeline in the middle with the events written into ovals. Some of these ovals were still empty, but after hearing Lucas' account, he thought of a crucial detail that could fill many of these blanks.
“Who reached the cave first?”

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

“Right away, Marianne!” Daimyon responded to the herbalist in equal enthusiasm and quickly wrote down her deduction:
‘Blood was still wet—the two events occurred at the same time’
Meanwhile the others were also coming up with their own counterpoints against Davis' accusation. The poet listened intently to everyone and only spoke up to encourage the flow of the trial.
“Excellent questions, Mary!” he said, noting down the streamer's queries. He thought about adopting his FACTS/OBSERVATIONS/QUESTIONS style he had used a few times already, but decided to go with a freer flow of text this time. It better simulated the chaos that was actually going down!

Shaun and Caora both came up with their own very valid, and surprisingly coherent for the latter, observations, and so did Lucas who seemed to believe Krista's guilt. Daimyon, for himself, put off any and all judgement—that was the only way of retaining his hopeful outlook on the terrible situation, and it also allowed him to fulfil the role of the impartial scribe he had taken on himself. There was also the fact that he pieced together very little of what could have happened—that did not stop him from imagining scenarios that were usually way too fantastical to be realistic—, he only had one piece of evidence he could claim to have discovered.

One which no one had mentioned so far, so...

“Ahem, let me humbly interject!” he spoke up after the newest Infinite...Alice, yes, how could he not remember her name even after several days, finished. “Upon my examination into the cave, I have discovered that one of the numerous rock formations there had a clear cut in them! Unless someone was trying to re-enact a duel to the death—in which case their choice of opponent was rather dull—with the cold rock, we can assume that the cut was made at the time of the crime, and might indeed be evidencing a struggle!” He glanced down to his notebook for a moment to read the words ‘Murder weapon: kitchen knife?’. “...furthermore, unless the culprit and their supposed weapon were blessed with divine strength by the gods themselves, it is also very unlikely that this cut was made with a knife! No, it must have been...an axe, mighty enough to fell mammoth trees! Or...something of that magnitude...”

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

The court of carnage was a peculiar sight to behold. It all looked like a setting for a play, and Daimyon felt compelled to hold a skull in front of him and proclaim something extremely memorable. He did not, though, partly because of the distinct lack of skulls and partly because the rollercoaster ride they had to embark on getting here was stomach-churning enough. Exhilarating, but stomach-churning. If nothing else, it did a hell of a job getting the crews' heartbeats up to speed for the upcoming trial.

Because they would have a trial indeed. A true trial, with the Infinites as judge, jury...and a certain black-and-white bear as executioner. Such a scenario avoided even the poet's wildest dreams and thus he really had no idea how to start things off. Fortunately, someone graciously took that task on themselves: Davis spoke up first, and quite valiantly at that, accusing none other than Krista as the foul murderer. And now Daimyon had no idea how to proceed. As people engaged themselves in the issue and took their first sides in the opening argument, however, he felt particularly inspired to contribute.

This would be a long, but no doubt interesting, time.

“All right!” he spoke up for himself at last, with enthusiasm. “I have a notebook, a pen and a pair of very keen ears at the ready—Davis, my friend, if you speak up and explain yourself I shall be sure to record everything important!”

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

All they wanted was to write a love letter for a cute little boy...cruel, cruel world!

Danganronpa: Tower of Carnage (Finished!)

@Mateotis

@Ariamis

The next few days, a few flares of tension aside, passed without any major events. The group's search for a telephone booth did not bear fruit, the only bearing that was done was by Monokuma, and he was rather overbearing. With that hope dashed, Daimyon had had the freedom to make his own schedule for most of the days and needless to say he busied himself well. Above all, he socialised a lot, getting to know the newest Infinites and strengthening bonds with the others. When no one was available or he did not feel like it, he withdrew to his room and read Untethered to relax. It was a reading ritual of his to always start a book from the beginning, no matter where he had left it off previously. Though he never progressed much like this, the experience was deeper and much more enjoyable as he could immerse himself in the author's world from the first word. The structure of Untethered was, and he had never ceased to marvel in that, was delightfully experimental and inspired the poet to write similar material.

Come to think of it, he had no shortage of inspiration since he got to Axis Mundi. He wrote about his fellow Infinites, he wrote about their situation, heck, he even wrote about Monokuma. That was the silver lining he stuck to...and so far, it worked out well for him.

————

Behind closed doors, in Mary's room, the Infinite Streamer was getting worked up, her face blushing as she had to keep her voice down from the excitement.

"Oooh...Oh, nice...That's the good stuff, Daimy-doo, keep it going, yes~"

On this particular evening, Damyon was with Mary in her room, which was the one just next to his. The streamer sat on the bed with pen and paper in hand, while Daimyon paced back and forth around in the room his head tilted slightly up—his usual thinking posture.
“Your sight has butterflies in my stomach,
My heart flies with butterflies by the dozen
To the great blue sky, reddened by my fiery love for you!”

"Yes, yes, yes! Daimy-doo, you're amazing! Ooh, my maiden's heart can't take it!"

He thought up and spoke out the lines one after the other, dictating them to Mary who wrote them down in neat letters to the perfumed paper. They were composing a very special letter: that which confessed the woman's undying affection towards Caora. They were making good progress together and Daimyon almost chuckled just thinking about the reactions the small boy would have. Could he even read? Shaun would read it for him, if nothing else... The poet had not seen the pair too much in these last few days, they mostly stayed back from the tension surrounding Krista and the motive.
The violinist became somewhat of an unwilling VIP, always having the company of at least two people. Daimyon spent some time with her as per the schedule set up by Max Visser, the Infinite Police Officer—one of the new people he had recently got to know—and reassured the girl that she had nothing to fear from any of them. They had a pleasant time talking about music, puns and other relevancies.

Just when the poet decided he would seek out her company soon again, the screen on the wall came alive with an unmistakable voice.
“A body has been discovered. The patients have a limited time to collect evidence before being called into the court of carnage. Do your best everyone!”

The silence that returned after was a deeper silence than the one before. Even Daimyon's singing thoughts quietened as he struggled to place the sudden announcement. He looked at Mary and she looked at him, but neither found any semblance of calm in the other's eyes. The streamer's face turned pale, and her mouth was stuck in a grimace of apprehension.

Minutes passed in this frozen silence, and any attempt to break it was stifled as neither of them could form coherent sentences that were not panicky. Finally, Daimyon heard hurried steps echoing through the hallway outside and sprung to open the door. He saw Noel, who stopped for a moment upon seeing the poet.

“Why are you—” The reporter looked past him to ascertain that there was neither any room switching nor murder involved here. “—nevermind. You must have heard the announcement. I'm not one for tiptoeing around the truth: Mondatta died. We found his body in Aladdin's Palace. You go there, I have to notify the others.”

And with that, she was off, presumably towards the break room. Daimyon, muttering incoherently to himself in deep denial, looked back at Mary who was already upright and hurried out of the room.

"Mo-Mo-Mon...Mondatta?" Mary stuttered, holding the unfinished love letter with shaky hands. She dropped it in her room before she ran after Daimyon, panic overcoming her as she desperately tried to keep up with the taller man's stride. She didn't believe it, and how could she?
Mondatta was a monster straight out of a science fiction movie, how could he be killed? Mary then shook his head, groaning at the thought.
That's wrong... He was a gentle, kind monster that supported me when I was alone and didn't know anybody else. I need to see him, I want him to tell me he's just joking around!

They rushed through the resort gate, then into the long cave from the fountain. They did not need to go far before they found people: Marianne and a few others were already gathered around Davis who was kneeling in front of an illuminated stalagmite.
“Krista! But Noel said...”

Davis nodded towards the side. Daimyon's head turned and he spotted it: the light reflecting brightly from the unmistakable suit of armour.
“No...”
He started forward, but realised there was little reason. He could not check the robotic monk's vitals even if he tried and there were no injuries on him otherwise. He looked like he was merely...sleeping, in an unorthodox place. Maybe that was the case. He looked around: the Infinites just kept arriving, gathering around the scene like a funeral procession. Maybe, in the next moment, Mondatta would rise up, apologise for the scare and go meditate. Alas, vain hopes.

"Ah...Aah....AAAAAAHHHH!" Mary screamed her lungs out at the nightmarish sight, shaking her head and crying her eyes out. "It can't be, no! Noo!" The streamer ran right to Mondatta's corpse, and slammed her fists against his metallic chest. "Wake up, you jerk! Wake uuupp! WAKE UUUUUPP!"
She soon stopped banging, and her feet failed her as she slid against him, until she covered her face with her hands, sobbing silently. She now had to face a cruel truth: The Infinite Monk, a spiritual leader to them, was now dead.

As Daimyon watched Mary break down at the sight of her dead friend, he too had to realise...

...that some silver linings were simply too far to grasp.