Ohm

What Are You Listening To?

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<sup>𝙸 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜
𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕, 𝙸 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝
𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛
𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝

𝙸 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢
𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎
𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜,
𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎?
𝚁𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛
𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚛?
𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢</sup>

£ 𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 £ - A Murder Mystery RP

E D W A R D

^{“𝚈𝚘𝚞…𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖…𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?”}

The question kept Edward up all night. He didn't feel like leaving his suit for a pair of silk pajamas, no matter how frequent the staff were in asking him to change. It was like they were desperate to do their jobs for fear of having their livelihoods taken away from them. He replayed the events of the conversation with Adeline in his head, of the words spoken he couldn't bring himself to give sound. He knew Adeline was getting off scot-free; perhaps it was for the best. She may have been flighty, but she wasn't a murderer. Perhaps that was the best reason why she could be, but he chose to believe otherwise. He could see it in her eyes when she slipped beneath the shade of Benoit's car door. They were the eyes of a lost lamb in a den of wolves.

In the morning, Edward did his best to straighten the suit in which he slept and free it of wrinkles, though he largely didn't care at that moment. A short combing and a few spritzes of sea salt and cedarwood later, and he was suddenly in the Sprinter van, opting for the backseat with a clear view of the rear window. Behind his shades, he watched conspicuous cars pull out of parallel parking and trail the van for a mile, flashes breaching their front windshields, and he sighed. Someone in the team must've tipped off the paparazzi, though these days, those flagrant, soulless beings just somehow knew all the information. They camped out in their cars, in trees, in any place they could get a vantage point. Though the walls of Blackstone Manor were high, the paparazzi's penchant for bullshittery was mountainous.

By the time the van reached the offices of Royson & Browne, there were no photographers in sight, but he wouldn't have been surprised if they decided to swarm the steps leading up to their door. However, the trek inside was largely ineffectual—a silent ascent into the belly of a beast who held the last words of a dead man. All of this played like a slot machine in Edward's mind as he took his seat at the large pill-shaped table. He wondered how many families were here before them, awaiting their scraps like starving dogs, as they were about to do.

The scent of Edward's cologne was almost immediately decapitated by a guillotine of sharp vanilla as Kayleigh Waters, his father's personal assistant—and, much to his mother's dismay, his 'new car'—invaded the room like a virus. Edward conjured up the amusing idea of lighting every cigarette in his case at once, though the thought of so much smoke in the room was inconvenient. Edward was silent as she addressed the room with a rather backhanded remark.

“𝚂𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚒𝚝?”

Kayleigh, for all her worth, was probably innocent, though another funny, even more fucked up thought emerged in Edward's brain. Perhaps the family should band together and frame her for Anthony's death. They all didn't like each other much, but they all liked her less.

Edward watched Ryland, his mother's personal lawyer, prepare the statements of the will, as he listened to the short exchange between Kayleigh and his mother. Say this for Regina Blackstone—she was sharp-witted and could make comebacks like none other. Edward earned his silver tongue and stripes in wordplay from her, there was no doubt. As he reminisced earlier days, his attention was taken to Katherine, who had set her phone on the table rather purposefully. Eyes on her, he waited as if expecting her to speak.

A Dark Room [Synonym]

I ended up getting ready for work, anyway. Bills can't pay themselves, but it would be nice if they could.

A Dark Room [Synonym]

I'm chilling, biding time until I have to get ready for work. Listening to music, thinking about playing a game, so on. I noticed you flair your posts with a lot of ASCII art. It's a nice touch; I wish I had that attention to detail.

Hello

Short and to the point. Welcome to the Guild.

What Are You Listening To?

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^{𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜
𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎?
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎
𝚍𝚘 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏
𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚊𝚒𝚝?}

Video Game Discussion: Part IV (The Gaming Industry in Decay Arc)

Didn't have internet for a while, so I kept busy with some classics.

Played through seven Tony Hawk games, notably THPS3, THPS4, THUG, THUG2, THAW, Project 8, and Proving Ground. The last two were underwhelming, with Proving Ground being especially rough to even run, and there was something I noticed over the progression of going through them all—the pre-made parks drop significantly in quality (except Montana; can't ruin perfection). It's like, over time, the devs of each subsequent game stopped caring as much about letting players design their own parks (with the exception of THUG and THUG2, but even then, the quality does dip). Additionally, just the career portion of the games drop off drastically at Proving Ground. Project 8 does kind of keep the same sort of gameplay as the other games, but it was very clear that Proving Ground was made as an answer to EA's .skate, and that answer rang hollow.

Also played through the first three games in the Onimusha franchise. Solid games, but the gameplay does get more difficult in later installments. I enjoyed the story all throughout, especially in the third one. Jean Reno makes a damn good character model. I will say, though—the inclusion of his voice work in the beginning, only for pretty much all foreign actors getting removed with the addition of Ako and her ability to not only make the characters understand each other, but also them being replaced with English voice actors... kind of an eyeroll, but to justify it in my mind, Jean Reno was probably expensive at the time.

I also finished Enter the Matrix: Path of Neo. An absurdly awful game. I have no idea how the general consensus is that Path of Neo is better than the original Enter the Matrix. People who truly believe that are baffling.

£ 𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 £ - A Murder Mystery RP

Thank you. I'll have my post up in the next couple of days.

A Dark Room [Synonym]

<sup>𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜.

𝙾𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐-𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚔 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝙼𝚊𝚌 𝙶𝟹 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟷, 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝚂𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎, 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚌𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚜. 𝙾𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚌, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚖𝚙 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗. 𝙿𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎-𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝙸𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚢-𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍-𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑, 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.

@Synonym</sup>

A Dark Room

^{W A R N I N G}

^{This story contains explicit themes and content, including abuse, trauma, mental illness, and suicidal ideation. These topics will never be shown in graphic detail, but will be directly referenced in ways the player should be able to maturely comprehend.}

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^{𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎
𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎
𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚢, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗
𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚗}

A Dark Room is an exploratory psychological horror-mystery centered around—but not always within—a single, abandoned room, seemingly disconnected from the rest of reality. Witness the history buried beneath the dust of time. Uncover­—and perhaps change—the fate of its owner.

In this 1x1, you are the only player. I will serve to guide you through the space, describing what you see and the outcomes of the actions you take. The story will take you through multiple genres and locales, but at the center of it all will always be the room.

This is what I'm looking for in a partner for this particular story:
= Casual posting level; no paragraph or sentence requirements; ability to make at least one post a week
= Mature understanding and handling of themes within
= No ghosting

Thank you in advance for your consideration.
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