Gameplay
An old man slides into the booth opposite you, an arthritic hand shaking
slightly as it neatly sets down a pair of simple sunglasses on the table in
front of him. He gazes at you with rheumy, unseeing eyes, a sardonic smile
crinkling his weathered features. He holds up one hand to forestall your
protest before it can be properly voiced. "No, no, I know. You ain't got
any cash on you," he says before his gnarled fingers entwine on the
tabletop. "That ain't why I sat down." He shifts his weight to get more
comfortable before continuing. "See, I got a talent-- a talent for knowing
things, you might say. You're off to Haven, ain't you? You got that energy
about you, all vibrant and eager; ready to make your mark on the world,
yeah? Before you head on off, though, maybe there's a piece of advice I
could part with. Help see you on your way." He allows a significant pause
before nodding to himself.
"The first thing you gotta understand about this world, kid, is the lie."
He starts before abruptly grilling you with, "Know how much sugar is in a
cheeseburger from Mickey Dee's?" A beat to let you answer is offered before
he does so for you. "Close to two teaspoons. Two teaspoons in a burger!
That seem right to you?" His head gives a slow, world-weary shake of pure
disappointment. "But see, that's all part of the lie. TV ain't no better.
You switch it on and what do you see? Sitcom, sitcom, sitcom, all making
the same jokes. 'Oh, what an awkward situation our whacky protagonists have
found themselves in now!'" His tone is mocking and his expression dour.
"Maybe you see some other show in between but never fear, the good guys
will always catch the villain... or it'll be some reality show. That's part
of the lie too. You wanna know reality?" He shifts a little closer, his
voice dropping to a conspiratorial rasp. "You see, the lie is all about
keeping humanity complacent-- keeping them full of sugar and laughter and
daydreams so they don't cause too much fuss, don't put up too much of a
fight, never peel back the skin of the world to see the writhing
infestation beneath. The truth is... in this world, there's only one rule:
everyone pays.
"You think your neighbour who won the lottery got lucky? Not at all, kid.
She made a deal with a Fae for that bit of luck. You think your president
got elected by being popular? Think again. He's got pacts and deals going
back decades." He sniffs loudly and gives a roll of his shoulders.
"Politicians being corrupt don't surprise anybody too much, though. That
self-made business man on the other side of town, rich and prosperous and
living the American dream? He's in the pocket of criminals or demons-- or
both. Your sports hero? He probably ain't even human. If he is, he's made
deals or shoots himself up to compete. Maybe not with anything science can
detect, but something all the same. What about that movie star you used to
fantasize about when you were all by yourself in your room as a teenager?
You think they got famous through acting talent?" The cynical man snorts
derisively. "Kid, the Fae own Hollywood. The things they had to do for
their big break... not even a lifetime supply of cocaine is going to block
the memories of it, believe me. Getting things through hard work or talent?
That's just all part of the lie, kid. The truth is this. You want something
in the world, you gotta pay for it. You gotta pay with your humanity and
with your very soul." He emphasizes this point with a jab of one arthritic
finger towards your chest.
"But I can tell I ain't deterred you. You got that fire in your eyes. Hell,
maybe I even turned you on a little-- got you a little excited. Maybe
you're happy to give up your humanity. Eager, even. Ready to stop being
stepped on and start doing the stepping, that it? If so, you might just fit
in real well, but I gotta warn you: lots of people tried to climb to the
top of that ladder before and ended up falling into the pit instead. It
ain't just the people above you kicking you in the head you gotta watch out
for; it's the people below you grabbing your ankles too." He sits back in
the booth, evidently satisfied with his diatribe. After a moment of
thought, though, he shifts in place and observes you closely. "Then again,
maybe that fire in your eyes means something else. Does it mean you think
you're gonna change things, stand up for what's right, be a hero? Since you
can't change anything without some kind of power, though, the question
becomes... how much of a monster are you going to become to fight the other
monsters? How long until you can't even tell the difference between you and
them? How long until there's another energetic young kid with fire in their
eyes painting a mental bullseye on your forehead and trying to take you out
to make the world a better place? If you're looking for someone else to
protect you, you're more naive than I can help. In this world, the only
person who's going to save you from a monster is a bigger, badder monster."
He stretches languidly, joints popping, before a tremulous hand reaches out
to reclaim his glasses. Sliding out of the booth, he snorts, "Well, I don't
want to keep you. You got that big destiny to fulfill and everything." A
wry chuckle is voiced as he turns for the door, but he stops at the last
moment and peers back in your direction. "Hmm. Let me make your choices
plain, kid, in case you ain't followed me real well so far. You pretty much
only got two of them, so it should be simple." He waits a moment before
continuing as if to be sure he has your attention. "You can bend over for
the monsters. Spread your cheeks, 'yes sir', 'no sir', 'whatever you say,
sir'-- all eager and compliant. Maybe you'll even learn to like it. Or...
you can struggle, fight, all that jazz. But let me tell you, kid. The
monsters? They love it when you struggle."
Welcome to Haven: Mist and Shadow! To get started, please type 'help'.
Introstory
An old man slides into the booth opposite you, an arthritic hand shaking
slightly as it neatly sets down a pair of simple sunglasses on the table in
front of him. He gazes at you with rheumy, unseeing eyes, a sardonic smile
crinkling his weathered features. He holds up one hand to forestall your
protest before it can be properly voiced. "No, no, I know. You ain't got
any cash on you," he says before his gnarled fingers entwine on the
tabletop. "That ain't why I sat down." He shifts his weight to get more
comfortable before continuing. "See, I got a talent-- a talent for knowing
things, you might say. You're off to Haven, ain't you? You got that energy
about you, all vibrant and eager; ready to make your mark on the world,
yeah? Before you head on off, though, maybe there's a piece of advice I
could part with. Help see you on your way." He allows a significant pause
before nodding to himself.
"The first thing you gotta understand about this world, kid, is the lie."
He starts before abruptly grilling you with, "Know how much sugar is in a
cheeseburger from Mickey Dee's?" A beat to let you answer is offered before
he does so for you. "Close to two teaspoons. Two teaspoons in a burger!
That seem right to you?" His head gives a slow, world-weary shake of pure
disappointment. "But see, that's all part of the lie. TV ain't no better.
You switch it on and what do you see? Sitcom, sitcom, sitcom, all making
the same jokes. 'Oh, what an awkward situation our whacky protagonists have
found themselves in now!'" His tone is mocking and his expression dour.
"Maybe you see some other show in between but never fear, the good guys
will always catch the villain... or it'll be some reality show. That's part
of the lie too. You wanna know reality?" He shifts a little closer, his
voice dropping to a conspiratorial rasp. "You see, the lie is all about
keeping humanity complacent-- keeping them full of sugar and laughter and
daydreams so they don't cause too much fuss, don't put up too much of a
fight, never peel back the skin of the world to see the writhing
infestation beneath. The truth is... in this world, there's only one rule:
everyone pays.
"You think your neighbour who won the lottery got lucky? Not at all, kid.
She made a deal with a Fae for that bit of luck. You think your president
got elected by being popular? Think again. He's got pacts and deals going
back decades." He sniffs loudly and gives a roll of his shoulders.
"Politicians being corrupt don't surprise anybody too much, though. That
self-made business man on the other side of town, rich and prosperous and
living the American dream? He's in the pocket of criminals or demons-- or
both. Your sports hero? He probably ain't even human. If he is, he's made
deals or shoots himself up to compete. Maybe not with anything science can
detect, but something all the same. What about that movie star you used to
fantasize about when you were all by yourself in your room as a teenager?
You think they got famous through acting talent?" The cynical man snorts
derisively. "Kid, the Fae own Hollywood. The things they had to do for
their big break... not even a lifetime supply of cocaine is going to block
the memories of it, believe me. Getting things through hard work or talent?
That's just all part of the lie, kid. The truth is this. You want something
in the world, you gotta pay for it. You gotta pay with your humanity and
with your very soul." He emphasizes this point with a jab of one arthritic
finger towards your chest.
"But I can tell I ain't deterred you. You got that fire in your eyes. Hell,
maybe I even turned you on a little-- got you a little excited. Maybe
you're happy to give up your humanity. Eager, even. Ready to stop being
stepped on and start doing the stepping, that it? If so, you might just fit
in real well, but I gotta warn you: lots of people tried to climb to the
top of that ladder before and ended up falling into the pit instead. It
ain't just the people above you kicking you in the head you gotta watch out
for; it's the people below you grabbing your ankles too." He sits back in
the booth, evidently satisfied with his diatribe. After a moment of
thought, though, he shifts in place and observes you closely. "Then again,
maybe that fire in your eyes means something else. Does it mean you think
you're gonna change things, stand up for what's right, be a hero? Since you
can't change anything without some kind of power, though, the question
becomes... how much of a monster are you going to become to fight the other
monsters? How long until you can't even tell the difference between you and
them? How long until there's another energetic young kid with fire in their
eyes painting a mental bullseye on your forehead and trying to take you out
to make the world a better place? If you're looking for someone else to
protect you, you're more naive than I can help. In this world, the only
person who's going to save you from a monster is a bigger, badder monster."
He stretches languidly, joints popping, before a tremulous hand reaches out
to reclaim his glasses. Sliding out of the booth, he snorts, "Well, I don't
want to keep you. You got that big destiny to fulfill and everything." A
wry chuckle is voiced as he turns for the door, but he stops at the last
moment and peers back in your direction. "Hmm. Let me make your choices
plain, kid, in case you ain't followed me real well so far. You pretty much
only got two of them, so it should be simple." He waits a moment before
continuing as if to be sure he has your attention. "You can bend over for
the monsters. Spread your cheeks, 'yes sir', 'no sir', 'whatever you say,
sir'-- all eager and compliant. Maybe you'll even learn to like it. Or...
you can struggle, fight, all that jazz. But let me tell you, kid. The
monsters? They love it when you struggle."
Welcome to Haven: Mist and Shadow! To get started, please type 'help'.