Again, the text greeted you. A quiet reflection of what you witnessed, etched in the emptiness. The flicker of light sputtered in the dark, signaling the Observer's reawakening. A faint, pleading sound whispered, followed by choking gurgles—and then, silence.

The camera adjusted, its focus sharpening to reveal the figure of Doctor Gaster, sitting with eerie calm as he completed the infusion of code.

"Obnoxious brats," Gaster muttered, amusement lacing his voice. "You know, every now and then... an angel or a demon wanders into the nothingness. Deleted, forgotten. So confident in their power." His smile darkened. "Their only utility is their code—beyond that, I don't keep pets."

The Observer hummed back to life, its lens capturing the scene with renewed precision. Gaster sat at his console, tinkering with the screen while absorbing the feed of information, including streams of data from the Observer itself. Embedded in his arm was a strange knife, the blade dissolving into shards of code that streaked into the air.

"And you should be operable again," he remarked, turning his pale gaze to the Observer. "Wonderful. How wonderful." He withdrew the knife from his arm and shattered it with a flick of his wrist. "Try not to fall apart again. Obtaining the necessary 'parts' to repair this thing is... troublesome." He sighed, standing in a single glitched movement as though skipping a frame, the chair creaking as if he'd just left it.

His feet melted slightly into the void, not quite stepping yet producing the sound of walking as he approached a flickering doorway, shimmering faintly into existence. The Observer followed, mimicking Gaster's movements.

For a brief moment, there was nothing. Then, there was a hallway. Was it there before? You weren't sure. But it was now. The Observer informed you: Hallway. Moving forward. There was, wasn't, and then was again.

The hallway flickered and twisted, a hand reached out from the wall, grasping for the Observer. It evaded the phantom limb, continuing after Gaster, who walked calmly through another door at the end of the corridor.

"Every world requires a few things," Gaster mused, his voice softer now. "Key locations, individuals—to stabilize it." The void gave way to something else, an emerging landscape. "You might think we'd start with the surface... but no. The surface is always shaped by The Underground. The most magical place the world has. It bleeds into everything." He chuckled darkly. "So here we are, claiming one for ourselves, starting with... The Ruins. Or what, in my world, was The Ruins."

A cascade of strange, disjointed colors erupted around the Observer as it tried to process the location. This place was an amalgamation of realities—torn fragments, each bearing some remnant of the past. A shattered picture frame bloomed with smooth, purple stone and golden flowers, rising like a structure from another world.

Screens flickered, some oozing water that cascaded downward in suspended droplets. An ocean of raindrops hung suspended in mid-air, never fully connecting but hanging inches apart like a frozen downpour.

One of the fractures revealed a doorway, leading down a lonely, twisting hallway that clipped through a dilapidated room—perhaps part of a castle. These fractured spaces were everywhere, scattered and spaced as though strewn by a violent force.

Gaster stood on nothingness, observing it all with a confident smirk, his eyes gleaming in the ambient glow. "This," he said, spreading his arms, "is what I like to call a 'recycle bin.' A place where the fragments of worlds gather. Variations of the same locations, each with slight differences. Eventually, they scatter into the void... but for now, we're alone." He glanced toward the Observer, his grin widening. "Which gives us the luxury of picking something... interesting."

The Observer tried to look deeper into the objects around it but was pulled back by a phantom hand. Gaster laughed quietly.

"I hope you don't expect us to explore each one manually?" His eyes glinted. "No, no. That would take far too long. Instead, I'll offer you a list. Trust me... observing barren pieces of reality in mere text is tedious. Let's expedite things, shall we?"

A list appeared, flowing through the screen and into the Observer, then into you.

Ruins Selection:

Classical Ruins

Snowy Ruins

Retro-Future Ruins

Garden Ruins

Flooded Ruins

Pipework Ruins

Crystal Ruins

Forest Ruins

Gaster stood silent for a moment, considering the options as they unfolded. Somewhere in the distance, a low wailing echoed through the void. Chains rattled, dragging renditions and fractured worlds closer into view.

"I hope you don't mind," Gaster said, his voice all around you. "There are many other options, but I do have my limits for what I'd tolerate in our world." His form flickered, shifting like smoke. "Let's look closer."

The first unfolded before you: Classical Ruins—purple stone structures, cozy homes nestled within, basic puzzles with switches, and red leaves scattered about. A single dying tree at its center.

Next, Snowy Ruins: wide open, the high walls stripped of their ceilings, allowing frost and snow to accumulate. Warm huts hidden in cracks, snowball remnants dotting the landscape.

Then, the Retro-Future Ruins: corridors blending ancient carvings with laser doors and levitation pads. Puzzles embedded in old and new alike, a sealed path resting at its heart.

Garden Ruins followed: classical ruins intertwined with vibrant life. Berry bushes and flower patches, orderly gardens of hanging vines and potted fruit.

The Flooded Ruins revealed deep corridors flooded with luminescent water. Ponds, pools, and traps made of shimmering liquids, with homes balanced on stilts, floating like boats in the submerged spaces.

Pipework Ruins: orange and black stone, hot steam from burst pipes flooding the air. Spiral staircases twisted downward, while hidden rooms and collapsed sections lay in ruin.

Crystal Ruins emerged next: vast caverns filled with glistening, glowing crystals, some forming walls with infinite reflections. An imposing high ceiling loomed overhead.

Finally, Forest Ruins: an underground forest, thick with shadows, where ruined buildings and ancient defenses hid amidst the darkened trees. Cozy homes nestled in secluded ponds and isolated settlements.

Gaster's hands motioned away the renditions. His stretched face peered from above, a twisted smile meeting your gaze.

"A fine selection. But only half the equation," he whispered, voice coiling around you like smoke. "We require... beings to occupy these spaces. Anchors, to define the world."

Three roles emerged in your mind, slots waiting to be filled:

Roles:

The Caretaker

The Recluse

The Human

Gaster reappeared beside you, flickering, his form tearing at the edges as if struggling to hold together. His eyes gleamed with a knowing glint.

"The old ruins," he murmured, voice soft but deliberate. "I'd choose them, personally. As for a caretaker? Toriel, naturally. She fits. The ghost could fill the role of recluse, and for the human? Frisk. Simple. Functional."

His choices were safe—familiar, even—but there was something deeper behind his words, a slight hesitation, as if his conviction wasn't as solid as it seemed. Though he spoke with certainty, his form remained unstable, malleable. There are other humans, other beings—both major and minor bosses—that could fill the roles just as well. Bearing enough code, to become anchors. Yet, Gaster didn't truly consider them.

Not yet.

But what do you want? What do you think would be wise? Or is this entire quest of his nothing more than folly?

The void doesn't judge. It never has.

Do as you please.