Of all the things about this situation that could potentially drive me insane, I would not have expected it to be by virtue of the apparent flip-flopping of what the script allows and/or wants to happen. It doesn't want the plot to be derailed, so it takes over the conversation I forced it to make to avoid any undesirable subjects, only to bring up one of those subjects at the end of it anyways? Why? The obvious conclusion would be that the script was forced to adapt and write in something to address the events it didn't plan for, like I considered before, but then why was it able to sidestep the subject at the start of the conversation? Was Sayori somehow in control of herself there, and thus able to ask about it, while I wasn't? What is going on?!
As Sayori files back into the room behind me, I silently decide that if I'm going to have revise my theory of how the script works yet again, I can do it some other time. I am so done with this stupid game refusing to make sense… maybe I'm just doomed to never fully understand the rules in play here.
Even as I'm thinking this, the script's urging disappears, only to return all of a second later, presumably marking the shift between the hidden script and the normal one. Assuming I don't have THAT wrong as well.
"Okay, everyone!" I say aloud. "I think it's about time we share today's poems with each other! We might not have enough time if we wait too long."
Yuri and Elano look up from their conversation, the former looking quite embarrassed. Natsuki looks up too, having inexplicably decided the floor is the most comfortable place to read her manga, as opposed to any of the numerous open desks and chairs. Meanwhile, my own words serve to remind me of a now rather pressing problem: I still have no plan for what to do about my "poem"…
"Ah…" Yuri sighs.
"Is that alright, Yuri?" the script compels me to approach her and ask. "You look kind of-"
*ping* *ping* *ping* *click!*
"-down…I'm sorry if you haven't been looking forward to this."
…what was that?
"Ah, it's not…" Yuri trails off. "…It's fine."
Um, no, seriously, what was that? Those noises — I didn't just hear them, I felt them. Which was extraordinarily weird, because they weren't really physical sensations, or at least not sensations I felt in my actual body. It was more like I was feeling them in… the entire world around me, somehow?
The script has me walk away from Elano and Yuri as they begin discussing their reading schedule, before releasing me for the moment. I move over to the desk I sat at earlier, still wondering what those noises/sensations were, until my eyes sight on Monika's bag, and I remember that I have more important concerns to deal with right now.
Quickly checking to make sure no one is looking, I open up the bag's flap and discreetly peek inside. It holds only one thing: a familiar looking composition notebook with a neat, slightly slanted signature on the front proclaiming it to be Monika's. Sticking out ever-so-slightly from the pages is a single sheet of paper, which has been visibly, albeit neatly torn out of the binding of another book.
I pull the paper out a little further, and catch a glimpse of the words written near the top — yep, it's my escape methods list, not that I really expected anything else. Once more, I don't understand. Multiple times the script intervenes, seemingly to try and keep the plot on track, yet the game readily accepts a "poem" that could obviously wreck said plot, and likely cause huge problems for both itself and me should anyone actually read it.
Actually, should I maybe just wait and see if the script takes care of this issue for me? Given its previous behavior, this is presumably a problem for it as well, and seeing as how it seems to be taking the reins on that front even when I wouldn't expect it to...
I consider the idea for a moment before deciding against it. Too much of a risk — even if the script does resolve the poem discrepancy, I apparently can't count on it sticking as close to the original plot as possible after all, which means the way it chooses to resolve things might result in a highly unfavorable situation for me. Like, say, the other girls learning about this world being a game in perhaps one of the bluntest ways possible, leading to the exact sort of mental crises I was worried about causing earlier. I'd really rather try and avoid that…
I grimace. Though, I might not even have a choice. Now that I think about it, the script is unlikely to let anyone hear me if I try to tell them my poem got lost or left at home or something, so what can I actually do here?
…well, I don't think the game can force me to share something that no longer exists…
I reach into the bag and begin carefully tearing the loose page apart, focusing mostly on the part that actually has words written on it. I don't see a trash can in here, so I won't be able to throw the scraps away, but as long as the game doesn't just fix the page without warning, this should at least keep anyone from reading it — assuming the script requires it to be intact to make me present it, that is. Logically it seems like it should, given that the paper is a physical object, but with everything making so little sense lately, I don't feel like I can really be sure of that.
I check the code window, trying to see if anything in the script has changed in response to the destruction of my "poem", but find that we're not actually in the chapter one script file right now, we're in "script-exclusives-yuri .rpy". We're only one line away from a return command though, so I just wait for a moment as Elano stands, slipping the book Yuri gave him into his bag, and watch the open file immediately change back to script-ch1 .rpy.
Okay, poem reactions... shoot, no good. Apparently they're ALSO in a different file, which will only be called when poem sharing starts. Guess I'll have to wait another few lines to see if this worked or not.
The script urges me to walk over and talk to Elano. I move my seat back to do so, stand up, and-
-the world around me abruptly ceases to exist.
I stare into the nothingness, horror gripping me as I realize what just happened. I'm… I'm here again. Oh no, I should have Z̷̛͝Ẁ̸̶̧̢N̸͘͢͡0́͘͞Z̀͘͢͝W̸̛Q͢͝=̷̢́ this; of course the player was going to turn off the game at some s̀͢͡e͡Q̷̛҉̵̨=̶҉͝=̷͘͢͡ , and when that happens, I 5̴̨k̴̢̕͢I̡̛͜H̨̧V̛͞w̶͜͢͟͢ -!
Just as before, lines of black and white fuzz begin to appear, cutting through the emptiness like a storm of jagged, monochromatic lightning. A soundless explosion of green pierces through the darkness, followed by one of both red and blue shortly thereafter, bubbles of color springing into existence from nothing before fading an instant later. The Void roars like an angry god, the sound echoing in the seemingly infinite space and pressing, squeezing, crushing down on me like one of my decade-old nightmares come to life. I choke, desperate for air, but I can't speak, can't breathe, I don't have the ability to breathe-
-and then my thoughts finally, blessedly cease to make coherent sense.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I'm standing next to Yuri's desk, looking down at the girl in question.
"-down…" my mouth involuntarily dribbles out.
The script pushes me to complete the thought, but I clamp my jaw shut almost involuntarily, my teeth clacking together so hard that a distant part of my mind worries they'll break. I stumble backwards, inhaling heavily as I collapse against the door of the clubroom. I'm immediately struck by the desire to get up, which I completely disregard.
I-I'm alright. I'm okay. Still alive; void gone, I can breathe, I'm fine- hah, no I'm not fine, I'm anything but fine, none of this is even remotely fine...
The desire to return to my feet intensifies, but I continue to ignore it, my emotions far too fraught at the moment to consider doing anything else.
Those noises were… the game being saved? Must have been. So I got plonked back where I was, and was expected to continue, but... not even a pause to recover, that's insane; how could I possibly just resume as if nothing happened, how could Monika, if this really happened to her so regularly, how…
The urge to rise fades away, and is replaced by one to stay exactly where I am.
"Monika?" "Miss President?" "Monika?!" "Monika!"
Suddenly, everyone seems to notice that I'm crouched in a near-fetal position in front of the door, and rushes over to me.
"Monika, what happened?" Sayori asks with clear concern. "Are you alright?"
I dully check the script. It's changed again. My line is…
m "I'm fine, I'm fine! Just a little dizzy spell, don't worry about it..."
"Oh, I just got sent to the hellscape that is the Screaming Void again, because the player turned off the game, is all." I say instead, glaring up at my worried-looking audience despite the tears currently threatening to form in the corners of my eyes, as well as the obvious tremor pervading my voice. "But you don't know what that is, and you can't hear me anyways, because the script won't let you. So there's no real point in telling you that, is there? There's no point in me saying any of this. I could sit here and pour my heart and soul out to you, and all you'll hear is me telling you that I'm fucking dizzy."
I try to grit out the last sentence with all the anger and spite this game has incurred from me thus far, but my voice breaks midway through, and it just comes out sounding like a pained whimper.
"I highly doubt that." Yuri says, shaking her head. "If it were just a dizzy spell, you would not be shaking."
I let out a choked laugh. Shock and surprise, none of that got- wait, shaking? I'm shaking?
I take a moment to observe myself, and realize that I am indeed quivering like a leaf in the wind. Another quick look at the script proves that it's not my fault, though I honestly can't say whether or not I wouldn't be shaking right now regardless.
"Do you need to go to the nurse's office?" Natsuki asks me. "Seriously Monika, if you're sick or something, just tell us."
I open my mouth to tell her I'm not sick — I'm just frustrated, and angry, and trying to mentally recover from a second iteration of the most terrifying thing I've literally ever experienced. Before I can get out so much as a word however, the script causes my breath to hitch, and I break out in a coughing fit.
"...yeah, we're taking you to the nurse." Natsuki decides, crouching and placing herself under my shoulder. "Someone mind giving me a hand getting her up?"
Sayori and Yuri quickly spring to assist her, wearing near identical expressions of worry.
"Er... is there anything I can do to help?" Elano offers as I'm all but dragged back to my feet, Natsuki supporting me to keep me from falling back to the floor.
"Perhaps you could run ahead to inform the nurse we're coming?" Yuri suggests. "They may want to call Monika's parents, if she truly is ill."
Clueless of how unlikely it is that said parents even exist, Elano nods. "Yeah, I can do that."
He runs out of the classroom, while Natsuki and Sayori begin helping me towards the door. The script's next line is…
m "Seriously, I'm alright. Really, just give me a minute, you don't need to-"
I don't have the energy to say something else in its place again, but when my mouth tries to speak the words anyways, pettiness compels me to clench my teeth and lips together, skipping them entirely.
"Yes, we do." Yuri affirms anyways, interrupting the sentence I didn't say. "It isn't healthy for you to ignore your own needs for the sake of the club."
"Yuri's right, Monika." Sayori agrees. "Friends help each other. We can all deal with missing club for a day to do that."
Yuri and Natsuki nod in agreement, before half-helping, half-carrying me out of the classroom and slowly leading me down the hallway. The relaxed pace we set and the lack of conversation grants me the time to gradually gather my wits again, which I silently appreciate.
Okay… okay. I'm okay. For real, this time. I'm out of The Void — for now — so I need to just... put it behind me for the time being, and focus. Focus on… god, I don't even know. What was I thinking about before that happened, again? Something to do with-
*ping* *ping* *ping* *click!*
I stiffen at the newly familiar sounds, my neck jerking upwards in terror. No. The game only just started again, it can't have even been five minutes yet, no, PLEASE-!
*ping* *ping* *click!*
-I'm standing next to Yuri's desk. Again.
"-down…" I find myself saying for the third time over.
What...?
"I'm sorry if you haven't been looking forward to this." I automatically finish, too off balance to stop myself.
Yuri responds the exact same way she did the first time, and I'm once more urged back to my desk, where I sit down feeling... rather confused.
As relieved as I am that I'm not back in The Void again, I'm not entirely clear on what just happened. I heard/felt two more of the "ping" sequences, and now I'm here again, so... I guess that was the player loading the game file? It had to be, given that this is the third time I've been back here, but the first sequence was just like the one before the game was turned off, which I assume would indicate another save. Meaning...
I turn the order of events over in my head. So, if I'm right, the player saved the game, turned it off, turned it back ON, watched me have my second breakdown in as many days, saved again to a different file, and then finally loaded the first save file again? Because if so...
Why?
No, seriously, did they just want to see me freak out a second time? Hell, did they even see me freak out at all? I still have no idea if the game is just feeding the "intended" lines and events to the other side of the screen or not, though I also can't see why the script would bother revising itself if it wasn't actually "using" the results somehow...
Also, come to think of it — the script, back in the other file. It changed, just after I collapsed near the door, which… makes no sense? I've already thoroughly proven that neither what I say or don't say makes any impact on what others hear, so why would "not being where I'm supposed to be" be a different story? Shouldn't those sort of fall under the same umbrella? I mean, the idea does gel with everyone coming to find me when I didn't come to the clubroom yesterday, but…
I put a hand to my temples. Is it seriously that simple? Do actions just literally speak louder than words in this world, or- no, what about when I manhandled Elano yesterday? Grabbing him by the shoulders and getting all up in his face didn't affect anything, and no one even seemed to notice me doing it. The only significant difference I can think of between this and then is that in the instances where the script changed, I...
*The urge to head to the clubroom has also dissipated*
*The urge to rise fades away*
...I kept ignoring it... until it stopped...
My deductive process is abruptly interrupted by the script pushing me to get up and talk to Elano. I almost let myself do so, until it occurs to me just how perfect an opportunity this is to put theory into practice.
Planting my feet, I force myself to remain firmly seated in place. The compulsion only grows more insistent at my refusal, continuing to try and influence me; to make me stand up and speak.
...until, like a sudden release of pressure, it ceases.
"So, we should get our poems out soon, right Monika?" Sayori asks from the desk beside me.
My mouth pulls itself into a smile. "Yep! Let me just talk to Elano for a minute, and we'll get started."
The urge to walk over and speak to the boy in question returns, strong enough this time that I end up all but yanking myself out of my seat. Already standing, I begrudgingly comply, both slightly encouraged and slightly concerned.
Okay, so refusing to get up didn't change that much beyond making Sayori prompt me to do so, but it DID force an edit, and based on what happened back in the previous "timeline", I might have been able to make it a larger one if I'd kept it up. If I can apply that same principal to any action the script wants me to take by just, continuing to refuse until it gives up... wow.
My spirits lift. This is a very literal game changer, and I probably should have figured it out sooner — if I'd just been a little more stubborn about not giving in to the script, I likely could have reasoned this out a while ago.
...still, I'm a little worried as well, as the script has never been quite so… aggressive with me before. Aggressive being a word I use extremely hesitantly in this context, as it only further personifies the subject. Don't tell me the script is somehow capable of emotion on top of everything else; that just sounds ridiculous.
"By the way, did you remember to write a poem last night?" I ask Elano while I'm thinking.
"Y-yeah…" he stutters.
"Well, now that everyone's ready, why don't you find someone to share with?" I suggest.
"I can't wait~!" Sayori says from behind us.
I pull my mind back to the present as the script walks me back over to my bag and has me bring out Monika's composition book. The poem sharing event is coming up, so I probably should start paying attention again. Interestingly, even if I don't directly refuse the script's upcoming instructions, I think my poem not being intact should qualify for an edit anyways, since I literally won't be able to present it one way or the other. I wonder what exactly it'll do in response to-
My thought process stalls as I open the book, revealing my perfectly intact escape methods list.
…right. The save point was made before I ripped this up. Which means that now, that never happened, and the list is right back where it was.
God. Damn. It.
For a moment, I'm tempted to just rip the page to pieces again while the others watch on and say to hell with the consequences. My earlier rationale to try and avoid provoking questions from the others that I can't, or at least don't want to answer just yet tempers the impulse however. If my list was destroyed "offscreen" like I did before, the script would probably just adjust to have me say that I forgot to bring my poem to school or the like. If I destroy it in plain view of everyone however, while the script is in the process of having me take it out to share with them, there's an approximately 0% chance that the resulting situation will be one I'm particularly fond of. That said, anyone seeing and reacting to what's written on this page may end up causing the exact same thing, possibly to an even greater degree-
Elano pulls his poem out, and everyone appears to briefly freeze as a familiar wave of black sweeps over the room, the scene transition not appearing to actually do anything at first beyond startle me. Then there's another *ping*, followed by a second wave of black, and I abruptly find myself standing directly in front of Elano. Ack!
"Hi, Elano!" I say cheerily, the sudden teleportation having thrown me off balance enough for the script to move forward uncontested. "Having a good time so far?"
"Ah…yeah."
"Good! Glad to hear it!"
A small surge of happiness runs through me, but I have no time to focus on or even be particularly annoyed about that, given what I know is about to happen.
Ignoring the conversation completely, I frantically check the script — we've moved to a much larger file called "script-poemresponses .rpy", and are currently executing the code block under a label reading "ch1_m_start". There's not much dialogue left before Elano shows me his poem, after which I'll have to show him my own... and for some reason his reaction to that isn't anywhere to be seen; the script just hits a return right after he asks to see it. There's no time to go scrolling through this giant file to figure out where that goes, assuming it's even in here, meaning I have no way whatsoever to gauge how bad the fallout of this could be if I don't figure out a way to avoid it. Oh, cut me a freaking BREAK already!
"Don't be afraid to bring things up, okay?" I'm currently saying.
"Alright…I'll keep that in mind."
I have to stop this somehow. What are my options? I can't destroy the list again for reasons already covered, can't excuse my way out of sharing in advance when the event is already in progress, can't edit Elano's .chr file since he doesn't have a .chr file (damn it, that would've worked with anyone else here, wouldn't it?!)... can I maybe just leave?
I pull my feet out of the position they want to remain planted in, trying to get far enough from Elano that the script can't feasibly continue our conversation. Unfortunately, Elano just wordlessly trails after me, continuing the conversation as though I'm not actively scrambling away from him. Apparently this isn't disruptive or contradictory enough; I'll have to do something more extreme — maybe if I outright exit the room?
I turn to walk out the nearby door, the script suddenly straining to stop me — and succeeding, as I recall the almost hostile way I jerked myself out of my seat a minute ago, and abruptly freeze in place.
Wait a second. If the script really is capable of emotion, and I keep deliberately forcing it to change when it doesn't want to... is it going to start getting vindictive? Am I just going to end up pissing it off by doing this?
My gaze remains locked on the door, but my legs refuse to move any closer to it. This situation is hard enough to deal with as is; I cannot afford the thing that essentially controls the entire world I'm in right now having it in for me on top of the difficulties its already causing. But I can't let the mere idea of that paralyze me; I don't even know if that's necessarily how it works, and I have to do something…!
Like a bolt from the blue, inspiration strikes — there may be another option to prevent my list from being seen that avoids involving the script at all. Maybe. It's risky, but at this point, probably no more so than anything else, so I may as well try.
I open my mouth, only for Elano to suddenly place his poem in my hands, as we've apparently reached that point in the conversation. Er, alright, I need the space to say something anyways, and I should still have some time to try my idea while I'm giving my opinion on this. Just need to look at this real quick, and…
Then…
.
.
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The Question
Such a curious universe we live in
With infinity sprawling before us
We look out and observe:
A puppet show, conducted by a skilled puppeteer
Wooden people, dancing on the flimsy strings of destiny
Their world existent at the whims of a fickle, unseen god
The silent judgment of the watching crowd, roaring louder than any cry
A fountain, droplets shimmering with dream-like images
Each so vivid, so vibrant, you'd swear them to be real
Turn away for but a moment, and they'll quickly fade from mind
Gone like wisps of smoke, a figment of imagination
An unending length of fabric, sewn and stitched with lurid starscapes
Roiling infernos and explosions of light, clashing with voids of utter black
The march of time and entropy, unraveling each thread
Until the cosmos winks out, a graveyard of frayed ends
Someday they all shall crumble
Eternity will see them through
While we can but wait
And prepare for the inevitable climax
What a frightening prospect to consider...