conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Thanqol: This game is open to all.
  
  “I am a warrior seeking peace and an end to bloodshed. I’m on pilgrimage to the Temple to No Gods in the distant City of Gulls. I have very long hair, uncut and unbound, and great wealth hidden under my clothing. My pilgrimage has brought me to  The Empty City , inhabited by  deadly shadows in the shapes of its vanished residents . My goal is to pass safely through and continue my pilgrimage.
  
  “You, my friends online, play the world. Your goal is to see me to my doom, instead of safely on my way. You’re allowed only to directly answer my direct questions, though, so you might not be able to do it.
  
  “The rules: 1. Only answer my questions. 2. If you don’t already know the answer, make something up. 3. Keep your answers short. 4. If your answer’s disruptive, I’m allowed to delete it. 5. Otherwise, I have to go with the first answer somebody gives. 6. Even if I don't go with your answer I will try to incorporate your imagery and suggestions. 7. You may subscribe to this thread if you like."
  
   SKILLS TO CULTIVATE 
  • Trust yourself to say something good.
  • Trust your friends to say something good.
  • Blurt out details and imagery.
  • Build on what others say.
  • Have your characters take concrete and direct action toward their goals.
  • When you’re curious about something, ask.
  • Pull the trigger.
  
  These are all skills you can practice while you’re playing the Doomed Pilgrim, either as player or as the world.
  
  ...
  
  Music still plays in the Empty City. Scratchy and hollow voices repeat the same friendly tunes and lament the same broken hearts all down eternity.
  
  I have been walking through the City for hours. I have wandered through casinos, wheels still turning, machines still jingling and promising good fortune. I have made my way through libraries of books never opened. I have stood before terrible machines with hundreds of arms and paid them for greasy burgers and sugary cereals. I have climbed whirring escalators that rise amidst marble columns and walked along the vault of the sky while lights glow all about me.
  
  I descend from the view and the breeze on an elevator of glass that ghosts through layers and layers of beautiful plastic trees. Down, down it goes, dead voices singing endlessly. I have no company but a mirror and I take the time to preen and braid my flaxen hair with my fingers. I am tall and broad of shoulder, female in aspect, plain but powerful from a lifetime of hard labour. I am dressed well and have more wealth besides, even before I came to this place.
  
  As I descend from a fake heaven through a fake forest, something warns me of approaching danger. What warns me? Anyone should answer.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Anarion: As the elevator lowers, it seems to trip something and a small screen on the metallic elevator panel buzzes and flickers to life. The face of a blond woman in a blue uniform and postman-style professional cap greets you shining out of the darkness. She shuffles a few papers in what is obviously a prerecorded announcement and then begins to speak in her not-quite-from-anywhere flat accent. "Travelers entering the forest should observe proper safety protocols..." she begins.
  
  [As I understand this system, I'm not allowed to go beyond your question. So since you asked what warns you, I've answered that. The content of the warning shall be left for others.]
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Thanqol: I cannot understand the language she speaks but I can recognize the shape and uniform of an enforcer. When I exit the elevator I am cautious and move slowly.
  
  I have come into a broken greenhouse. Pots are smashed and dirt spills all across the floor. Wild clumps of flowers and vines erupt from these misshapen piles of earth, and a stand which once held sacks of fertilizer is a riot of colour and greenery. Branches choke and smother the light sources and the room is filled with a thick, humid steam.
  
  I spy potential weapons - hoes, pickaxes, shovels - but reluctantly pass them by. They will do me no good in this place. I avoid the twisted shadows of the trees where I can, and when I can't I seek places where I can leap from light to light.
  
  As I do this, do I feel watched? Anyone should answer.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Balmas: How could you be watched?  If there is life here, it is surely only the remnants of a long-dead civilization, much like the flowers being choked by the stronger, controlling weeds.  No, that prickle of wariness--your lizard hindbrain screeching that somewhere, anywhere, a lion is waiting in the shadows--must be overreacting; nothing human could be watching you.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Thanqol: Of course. Nothing. Nothing could be here.
  
  I pick my way carefully across the shadowed room and reach the cargo dock. I grunt as I push the heavy plastic flaps to one side and crouch down to crawl onto the dark conveyor belt.
  
  Only dim red lights illuminate my passage and the belt abruptly branches in places. The rubber is rough and ugly under my hands and the air is cold and stagnant. The cold metal of the walls sucks the heat and moisture from the air. It pools in a thousand tiny droplets, like glass scales, and every so often one drop accumulates enough size to roll down the side of the duct. I can see the strange glinting of the water in the gaps between the conveyor.
  
  As I crawl, does the conveyor start to move? If it does, where does it take me? If it does not, where do I emerge? Anyone should answer.