cyoa: akechi edition

[twostringsonebow]

Hello, Recolle.

Let's play a game.

Don't worry -- it's a very fun one, and most of the work is on my part, but I think it'd be a good time sink... and you may even learn a little more about yourself in doing so. You may quit at any point of time and gain rewards from it (those are to be decided, mostly depending on how far you get in your story), though seeing it through to a satisfying end would be the most fruitful for your time.

Now.

Please pick a genre and one of the following colors: Red, Blue, Green.
1. Fantasy
2. Dystopian
3. Romance

Your story's waiting to begin. ♪

Comments

[twostringsonebow]

[Ah, someone who's caught on. Good. He likes you.]

(You may think of it as you will, but I'm only having fun.)

Seven seals. Three undone, each preceded by a crack of thunder despite the dryness of the air, their riders crossing the skies above. Those that are not physically ill are stricken by gluttonous rages, those that suffer from neither are plagued by swarms of insects – or so they cry, even if there’s nothing about. You curl up tighter against the wall of the splintering hallway, pressing out the sounds around you, and the fourth cracks open.

Come and see, it says.

> What will you do?

[meowchanics]

Go look. That's barely even a choice!

[twostringsonebow]

You start to get up, but find yourself suddenly deciding not to. What choice was that? Who could tell you what to do? No, you decide not to look, choosing instead to sit back down against the wall and wait.

And wait some more.

Finally, you become tired of waiting and stand, but whatever's happened has already happened. The world is quiet and you are alone.

What will you do?

[meowchanics]

Really? Well, fine.
If there are rooms along the hallway, go through them and check for survivors.

[twostringsonebow]

There's so many rooms along the hallway, you feel as if it is endless; you decide to look into the ones that are already ajar somehow, whether due to being beaten in or because of broken locks.

Three of them are empty or are home to corpses. Two of them have survivors, though one isn't long for the world as he tips out the window without a word. The one left is a younger girl, clutching a stuffed bear and pressed against her bedroom wall, crying softly. She doesn't seem to have noticed you.

Notes: She does not seem to be a child, necessarily, but she certainly isn't an adult. The shock of the situation may have rattled her.