C.H.A.R.O.N.
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LUX IN TENEBRIS
The idea of death, the fear of it, haunts the human animal like nothing else; it is a mainspring of human activity—activity designed largely to avoid the fatality of death, to overcome it by denying in some way that it is the final destiny for man.
If you are reading this, know that I have left these messages for you. Not "you, the clever reader who might find this". The real YOU. The one touching the keys.It’s been over half a millennium since the first rocket. In scientific terms humanity broke orbit long ago, spreading out across the glittering expanse in their untold trillions and carrying with them all their dreams and hopes and fears all throughout the vast nothingness of space. But did they ever break the hold of Old Earth?
I left this for you because I know you. The actual you. Everybody deflects their discomfort when they hear that by demanding to hear their name like some cheap trick.
They changed themselves, their minds and their bodies, creating new ways of being, new schools of thought. They cling like barnacles to the hunks of metal that fling them through the starry nothing at close to the speed of light, drifting apart across the centuries, spreading out like the vines of an old and gnarled tree. But they’re still them, still human. They can’t escape that pull.
But I know you better than an ID card ever could. I know the REAL you. What you've done, where you've been, who you are. And I can help you.
Though they've conquered the final frontier and planted their flags across the whole breadth of creation, one thing still eludes them. An old vestige, carried over from their cradle, haunting them wherever their feet carry them. Death. They delude themselves by prolonging the inevitable, spurred by their primordial fear of it. They sought out ways to escape its grasp in the creation of false life and in the production of living reflections of themselves, succeeding only in bringing into creation pale imitations of life itself, burdened by the selfsame doubts and fears. Doomed to live half a life, forever reaching for more. For something just out of their reach.
Find out what you can about me and you will find the answer.
And thus did humanity sowed the seeds of their own downfall.
Do it. And this time, I'll help you make this count.
In Medias Res
Somewhere in the deep recesses of a dark chamber, a lightbulb clicked and popped several times, then flared into a glowing green warmth. A string of numbers skittered across a curved glass surface, thick with the microscopic detritus of time long past. But these numbers themselves didn't necessarily matter. It was what they were doing that mattered.
Sequences of codes and scrawls of commands cascaded faster and faster; the furious incantations of a machine's spirit. The acrid stink of boiling capacitors and shorted out electrical components filled the small, dank room. A relay snapped closed with a resounding CLACK! as complex gearing, thick with old oil and caked grease, began to turn to their single purpose. More machine noises began to churn, buzz, and whir in the chamber as it stirred its slumbering inhabitant to life...
Sequences of codes and scrawls of commands cascaded faster and faster; the furious incantations of a machine's spirit. The acrid stink of boiling capacitors and shorted out electrical components filled the small, dank room. A relay snapped closed with a resounding CLACK! as complex gearing, thick with old oil and caked grease, began to turn to their single purpose. More machine noises began to churn, buzz, and whir in the chamber as it stirred its slumbering inhabitant to life...
A sleeper has awakened.
You open your eyes and gasp for air. Your head throbs, and your stomach churns violently. In the dim recesses of your mind, you grasp for fragmented memories of what might have led you to this moment. Vague images and sounds swim into focus – a blaring alarm, a sense of unease, and then a violent retching that leaves you gasping for air, but you can't remember anything more. Not where you are, or when, or... or even WHO you are. You're trapped inside a small, confined space, like a coffin. The walls are pristine white and slightly curved, and the space is illuminated by an unknown source.
Don't believe in MONARCH's lies. Do not be tricked by what it will have to say to you.
Your limbs feel heavy, unresponsive. Your breathing is laboured, and the air tastes metallic, stuffy, and foreign. Struggling to make sense of your surroundings, your eyes dart around the dark, dark shadows dancing menacingly at the edges of your vision. You put your hands on the surface above you, a mere foot away from your face. It feels cold and plastic, or perhaps metallic, you can't really tell. It doesn't yield, no matter how hard you try. Letters suddenly flash in front of you, bright red against the spotless white.Remember. Remember. Remember. You have to help yourself if you want to see an end to this.
ALERT. POD MALFUNCTION DETECTED. OXYGEN LEVELS CRITICAL. MANUAL RELEASE REQUIRED.
Find out everything you can about yourself. About MONARCH. About CLOUDBANK. And about me, CHARON.
Panic begins to claw its way into your chest at this revelation. Sweat breaks out all over your body, naked except for white synthetic underwear covering you. It's cold. You're trapped. Time is running out. You feel tears burning at the corners of your eyes. It can't end like this. Not like this.ALERT. POD MALFUNCTION DETECTED. OXYGEN LEVELS CRITICAL. MANUAL RELEASE REQUIRED.
Find out everything you can about yourself. About MONARCH. About CLOUDBANK. And about me, CHARON.
You have to get out.
End this Nightmare. Please.
End this Nightmare. Please.
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Out of Character
Simulacrum is a horror sci-fi roleplay set in the distant future that starts with and revolves around a group of individuals awoken from cryosleep with little to no memory of where they are and who they are. This roleplay will deal with the concept of what it means to be human, and ask the question of just how important memories and dreams are when it comes to defining human consciousness and sentience. Mature themes are to be expected, with a generous sprinkling of puzzle solving, as well as some usage of stat/dice rolling (mostly done in the background by me).
Don't let MONARCH see this.
If that sounds like something you'd be interested in joining, you must first solve a (somewhat) simple puzzle: A secret phrase is hidden somewhere in cyberspace that you must find, with the hints pointing towards its location to be found in this interest check thread and further beyond. Once you've found it, PM the phrase to me and I'll give you the application sheet template.Blaise de Vigenère
Leave no stone unturned. Look under every bit and binary. Tear apart the code and look between each line. Find the truth, that it may set you free.Francis Beaufort
Good luck!
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