Marie-Offical

LOOKING FOR WORK AND INFORMATION. CONTACT FOR DETAILS

[marie-offical]

My name is Marie, I need your help.

It started out as something, then... nothing? I need any information on a bunker, potentially something to do with recycled cybernetics.

IF ANYONE HAS ANY INFORMATION CONTACT ME ASAP.

Marie-offical

============

My name is Marie

Kasia suggested this site, I'm surprised to see anybody active on this corner of the internet.

I'm not really sure how talking to strangers in a remote part of the planet is supposed to help, but here we are.

[spiritdesireqwe]

commission (Oc & Peripeteia)

[marie-offical]

I'm finding more of myself, everywhere.

It was plausible deniability at first, maybe just... coincidence. Then, I found it again, and again.

Maybe my model was made multiple times, but.. I haven't seen any.. thing... like me.

Some psycho played with his doll, a poor girl whom he insisted was his assassin. He preached prophecy and informed me early on about some clients I met later. Supposedly she was going to come kill him.

Thing is, he was probably right. Well, except him playing dress up with a corpse. Crazy fuck.

Some part of me wonders though, what if he was talking about me?

even then, what was he doing in some skate park with my photo plastered on the wall, and some militia's name above it?

I need to think. Maybe Kasia will know something - If I should get her involved, at all.

... Though, it's not like she isn't already.

[marie-offical]

I have something.

I will keep it brief.

Follow the rails, stay off of the tram.

Take the footpath to the remote radio station.

It's too heavily guarded to be anything but some kind of clue.

They will shoot your head off if they see you.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

-'I'

I received a letter in the post. It had no indication of an owner, no handwriting, not even a name. The first thing I had hoped was handwriting, a type writer, something to give me any indication on who was interested in me.

It was cut out scraps of the awful propaganda machine, the papers which litter the lands with lies and deceit.

I had nothing but scraps on a page and the slight smell of cigarettes that stained the letter. The same crap laying around that the commie insurrectionists suck down like water.

If not for their trading, it would have lead me straight to a culprit, a trail on finding someone to blame - on interrogation and espionage to give more than a sliver of hope on why someone might have known something beyond a head shake and claims that I have lost and corrupted memory.

I knew exactly where they spoke of, though.

A tram system on the way to one of my leads took a sudden diversion, while the average eye would stare at the dancing lights and towering plaza, in the distance lay a single set of lights on the horizon. It lay obscured under the shadow of darkness, but i knew the shine of a gas mask when I saw one.

I just hope it has something more than a dead end.

[marie-offical]

Sorry if I hurt anyone

The text on the screen was illuminating the cassette I had picked up, she didn't really seem to have been a threat, nor the type to really be dressed normally. Maybe, for another culture. I don't really know her much, but it hurt to read. The summer song played in my head as I stared out the broken glass, and analyzed the body before me.

With the countless that have taken up the rifle, the many whom care not the lives it will destroy, it was jarring to see her turn it on herself.

Perhaps, that was the first time I really considered why I wanted to live. I clutched to the scraps of memories I had and pressed forward, because it gave me hope.

I dread the day I may lose the memory I have, like a soaked newspaper clutched firmly in my grasp. - Bleeding, ink blotting and dripping, smearing and combining into a blackened mess.

I'll remember her. I'll remember it. I'll remember myself.

....I have to.

[marie-offical]

It wasn't my first time seeing it, either.

Not only this, but I didn't expect to see another so soon.

I don't know their names, I don't know how long they have been alive, I don't know what they remember.

All I have is the fragments of life they left behind.

Trash, a G3 German rifle, a note so soaked in rain it's indecipherable, except the first word.

Poets, when unsure what to name their poems, will take from the first verse. I suppose I can do the same, here.

So, I'll call her Cube.

The priests speak of hell being so different. The priests say hell is where someone can go, but according to the nameless we're already there.

All I have to remember Cube by is her rifle, and an unwillingness to live in hell.

[marie-offical]

Sorry if I hurt anyone

The text on the screen was illuminating the cassette I had picked up, she didn't really seem to have been a threat, nor the type to really be dressed like everybody else. Maybe, she was from another culture far from here.

I didn't really know her much, but the text hurt to read. The summer song played as I stared out the broken glass, and analyzed the body before me.

With the countless that have taken up the rifle, the many whom care not the lives it will destroy, it was jarring to see instead she had turned it on herself.

Perhaps, that was the first time I really considered why I wanted to live. I clutched to the scraps of memories I had and pressed forward, because it gave me hope.

I dread the day I may lose the memory I have, like a soaked newspaper clutched firmly in my grasp. - Bleeding, ink blotting and dripping, smearing and combining into a blackened mess.

I'll remember her. I'll remember it. I'll remember myself.

....I have to.

[satan-offical]

Poems can be hard to write, y'know?

Especially if you've only ever seen the same kinds of poems

1) Poems must be in standard/formal language

2) Poems must rhyme, or at least have a rhythm

3) Poems must have a message

But honestly I think that's stupid

A poem can be formed from anything!

It does not require a writing technique that is considered etiquette by the reader

It doesn't need to rhyme, at least not all the time

And poems don't need to have a clear message or story!

Just reach into your heart and find something you're passionate about

And try to put it into words

[burning-britain-official]

I love how "it doesn't need to ryhme" bit actually rhymes. Good job satan

[satan-offical]

And I tried my best to have the formal writing but in formal language!

[videogameoutofcontext]

[marie-offical]

It's no wonder why she likes elevators so much.

[theantiazdarcho]

Marie from Peripeteia

One of my favorite indie shooters of 2025

Also one of the funniest video games I’ve ever played

[marie-offical]

That god damn bird... I can still hear the propaganda from my window. At least I get a break when the trains roll by.

[basil-does-arttt]

so.... i have a new game obsession. Anybody know of a little thing called PERIPETEIA??

some marie fanart :3, i love her very much, i need to throw her against the wall like a stress ball...

[marie-offical]

It's only a fragment of my memory, but it means everything to me. Ill find that god damn source if it is the last thing I do.

... If it's the last thing I do.

[tontopy]

peripeteia game

[marie-offical]

there's nothing like a cigarette and sitting over the edge of an endless landscape

[artymon99]

My graphics tablet is broken... So for now, I'm following the path of a man who decided to "touch the grass"

[marie-offical]

Seeing death through the eyes of another brings an eerie feeling.

[kuraree]

★★★sovieEeeeEettd★★★

[coffee69coffee34]

[annelidist]

npc doodles

[marie-offical]

Spitting images! You even got the blush right on Kasia after she finishes one of her books.

[tontopy]

peripeteia game

[kuraree]

take

[marie-offical]

at first, i thought to myself "oh... my god."

then it was "ohhhhhh my god....."

I mean I did kinda just barge in there! i couldn't just show up, shoot a rat, say I have seen better hygene from the roaches in Filemon's scrapyard, then fuck off without so much as even a little emotional support to the poor girl.