re:Wire Retribution Danganronpa

You only need to know one thing: Hope's Peak wants you. It is finished.

[rewireretribution]

The system, this hydra’s corpse, seventeen heads lying mouth open, staring straight ahead, groans. Another stutter, another grating jolt as your movements skip twelve frames. Another room loading into its corroding memory? Or perhaps it’s started raining in the city; the water physics seem to strain it more than they should. Inexpertly built, so clearly beyond the capabilities of its programmer.

You were told to prepare yourself, for the ending. Quite what that might mean is unclear, making any kind of preparation difficult at best. It briefly occurred to you to pack a suitcase, before you realised that was stupid. It makes you sad to think the gifts you shared will be lost if you leave this place.

Another wave of nausea. Something else loading in. You close your eyes, carefully inhale. You reach out to steady yourself against a wall.

“Hey.”

Your hand grasps at thin air.

“It’s me, Monokuma.”

You stumble, begin to fall. Your eyes snap open, and the program blurs, stuttering again. A black and white smudge stands in front of you; you are somewhere different. You cannot remember where you were before.

The smudge moves. It catches you, shouldering your weight.

“Sorry, I’m losing control over the transitions. With the loading screens gone they kind of just… Happen.”

The bear helps you back to your feet. Your vision starts to clear.

“Are you okay?”

You blink. Monokuma’s expression is hesitant, guarded. Your jaw tenses. Monokuma sighs.

“Okay.”

The room is a small square, clean, intact. You recognise the closed door to your left, the old fashioned gated elevator to your right.

The others are here, too, looking bleary and lost. Monokuma moves between them, checking each student is okay. Someone swears, pushes it away. It moves to the next.

This is the old school, behind the A/V room. This elevator goes down to the courtroom. This must be the end, then, and it is to end as it has proceeded; with a trial. But for whom?

“The responsible party,” Monokuma says, looking at its feet.

It finishes checking on your peers and crosses to the elevator. As it pulls open the door, a murmur of disquiet ripples through the room. It gestures inward, avoiding eyes, mouth moving silently. Getting its words straight.

You go to move, but your feet are hesitant. You asked for answers, for this to end. But the reality is frightening. A moment passes. How long have you been in this place, the limbo, the shattered worlds? Time is difficult to parse. With a start, you realise the stuttering has stopped. The dropped frames and the nausea. That lucidity from the kill box has returned, but tempered, limited to be nearly imperceptible. You suck air in through your teeth. A large amount of RAM must have been freed up in the last few minutes. The labyrinth is gone. These last few rooms are all that remain.

You step into the elevator.

Monokuma closes the grating behind your last peer. The room around it begins to collapse, form folding into a point. The wire frames making up its distorted shapes flicker into view as it twists, green lines on solid black. The elevator jerks into motion, falling slowly away from the simulation’s demise. Monokuma meets your eye. Its form, too, warps and pulses, textures disappearing then reappearing. The elevator flickers around you.

“See you down there,” it mouths over the silent cacophony.

In the final second before it moves out of view, it smiles, all sadness and loss. Green lines track down from its eyes. And in that moment you see something different in it. Something past the facade. Another person.

Monokuma disappears. The elevator descends.

[rewireretribution]

There is a sense to this world, you eventually realise. The doors all lead somewhere. Not any rational place, of course, not where they should lead - not even a consistent place. But all the spaces in Monokuma’s system seem to be here, jammed together into a shifting maze, all accessible one way or another. A classroom door might lead to the TV studio, or the hotel spit you out at Lux House. Every time you step through a door, or even a symbolic entrance, the world stutters as shifting assets bottleneck the system and you’re coughed out somewhere new.

The fact you come to realise is that the system must be listening to you; when you grow tired of wandering and want only to rest, the next door takes you to one of your dorms; when you grow hungry, you find The Amazing Bean Pile. When you need someone to talk to, invariably your paths cross.

For all that the skies are empty, for all that half of the objects you see ignore basically every physical law, for all that trying to do basically anything complicated quickly gives you a headache... this is not a cruel place. It is not even a particularly chaotic place. But it is a broken place.

Lots of things are broken these days.

[rewireretribution]

CHAPTER 4 EPILOGUE: Universal Collapse

You don't know where you're supposed to go. The bear gave you no instruction, no direction. You don't even know if, given its outburst, it would answer if you called out for it. You wonder if you should discuss your options with your classmates. But, as the words are forming, the world halts, jerks. 

Shifts.

[♩♫♪]

The sky vanishes. The trees and the snow and the grass freeze. Far off, directly above you, high up in the blank white nothingness, an impossible shape approaches at frightening speed. It is a speck in the distance, then a flat expanse, then shapes form upon it - buildings, skyscrapers stretching down towards you. It falls unstoppable towards you, an inverted world. Even as that sharp fear of death washes over you, you recognise the false Hope’s Peak, the broken skyscrapers, the hotel, the monitors everywhere. You recoil, falling to the ground, mouth wide as the tops of those buildings rush towards you, hundreds of metres, dozens. It is right upon you. You close your eyes.

You stand in the middle of the street. You turn sharply, look up. The motion judders, motion halting. The sky is blank. After a second, you remember; this is where Monokuma showed you the secrets. The monitors loom over you, threatening even in their blankness. You shift your gaze around. Everything is moving so haltingly. You rush towards a doorway.

The ruined cafeteria. Hope’s Peak, ground floor. The world pauses for a second, jumps forward. Runs smoothly again. A chair floats in midair. You shake your head, spin around, rush back through the door.

You move through a hundred spaces, all of them known to you. They jolt around you like snapshots of memory. In time, you grow tired of running. You don’t even know why you’re doing it. Some fear, some dread pushed you to escape this impossible space. But there is no end to it. You sit down heavily, head in your hands, struggling to catch your breath.

So it’s ‘done’. Is this what that means? A fractured space with an inconsistent frame rate. No sense, no escape. Not even if you kill. Then, what was it for? What was any of this for? You squeeze your eyes shut. What could be its next move? Does it even have one? Or perhaps this will just be perpetual. You wonder how long it will be before you know.

You open your eyes. You blink, then laugh in surprise - you hadn’t actually realised where you’d stopped. You sigh as you confirm the details: the desk, the bathroom door, the decorations. No cement dust. You lie back on your bed, your first bed in that old dorm in Hope’s Peak, and stare at the ceiling. You’re right back where you started. The last time you were here, there were still sixteen of you. There was none of this division, none of this moral ambiguity - just some trapped kids and an antagonist that didn’t seem credible… you suppose that, at least, hasn’t changed.

You lift a hand to rub your eyes. It stutters; your head throbs. The system can’t handle this amount of information. Monokuma must have known that when it… did whatever it just did. So then, is it trying to destroy this world, or…

You frown at this familiar ceiling.

...preserve it?

It can play itself out.

Why?

It’s time to end this. You can’t keep circling.

You have to speak to Monokuma.

[rewireretribution]

EXECUTION: Sword of Damocles

A thunderous drumroll ripples through the room as three spotlights dance across the tall, wine-red curtains that block off the stage. Gold sequins glisten from every corner of the theatre—they are stitched into the curtains, scattered along the ground, and when the drumroll reaches a deafening crescendo, they burst from the sky and rain down onto the audience like falling snow. Above the stage, a dazzling marquee blinks to life. ‘LUX NAGAMINE’, it reads, in colossal gold letters. ‘FINAL SHOW’.

As the curtains open, the spotlights clap off. The room is dark and deathly silent—nothing can be seen but for one dim, purple light at the very back of the stage, illuminating a platform and the young man standing upon it. He cuts a sharp silhouette, shoulders back, legs set firmly apart. From somewhere unknown to everyone, music begins to fill the room: a sinister rendition of a well-known classic.

[♩♫♪]

A series of spotlights brings the stage into full view, at once undoing the illusion of poise that Lux’s silhouette projected. Steel cuffs strap his feet to the platform. The sword swallower’s eyes are wide with fear and rage, burning with unspoken words of vile hatred for everyone who had dared to put him there. He looks out at the onlookers standing in the front row—ones he had called his classmates. Through the bleary dark, Lux cannot tell one apart from the other. They are a line of identical masks, all waiting for a show. Normally, an audience of this feeble size would be an insult, but this is an act Lux wants no one to see.

For a moment, everything seems still. The song plays and Lux stands frozen in terror, looking wildly around for some sign of danger. The audience notices it before he does—a sword, blade-down, being lowered slowly from high above the stage. A long, crane-like metal arm clutches the ornate hilt in its cold fingers as it descends, its mechanical whirring drowned out by the music. The blade’s sharp end is fixed precisely above his head, and the closer it moves, the clearer it all becomes—there is no other option.

With bitterness still twisting his features, Lux tips his head back and opens his mouth. From there, a few adjustments; a millimetre to the left, a millimetre forward. As the blade enters his throat, Lux knows he has gotten it right. This is a familiar feeling, a sacred feeling—a beautiful demonstration of power. When the blade has nearly disappeared into his esophagus, the mechanical arm stops. A thrilling sense of relief sweeps over Lux as the music swells. He clings to the wild belief that somehow, he has beaten the game.

With his head tipped back and his eyes on the ceiling, he does not see the mechanical arm at the front of the stage, slowly emptying a canister of gasoline.

Another arm strikes a match and lets it fall, and tall flames erupt onto the stage. The gasoline keeps pouring, running a long and steady line towards the platform.

No.

Lux’s eyes go wide with dread as the fire burns closer. He can feel its heat licking his skin, encircling the platform as the canister continues to empty. Beads of sweat slip down his temple and his neck and his back, and he pulls at the shackles on his feet in crazed desperation.

Lux does not want to die—even more than that, Lux does not want to burn. His eyes find the hilt of the sword still protruding from his mouth. With one sharp, hateful laugh, Lux grips the handle with his own hand and pulls. The blade only has to pierce through millimetres of tissue to find the heart. After a gruesome spurt of blood, all the fear and anger leaves Lux’s eyes, and he is empty before he hits the ground. The fire devours him anyway.

Lux Nagamine is dead. 

[rewireretribution]

Sixteen podiums stand around the campfire. Its flames stretch high, unnaturally so, waxing like fluid falling into the sky. It looks bizarre in the bright morning sun - oddly washed out. Monokuma, standing near the tents, frowns. It raises a hand and considers for a moment, then nods and closes its fist.

The sun halts. The morning breeze goes still. The campfire itself sits motionless, like luminescent glass.

Humming a familiar tune, Monokuma twists its hand, carefully considering the sky as everything begins moving backwards; the sun, frighteningly quickly, sinks back under the horizon; the wind blows a sudden gale, opposite to its previous direction. The flames of the bonfire surge downwards.

Monokuma continues humming, more tuneful than you've heard it before. Bit too much vibrato on the refrain, but you sense a real emotion in it. It carries perfectly clear past the gale.

Night falls again. You notice the trees are acting strangely; instead of bending with the forceful wind, they gently sway in the opposite direction, many times faster than normal. You glance between them and the fire, and it occurs to you that it’s nothing but an animation.

“System couldn't handle full physics integration for so many of them,” Monokuma explains between verses, “but it works well enough.”

Monokuma gives it about five minutes. Glancing at a fake watch, it twists its hand again, and the wind abruptly dies down. The fire returns to normal and the trees settle down. Monokuma nods, smiling a little.

“Five oh two. Darkness improves the ambience, don't you agree? Fifty odd minutes before sunrise.”

You look around the camp. The fire casts a warm light around the circle of podiums. The portraits of the dead take on the quality of paintings above a mantel, the blood covering them glimmering eerily. You move to your podium.

“It’s still not right, is it?” Monokuma muses, sitting down on a log just behind the podiums. “It shouldn't be creepy, it should be… ah, how’s this - ”

It wiggles its paw again. Thick clouds snap into position in the previously clear sky. The chill in the air becomes more palpable, offset somewhat by the fire’s heat. You jump slightly as a snowflake lands on your nose, and before long fat, fluffy flakes fill the air and begin carpeting the ground beneath you. They seem to ignore the fire’s heat.

Monokuma smiles and swishes its hand again. The blood on the portraits vanishes; that sinister gleam disappears and they return to being nothing more than the faces of your friends. Jacoby Lamb’s eyes look kind again.

Monokuma produces its guitar and begins picking out the carol it was humming. There’s a noticeable mismatch between its fingering and the key it's playing in, but you let it slide. This courtroom is cosy, comfortable. The threat of the ones that came before is simply not present.

“Someone’s only got an hour or so left. No point making it unpleasant.”

You blink. The bear jumps between unknowable and perfectly unguarded with absolutely zero notice. You nearly say something, but it shakes its head and motions forward with its chin.

“Has to be done. Get on with it. Everyone do your best.”

You grip your podium. Right. No more mistakes.

[rewireretribution]

MonoMono File [chapter number]: Lolita Lovelace

Time of death: Cause of death: Notes:

[rewireretribution]

BODY DISCOVERY: Royal Funeral

Lux cracked his eyes open at the early morning light spilling down through the trees. High above him, wisps of white clouds drifted across the sky, and somewhere, birds were singing a spirited tune. It would have been a peaceful picture - serene, if not for what had happened some hours ago.

Splayed out in the dirt, Lux turned his head to see the boat house door looming over him. ‘Lux House’, it read in precisely carved letters, yet Lux was not inside. He was on the forest floor, blinking blood out of his eye, tracing his fingers along the angry bruise that marred his neck. It ached at the touch.

In an instant, Lux was sitting upright, wide-eyed and tense. He was on his feet even quicker, reeling in every direction to find nothing but empty forest surrounding him. His hands shut into fists.

“Still here, my dear classmate?!” The words were loud and scathing. He staggered backwards onto the path, away from his Lux House and deeper into the woods. Every so often he would pause to confirm the silence, look around to be sure there were no eyes watching him. Leaves stirred in the wind. The birds had stopped singing. Without a second thought, Lux broke into a run.

“Someone - . . .” he choked out, his features twisting into an expression of wild disbelief as he rushed through the forest, swatting branches out of his way. He kept his gaze fixed on the campsite in the distance and never looked back, tearing through the thickest parts of the woods so that he might get there sooner. They won’t get me, he thought, his heart pounding in his throat. They won’t get me.

His run slowed to a stagger as he was spat out into the glade. Even from afar, he could see some of his classmates milling about their tents - early risers. Lux was no longer alone. As he approached, he straightened his back and steadied his breath, but with blood running down his face and twigs tangled up in his gold chains, the image of composure did not come so easily.

Each step was unsteady and quick with urgency. Lux had a hundred things to say to his classmates - words of blame, anger, even shaken pleas for help - but when he caught sight of what was on ground some feet away, he swallowed all of them. There, lying neatly at the very centre of the camp site, was a shovel. Lux took a few steps closer to it, perplexed. It only took a few moments of thought before the realization hit him like a slap in the face.

“Is this . . . did someone . . .” he uttered quietly, his dread draining the colour from his face. He knew where the shovel belonged; perhaps the others did too.

Lux could only hope his conclusion was wrong as he stepped away from the campfire, past the tents, and back into the forest.

[♩♫♪]

You already know who’s in the coffin before your shovel strikes its lid.

The morning sunshine feels a little muted today. Bright but distant. Try as it might, it can’t shake the chill from the air. Yet the work is hard, and even working shifts, after close to an hour’s digging your clothes are drenched in sweat and caked in dirt. Monokuma waits nearby, seeming unsure of what to do with itself: it has remained almost completely silent since you arrived at the graveyard, following Lux after his frantic jaunt through the campsite. When you emerged from the trees, it was just standing there, staring at the fresh grave, looking slightly lost. It wordlessly produced a couple of new shovels to replace the one missing from the grave, and then just watched you as grim reality set in.

A few others hover near the edge of the hole, anxiously waiting for you to tag them in. A little further off, your two injured classmates lean against a mossy rock, nursing their heads and not saying much as the work continues. The commotion at the campsite had alerted everyone who wasn’t already awake, drawing them to follow as quickly as they could get dressed. Two people were left unaccounted for, until Namiko Natsukawa stumbled into the graveyard clearing about twenty minutes later, distressed, delirious and nursing a head wound.

And hand-in-hand with the quiet relief of seeing that face alive came the chilling knowledge of whose grave you were digging up.

You open the coffin.

Lolita Lovelace looks like she is sleeping. All it takes is closed eyes and the right pose, you think. She’s less convincing than Kiko was. Maybe it’s the coffin.

You fear you’re becoming numb to this.

The class slowly gathers around the graveside. A hand reaches down to help you climb out, and you accept it with a quiet thank you. The mood is low: no one gasps or cries out. Shock turned to grief half an hour ago. You glance at Monokuma, waiting, but it doesn’t meet your gaze. It just rests a hand on the headstone and keeps its eyes on Lolita. The moment stretches out.

“Monokuma?” someone asks.

It turns to them, surprised, as if woken from a momentary slumber.

“What now?”

Monokuma chews its lip. Shakes its head.

“You know what now.”

It rubs an eye with the heel of its paw and shrugs.

“It’s always the same, isn’t it?”

Its eyes flick about your classmates. After a moment, it sighs, and waves a hand. A stilted motion.

“Look, I’ll see you in a bit, just get started without me. I need… I just need a break for a minute.”

Monokuma’s form flickers once, then it vanishes.

The silence settles. You suddenly realise just how cold you’ve become.

[INVESTIGATION START! Individual reaction-style posts will be allowed during this time, but please do not make openers.  Refer to the Skype chat for further instructions.]

(special thanks to Tea for writing the first part of this post!)

[rewireretribution]

MOTIVE: Lock Up & Leave

It almost occurs to you to wonder who it could be, loudly and tunelessly strumming the guitar at ten to four in the morning. Luckily, you think better of it. Obviously it’s the bear. Who the hell else would it be.

Monokuma sits on a log it has positioned next to the blazing campfire, brightly illuminating the surrounding tents and trees. You approach ponderously; the others are already here -  apparently the musical equivalent of seven cats simultaneously vomiting is the perfect teen magnet - squeezed onto two more logs opposite. They look a little less uncomfortable with the proximity than maybe they would have when you first reached this forest. You wonder if maybe they’ve all worked their stuff out.

You glance sneakily at Monokuma.

It shakes its head imperceptibly.

Well. At least they’ve made a start.

You perch yourself on the end of one of the logs. It’s funny how the only time you ever see everyone together is when something terrible is about to happen.

Monokuma plays on, staring into the fire, silently mouthing lyrics you don’t recognise.

Because that’s the only reason you could be here, right? You’ve been left alone in your new playground for long enough and now it’s time for another ultimatum.

“They’re not ultimatums,” it mumbles, “they’re barely bribes.”

The tuneless mess Monokuma is producing couldn’t possibly have reached Lux house from this distance, but you’re all here anyway. So the bear must want something.

“Does millions and millions of dollars count as a bribe? I mean, yes, but they weren’t real millions and millions of dollars, so it’s not the same.”

You feel restless. You nearly stand up, storm off. Why should you wait for another call to murder? What good would it do? But as you shift your feet, you pause. Look again at Monokuma.

“What?”

It should already have made its move. It always has the advantage, strikes when it’s least expected.

Its terrible tune falters.

The time for that was nearly a minute ago. What is it waiting for?

Monokuma stops playing. It meets your eye, then tilts its head to one side. With a little hesitation, it changes its song.

[♩♫♪]

“You got me.”

It looks around the group.

“I was wracking my brain trying to think of something that’d get the murder sticks out. Fear, fear, fear. It’s all I can think of. Fear of perpetual imprisonment, fear of one’s own mind, fear for the outside world, fear of each other. I think I’m played out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not - ”

Monokuma stops itself, and puts the guitar down. The music continues uninterrupted.

“I had more plans for motivation. But I think I’m done scaring people. It’s, uh. It’s no fun. Being blamed.”

It rests its elbows on its knees and lets its arms dangle forward.

“It was no fun anyway. Not since…”

It squeezes its eyes shut, then blinks heavily.

“So I’m going to recycle something. It’s going to sound shitty, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Monokuma looks upward. The sky is hard to make out in any real detail with the fire so bright, but the bright spots it burned into your vision dance prettily over the vague starscape.

“If you kill another person, then get away with it, you may leave this place. Not to that broken city, not to the ruin the goddamn school promised. Those were never real. And you may take with you whatever I can give.”

The dead stand some way off, hovering at the treeline. It must know they’re there, but it doesn't acknowledge them.

“This system has clearly defined limitations. I know it inside out. But there are a few tricks it can pull off. The, uh, the mental injection function I used to modify the nightmare instances early on, that Lamb asked for when they killed Sakagami. It could wipe this all out. Fill in the gap in your memories with a plausible story, one you’d believe. You’d never have to know what you did. You’d never have to live with what you did. Not very despair inducing, I know, sue me.”

It smiles tightly.

“Only if you want that. Some of you consider this a valuable experience. I get that too. I can tweak the details to make you look better, if that’s what you want. But you could tell your story. Bet it’s a relief thinking there might actually be people to tell it to, after that city, huh? All things considered, it’s an okay world on the outside.”

It twiddles its thumbs absentmindedly.

“I wish you could see it.”

Monokuma sits in quiet thought for a minute, then produces several sticks with marshmallows on them. It tosses them across the fire. You catch one, surprised.

“Does anyone remember when these were funny? I think I made jokes.”

It holds its mallow baton over the fire.

“I should write more. I thought I had enough, but then I was just too charming and used them all up. Though, I suppose I can use them again when you guys are all dead.”

It sticks out its tongue, then levers a marshmallow into its maw.

“Don’t worry. They’re veggie.”

It gestures for you to get toasting. A few of the others are already doing so. One shrugs, half apologetically, and takes a bite. The sight is so surreal, so innocently childlike; you laugh in spite of yourself. The dead move away from the treeline, approaching the fire, picking seats on the ground and amongst your class on the logs. The Tsukades sit down on either side of Monokuma, throwing their arms around its shoulders and helping themselves to its marshmallows. It tenses, then awkwardly pats Nami’s hand. Nagi laughs. Monokuma tosses a couple of bags of crackers to you, but insists it’s keeping the chocolate for itself. Someone protests its tyranny. It catches them between the eyes with a 1.55 ouncer.

The sun rises around six. Must be digital october. Most of your classmates have returned to bed already, but a few remain, chatting, nibbling on crackers. Monokuma has returned to its guitar and is following along with the tune it was playing earlier. Nagi sits next to it, doing not much of anything. Nami stands some way off, dancing a perfect three step, oblivious to her lack of a partner. Monokuma looks as tired as it tends to these days, but there’s a hint of a genuine smile there. It meets your gaze, always listening, always watching itself through the eyes of others.

“This is a good last memory, right?”

Its smile slips. It looks down at the dying fire, plucking away.

“Maybe it’ll be some comfort.”

You don’t know how to respond.

[We are now entering CHAPTER 4 ABNORMAL DAYS.  Murder apps will open shortly.  Feel free to continue any threads you currently have or begin new ones as it pleases you.]

[rewireretribution]

Lux gives the MonoMono Tree a tender pat and inserts a coin. "Be good ~ ♪"

Vengeful Spirit’s Wig: A long black wig with hair that goes down to almost around the hip area. This tangled mess of hair would definitely cover your eyes completely. Just put this on and throw on a white dress to create Sawako from The Bracelet cosplay.

Lux Nagamine now has zero (0) Monocoins.

[rewireretribution]

Namiko inserts a coin calmly this time, a tiny sigh escaping her.

Handcuffs: Ohoho! A magic pair of handcuffs! You just slap them on and… haha… wait, where’s the mechanism, there are trick handcuffs, right? I-is there not a key with them? ...guys?

Namiko Natsukawa now has zero (0) Monocoins.

[rewireretribution]

Izo drops a coin into the machine and studies the grapes while he waits. What an eyesore.

Ikemen Monthly: A very pink, sparkly gossip magazine with various young sports stars depicted on the cover.

Izo Iijima now has zero (0) Monocoins.  

[shsleventing-blog]

|| do you ever realize you’re not a good person?      a play list for nori katsutame, shsl equestrian

[rewireretribution]

Yoshiko plonks a coin

I ♥ the 70s! CD: The definitive collection of disco hits straight from the seventies! This would make a perfect gift for someone who loves to dance… or loved to dance… like half a century ago…

Yoshiko Kanda has zero (0) Monocoins.

[rewireretribution]

Magic tree o magic tree bring me happiness. A poem by Lolita Lovelace as she surrenders her one coin. Kami-sama hear my prayers and don't give me someTHING TERRIBLE

Pingpong Paddle: Really, just one paddle? Even without a ball included, it seems kind of silly to only have one of these. Is this the complete set? A standard pingpong paddle in bright pink, with a white handle.

Lolita Lovelace now has zero (0) Monocoins.

[rewireretribution]

Suzuka flips her coins into the air, smirking confidently. A job well done, if she did say so herself. She offers both of her coins to the MonoMono Tree and hopes it doesn't give her more garbage.

Super Hot Fire Ebi Chips: A delicious shrimp-flavored snack. The packaging is covered in cartoon flames.

Beaglepuss: Humorous novelty disguise glasses, complete with nose, bushy eyebrows, and an even bushier moustache. Guaranteed* to make you unrecognizable (*not guaranteed at all).

Suzuka Shinonome now has zero (0) Monocoins.

[rewireretribution]

Akron puts in one coin. Maybe something nice will happen (Why would something nice ever happen)

I’m In Your Hands: H-how bold! A steamy piece of yaoi literature. It’s the thrilling tale of a corporate underling and his boss and how they eventually get together. It’s crazy because they’re total opposites!Akron Merieux now has one (1) Monocoin.

[rewireretribution]

CHAPTER 4 MAP

Campsite - In a pleasant glade in the heart of the forest, sixteen spacious tents sit in a rough semi-circle, forming a modest campsite.  In the centre is a campfire and, nearby, all your camp-counsellor standards: a single battered guitar, a score of tambourines, a bassoon.  While the tents sport little in the way of amenities, and are far from secure, they’re pleasant enough, and the bedding you’ve been provided with is comfortable, at least.  Inside each occupied tent, you’ll find a crank-operated torch and a petite knife, ideal for hunting small game or skinning fruit.  The tents zip shut, and the zips can be locked in place with small code-operated padlocks.

River - A wide, fast-moving river bounds the west side of the campsite, running from north to south as far as the eye can see.  You don’t think it’d be easy to cross, even if you had a boat… better not to risk it.  You’ve come so far, it’d be a bit anticlimactic to drown now.  If you squint, though, you can see fat silver fish flitting about under the surface.  Hope you know how to fish!

Boathouse - Sitting pretty next to a small jetty, this boathouse looks like it was once someone’s treasured summer home… No more, sadly.  The cabin is abandoned, and devoid of boat.  You will still find some interesting stuff inside, though: there are blankets, logs for the fire, fishing rods, and various tools that might come in useful out in the wilderness.  Definitely looks like whoever left this place left quickly… or maybe they just never came back?

Cave - This cave, hollowed out into a large rock, might have once been the den of some wild animal.  Whatever lived here, though, it’s gone now, and you’re left with this… pretty dank, dark, kinda smelly hole.  Kinda hard to see how this could be of any use to you, but who knows!  At least it’s sheltered from the weather?

Hot Springs - You’re not sure what you expected.

Bunker - A concrete air raid bunker is built into the ground here. It’s quite old fashioned, maybe world war II era.  Inside is what appears to be a makeshift US Army set-up… there are cots, weapon lockers, tables covered with… actually, it looks suspiciously similar to the inside of the tent at the army checkpoint. Identical, even - save for a large pile of canned beans in the middle of the room. If you care to watch long enough, you’d see that every hour, on the hour, another can pops into existence and falls onto the pile. You get the feeling this area was especially half-assed.

Graveyard - Right on the edge of the deep forest lies a little clearing which would be serene, were it not seemingly set aside for that most harrowing of tasks: burying your dead.  Six small, hand-constructed graves are spread about randomly, decorated with colourful stones and wildflowers… though... two are noticeably fresher than the others.  There’s still room to join your classmates six feet under, if you hurry!

MonoMono Tree - A very well camouflaged and not at all odd looking tree. Completely monochrome, the trunk has a large lever attached to it, and there’s a little coin slot to let you make your offerings. Bunches of black and white grapes hang down from it, and, if you look closely, each has a sticker labelled ‘Farmer Monokuma’s Famous Monograpes®’ stuck to it. You’re not sure if you have the heart to tell Monokuma grapes don’t grow on trees. Higher up, the leaves are thick, but you think you can spy knick-knacks hidden in the branches.

There are other landmarks scattered throughout the forest - you’ve seen them, you know - but they never seem to be in the same place twice.  The trees beyond the campsite are a dark and confusing place.  Be careful!  It’s easy to get lost, and wind up back where you started.