When Iki smashed her hand into the button, nothing happened. No alarms, no sudden spikes or crumbling walls or poison gas—but certainly no click of the door unlocking.
She pulled back, disappointed, before collapsing.
One of the others managed to catch her just before her head could hit the ground, but her lips had already tinged blue. You tried not to get trampled as half the students backed up and half of them surged forward in a claustrophobic mess of trepidation and concern.
“I can’t find a pulse—”
“Someone has to know CPR, right?”
“I’m not sure that would help, man—”
“What even happened?”
As students shifted, some pressing themselves into the wall, some forcing their way towards Iki to help, murmurs of panic built. Only when all attempts to revive the girl failed did you pause for breath.
“It seems we have our first victim,” called the voice beyond the door. “Thank you, Ms. Kadou, for breaking the ice. Though you can no longer hear me, of course...”
The voice had to pause as a flurry of objections and outrage interrupted. Despite questions and demands, it continued unperturbed.
“This is death. For those of you not accustomed to it, I suggest you learn to quickly, as the game has only just begun. Now, as promised, I will let you leave this room... Though first I’d like to explain what just happened. The collars that all of you wear contain a certain general anaesthetic. It’s really quite harmless—at the proper dose. I have remote control over the injections and can adjust them to a lethal dose if necessary. But rest assured the collars are currently carefully calibrated for each of you.”
She—was it a she?—paused again. “So that is how, in approximately five minutes, you will all fall unconscious again. Please be prepared, as it happens quite suddenly and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to strike your head on the way down.”
You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. You seemed to be sitting up, in some strange position that made your joints ache and throb. But your head throbbed most of all.
Eventually you found the concentration to pry your eyes open. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, too bright to look at but doing a poor job of keeping the whole room lit. The whole room seemed to be square, not much bigger than a living room.
And fifteen other people were crammed in here with you.
They all seemed vaguely familiar, but your head was still too hazy to recall who they may have been or how you’d gotten here. You doubted you had come willingly.
The bare, stony walls smelled like mildew and maize, but if you were in a cellar, the stairs must have been beyond the single door. There was no switch to control the light—as if you would want to plunge the room into darkness—but a small red button sat beneath a hinged plastic cover by the doorknob.
Just as you were discovering the collar fastened around your neck, a voice filtered through the door, muffled by the thickness of the metal.
“Good morning,” it said, “and congratulations. You have all been selected to play the Killing Game. In lieu of a wordy introduction, I will allow you to explore. There are no necessary facilities or sustenance in that room. And none of you will be able to leave that room until one of you is dead.”
While you were all still waking up, this caused enough of an uproar to silence the voice for a moment.
“You may examine the door and anything else as much as you like, but be assured you are trapped unless I let you out, under my conditions. One of you must die. Relatedly, I suggest you do not attempt to remove your collars or press the button by the door, unless you wish to sacrifice yourself.”
The room remained silent, or perhaps you just couldn’t hear any murmuring over the roar of your pulse in your ears.
“Have fun,” the voice concluded. “It is a game, after all.”
PROLOGUE START
(Please post opens on your character blogs with the tag #kropen so we can find them and add them to the Opens page. Investigation asks are to be sent to the Askbox.)
The general air of pain and distress following the brutal murder and execution hadn’t had nearly enough time to subside before the overhead lights dimmed. The time display on the screen shut off, and Murasaki’s “face” filled it instead.
“I think it sad,” she began, “that I need to remind you of the situation you are in. No one within this room will escape without killing another competitor. I believe you have acquainted yourselves with the button and the rest of the killing room well enough to formulate a plan, but perhaps you are still having some difficulty. Is it with selecting a victim? Is it anticipation of the victim fighting back? Or are you all merely not motivated enough by the slow death that awaits you here should you choose to stay?”
She paused. “In any of these cases, I feel I can help. You will all lose consciousness shortly, so please prepare yourselves...”
There wasn’t much you could do to prepare, but you at least made yourself moderately comfortable before the collars did their work.
When you came to again, Murasaki’s broadcast was back on—if it had ever ended.
“Is everyone with us?” she began. “I’ll begin slowly so you may have a chance to wake up fully. You must kill to leave this room. It should go without saying that your victim must be a person other than yourself. In the coming days, however, you may feel tempted to betray your own self-interest.”
She waited another moment, apparently deeming you all awake enough to cut to the chase. “I have released a certain virus into the killing room. Some of you are already infected; some of you will contract the disease over the next few days or weeks, if this goes on long enough. The disease may progress at different rates for different people, but the symptoms are as follows: a mild fever. Difficulty maintaining your normal personality. Spurts of time in which your brain’s processing speed plummets, leaving you in a helpless stupor as the world around you runs in fast-forward. A powerful sensation of being overwhelmed. All of this eventually culminates in the irrepressible desire to end your own existence.”
She adjusted her mask. “If you would prefer to live, I suggest you commit murder before you can reach such a point. I hold a cure for the disease that I have already ensured will be effective on all of you. I will administer it to everyone remaining upon the discovery of a murdered competitor—and no sooner.”
The overhead lights began to strengthen again.
“The best of luck.”
The screen reverted back to a plain digital clock.
(Please post opens on your character blogs with the tag #kropen so we can find them and add them to the Opens page. If you would like to know if your character has already been infected, ask here.)
When you next awoke, something seemed off. Maybe the shock of the murder and execution was just throwing off your senses. You had been placed back on your bed, in the same room—or was it?
At first glance it seemed the same—the button, the food and water, the crayon scribbles on the wall—but the dead body was gone, and the shutter door appeared to be farther down. Past the final beds now stood a few more amenities.
Murasaki did not appear to congratulate you or explain. The ceiling screen remained silent, only the 7:00 across its face proving it hadn’t been turned off altogether.
So... What now?
CHAPTER TWO START
(Please post opens on your character blogs with the tag #kropen so we can find them and add them to the Opens page. Investigation asks are to be sent to the Askbox.)
A dark hallway is the first thing anyone sees when the screens showing the execution flicker on. Once your eyes adjust, you can make out Hibiki and Kasumi at the end of the hallway, standing nervously. They don’t know where they are any better than you do, and although the darkness makes features hard to discern, it’s clear how frightened they are. Kasumi is reaching across to clutch Hibiki’s hand - whether out of fear or protectiveness, that isn’t clear. Slowly, the two pace down the hallway, flinching at every little noise.
Dead, suffocating silence seems to fill the hallway, save for the little clicks and creaks that make the twins jump, and the sound of their footsteps on the hard tile. It’s still far too dark to tell where they are, but the walls appear largely barren. There are countless doors on either side of the twins, each labeled with unreadable plaques. They keep walking, not stopping to try any of the doors. They don't know what could be past them - not that they know what's at the end of the hall, either. The straight path seems the safest, although ‘safe’ is a relative term. They keep walking. Their footsteps start to echo, like another set behind them. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. It never halted, rhythmic as the thump of a heartbeat.
Click, click, click.
The twins came to a sudden halt. The hall spit into a 4-way intersection. Should they keep going straight? Or make a turn? Probably go straight, right? But who knew what was down any one of these paths! Despite the fact that they had stopped, the footsteps kept going - click, click, click. Hibiki noticed it first, tightening their grip on Kasumi’s hand. The footsteps grew louder. Click, click, click. They looked at each other, then slowly but surely turned around. The sound was coming from behind them, that was for sure. Click, click, click. In the far distance, a shadowed figure made itself just barely visible. The twins took a few steps back, trying to analyze the being. They both squinted, unable to work out many details besides a only vaguely humanoid form--
Suddenly, the hall was bathed in blinding light. Someone, or something (perhaps the one at the end of the hall?), had turned the lights on. The entire hall was pure white to the point of being sickening, an uncomfortably sterile sensation overwhelming the area. They were standing in the hallway of some sort of hospital, it seemed, but any more details were still unclear. It was just awfully clean, and awfully bright, and awfully mechanical-looking. Back at the end of the hall, the figure seemed to stare back - not that their eyes were visible. A shadowy cloak made their entire body impossible to discern, even in the light. They knelt, it seemed, making it even harder to figure out, and in their gray, clammy hands, they held a bright orange chainsaw. One spindly hand was tightly gripping the starter rope.
There was dead silence for a good 10 seconds. The twins stared at the figure, and the figure stared(?) back. And then, Kasumi whispered,
“Run.”
The duo spun back around and booked it down the hallway, running as fast as their legs could carry them. The figure went out of sight, but the distant sound of a cord extending and a violent, mechanical growling were awfully audible. They just did their best to run faster - pretend it’s just like walking dogs, Hibiki thought. That’s easy. Dropping a leash, however, is far less consequential than letting a person of questionable species, who also happens to be holding a chainsaw, catch up to you. The sound of their footsteps was entirely drowned out by the guttural noises of the weapon. At this point, they had no clue where they were going. Every part of the hospital looked the same - and it wasn’t like they even knew much about hospitals, anyway! The best they could do was run until they came to a wall, and then make a turn. Both of them knew it would eventually lead them to a dead-end, but what else were they supposed to do? They couldn’t fight someone like that, if it was even a someone.
The figure was catching up to them, and the noise of the chainsaw only grew louder and louder. The being seemed to be incapable of getting tired - the twins, on the other hand, were beginning to run sheerly on adrenaline and not wanting to get massacred. They barreled down hallway after hallway, room after room, and eventually slammed through a wide pair of double doors--
Only to find a dead end. They froze in place as they realized the room they had walked into - a large operation room - had no exit save for the entrance they had just come through. There was perhaps a moment where they could have run back out and had a slim chance of survival, but in those few seconds that they were stunned with shock and terror, that window closed. The figure burst into the room, now standing - albeit hunched - as it pursued the two with relentless intent. The twins lost their balance as it burst into the room, and they fell onto an angled operation table. Hibiki was sobbing, Kasumi was spitting vitriol in the face of a creature that clearly didn’t care. The terror in both of their faces was unmistakable, but indescribable. With no further hesitation, taking advantage of their fear-induced paralysis, the figure raised the chainsaw and sent it down.
A ripping, shooting pain tore through the twins - both figuratively and literally. More specifically, the chainsaw was digging directly into Kasumi’s chest, cutting through flesh and bone with ease. The excruciating, crushing torture sent Hibiki into hysterical tears - Kasumi, on the other hand, was in far too much shock to cry, and by the time that shock would have worn off, the damage had been done. But that did not stop the figure. It continued to hack and slash away with the growling blade, ignoring Hibiki’s choked, desperate wails and rapid, shallow breathing. Relentless as it was, it seemed the figure had a rather good idea of what it was doing, and how it cut the two apart. When it finally finished, when the horrible splatters and squelches and squishes halted, when the visceral sounds calmed down, the only thing that could be heard was the rhythmic dripping of blood and the labored breathing of a person barely alive. The chainsaw was now off. The figure gently picked up Hibiki, so tenderly and carefully that you wouldn’t even imagine the deeds it had committed just seconds ago, ripping and picking apart any last strands of flesh that held them to their late twin. Carelessly discarding the chainsaw and Kasumi’s unrecognizable carcass, it carried Hibiki somewhere else. It didn’t seem to have any more murderous intent now that the convicted killer was dead and gone. The lights began to dim, and you only barely caught the figure carrying Hibiki into a different, far cleaner operation room.
After two days of increasing heat, you woke to the smell of burning flesh.
Some of you had a bit more trouble waking than others, but soon you had all risen from the beds and floor. With the trash’s incinerator roaring, it wasn’t hard to guess where the smell was coming from—but why exactly did it smell like that?
Was one of you missing? Were you sure?
With trepidation, you approached the cubical dumpster. Some students stayed back, one or two grabbed containers and ran for the sinks and shower in an attempt to put out the fire before the cycle finished. But it wasn’t enough, and you had to wait for the flames to die down. A choking heat swirled out from the area, the smell becoming no more pleasant.
The ladder carved into the west side was the only way to peer into the trash. Among ashes and bits of unburned trash lay the burned remains of a body, unrecognizable beneath the layers of peeling charred skin. Only from the remaining scraps of clothing and an eventual head count did you realize the body was Ai’s.
“Congratulations.”
Still choking on the heated air, it took you a minute to recognize Murasaki’s voice. You craned your neck to find her image once again displayed across the ceiling.
“As a murder has now occurred, I have adjusted the room’s temperature back to normal, though it may take some time to get there. In the meantime, I suggest you all begin your investigation. We will hold a sort of trial shortly to see if you are capable of discovering the killer—or, for the killer, if you are capable of keeping your role secret. Note that the button will be disabled until the trial is complete.”
She shifted, and with a final “good luck,” her image disappeared. Rather than showing the temperature, the idle screen displayed several lines beneath the current time.
9:10
VICTIM: AI AMAIKAWA
TIME OF DEATH: 9:01
CAUSE OF DEATH: EXTREME HEAT EXPOSURE
(Please post opens on your character blogs with the tag #kropen so we can find them and add them to the Opens page. Investigation asks are to be sent to the Askbox. A link will be provided in the OOC chat for group investigation.)
After a few days of conflict and misery, the overhead lighting dimmed. You weren’t sure what to make of it until the large ceiling screen flickered back into life. Of course.
Murasaki stood—or sat, for all you knew—in the exact same space as before. If any of you made demands, she didn’t acknowledge them.
“I see,” she began, “that the current state of affairs has yet to produce a killing. As I have made the terms of the game clear and you have found escape to be impossible, you ought to know you cannot return to the outside world without committing murder.”
So, what? Was she going to give up and let you go? ...Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice.
“Perhaps death after six months of isolation is not in itself an urgent enough impetus. As such, I will begin manipulating the temperature of the room. Over the next few days, the temperature will be steadily increased until the conditions become unlivable. I will not interfere should you begin to suffer heat exhaustion and heat stroke. I will not turn the temperature back down until you are all dead or one of you is murdered. Rest assured I will allow you some recovery time before you must determine the culprit—or feign your innocence.”
A trickle of sweat ran down the back of your neck—had she started the process already, or were you just imagining it?
“And do keep in mind,” she added, “you will need to drink more water, and I’m afraid everything from the sink and shower has a bit too much arsenic for safe drinking. So the longer you allow this to go on, the less time you are allowing yourself to play the remainder of the game. Of course, that won’t be a concern if you kill and win right at the start.”
She gripped the bottom of her mask as if she intended to remove it. “The best of luck.”
The feed cut out there, and the ceiling lights strengthened. Even so, the screen remained partly lit, just enough to show 12:44 and 70°F.
Before you even opened your eyes, you noticed the shift in light. In place of the harsh glare before, a softer light let you watch the dancing patterns on the inside of your eyelids in peace. But then again, lying here with a collar forcing your neck too far up wasn’t very peaceful.
You stirred and began to sit up. Your feet hung off the edge of what appeared to be a decently-sized, if not particularly fresh-smelling, cot. The other fourteen students were positioned the same way, in various states of wakefulness, across a significantly wider and longer room. One wall was a solid metal shutter, the wall across from it holding a door identical to the smaller room’s. Palettes of cans and bottles blocked your view of the room directly across from you, and a few other odds and ends cropped up in a symmetrical fashion.
Before you could take in any more details, a loud chime drew your attention to the ceiling. The expanse was higher up than you could imagine any ladder getting to, but all of the soft fluorescent lights were working perfectly—at least, until they dimmed in unison. A large, square section of the ceiling lit up into a screen. Staring down at you was a purple-hooded figure with a mask split into gold and yellow halves. The left eye was covered with a geometric design, leaving only the person’s right eye to watch you. The lighting behind the camera was too dim to make out eye color, but the person did seem to wear eyeliner.
“Good morning,” came a familiar, feminine voice, though it was much grainier through the speakers without a steel door filtering the sound. “Congratulations on your graduation from the introductory room. I’m sure you will find this room much more appealing for the duration of your stay. Of course, there is still no escape without fulfilling the terms—but for the killing game proper, the terms are a bit different.”
Some of your classmates had begun muttering, but the sound couldn’t compete with the boom of the speakers.
“As before, a death is necessary. However, now you must personally commit a murder so that you, and only you, may leave alive. As careless slaughter wouldn’t very well qualify as a game, there are a few caveats. You many not kill more than two people. If your fellow competitors identify you as the killer, you will be executed. Likewise, if you collectively fail to identify the killer, all but the killer will be executed. Only a successful killer can leave this room alive. You’ve been provided with enough food and water for an extended stay, but surviving within these walls for more than six months is not possible or desirable.”
A pale hand rose briefly to adjust the mask. “I’m sure you would like to see the face of your captor—but I am not the one responsible for your participation in this game. There is, of course, no need for you to see my face. I do not have one. No face, no identity, no self, no name. If you find it necessary to address me, you may use the term Murasaki. It is my duty to oversee this game and intervene if necessary. If you attempt to tamper with the cameras, television, or speakers, you will die, to no one’s benefit. I ask that you treat the room with respect.”
Enough clamor had risen up to overcome Murasaki’s voice, but she continued in a manner of time.
"I'm sure you're wondering exactly how you can get away with murder with all of your potential victims in the same room. But upon pressing this button, a random number of participants will lose consciousness. I suggest you take advantage of this."
The image quality suddenly worsened as the screen switched to an image of a blue button. It rested on a wall identical to those in the room. After a moment, Murasaki’s face—or lack thereof—returned.
“Welcome to the Killing Room,” she said. “Enjoy.”
The screen went black, and the fluorescent lights returned to normal.
CHAPTER ONE START
(Please post opens on your character blogs with the tag #kropen so we can find them and add them to the Opens page. Investigation asks are to be sent to the Askbox. Also note that your characters are missing their personal items as noted on their applications.)
