The Reticent Raconteur

I have not the candid heart to keep it's story clandestine.

[the-haunted-office]

( @thereticentraconteur - Continued from here!)

Stanley looks around at the rest of the office supplies but doesn't care for any of them the way he does that red stapler. The red Swingline stapler has special sentimental value - post-it notes, paperclips, and shitty Bic pens do not. They aren't even the kind of pens that click open and closed, so to hell with that.

He shrugs and starts to make his way into the next room, stopping and holding the bucket up when the Narrator starts complaining for it. Why tell him to take what he wants and then complain? Maybe he ought to put some thumb tacks in there then, just to be spiteful. But whatever, it's just a bucket. He wants that stapler and there's nobody or nothing that can take it from him now.

Stanley can't help but give a small smirk. Slipping the bucket up his arm, thus freeing both hands, he signs, "You sound like an old married couple." He makes no further comment, either about Gamby and Guy's relationship (or lack thereof) or about the economy.

Bucket in hand and feeling a little extra spring in his step, Stanley moves into the next room.

[thereticentraconteur]

(Really? Nothing else like that stapler? I... actually? I respect it. Sticking with your choice and all, I wouldn't be able to do that for sure. And you show that bucket who's boss! Keep using it for storage like the bucket it is. Great job, Stanley.)

There's the sound of Gamb laughing, sipping coffee, and then promptly spitting it out when he sees what Stanley signed.

(FUCKING WHAT??)

He seems genuinely surprised rather than mad. Gamb sits there in silence for a moment, then continues to speak.

(Sorry, sorry. A fucking married couple? That's... huh?? Do we really?? I think it just sounds like arguing, to me at least. A married couple?? And old?? Guy is like... dozens of years younger than me. I think. But still! Huh???)

Gamb continues to go on about this while Stanley continues walking.

[thereticentraconteur]

(Stanley decided to go into the brightly coloured door. He was reasonably correct in doing this, because the other door had a huuuge scary lion behind it. So, good choice, Stanley!)

(He continued walking forward into the presumably safe room, which was.. new to him. This room hadn't been like this before. It was filled with... things. Staplers, printers, files, letters, everything. It was-)

Stanley can hear yelling from the background.

(Ugh. One sec.)

Gamb leaves the room, and there is silence for a few minutes (minus the distant yelling of Guy and Gamb). If stanley does anything with this time or not, is up to him.

(Alright, I'm back. Did you do anything without me? Let's see...)

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley can't help but seriously doubt there was really a lion behind that other door. Although... if he gets a chance to come this way again, he'll be sure to check it out. He's never seen a real lion before, not outside of picture books and the couple times he went to the zoo when he was a child. It might be worth being mauled to see one in person.

He walks into the new room, and stops.

Hmm. There doesn't really seem to be much in here other than a bunch of office supplies. Was this a storage closet? Why would they put it at the top of this random ass path leading up into the ceiling in the warehouse? Why have a huge open-floored warehouse with a dangerous lift running across it in the first place? Why have a room with nothing but a single telephone in it across the open space of the warehouse? Why ANYTHING in this office?

Stanley shrugs when the Narrator seems to go off somewhere and all the yelling can be heard. He and whoever he's yelling at sure don't sound like they get along to Stanley. But whatever, that's not really his business. His business is to stand here. Looking at office supplies.

He sees a red Swingline stapler and smiles as he picks it up. He remembered seeing the movie Office Space and laughing about how accurate so much of it is. All the office politics. Bullshit from upper management. The way they treat the "weird" employees. Talking about teamwork and synergy and all that other hullabaloo. He won't lie - he's been tempted a time or two to take the copy machine out into a field and beat the shit out of it with a baseball bat.

He hopes the Narrator will let him keep it. Tossing it up into the air and then catching it, Stanley puts the stapler into the bucket with a metal clang. He is smiling.

[thereticentraconteur]

(Aaaaand.... oh! You did! You nabbed a stapler. Good thinking. In fact, grab whatever you can fit into the bucket in this room! Maybe it'll be important later, who knows! I-it's me. I know. But still! Take whatever you want into the next room.)

(Oh. Also. The bucket doesn't seem to be enjoying being filled with office supplies. It's yelling at you, Stanley! 'Ow! That hurts! Stop it!' Is it lying or telling the truth? Stanley would never know.)

(And I should say- don't worry about me and guy arguing. It's a common occurrence. If you can tune it out, that'd be great. ...frankly I wish I could. But, it is what it is, you know? Housing is housing, and you can't really complain about that in this economy. Does this place even have an economy? Nevermind.)

[thereticentraconteur]

(The bucket continued to talk to Stanley, informing him of everything that could go wrong. 'You could trip!' it said. 'What if you stub your toe? The pain! You should turn back! It's safer!' The bucket continued on and on with minor inconveniences that could happen to Stanley. Despite these potentially pointless warnings, Stanley continued forward.)

Gamb took a sip from his coffee, and pleasantly sighed. It seemed he had not had any coffee for a while.

(Ahead of Stanley was 2 options of where to go next with the bucket (who is still yelling at him to go back). Would he take the path that was marked 'GO THIS WAY PLEASE.' with red arrows and a red tape circle, or the way marked only with a red marker that crossed out the door? It was up to him.)

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley very subtly rolls his eyes at the bucket, so subtle it could easily be mistaken for a mere flicker of a glance. As much as he likes having a little bucket to carry around (it gives him a small sense of physical companionship), the Narrators' dialogue for it is a bit ridiculous at times. Stub his toe? Imagine the pain? He's wearing shoes! What's the worst that could happen to his toes while wearing shoes, apart from something either smashing his foot or severing it? Which may or may not have happened to him a time or two already.

He forges ahead, careful not to stub his toe on anything, until he approaches the fork in the path up ahead.

Hmm.

It's only natural for one being told what to do, in a situation they have no control over, to exert a small bit of control by disobeying what they're being told to do. One path is politely telling him to "go that way" and the other is clearly indicating for him not to go that way. A normal person might feel inclined to go the way they've been told not to. But Stanley...

...Stanley is no ordinary normal man. He is an extraordinarily ordinary man. So extraordinarily normal a lot of his choices and preferences extend far beyond what's consider normal into "too" normal territory. Thus, he is a mostly obedient man.

As such, he chooses the path marked "go this way please". May as well do what he's being asked the first time around, except for the bucket's yammering suggestions. Besides, he can always come back and take the other path later, can't he?

And if something fucked up happens, welp. Just welp.

[thereticentraconteur]

(Stanley decided to go into the brightly coloured door. He was reasonably correct in doing this, because the other door had a huuuge scary lion behind it. So, good choice, Stanley!)

(He continued walking forward into the presumably safe room, which was.. new to him. This room hadn't been like this before. It was filled with... things. Staplers, printers, files, letters, everything. It was-)

Stanley can hear yelling from the background.

(Ugh. One sec.)

Gamb leaves the room, and there is silence for a few minutes (minus the distant yelling of Guy and Gamb). If stanley does anything with this time or not, is up to him.

(Alright, I'm back. Did you do anything without me? Let's see...)

[thereticentraconteur]

(Ohhhh. You mean that guy. I'm not sure, really. Was he here before? I can assure you he's not up here with us right now. Just me and Guy... regretfully. So I guess, if you're asking is he here, then no, he's not. You're stuck with me for now! Hahaaa.... eck. Sorry, I'm tired.)

(Oh. I can't really... leave, until either Guy tells me I should leave, or your narrator gets here. So, I guess we should... get to know eachother. I'm Gamb. I made the bucket what it is now, so you'd best be thankful for that. Did a bunch of other stuff, too. That's besides the point. Anyway.)

(Stanley walked up onto the railing, taking care to not fall. He was doing the right thing by this. Oddly, the bucket blocked Stanley's path. 'Don't go forward!' the bucket said. 'You'll die! I've seen what's ahead!'. It sat on the banister, unmoving as usual.)

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley stops and thinks. The Narrator was there before... although he's not sure how long ago that was. It doesn't seem like it's been that long. Maybe a couple days? At most? If that. Stanley has a difficult time telling what time or day it is and how much time has passed. Tends to happen when you're stuck in an office where things reset every now and then and there's no way to view the outside world to help determine the passage of time.

This "Gamb" isn't the Narrator, but he seems to be acting as one. Stanley isn't sure what to make of that either. Are there more Narrators out there? Why? What's their true function? Is it really their job to just... sit wherever they are and tell him what to do? He doesn't get it. All he knows is that that seems to be the order of things.

Well, maybe his Narrator will return at some point. Maybe he just took a break. Stanley shrugs.

He's about to start making his way up the new path when he's stopped by Gamby's words.

There's a bucket there, just as Gamby said. And it's talking to him - well, in a way, seeing as Gamby is the one narrating for the bucket too. He looks around, as if trying to figure out who put the bucket there, then approaches it. Assuming he's supposed to pick up the bucket and take it with him, he goes ahead and does that. Then he considers the new path again. The bucket said not to go forward because he'll die if he does. But where else is he supposed to go? Back through the office and to the endings he's already done dozens of times?

Stanley decides to forge ahead up the path. If he dies, well, then he dies. He's died before and, while it's usually quite painful, he isn't necessarily afraid of dying again. His curiosity wins out. Up the new path he goes.

[thereticentraconteur]

(The bucket continued to talk to Stanley, informing him of everything that could go wrong. 'You could trip!' it said. 'What if you stub your toe? The pain! You should turn back! It's safer!' The bucket continued on and on with minor inconveniences that could happen to Stanley. Despite these potentially pointless warnings, Stanley continued forward.)

Gamb took a sip from his coffee, and pleasantly sighed. It seemed he had not had any coffee for a while.

(Ahead of Stanley was 2 options of where to go next with the bucket (who is still yelling at him to go back). Would he take the path that was marked 'GO THIS WAY PLEASE.' with red arrows and a red tape circle, or the way marked only with a red marker that crossed out the door? It was up to him.)

[thereticentraconteur]

(Oh, right. Sign language. You can't really speak normally. Uhhh, lets see. 'Where is the other narrator'? Like, the one I was talking to? They're in the other room, doing fuck-all. Frankly, I dunno why I help them.)

Gambhorra'ta waits for a moment before speaking again, as if he was thinking about something for a moment.

(...well, that's a lie. I do know why. But still! They're a bitch. They make me do everything they don't wanna do, unless they want to, then I have no say in it. Why do you ask? Oh. Yeah. Also, narration.)

He clears his throat again. For some reason.

(As Stanley walked through the door, something odd happened. He continued down the hallway to where the cargo lift would be, but it was nowhere to be seen! Instead, there was a path leading to the top of the lift. It had no railing, so Stanley would have to be careful as to not fall.)

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley shakes his head in response. He starts to sign that he wants to know where his Narrator went - not either of these two new voices - but then the new Narrator starts speaking again. He just stands there and blinks and listens, still confused as all hell as to what's going on.

He tries again, starts moving his hands to ask his questions - this time including why he is narrating for him if he doesn't want to - but again Gamby beats him to it, this time with some narration.

Shrugging, he decides to go along for now. He asks his questions as he goes, though. He signs, "I meant the other Narrator, the one with the British accent. And you don't have to narrate for me. You can wait until the other one comes back or something."

Sighing, he makes his way through the hallways and into the warehouse area where the cargo lift is. And stops. The lift is indeed missing, leaving just the open warehouse floor below, stacked with boxes and a truck parked in there as if everybody had just gotten up and left. He sees the new path too, leading upwards. When did that get there?

Again, he shrugs. It must be a new ending. By this point in the narrative, Stanley accepts and even looks forward to new endings. When everything in life is the same every day, new things like random paths leading up into the ceiling are a source of intrigue. Who knows what awaits him? Could be a fun button, could be a wacky game, could be mashy spike plates ready to turn him inside out. That's part of being a Protagonist, isn't it?

Stanley begins to ascend the path, taking care not to misstep and fall.

[thereticentraconteur]

(Ohhhh. You mean that guy. I'm not sure, really. Was he here before? I can assure you he's not up here with us right now. Just me and Guy... regretfully. So I guess, if you're asking is he here, then no, he's not. You're stuck with me for now! Hahaaa.... eck. Sorry, I'm tired.)

(Oh. I can't really... leave, until either Guy tells me I should leave, or your narrator gets here. So, I guess we should... get to know eachother. I'm Gamb. I made the bucket what it is now, so you'd best be thankful for that. Did a bunch of other stuff, too. That's besides the point. Anyway.)

(Stanley walked up onto the railing, taking care to not fall. He was doing the right thing by this. Oddly, the bucket blocked Stanley's path. 'Don't go forward!' the bucket said. 'You'll die! I've seen what's ahead!'. It sat on the banister, unmoving as usual.)

[thereticentraconteur]

There is a bespectacled Stanley just standing there in the office, looking confused. He doesn't appear to be doing much of anything. Just standing there, confused.

@the-haunted-office

Guy and Gamb both sound to be arguing over who gets to narrate Stanley.

(Frankly, you always get first choice in who you narrate and I don't. It's not fair! Honestly. You should be thankful I even let you borrow anything I can do for narrating.)

//And you should be thankful I'm letting you live here! We've got an agreement, and I own the place, so I get first say. Isn't that fair? That sounds fair to me.

(UGH. Every time I want to narrate, you do this, and then when I don't, you push me to the front to do it. Make up your mind!)

//Fine! Fine. Go ahead. You get this chance to do a good job! Make it count, Gamby.

(Fuckin', finally. Sorry about that, Stanley. Hope that wasn't too bad to listen to. Where would you like to go? Or, wait, let me- ahem.)

(Stanley stood in the breakroom, waiting to be narrated for. He had been listening to two narrators argue over who got to do it for a few minutes now. They had finally finished, and one had sat down and started narrating. Stanley had really nowhere to go but through the door in front of him to the hall.)

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley does indeed hear all this back and forth dialogue going on, but he has no idea what to make of it. Why is he hearing two voices? And why don't either of them sound like the Narrator? Has the Narrator been replaced with two clowns pretending to be the Narrator? They aren't doing a very good job of it, Stanley thinks.

Stanley isn't sure what to do. Should he wait for them to stop arguing orrrr...? He doesn't know. He's not really used to just making his own decisions, not usually. There have been times where he's gone out a limb and taken a different branch all on his own, but most of the time, especially in a new situation, his natural tendency is to go with the flow. But what exactly is this flow and what does he do with it?

He decides to just do a bit of looking around while he waits. He shrugs and goes over to a door, tries to open it. It's locked. Shrugging again he moves on to the next door. Also locked. He continues doing that until finally he's looped back into the conversation.

He's about to sign back up at the ceiling (assuming that's where the two voices are coming from), asking where the Narrator is, when suddenly one of them actually starts narrating him.

He pauses.

Listens.

Shrugs.

And goes to the door as indicated. His instructions are to go through, so that is what he does. He walks through the open doorway and then stops in the next room. Looks up at the ceiling. Signs, "Where is the Narrator? The other one?". And then he waits.

[thereticentraconteur]

(Oh, right. Sign language. You can't really speak normally. Uhhh, lets see. 'Where is the other narrator'? Like, the one I was talking to? They're in the other room, doing fuck-all. Frankly, I dunno why I help them.)

Gambhorra'ta waits for a moment before speaking again, as if he was thinking about something for a moment.

(...well, that's a lie. I do know why. But still! They're a bitch. They make me do everything they don't wanna do, unless they want to, then I have no say in it. Why do you ask? Oh. Yeah. Also, narration.)

He clears his throat again. For some reason.

(As Stanley walked through the door, something odd happened. He continued down the hallway to where the cargo lift would be, but it was nowhere to be seen! Instead, there was a path leading to the top of the lift. It had no railing, so Stanley would have to be careful as to not fall.)

[thereticentraconteur]

There is a bespectacled Stanley just standing there in the office, looking confused. He doesn't appear to be doing much of anything. Just standing there, confused.

@the-haunted-office

Guy and Gamb both sound to be arguing over who gets to narrate Stanley.

(Frankly, you always get first choice in who you narrate and I don't. It's not fair! Honestly. You should be thankful I even let you borrow anything I can do for narrating.)

//And you should be thankful I'm letting you live here! We've got an agreement, and I own the place, so I get first say. Isn't that fair? That sounds fair to me.

(UGH. Every time I want to narrate, you do this, and then when I don't, you push me to the front to do it. Make up your mind!)

//Fine! Fine. Go ahead. You get this chance to do a good job! Make it count, Gamby.

(Fuckin', finally. Sorry about that, Stanley. Hope that wasn't too bad to listen to. Where would you like to go? Or, wait, let me- ahem.)

(Stanley stood in the breakroom, waiting to be narrated for. He had been listening to two narrators argue over who got to do it for a few minutes now. They had finally finished, and one had sat down and started narrating. Stanley had really nowhere to go but through the door in front of him to the hall.)

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

//Ok, cool, fires, Billy Joel, gender reveal, Earth’s heat death. Sounds great. And disappointingly realistic, but that’s besides the point. What does this have to do with the- //… ah. Well, at least it was somewhat engaging. Right?

(Thanks, Doom. Let’s start off, right? Ahem.)

(This is not the story of a man named Stanley. It’s neither, actually. Not about a man, nor named Stanley. Nonetheless. They usually sat in the Narrator booth, narrating for people, providing them with a slightly above average narrating experience-)

//Heyy!

(-and burning some of Guy’s time. That was, until one day, they decided to narrate for Doom. They expected this to be a normal narration session, like any other day. But what was curious was that Doom was very hard to narrate for. It had not occurred to them that not everybody is easy or simple to narrate for, and this confused them. So, they went down, sent Doom to the booth, and started their own story, rather than one of their making. Doom?)

Doom gives Gamby a sort of side-glare. Is his narrating style just to recap everything that has already happened and leave her with nothing to build off of? He’s no better than Cyrus was, who just wanted to tell Stanley’s story over and over and over. Pfft. No wonder both he and Guy have to hop from Protagonist to Protagonist, office to office.

Well. She’ll show them how it’s done.

“It was evident that Guy had something they wanted to prove. To the voices in the ceiling? The Muns? Themself? The bones all over the cave floor? Leaves one to wonder. How might they go about proving themself to this mysterious entity, whatever it may be?”

“Guy stood there wondering what they ought to be doing. Is standing there proving anything? It very well could be. Very well, then. Guy decided that standing there did not in fact yield any results other than the fact that they knew how to stand in one spot. What they really needed to do prove themself was to stand there in one spot for a prolonged period of time. That would get the voices in the ceiling wondering.”

“With such an easy challenge, they furthermore wondered just what exactly the challenge was here? And that’s when they noticed something… concerning…”

Doomsday trails off dramatically, and this moment is when she uses her abilities to spawn in a massive round boulder, rolling slowly in Guy’s direction. It’s not moving with any particular expedience to it, but it’s evident that if Guy continues to stand there, at some point they will be smashed.

[thereticentraconteur]

//I was WAITING for you to FINISH. Because that's courteous. And I don't want to cut you off. And- what was that. What did you do. Wha-

//FUuuuck that's a boulder. Shit. You scared me. I presume that means you want me to get a move on. Alright. Uhh. Two doors.. yup.

(Guy stood there, completely starstruck and scared at having to make an impactful decision that wasn't choosing if they wanted to sleep in or not. While they did this, the boulder still continued to slowly approach.)

//Aagh. You're rushing me, I'm being rushed. Fine, I'll, uhhh, I'll go through the. I'll go through the. Uhh. Right door. Yup. No, wait, left door. Yeah. Final answer... right door. That's it. No taking back!

(It's a miracle how Guy could say so much in one breath and still have absolutely no meaning behind it. What's behind the right door, Doom? Care to elaborate?)

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

*Guy gives Doom a flat expression before she teleports away to the booth. After she does, they melt into the floor, and reappear in the office once more.* //Eugh. This feels weird. Not necessarily bad, though? It’s like being at work, I guess. The chairs are nice! And the computers. And the.. tables… and mugs… maybe it is just boring down here, actually.

*Gambhorra'ta is a little bit startled at seeing Doom float so easily into the booth, but he quickly realizes what’s going on.*

(I’ll take you up on that. It’s been ages since I’ve narrated with someone that isn’t Guy, so this is a welcome change of pace. Get comfy.)

*He snaps, and another chair and microphone appear out of green smoke. The microphone is plugged into everything that the now-Doom’s microphone is plugged into. He sits down.*

//You two gonna start? No rush.

Doom takes a moment to stare dryly at the one who just suggested that a dead person “get comfy” before going ahead and sitting down anyway.

“Oh, ‘no rush’, they say,” Doomsday snorts and gives Gamby a sardonic side-eyed glance. “We should give them no rush, then. Do one of those really long, frivolous prologue type of things, know what I mean?”

She then puts on her Narrator voice, which is really just her regular voice but with extra flourish. “In A. D. 2101, war was beginning.” She pauses very briefly to let out a snicker, wondering if either Gamby or Guy will catch the reference. “And fires raged across the land. Some said it was the result of climate change, others said it was ball lightning, and still others said it was Billy Joel. But the true cause of the extensive outbreak of fires was a single gender reveal party when a pair of ordinary parents decided to throw a frivolous party and set off fireworks during the dry season so as to reveal the gender of their baby. And in truly spectacular fashion, they pretty much fucked over the entire planet.”

“Now, one might be wondering what any of this has to do with the story? The answer to that is absolutely nothing. We just wanted to waste your time. Gamby?” she says, turning to her co-Narrator.

[thereticentraconteur]

//Ok, cool, fires, Billy Joel, gender reveal, Earth's heat death. Sounds great. And disappointingly realistic, but that's besides the point. What does this have to do with the-

//... ah. Well, at least it was somewhat engaging. Right?

(Thanks, Doom. Let's start off, right? Ahem.)

(This is not the story of a man named Stanley. It's neither, actually. Not about a man, nor named Stanley. Nonetheless. They usually sat in the Narrator booth, narrating for people, providing them with a slightly above average narrating experience-)

//Heyy!

(-and burning some of Guy's time. That was, until one day, they decided to narrate for Doom. They expected this to be a normal narration session, like any other day. But what was curious was that Doom was very hard to narrate for. It had not occurred to them that not everybody is easy or simple to narrate for, and this confused them. So, they went down, sent Doom to the booth, and started their own story, rather than one of their making. Doom?)

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

//Ok, you know what, cool, you win the philosophy debate, I’m gonna say I’m past it. It was a hollow victory, yeah yeah, you get the gist. Your character development is being triumphant in an argument against someone you don’t know well, congratulations. //He’s probably napping anyway. And, I’m putting trust in you! Trust that you won’t psychologically manipulate me, that is. Dying I don’t think is that big a deal, I can just respawn, right? I’m relatively sure that’s how it works around here. But, I’m trusting you, even though it’s a terrible idea, I feel it could work out well in the end. Sooo. If you wanna, of course. Not gonna force you.

“And your character development is being an arsehole. Oh. No. Wait a minute. You already were one. So never mind on that, you haven’t developed at all.” Doom grins.

Every single one of Doomsday’s 1000+ souls is excited by the prospect of getting to narrate again. It’s been so long since they’ve had the opportunity to do so and it’s something they used to love doing. The opportunity is pretty much irresistible to them and because so many of them want to do it, the urge to accept the offer is overwhelming to Doom.

“Ehehehehe, well, I don’t make a habit of intentionally killing others, no. Not unless they’ve sufficiently pissed me off. So don’t do that and you should be fine. But all right. I accept your challenge. You’ll be hearing from me very soon.” She laughs and ascends through the ceiling of the cave, presumably to wherever Guy and Gamby’s control booth is.

Once she arrives, she grins at Gamby and says, “Hi, how you doin? Presumably you just saw and heard everything Guy and I were discussing, so looks like I’m gonna get to narrate for a little bit! Shall we narrate together, then? Or is this gonna be a one Narrator show?”

[thereticentraconteur]

*Guy gives Doom a flat expression before she teleports away to the booth. After she does, they melt into the floor, and reappear in the office once more.*

//Eugh. This feels weird. Not necessarily bad, though? It's like being at work, I guess. The chairs are nice! And the computers. And the.. tables... and mugs... maybe it is just boring down here, actually.

*Gambhorra'ta is a little bit startled at seeing Doom float so easily into the booth, but he quickly realizes what's going on.*

(I'll take you up on that. It's been ages since I've narrated with someone that isn't Guy, so this is a welcome change of pace. Get comfy.)

*He snaps, and another chair and microphone appear out of green smoke. The microphone is plugged into everything that the now-Doom's microphone is plugged into. He sits down.*

//You two gonna start? No rush.

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

//Well, you see, arguing the logic of what I said is doing something, is it not? And I said you were going to do something that I didn’t say you were going to do, in which is very true, because I did not say that you were going to argue about the logic about it. I win then I say! Victory in my books, if you ask me. //Hmm, you know what. I have an idea! If I’m so easy or bad or whatever at narrating, you try narrating for me! I’ll go up to the big office, you go to the booth, and narrate for me! I’m curious to see what I’m missing from narrating. Genuinely! Trying out new things always help with learning. (Just don’t tell Gamby I let you up there.)

“Hmm, no, it’s no more a victory for you than presenting me with food that I literally can’t enjoy. Where’s the challenge for me? The room for character development, to be presented with a task I literally cannot complete? Suppose my development would be to walk off the page and find a Narrator who knows what the hell they’re doing, and if you want to call that a victory, well- that says far more about you than it does about me.”

Doom raises an eyebrow at them. “Won’t Gamby know I’m there anyway? If he knew you were there, I mean. What if I don’t want to narrate for you? What if it’s more fun for me to watch you squirm up close? Aren’t you worried I might try to set you on fire? Lead you over the edge of a cliff? Cast you into danger? I used to psychologically manipulate my Protagonists, back when I was alive. Are you sure you want to subject yourself to me?”

[thereticentraconteur]

//Ok, you know what, cool, you win the philosophy debate, I'm gonna say I'm past it. It was a hollow victory, yeah yeah, you get the gist. Your character development is being triumphant in an argument against someone you don't know well, congratulations.

//He's probably napping anyway. And, I'm putting trust in you! Trust that you won't psychologically manipulate me, that is. Dying I don't think is that big a deal, I can just respawn, right? I'm relatively sure that's how it works around here. But, I'm trusting you, even though it's a terrible idea, I feel it could work out well in the end. Sooo. If you wanna, of course. Not gonna force you.

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

//You know what, that makes sense. Prolly shoulda-ow-thought about that. Fake tension hurts a story a lot, yeah, that makes sense. And yeah! Oobleck is cool! You ever made any before? It’s surprisingly easy, with such a cool payoff and all. I’d say it’s worth it. But maybe that’s me being biased? I’m not sure… I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I’ll be quiet. //Fun, huh? Ok! I’ll try! Uhhh…. shit. What are you gonna do next? Well, I can’t really guess that, because if I guess it right, you’re just gonna do something else and tell me that I was wrong, right? Or, well, wrong, not right. Well, actually, I’m right, or I hope I am, that I’m going to be wrong, and you’re going to be right in making me wrong. Aagh. No way for me to win, and I’ve just confused myself. Bloody hell. Anyway, uhh… Lemme think. If I were Doomsday “Doom” Parable, what would I do? Hm hmm hmm… ah! There it is. You’re going to do something other than what I say! That’s my guess!

Doom snorts at the idea that Guy could be talking “too much”. She has received that very same criticism before - many times - and so she isn’t about to tell them that. Besides, most folks just try to shoo her away. At least Guy is making an effort to keep up. Besides, they’re the one who beckoned her down here in the first place, and if they are going to be so intent on making her their temporary Protagonist, then they are going to have to put up with her character.

“Hmm, well you’ve put us in a bit of a conundrum here, Narrator. You’re telling me that I’m going to do anything other than what you say, but what you say is that I’m going to do anything other than what you say. So whether or not I do what you say, I’m still doing what you say. I lose out either way. You’re still wrong, though. Your prediction was that I was going to go against whatever you say, but I’m not. I’m debating the logistics of what you said, neither flat-out obeying nor disobeying. Q.E.D.” she says pleasantly, grinning because she find this all highly amusing.

[thereticentraconteur]

//Well, you see, arguing the logic of what I said is doing something, is it not? And I said you were going to do something that I didn't say you were going to do, in which is very true, because I did not say that you were going to argue about the logic about it. I win then I say! Victory in my books, if you ask me.

//Hmm, you know what. I have an idea! If I'm so easy or bad or whatever at narrating, you try narrating for me! I'll go up to the big office, you go to the booth, and narrate for me! I'm curious to see what I'm missing from narrating. Genuinely! Trying out new things always help with learning. (Just don't tell Gamby I let you up there.)

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

//Oww.. that’s a lotta information dump in subtext, Doom. You sure you don’t wanna elaborate on that more directly? Like, that liked really important, too.Seems like a good few back and forths worth of conversation, wasted on a descriptor for a single sentence. You’re lucky that-ow-I love lore dumps like that. //Just because I’m liquid, doesnt mean it doesn’t hurt! And goddamn, it still hurts! It doesn’t have to make much logical sense, but even then, it still kinda does! It’s like.. oobleck! But instead of hardening, it just hurts! Ow! Imagine you got your hand crushed, but over your entire body!

*They notice the scythe being dragged, but don’t put much thought into it other than fear due to the fact that they are in pain.*

“Something else you ought to learn, newbie - characters might not feel inclined to tell you everything about themselves, especially not when you’ve just met, and especially not after having their feathers ruffled. In fact, I’ve found that most times someone does do that it’s contrived. Manufactured to stoke tension where there would otherwise be nothing. Or the opposite - it’s manufactured to create more tension where there’s already enough, so much that it saturates and dilutes all meaning and turns into white noise. It becomes lost in a sea of itself.”

“Oobleck is cool,” she comments. “Good thing you told me it just hurts you, otherwise I’d be poking at you a whole lot more right now. Then again, who knows? I just might do that anyway.” She suddenly pulls on her scythe so that it makes an awful screeching noise before pulling it up off the ground and despawning it, effectively putting it away for now.

“Let’s do something fun. You’re a Narrator. I’m a Narrator/Protagonist/Deus Ex Machina/Whatever the Hell I Want to be. We’re in a cave of your own making. How about you predict what I’m about to do, eh? Give it a try. See how well you know my character.” Doom grins, flashing her crazy sharp teeth at them.

[thereticentraconteur]

//You know what, that makes sense. Prolly shoulda-ow-thought about that. Fake tension hurts a story a lot, yeah, that makes sense. And yeah! Oobleck is cool! You ever made any before? It's surprisingly easy, with such a cool payoff and all. I'd say it's worth it. But maybe that's me being biased? I'm not sure... I'm talking too much, aren't I? I'll be quiet.

//Fun, huh? Ok! I'll try! Uhhh.... shit. What are you gonna do next? Well, I can't really guess that, because if I guess it right, you're just gonna do something else and tell me that I was wrong, right? Or, well, wrong, not right. Well, actually, I'm right, or I hope I am, that I'm going to be wrong, and you're going to be right in making me wrong. Aagh. No way for me to win, and I've just confused myself. Bloody hell. Anyway, uhh... Lemme think. If I were Doomsday "Doom" Parable, what would I do? Hm hmm hmm... ah! There it is. You're going to do something other than what I say! That's my guess!

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

//Oh, fuck, y’- y'nearly hit me! Just asked for you not to do that, you know. I’m gonna step away, a safe distance from your scythe n’ shit, then let’s keep talki- *The stalagmite crumbles, and falls almost directly onto Guy’s head in a nearly comical fashion, causing them to melt into a puddle again, with only their purple tophat sticking out.*

//OW! FUCK! GOddamnit, that fuckin bites! Owwww! Fuckin’- what was that for?? You knocked that stalagmite into me, I watched it. Goddamn, ow!

*They continue constantly reusing expletives for a while out of pain, but they do stop after about 30 seconds.*

//Fuuck, that was uncalled for! Even if you didn’t like the puzzles! That was just plain malicious! Aaaagh. That’s gonna sting for a few days. And yeah, I’m gonna redo the cave, just- just gimme a sec. I just need to recollect a sec. Fuuck.

*They slide over to the corner of the cave (which isn’t very far away), and start shaping themselves into various abstract sculptures, seemingly as a form of stress relief or calming down.*

“You’re much more foul-mouthed in person,” the ghost comments offhandedly, seeming not to care about Guy’s panicked flailing about. “And dramatic.” And then suddenly she grins, which probably isn’t a good thing, considering she’s advancing on them with her scythe slung casually over one shoulder. “You make for a much better Protagonist than a Narrator in that sense. And I didn’t knock that stalagmite into you. I knocked it over and you happened to be standing there. You should keep a better eye out next time. Caves are dangerous, you know.”

Of course, Doom can’t really hurt them, but there’s no need for them to know that. Yet. May as well get as much use out of her empty threats before they figure it out.

“And believe me, if I actually wanted to hurt you, you’d know it. So, got any other clever expletives in your repertoire there, Narrator?” she remarks, watching while they stretch and change shape. “Do you need a minute to collect yourself, or should I just narrate my own story from here on out? Would probably get us somewhere then.”

Her anger hasn’t really tapered off much. She’s still feeling a bit high strung and malicious as a result. But she is doing her best to hold in the worst of her temper. If she were to really let go, the cave wouldn’t be standing for too much longer.

[thereticentraconteur]

//Yeah, because I fuckin’ got my head crushed in my a stalagmite! You would too! Get your head crushed in by a big ass stone, see what bloody happens! Aagh! And no, your sass isn’t going to make the pain go away any quicker.

//And like I said, give me a moment! For someone who has a hundred lives worth of memory and experience, you’re awfully impatient for a couple minutes to pass. Hurts a lot more when you’re comprised of a liquid. I’ll narrate for you in a moment. Fuuck. The one time I get far narrating for someone.. and fuckin’ this happens.. augh. Stay away with that scythe too! Who knows how many other ways you can nearly kill me with it? Slicing wouldn’t do much, though, I hope.

[the-haunted-office]

“For someone who believes they know everything about me, you’re awfully ignorant,” Doom counters, flipping her ghostly hair over her shoulder. The point she wants to make is that she’s impatient by nature, made even more impatient by essentially being a compressed version of herself after merging with so many of her own soul. Added on top of that the manner of her death stripped away more than just her eyeballs and other four senses - it left gaping holes in her temperament too, making her volatile and oftentimes unpredictable. She doesn’t explain any of that, though. She just leaves it there on the screen for them to extrapolate at their leisure.

Then with a sudden burst of energy, as though she’s prepared to drop everything right then and there (which she pretty much is because she’s now grown bored of it), she says, “Anyway! As curious as I am how exactly a person comprised of liquid can get hurt by something, I’m bored. So, soon as you’re done complaining about how I very almost but not quite tried to kill you with a piece of limestone, I’ll be over there.”

And she walks off, scythe dragging on the ground and throwing up sparks, leaving one to wonder just how corporeal it is.

[thereticentraconteur]

//Oww.. that's a lotta information dump in subtext, Doom. You sure you don't wanna elaborate on that more directly? Like, that liked really important, too.Seems like a good few back and forths worth of conversation, wasted on a descriptor for a single sentence. You're lucky that-ow-I love lore dumps like that.

//Just because I'm liquid, doesnt mean it doesn't hurt! And goddamn, it still hurts! It doesn't have to make much logical sense, but even then, it still kinda does! It's like.. oobleck! But instead of hardening, it just hurts! Ow! Imagine you got your hand crushed, but over your entire body!

*They notice the scythe being dragged, but don't put much thought into it other than fear due to the fact that they are in pain.*

[the-haunted-office]

thereticentraconteur​:

//Oh, fuck, y’- y'nearly hit me! Just asked for you not to do that, you know. I’m gonna step away, a safe distance from your scythe n’ shit, then let’s keep talki- *The stalagmite crumbles, and falls almost directly onto Guy’s head in a nearly comical fashion, causing them to melt into a puddle again, with only their purple tophat sticking out.*

//OW! FUCK! GOddamnit, that fuckin bites! Owwww! Fuckin’- what was that for?? You knocked that stalagmite into me, I watched it. Goddamn, ow!

*They continue constantly reusing expletives for a while out of pain, but they do stop after about 30 seconds.*

//Fuuck, that was uncalled for! Even if you didn’t like the puzzles! That was just plain malicious! Aaaagh. That’s gonna sting for a few days. And yeah, I’m gonna redo the cave, just- just gimme a sec. I just need to recollect a sec. Fuuck.

*They slide over to the corner of the cave (which isn’t very far away), and start shaping themselves into various abstract sculptures, seemingly as a form of stress relief or calming down.*

“You’re much more foul-mouthed in person,” the ghost comments offhandedly, seeming not to care about Guy’s panicked flailing about. “And dramatic.” And then suddenly she grins, which probably isn’t a good thing, considering she’s advancing on them with her scythe slung casually over one shoulder. “You make for a much better Protagonist than a Narrator in that sense. And I didn’t knock that stalagmite into you. I knocked it over and you happened to be standing there. You should keep a better eye out next time. Caves are dangerous, you know.”

Of course, Doom can’t really hurt them, but there’s no need for them to know that. Yet. May as well get as much use out of her empty threats before they figure it out.

“And believe me, if I actually wanted to hurt you, you’d know it. So, got any other clever expletives in your repertoire there, Narrator?” she remarks, watching while they stretch and change shape. “Do you need a minute to collect yourself, or should I just narrate my own story from here on out? Would probably get us somewhere then.”

Her anger hasn’t really tapered off much. She’s still feeling a bit high strung and malicious as a result. But she is doing her best to hold in the worst of her temper. If she were to really let go, the cave wouldn’t be standing for too much longer.

[thereticentraconteur]

//Yeah, because I fuckin' got my head crushed in my a stalagmite! You would too! Get your head crushed in by a big ass stone, see what bloody happens! Aagh! And no, your sass isn't going to make the pain go away any quicker.

//And like I said, give me a moment! For someone who has a hundred lives worth of memory and experience, you're awfully impatient for a couple minutes to pass. Hurts a lot more when you're comprised of a liquid. I'll narrate for you in a moment. Fuuck. The one time I get far narrating for someone.. and fuckin' this happens.. augh. Stay away with that scythe too! Who knows how many other ways you can nearly kill me with it? Slicing wouldn't do much, though, I hope.

[the-haunted-office]

( @thereticentraconteur - Continued from here!)

“Don’t swing it around near you? Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says as she swings it around near them, purposely getting as close as she can while not hitting them. The scythe does knock into one of the stalagmites and that she does mean to do. But she grins and says, “Oops. Clumsy,” and moves it to her other shoulder.

“I was going to say, if you’re displeased with the way this cave looks, you have only to blame yourself,” she huffs, still quite angry. And yet she can’t decide if she really wants to take their head off or not. Part of her really, truly does, although she knows she wouldn’t be able to in any case, not without Thursday’s permission. Another part of her just wants to fuck off and leave them here to think about how they treated her. Yet another part doesn’t think that either will make any difference whatsoever, so she may as well not be angry at all because being angry is giving them the upper hand.

She decides to go with the latter, but keeps her scythe out for appearances.

“Do whatever you want with them. I don’t care. It’s your cave. I’m just here to walk around and criticize everything that I think sucks. Yeah? If you don’t like people going all Cookie9 on your shit, then you’ll have to learn to keep it to yourself, Narrator.”

[thereticentraconteur]

//Oh, fuck, y'- y'nearly hit me! Just asked for you not to do that, you know. I'm gonna step away, a safe distance from your scythe n' shit, then let's keep talki-

*The stalagmite crumbles, and falls almost directly onto Guy's head in a nearly comical fashion, causing them to melt into a puddle again, with only their purple tophat sticking out.*

//OW! FUCK! GOddamnit, that fuckin bites! Owwww! Fuckin'- what was that for?? You knocked that stalagmite into me, I watched it. Goddamn, ow!

*They continue constantly reusing expletives for a while out of pain, but they do stop after about 30 seconds.*

//Fuuck, that was uncalled for! Even if you didn't like the puzzles! That was just plain malicious! Aaaagh. That's gonna sting for a few days. And yeah, I'm gonna redo the cave, just- just gimme a sec. I just need to recollect a sec. Fuuck.

*They slide over to the corner of the cave (which isn't very far away), and start shaping themselves into various abstract sculptures, seemingly as a form of stress relief or calming down.*

[the-haunted-office]

(But isn't this breaking and entering? When I'm from, that's pretty damn illegal. And I don't feel like going to jail again today.)

//It'll be fine! There's nobody to arrest us! The guy who was in here earlier just left, so it's just us! Go ahead and narrate f-

(... is that a fire? Did somebody start a fire in the office?)

//Welp, it's your turn to narrate, have fun! I'm gonna go make a tuna sandwich!

(Wait, I-.... goddamn. Well, here I go again.)

*A low, growly voice starts speaking over the intercom.*

(The ghostly lady of whom I do not know her name, after setting the couch on fire, revealing it to be a raccoon, left the room quickly to escape consequences. What would she do next? Would she recognize the fact she's being narrated by someone new, or would she ignore it?)

[ @thereticentraconteur ! () are gambhorra'ta, // is Guy!]

Doomsday is mighty bored. That's why she set the couch in the employee lounge on fire. The Author wasn't doing her job - which is to write replies and drabbles and such for her and the rest of the muses - AND she had requested that someone light a fire under her ass, and naturally Doom was happy to deliver.

She's still bored, though, although the fact that she is able to express this boredom to the Audience means that the Author is back to work now, so there's at least that.

She's wondering what to do next when she hears the low, growly voice over the speakers.

She stops and listens. Now, her sense of hearing is severely distorted as one of the many wonderful side effects of having her soul digested and turned into soup by the Dampening mist, so she can't actually hear the low, growly voice, not in the way one with typical hearing might. What she does hear is more so what she feels - the vibrations and sound waves that are generated by the voice.

It gives her pause. Those aren't sound waves that she recognizes. And moreover someone is trying to narrate for her.

Hmmm. Perhaps her boredom will be staved off after all.

Grinning, she turns around and goes right back to the employee lounge where the couch is still ablaze. Thisday, who is up in the control booth at this time, is busy trying to simultaneously figure out how to turn on the sprinklers so as to put out the fire and who has hijacked the speaker system.

Still grinning, the Reaper goes and sets the curtains on fire. "I'm waiting for my consequences, Narrator, ehehehehe."

[the-haunted-office]

"'Pent-up smugness'. You know, you didn't know me before we met today, so unless you've broken the fourth wall to get at some knowledge behind it, there's no way you could have known that I can't taste anything. Sorry, but your little show of 'pent-up smugness' here is invalid. I'm calling your bluff. You can't take knowledge gained after the fact and retroactively make it yours," Doomsday huffs, and then goes ahead and upends the entire table of food for good measure. What does it matter? They can just spawn in more food anyway, plus it's a good way of showing what she thinks of their smugness.

"You know what else is boring? Being given inane tasks like not letting a cardboard baby go into a wall of fire, boxes with shapes cut out in it, and being told to destroy wooden replicas of yourself. If deduction is our bread and butter, well, pfft, seems to me you ought to be writing children's books," she snorts, clearly still miffed about having the fact that she can't enjoy any sensory from the world around her rubbed in her face. Conditions she gained from being horrifically and painfully killed in a way she never even had a chance to avoid. She doubts any of that knowledge would change Guy's tune, and even so they don't deserve to know that about her. Not at this point.

"Go on, take your time, I have until the end of the universe and past that, so whatever," she huffs again and goes about throwing individual bits of food at the cave walls.

[thereticentraconteur]

*Distant words can be made out between the shuffling in response to Doom talking.*

//...we already agreed... on fourth wall... are you talking about? One sec...

*After they finish rustling about, they take a couple breaths, and after that... a puddle of green ink forms on the floor. It was very much not there before, however, which was odd.*

*After a few seconds of it lying dormant, it starts to bubble. It does not steam, but it looks like it is boiling. After a few more seconds, a figure comes out from inside of it, emerging from the soup of ink. It's slightly shorter than Doom, and built slightly wider. After the figure finishes emerging from the ink, they shake a lot of it off, revealing they are wearing a teal hoodie and have a dark teal paper bag for a head, with an eye hole cutout. They also wear a purple tophat, with several pins on it.*

//Fuuck, you're taller than me. I was really banking on that I was taller than you. Damnit. Anyway, uhh, hi! Brief confession, I couldn't really see you from up there, I just kind of knew what you were doing. And the general idea of what you looked like, i- I was given a brief rundown, that's really it. You are.. kinda scary.. and that's super cool.

*Their actions and hand gestures are exaggerated and fluid, letting ink drops fall onto the carpet occasionally.*

[the-haunted-office]

"Ohhhh, we agreed on breaking the fourth wall, that's your bloody stupid excuse-" she snarls, rounding on where she hears the voice coming from and stops when she sees the puddle of green ink on the floor. She's more than halfway tempted to go stomping in it just to see what will happen.

The ghost just folds her arms and stands there looking cross instead, having an idea of what - or who - this little puddle is. She certainly isn't put off by it, but why should she be? She's seen and been through much worse than a puddle of green goo on the floor.

As soon as they're fully formed she steps closer. While it's true that Doomsday has lost her sense of sight, that's only in the traditional sense. She can technically still see the world around her, but to her it looks like a bunch of random swirls and blobs of iridescent colors, like looking through a bubble or at the colorful sheen on an oil slick. It took her a while to rewire herself to be able to interpret the colors but now she can "see" every bit as well as she could before - with the addition of being able to see souls. If Guy has a soul, she should be able to see it right now.

Once again she finds herself wishing she still had her eyeballs so that she could roll them. As she does not, she snorts. "Oh, I'm scary, am I? Not scary enough, apparently." She spawns in her scythe and spins it around a few times, even tossing it up into the air before catching it and settling it over her shoulder. "How about now? Are you sure you made the right choice by coming down here to show your face to me, Narrator?"

[thereticentraconteur]

// Yup! Scary. Horrifying, even. I'd go that far. Ohh, haha, cool scythe! Really cool. Love it! What's the blade made of? Haha. Please don't swing that around near me. Nonetheless, yeah, I did! Forgot what it looked like down here. Very drab. Very.. bland. Bleh.

*As Doom looked at Guy's soul, it looks.. flashy. Colorful like the rest of Doom's oil slick vision, yes. But in a different way. It looked fuzzy, or blurry. It waved back and forth like a VHS tape, and cycled through colors like a gradient.*

//You know what, now that I've put some thought into it, I bet I could redo a few of these rooms. Make them more interesting. More flashy! Less plain and boring and drab and blah. You know what I mean, Doom? Like, they're so goddamn boring. Real snoozefest.