Pictures, Pictures.
A two-day plot about all the things they don't tell you.
September 11th-12th
The castle is upset, and the night of September 10th, you can just feel it in the air. It’s a certain intensity, a yearning to do something and reach out to people, and something is just calling out to the residents, looking for attention. It feels needy, desperate.
It wants something, and no one can tell
what.And when it doesn’t get what it’s looking for... in retaliation, at midnight, the castle expends some energy to pull memories from people’s heads. A lot of them.
So much so that everyone* is going to suffer from amnesia about their lives. All they can remember is that they are in Paradisa, and their own name.
The castle will steal memories, from faces to names to events to places to times, and turn them into photographs and news articles and name tags and calendar pages and papers and comics and drawings and sounds and movies, and plaster them all over the walls, all over the castle, in no particular order. Everything is on display for everyone else.
Maybe your baby pictures are in the kitchen. Maybe there’s a DVD of your college graduation in one of the towers. Maybe a eulogy is pinned to the front doors, or a poster of the most incredible moment of your life. Maybe there’s a sound recording playing in someone else’s bathroom of your thirteenth birthday. Maybe a television set up in the stairs is playing the stormy night where your life changed.
All, of course, on
public display.
Everything has a small label with the owner’s name on it, but with hundreds of thousands of things scattered everywhere, you may have to ask around, or maybe find weird things of other people’s, first. Whose first date was in a charming little Chinese buffet? Who crashed their car into the neighbour’s picket fence and prized magnolias? Who first made love on the floor during a storm? Who was murdered and reported about in the local newspaper?
It’s interesting to see pieces of other people’s lives. Things you’ve heard, things you’ve known, things you never saw coming. Things you wish they’d told you. Sad things. Funny things. Honest things.
Who are you? Where did you come from? No one knows themselves, but maybe everyone can find themselves and others in the mess.
Of course, at the end of the forty-eight hours, all memories return, but the evidence remains. What to do with it?
On Sunday night, residents can have a huge bonfire on the lawn to destroy all the things people don’t want a physical record of. It’s so bittersweet, to see your memories go up in flames, but who needs them when they’re safe in your head?
You can tuck things into your pockets, and hide them in your closet, or stash them away so you can keep them, if you’d like.
*Participation: It IS opt-in, because we understand juggling a lot of characters can be crazy during plots like this, but please, please, join in. It’s more fun if everyone’s going around with this.
Goals: New CR, and canon exposure