Author: Lurina

023: INTERMISSION ∞ 1 - The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere | Royal Road

Please take note: this content of this scene originally took place on a higher plane over the course of a relative 0.0003 seconds, largely through the medium of pulses of light in an area of ultra-compressed, abnormal space. Due to the difficulty of conveying or translating this literally, it has been adapted into something comprehensible by human beings, with only an estimated 61% information loss. Please accept our apologies for this inconvenience, and try your best to enjoy the content regardless.

Thank you.

<You are seated in a comfortable plush chair in a dark chamber, surrounded by rows of the same in all directions. Though the room is evidently quite large, it difficult to tell quite how large it is, because you cannot make out the walls and ceiling, which seem too distant for the limited light to reach. As far as you can tell, the seating continues infinitely into the distance, until your eyes can no longer make it out.>

<Other than yourself, you can see no other people in the room, and it has only one notable feature. Not too far ahead of you, give or take 12 rows, is medium-sized stage, with the curtains, a shade of dark purple and covered a design meant to resemble the roots of a tree, drawn shut.>

<Why are you here?>

<Isn't that obvious?>

<Suddenly, a spotlight, bright and vivid, lights the center of the stage, followed by another, and then another. The curtains draw back. With applause from the audience, two figures step forward. From Stage Right comes a tall man in a brown suit, with shaggy black hair and a serious expression. He is the DIRECTOR. From Stage Left comes a short woman in a fanciful white-gold dress, carrying a bag, with sharp cut blonde hair and a playful expression. She is the PLAYWRIGHT.>

<They both move Downstage Center, and bow before looking forward, towards the audience.>

PLAYWRIGHT: <waving her hand> Thank you, thank you! Goodness gracious, what a spectacular turnout tonight. Just outstanding. I'm humbled to see so many people sharing in our enthusiasm for this project. Humbled.

DIRECTOR: <skeptically, squinting> I don't really see much of an audience--

PLAYWRIGHT: <interrupting> Let me start by thanking all of you for coming out tonight. We hope, from the deepest recesses of our hearts, that you've been enjoying the production so far. And I know, I know! It's been a tad bit slow. If you've been feeling a little bored, put off that there haven't been any good deaths yet, any bouts of grisly violence to break up the meandering conversations and general pedantic waffling, then I want you to know: I understand completely. I can't begin to express how much I'm on your side of the court with this one.

DIRECTOR: It's a little unprofessional to bring this up right away, don't you think?

PLAYWRIGHT: Personally, I fought for those sort of changes! You know-- In my draft, there was going to an explosion that would stop the lift they were all on half way up, and then the room would be flooded by a mob of violent insurgents! And then there was this epic battle sequence where they'd have to fight their way to the central chamber, and reactive the engines. I wrote this part where... Oh, bloody hell, what's she called...? The blonde one who's all prudish, er...

DIRECTOR: <flatly> Ophelia.

PLAYWRIGHT: <snapping her fingers> Right, right, that one. I had this nasty scene put together where her arm got stuck in the elevation mechanism and everyone went, 'oh no, we have to help her!' and so they rushed to try and disable it, but it was already too late, and-- Oh, I wrote this delightfully piquant description of the moment, the prose just flowed beautifully. Hold on, I think I have it here...

DIRECTOR: This really isn't necessary.

PLAYWRIGHT: <withdrawing a folded-up sheet of paper from her pocket, then speaking with excitement> Here we go, here we go. Ahem. "Suddenly, the chamber is filled with the terrible screech of metal grinding against metal. Ophelia cries out, her girlish voice filled with pure dread, as the bone of her forearm arm first creaks, then crunches like pork crackling bitten into by hungry mouths, the splinters pushing out towards the flesh until, with a foreboding wet tearing, it is pulled..." <scanning paper closely> Er, hold on, I think I might've had to redo this next part...

DIRECTOR: <with disgust> I imagine they get the idea. Everyone is very impressed, I'm certain.

PLAYWRIGHT: Of course, a certain someone saw fit to excise all of this from the final draft. So now what we have is a straight half hour of nothing happening, which I'm sure everyone found quite thrilling.

DIRECTOR: <annoyed> It's not "nothing happening", it's allowing for foreshadowing and character development. And it would have been structurally incoherent. Narratives based around mystery and intrigue must start at a slow pace, and then slowly escalate over time, capitalizing on the growth of dramatic tension. One cannot insert an action sequence in the midst of such a thing and then return to the normal narrative without the entire thing suffering from tonal dissonance.

PLAYWRIGHT: <imitating his voice with mockery> "Structurally incoherent! Dramatic tension! Tonal dissonance!" <shaking her head> Honestly, it's shocking me how little you understand modern storytelling. Only pretentious people care about this sort of technical nonsense. The average person, they want momentum! Thrills! <addressing the audience> I'm so terribly sorry about this, everyone. I do what I can, but there's only so much one can do working under such interminable conditions.

DIRECTOR: Are you quite finished?

PLAYWRIGHT: I just don't understand it! Really, I don't. After all, we've had things like that in the previous scenarios, or concepts even more extreme! And you never complained then.

DIRECTOR: Yes, but that was when we had a bit more room to... <sighing, rubbing his brow> Never mind. We need to stop obsessing about errata and get to the point.

PLAYWRIGHT: "Errata," he says. <rolling her eyes> Fine. How should we start this?

DIRECTOR: First thing, we ought to introduce ourselves. Otherwise none of this will make any sense whatsoever.

PLAYWRIGHT: Introduce ourselves? Don't they already know who we are already, from the last scenario? The one you made me throw out because it was "too unstable", or whatever it was you said.

DIRECTOR: <rubbing his eyes> No, we didn't. They weren't even supposed to see it.

PLAYWRIGHT: Oh. Typical. <turning to the audience, smiling> In that case, I should be happy to! Ladies and gentlemen - and people of other gendered persuasions, or lack thereof - allow me to present myself humbly before you. I have the honor of serving as the "playwright", for lack of a better word, of this production. My role is that of, at the risk of indulging in a little self-flattery, an artiste. I design the core scenario, along with all scripted events and twists, and am also responsible for the consistency of the setting itself. I hope very much that you have been taking joy of work thus far!

DIRECTOR: <formally> And I am the director of the production. It is my role to put her work into practice. I maintain the setting, direct the flow of events along their assigned course, and perform edits to elements of the scenario should they turn out to be, shall we say, unviable.

PLAYWRIGHT: That you believe are unviable, you mean.

DIRECTOR: <ignoring her> In other words, while my colleagues role can be considered architectural, mine is managerial, with elements of improvisation. Together, we are responsible for the overwhelming majority of duties pertaining to the continuance of scenario planning and orchestration. <quieter> Not as though that means much at this point.

PLAYWRIGHT: Now that we've got to that out of the way, we can move on to the matter at hand! <she looks at him> We can, can't we?

DIRECTOR: Yes.

PLAYWRIGHT: And we said I could do the speech this time, right? We did say that.

DIRECTOR: <sighing> Yes.

PLAYWRIGHT: Spectacular! <clearing her throat> Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why we've stopped the performance in the middle like this. While I apologize if this has damaged your immersion, there's no need to panic! This will just be a brief interruption. We'll be back to the real story before you know it, just as soon as we clear up a couple of matters.

DIRECTOR: In order to ensure that your participation in the experiment is even potentially useful, some elements must be clarified. This was established in a much earlier iteration.

PLAYWRIGHT: Oh, come now. You're only going to make their eyes glaze over if you insist on putting it so technically. <turning back to the audience> As much as I hope you've been enjoying the narrative up until this point - in spite of the problems we discussed - there are, unquestionably, a few more fundamental issues. As my friend pointed out overall, the genre at hand is mystery. But what, indeed, is the qualification that makes a mystery?

<Several moments pass in silence. The expression of the PLAYWRIGHT slowly becomes more dejected.>

DIRECTOR: Are you expecting me to say something?

PLAYWRIGHT: ...I confess I rather was hoping you would, yes. Just to make this a little less dry.

DIRECTOR: But I have no way of knowing what you expect me to answer.

PLAYWRIGHT: <with a exaggerated sigh> Nevermind. Of course, I'm talking about solvability! What defines a mystery is the ability for those witnessing it to put the clues together themselves and discover the answer before it's revealed! But here we have the problem.

<She reaches into the bag and withdraws a paper rod. She points it at the DIRECTOR.>

PLAYWRIGHT: Pow! Crrrk! Hiss!

DIRECTOR: <baffled> What exactly are you doing?

PLAYWRIGHT: I'm using magic, of course. <tossing the rod over her shoulder> Well, they don't call it that, but it might as well be. A pseudo-supernatural device, for which no firm logic has been established. For all you know, it could do anything! It could turn the sky into cream, or make everyone think their faces were falling off, or kill someone from a thousand miles away! Fantasy settings are certainly fun, but while something like that exists, how can you possibly have solvability? Wouldn't something have to change, for you to bother thinking about the answer at all?

<The PLAYRIGHT moves to Stage Right. Sighing, the DIRECTOR moves to Stage Left a moment later.>

PLAYWRIGHT: Well, yes. What you need is constraints. Narrative guarantees. So that's what we're here to provide you faithful participants with.

<The PLAYWRIGHT claps her hands. At this signal, from overhead, a black board is lifted by stagehands to Upstage Center, before being placed the ground with a satisfying thunk.>

PLAYWRIGHT: We will now provide you with three rules - no more, no less - that you can trust in absolutely while contemplating the narrative. With these, it should be possible to make reasonable deductions, to an extent, despite the nature of the setting and the ambiguity of its greater circumstances.

DIRECTOR: I think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself. They're not even going to be fully aware of what they ought to deducting, yet.

PLAYWRIGHT: <scoffing> Well, of course not. I'm not expecting them to leap into trying to piece things together right off the bat. But! It will, if nothing else, provide some perspective on what they're saying, and what they might consider worth remembering or thinking about. <indicating the board> Now then, without further delay, our first rule!

<Words suddenly appear on the board in white text, emerging from nothing.>

1. THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE PROTAGONIST IS ALWAYS TRUTHFUL

PLAYWRIGHT: This one isn't quite to do with what I talked about a moment ago, but it's a genre staple regardless. Essentially, everything that you see from first person perspective, from the viewpoint of, er... What is it...?

DIRECTOR: <flatly> ...you can't be serious.

PLAYWRIGHT: I have trouble with human names! You know this. Don't make a scene of it in public.

DIRECTOR: Utsushikome.

PLAYWRIGHT: Right-- Good heavens, though, why does it have to be so lengthy? Quite unnecessary. <looking back to the audience> But yes. Both from this point and retroactively, everything shown from her point of view can be considered completely honest. She will not attempt to mischaracterize reality in her statements. And - since I know some of you will be listening closely for any weasel words here - to be clear, that extends to her internal monologue, too. In no capacity can she lie in her role as the point-of-view character. Though take note: that does not apply to telling lies to others within the scenario! <looking towards DIRECTOR> Was that everything? I always get a bit muddled with this one.

DIRECTOR: You missed the part about witholding information.

PLAYWRIGHT: Oh, right. Tch. <clearing her throat> As a technical exception, she may choose to withold information concerning what is presented, but only if she makes it explicitly clear that she is doing so. For example, at that scene in the graveyard, the name on the gravestone was withheld, but the explanation was made clear within the context.

DIRECTOR: Another thing to consider is that this does not render her a "reliable narrator" in the strictest sense, where she can be trusted to observe all things that she sees accurately and report them in accord. It is possible she may misreport reality, either through assumption or deliberate deception on the part of others.

PLAYWRIGHT: Pay heed to the "on the part of others" there. She cannot deceive herself, such as through a dream, and report it as "her perceptions". That would be a kind of lie, after all. However, this does leave open the possibility of some sort of collective delusion or illusion. Which brings us to the second point!

2. ALL EVENTS FOLLOW THE RULES OF CONVENTIONAL REALITY, UNLESS INDICATED OTHERWISE

PLAYWRIGHT: <wrinkling her brow> Hmmmm, this one is rather difficult to put into words. It's a little abstract...?

DIRECTOR: Allow me to explain. <folding hands together> In essence, all events depicted will follow the physical laws of the universe that the audience is familar with, unless there has been specific signalling to indicate an alternative. For example, all humans are familiar with the idea that, say, the complete destruction of the skull is fatal. And that can be taken as fact. Unless, of course, a quasi-supernatural element is introduced beforehand that indicate that rule might be subverted. A "Skull-Obseleting Arcana", if you will.

PLAYWRIGHT: <clapping> Wow! Amazing! I actually understood what you said!

DIRECTOR: <dryly> Yes, I suspected using a violent example might do the trick. But of course, this tenant can also be applied on a grander scale. For example, it would be impermissible for the audience to be "tricked" by some fundamental strangeness to the way the world operates in order to mask their path to the truth. It must be indicated before it becomes relevant.

PLAYWRIGHT: "Relevant"? "Indicated"? <clicking her tongue> I don't know about that. Those sound an awful lot like weasel words to me.

DIRECTOR: To be explicit, "indicated" means brought up either directly, or indirectly to the point it should be possible to infer. While "relevant" refers to the point in which a deduction must be possible to make for the narrative to remain coherent. Though, of course, there are limits to how absolutely these terms can be defined - at a certain point, good faith is required. Though, the final tenant will serve to offset this somewhat.

PLAYWRIGHT: <grinning> Well then, let's get to it!

3. ALL SYSTEMS INTRODUCED CANNOT BREAK THEIR OWN RULES AS DEFINED WITHIN THE NARRATIVE, UNLESS INDICATED OTHERWISE

PLAYWRIGHT: This one is a bit funny, because it relies on an assurance that's more direct then meta-textual. Essentially, it means two things. Firstly! That any fantastical systems or rules within the story will be explained accurately, unless a character explicitly disagrees at the time, or it's specified otherwise before it becomes important! And secondly, that those rules will never be broken or subverted once set, unless that subversion is explicitly mentioned before it happens!

DIRECTOR: In this case, it might be wise to give a direct example. In case they get the wrong idea.

PLAYWRIGHT: <dismissively> Yes, yes. Well, to pick something at random, you know those three rules of when someone can be attacked by the Power, that what's-her-face explained in her fight? Those can be taken not just as her assumptions or misconceptions, but as absolutes. It might seem a little arbitrary, but that's the rule! Consider it a reassurance from a divine source!

DIRECTOR: It's not entirely unreasonable in a logical sense. After all, almost everyone featured in the scenario is a scholar. They wouldn't be able to say flagrantly untrue things about their reality without it being challenged

PLAYWRIGHT: Oh! Oh, I like that. Excellent hand-wave. Very good.

<The DIRECTOR sighs deeply, already looking exhausted from being in public.>

PLAYWRIGHT: ...and I believe that's everything! With those three unquestionable rules, you should be able to take your first steps in surmising the truth. Keep a critical eye, watch closely, and don't be afraid to revisit earlier sequences, and you'll be well on your way. We have the upmost faith in you!

DIRECTOR: <fatigued> Yes. The upmost faith.

PLAYWRIGHT: But of course, you needn't feel obligated. If you'd prefer so disregard such endeavors, and simply let it all roll over you like a flooding river over an ants nest, then by all means, be my guest! What's most important is that you enjoy the production. Even if, you know, you're some sort of deviant who likes listening to long-winded discussions about politics.

DIRECTOR: Are we done?

PLAYWRIGHT: <annoyed, looking to him> Goodness, you really are determined to be a spoilsport about this. But yes, I believe we are. Thank you all for your patience, and with that out of the way, we leave with a taste of what is to come from our faithful chorus. Once again, please try to enjoy yourselves!

<The audience applauds as the two bow, and then exit Stage Left and Stage Right respectively. A few moments later, a new figure arrives from Stage Left. She is a woman wearing a hyper-modest black dress, covering all flesh from head to toe, and wearing a porcelain mask. This is the CHORUS. She moves to Downstage Center.>

<She begins reading from a script, her voice flat and monotone.>

CHORUS: The battle has begun. Those bold enough to stand in defiance of entropy move to their anointed places, and all possibility of delay or stalemate has been eliminated. Assembled on the side of man is his wisdom, his many tools, and his great will. While assembled on the side of the enemy is that which is and will always remain undefeatable; despair, and inevitability in the face of the infinite.

CHORUS: Who shall be the first to make a move, in this long-ordained confrontation? Who will prove victorious? Will those of mankind unite in the face of opposition, or fall into disharmony and hatred, as has ever been their fatal flaw?

CHORUS: Only the fates may decide the result. So let us bear witness to truth's advent, and know at last if the outcome shall be triumph, or tragedy.

<She lowers the script, bows, and moves to exit Stage Left. The audience applauds with even greater enthusiasm as the lights dim and the curtain closes.>