[EVENT] Memory Tapes

[vrdr_mods]

On the morning of November 21st, denizens in the Velvet Room will awake to a message on their phones or by their bedsides in an envelope. Perhaps even on their computer screens.

Greetings! If you've received this message, then you've been selected as a participant in a new activity to strengthen bonds within this community.

In order to facilitate connections with your fellow residents, we advise you to watch this video. Watch it and return the tape to its rightful owner. If you lacked the means to watch VHS tapes before, we have provided you with the necessary equipment.

Failure to do so may put your own memories at risk. Do not be selfish, lest you find yourself struggling to recall crucial moments of your life. You have no way of knowing which memories have been shared, so ask yourself if it is worth the risk to selfishly hoard another's secrets.

They will soon find a VHS tape, with a case that gives off a soft, blue glow to symbolize its importance. If they lack a TV or VCR, they will find one in their living space.

What they do is up to them, but they should heed the warning, if they value their own memories.


[For links to characters' memories, please see this post in the OOC comm. Have fun!]

Comments

2/2- right on maruki's protest

[linkclickakira]

Akira moved quietly through the cold, sterile corridors, the hum of the air conditioning louder than ever in his ears. His earlier unease had begun to morph into something else—a strange, almost childlike curiosity which felt highly misplaced in an unsettling place such as this.

The further he went, the more bizarre this portion of the Palace became. It was as if he’d stumbled into a forgotten place, an area that Maruki himself had abandoned. Shadows patrolled lazily, muttering incoherently under their breaths, but Akira’s movements were quick and precise, a silent glide from corner to corner.

His boots made little sound as he crept along the edge of a wall, his borrowed lab coat fluttering faintly as he passed one darkened hallway after another before the light started giving way. Growing more polished by the second as he sprinted down a very inclined set of white stairs.
His focus was unwavering, eyes sharp and alert with his dagger and a gun strapped to his shoulder—until something stopped him in his tracks.

A void.

Akira blinked. At first, he thought it was a trick of the low light, but no—the hallway ahead didn’t simply end. It dissolved. A chunk of this area had been ripped out, like a missing piece of a puzzle. Beyond the jagged edge where tile and concrete abruptly stopped, there was only black, an oppressive nothingness swallowing whatever had once been here.

“The hell…?” Akira whispered under his breath.

Despite himself, he stepped closer, drawn to the strange scene. The edges of the broken room were frayed and uneven, as though the Palace itself had been violently torn. There was a sense of collapse here, as if time and purpose had disintegrated and left only this wreckage behind.

He stepped into what remained of the space. The air was colder here. Papers littered the floor in messy heaps, some stained and torn. Broken lab equipment lay scattered—test tubes shattered like fragile ice, microscope lenses cracked and clouded with dust. A few chairs were overturned, their legs bent awkwardly.

“Some kind of… lab?” Akira murmured, his voice barely audible. He knelt to the floor, curiosity tugging at him. Amid the papers, one stood out: an almost-burnt journal entry or some sort of lab report, the edges charred but the middle still legible.

He picked it up carefully, holding it close to his face in the dim light. Words were scrawled across the page in hurried handwriting.

“...the maze is incomplete. Patterns unstable… yet it still reacts to the mind’s intent…”

Akira furrowed his brow, flipping through more of the scattered documents. Half-burned reports, calculations, diagrams of something resembling tangled corridors. Words like “cognitive construction,” “Azathoth integration,” and “initial parameters” jumped out at him, but nothing made total sense.

“Maruki… What the hell were you doing here?”

He straightened up, clutching the journal entry as he scanned the ruined space again. His mind buzzed. The maze design sounded familiar—like a concept Maruki had toyed with in his own universe but it was far different. Those were linked to photos. Not magic or the cognitive mumbo jumbo this place was built on. But here… it was raw. Broken. Dangerous.

Before he could dig any further, a voice snapped through the silence.

“Hey!”

Akira froze.

A Shadow researcher stood at the room’s entrance, wearing a pristine lab coat. Its face was obscured beneath that uncanny mask Shadows often wore, but its posture was sharp, suspicious.

“What are you doing here?” the researcher demanded, stepping forward. Its voice was clipped, low, and reverberated faintly like static. “This area is off-limits to unauthorized personnel.”

Akira’s heart jumped to his throat, but his expression remained cool. What the fuck- He slipped the journal page into his coat pocket with a flick of his wrist before spinning around to face the Shadow.

“Ah, my bad!” Akira raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture of sheepishness, flashing an awkward grin. “Guess I got turned around. You know how it is. Big palace. Lots of corridors.”

The Shadow didn’t move. Its head tilted slightly, unblinking.

Akira cleared his throat, straightening his coat with feigned authority. “I’m, uh, here for the cause, obviously.” He waved vaguely behind him as if the wrecked lab explained itself. “I was just… double-checking inventory. Can’t have too much trouble, right?”

There was a beat of silence. The Shadow took a step closer.

“You’re an intern?”it asked skeptically.

Akira nodded quickly. “Yup. Totally. Big fan of the work being done here.”

The Shadow regarded him carefully, and Akira fought to keep his easygoing mask intact. He could almost feel it scrutinizing him, the silence dragging out for far too long. Then—

“Why are you wearing a lead supervisor’s coat?”

Akira blinked.

“...Huh?”

The Shadow’s mask seemed to narrow in suspicion, its voice turning sharp. “The coat. That’s not standard intern issue.”

Akira glanced down at himself, a sinking feeling in his gut. The lab coat. The one he’d stolen. Of course it looked important—high-quality stitching, extra pockets, some frilly insignia on the cuff. Lead supervisor.

“Uh...I am his...favourite intern?”

The Shadow took another step closer. Its head cocked again, sniffing faintly at the air, the motion alien and unsettling.

"...Your scent...”

Akira stared, his brows furrowing. Scent? What the hell was it talking about?

“Okay, that’s weird,” he muttered under his breath. He took a step back instinctively, fingers flexing near the hilt of his dagger, already planning the fastest route out.

The Shadow suddenly stiffened. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Uh-oh.

Before the Shadow could react further, Akira darted. With a sharp spin on his heel, he lunged for the nearest corner around the hallway sprawled before the otherwise destroyed void or room, his coat flaring out behind him as he sprinted.

“Intruder alert!” the Shadow roared, its voice echoing through the darkened corridors.

Akira’s pulse spiked as alarms blared to life, red warning lights flickering across the ceiling. Shadows stirred somewhere beyond the hallway, their voices rising in angered, distorted calls.

“Fantastic,” Akira hissed, leaping over the broken equipment as he bolted for the nearest door. “I’m not getting paid enough for this.”

The echoes of pursuing footsteps grew louder as he looks over a certain legend mounted on the top that read a few different locations marked like how some hospitals or labs posessed.

His eyes locked onto Reception and the chaos screeching in the phone call earlier.

Corvus.

That has to be it.