17.4 jellyfish in a dazai coat

industrial pipes

water treatment plants

Those metal stairs on the side of old buildings

Rusted girders

Bare lightbulbs especially dangling from wires

Broken pavement that has been patched and crumbled away over and over again

Bridges

Railroad tracks

Telephone poles full of staples and nails

old brick walls with the paint peeling off

places where a wall has been patched over and over again

concrete blocks

old fluorescent lights

Crappy motels

Empty strip malls

Tunnels underneath the road

Gates with old padlocks wrapped around them

Barbed wire

rebar poking out of piles of concrete

Bundles of wires running along ceilings and walls dividing up into their own directions

Air conditioning units huffing out warm breath

Narrow alleyways between old buildings

Long-abandoned concrete planters and flowerpots filled with cigarette butts and random scraggly weeds

Old apartment buildings with tarnished metal letters on the thickly repainted old doors and porch lights full of dead bugs and doors that stick shut

Grimy windows

Bent and rusty metal roofs

Things covered in many many layers of paint

Abandoned warehouses

Streetlights that flicker weirdly

Crumbled stairs

Half collapsed Chain link fences

Old walls that have been repaired and caulked and sealed with foam and painted over again

It feels like a secret buried deep in the bedrock of Kris, to them a horrible and terrible truth they did not want to confront, did not want anyone to see, but they cannot remove and cannot truly escape.

Like

This is it. This is how it feels. Add on the dissociative perspective and abilities of the player and I don't know how this can possibly be anything else except precisely what I experienced as a child, saddled with and fumbling dominant societal roles I never asked for and can't understand. This is the thing that kept me awake at night and caused me unending misery, hollowed me out and blasted away at my surface until there was nothing left but rubble, haunted me like a banshee. And yet felt like I could say nothing about because how could it possibly be that something this simple was one of the major causes of my grief?

Me in 2016: I’m still salty about that