gleem-eater

FLAWED SENSORIUM -- There's water dripping somewhere in your house. Or is that a clock ticking? Dice clatter to the left of your head inside of the wall. Footsteps lurk behind you. Your back burns against the couch. Hotter and hotter. Remember to pay attention to your surroundings.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] -- Your back is facing a wall, behind the wall is outside the house. You know the location of every human being in this house. It's impossible for anyone to be behind you.

GIRL YOU'VE NEVER TALKED TO BEFORE -- "I guess, I want to say that I'm happy to have someone to talk to about this kind of thing. All of my friends are part of this. This nightmare. I feel like I've been trapped in my head. Thanks. Thank you so much."

MARQUESS DE SADE -- She's caught up in the flow of talking to you and likely won't stop for another ten to fifteen minutes. If you tell her you don't really care right now or lie and say that you're sending all of this to her friend, you'd get to see a unique moment of vulnerability play out on your screen. Time it just right and you might be able to get her to send you pictures of her tears. Tear her open.

ETHICS ENGINE [Easy: Failure] -- There's probably a reason why you shouldn't do that, but you can't think of it.

VITREOUS TEMPERAMENT [Challenging: Success] -- You've not seen enough of her. There's more of her to see. If you do something like that, you'll not get to see as much of her. Not in as much detail, as least. You can betray her later, there's more to see now.

CLOCKWORK SOUL -- Sufficient time (5.6 seconds) has passed. She needs to see a typing indicator to believe you're still present, and you need to craft a response.

1. "I'm just happy to help."

2. "Ah, ha ha. That's funny. You know I'm gonna send all this to Ellie, right?"

3. "What should I call you, by the way? You never gave me a name."

4. [Vitreous Temperament - Medium 10] Press her further. Ask more questions. She has more to give.

YOU -- "I'm just happy to help."

Her typing indicator disappears. Several seconds pass.

FLAWED SENSORIUM -- A ringing in the distance pierces through the fog of quiet, it's time to move the food out of the oven. Your mother calls out your name and you realize you never did put your laundry away. Upstairs through floorboards that hum with rats and water, the distinctive notes of your phone's alarm can be heard. Dun dun, dun dun.

TACTILE FIXATION -- You're holding your phone in your left hand. The plastic case molds around your fingers and you've begun to chip away at the rubber with your mess of a thumbnail. You crave to feel it all shatter in your teeth but fingers suffice.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] -- Your phone can't possibly be upstairs, as you're holding it.

GIRL YOU'VE NEVER TALKED TO BEFORE -- "Yeah. Ok. Um. Sorry to. Leave suddenly. I should probably go. I should have left ten minutes ago. Nice talking to you. Thank you. Thank you very much. Bye!"

SOCIETAL INDUCTION -- [Medium: Success] She expected more. There was a spark holding her like a duck in a bottle. Pressure vacuum sucks inward. How do you get it out? But it disappeared. She realized she could simply imagine something different. She remembered she didn't really know you. You're not really friends. And she felt awkward when she realized it so she stepped away. Left.

VITREOUS TEMPERAMENT -- There was more you could have taken from her. This didn't need to be the ending.

PATTERN MATCHING -- she probably hates you now and you'll never ever talk to her again and she'll tell all her friends how weird and off-putting you are and she'll never ever ever ever talk to you again

DAMAGED MORALE -1

TACTILE FIXATION -- Sweat accumulates in the gaps between your fingers. Rub them back and forth and feel rubbery skin fold and flap against itself. You can almost hear the sound it makes through your bones.

THE MASK SPEAKS -- Are you what you claim to be? Can you possibly be said to be real? Everything you are is a trick of the light. Come close I have things to convince you.

[] -- it's too loud in here