whether I escape or die here, I am free
This is an indie, private, 21+ roleplay blog for Miles Upshur of the 2013 video game Outlast
Important links:
RULES
ABOUT
VERSES
recorded by moss (29; she/her) | blogroll: @fanaiceach ; @miswaken
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Stranger Things

tannertan36
almost home
occasionally subtle

PR's Tumblrdome
NASA
Cosimo Galluzzi
Monterey Bay Aquarium
AnasAbdin

if i look back, i am lost
we're not kids anymore.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Love Begins
Three Goblin Art
styofa doing anything
ojovivo

izzy's playlists!
Peter Solarz

#extradirty

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@walriding
whether I escape or die here, I am free
This is an indie, private, 21+ roleplay blog for Miles Upshur of the 2013 video game Outlast
Important links:
RULES
ABOUT
VERSES
recorded by moss (29; she/her) | blogroll: @fanaiceach ; @miswaken

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Miles is my least complicated muse when it comes to matters of sexuality. He’s got issues in other areas in terms of his sense of self, but not this one. Vocally and proudly bisexual and has been since he started yapping about school aged crushes. He’s always been both incredibly stubborn and self assured, so even when his parents — namely his mother — tried to downplay or discourage his feelings he didn’t take that to heart. It was a part of the reason why he became distant with his family once he was out on his own (though it wasn’t the only reason), but he never once turned their disapproval into negative self reflection. His attitude towards people who have a problem with him is and always has been fuck ‘em.
Historically he’s mostly dated men. His longest lasting pre-canon relationship was with a man, and he’ll blame the way it fizzled to on again off again bs before it died on a million different things — his work, the fact that they couldn’t legally get married for most of their relationship, etc etc. Truth is Miles can just be kinda flaky and he’s afraid of commitment! But he tries. Sometimes. Not a big relationship guy these days because of how much baggage he’s got, including being in a longstanding bizarrely psychosexual relationship with the Walrider. But he likes to flirt regardless of gender, and has been known to treat making straight men uncomfortable like an Olympic sport.
Miles very much loves women as well — one of my favorite ships for him to come from this blog was with a woman — but they’ve gotta be okay with a guy who’s a little fruity. Respectfully. In that regard he does also identify and present himself as a man but is pretty ambivalent to masculinity. Doesn’t go out of his way to dress in a gender nonconforming way on the regular (he’s got other things to worry about) but he’s not opposed to it either. Whatever gets people to call him pretty!
it’s 2026 and red barrels is still trying to gaslight me about the outlast timeline
I can’t get enough of this duuuuuudeeee
Alex flicks his thumb over the REC button, ending the test recording as soon as he hears the tone of Miles’ voice. He lets it hang at his side, attention fully centered on Miles and the look on his face, their eyes meeting. The fear in Miles' gaze has him setting the camera down entirely, letting it hit the metal grating. He steps forward slowly, into Miles space and reaches out, cupping his face. “Honestly. . . did not realize how terrified you would be.” Tries to keep Miles’ eyes on him and not the nearby bungee drop. “Shit.” His own gaze darts towards said height and then back to Miles. A laugh that sounds more like a choke escapes him at the suspicious look directed his way. “If part of the plan involved scaring you to death, sure, but I was thinking more along the lines of fun adrenaline spike.” He could kick himself for misjudging it, for assuming things - again. Instead of following that urge he slides his hands down to Miles’ shoulders, and gives a gentle tug towards him and away from the very high up bridge they had just stepped onto. “I’m great at improvising. New plan. Not this one, less high up more grounded.” He remembers the camcorder and glances down towards it then back to Miles. “Lemme just grab the camera.” Alex’s hand slides down the length of his arm, giving a final squeeze to Miles’ hand before he returns for the camcorder sitting innocuously above some hundred foot drop, give or take.
"We really should hammer out our conflicting ideas of fun." Communication is key, right? He's known for a while that Alex is a bit of an adrenaline junkie, prone to chasing the rush of an endocrine high, but he's not sure what about himself gave the indication he's of a similar mind. Just because Miles often finds himself in life or death situations doesn't mean he enjoys them. Well, he doesn't always enjoy them. He can see the appeal of a little danger, the flood of chemicals pulsing across the brain, but he's having a hard time finding that appeal right now.
He shuffles away from the edge and all but presses himself up against Alex, and he's still not convinced this wasn't his plan all along. Needlessly elaborate, though, if so -- it's not as though Miles is opposed to clinging to him when he's not guiding him away from the abyss. Jesus, it's not even that far down, he's pretty sure he's just being a baby right now. He's reluctant to let go of Alex long enough for him to retrieve the camera, but his heart rate is slowly returning to baseline, and he's determined not to look like that much of a loser.
"You, uh, you don't have to call the whole thing off. If this is something you wanted to do." His mouth feels a little dry at the thought of Alex going over the edge with or without him, but that's his own problem. Miles manages a crooked smile. "You know me, always happy to watch."

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'No one knows the way out,' he almost argues, but Ethan stays quiet. Quiet as a mouse. He knows when to do that and let the world continue turning, at least he likes to think so.
It's something he's had to learn the hard way.
"I do," Ethan answers, and he truly does, but he's unsure if he can show this man. He doesn't know if it will be worth the risk. "But you will need to take me with you. Out of here, I mean. It is dangerous to bring you that far. There will be no way back for me."
He is not lying. Ethan isn't even completely sure if he will be able to get them safely to the upper levels with all of this chaos, let alone getting back after he's done it.
The least the man can do is let him tag along.
Great, just what he needs. A plus one. Because Miles has been having such a great time covering his own ass, having another person to worry about will make it so much easier. Even if the patient doesn't slow him down, there's a good chance he'll either get in Miles' way or just make it harder to move quietly -- and that's to say nothing of the fact that he might stop being friendly after about five minutes. The last thing the reporter needs is to have someone within limb-ripping-off distance decide he wants to do just that.
Still, it's not like he has another choice. There's no good way out of this room without playing nice. The plan doesn't have to change. Get out of here, get where he needs to go -- or at least closer to it -- then ditch the guy.
"Yeah, alright, fine. But I'm not sticking my neck out for you if it comes to it." Too honest, he really should say less to someone who still might kill him, but Miles lacks a filter at the best of times. And these times have certainly not been the best. He leaves the file folder on the desk -- it hadn't contained anything interesting -- and pockets the battery he'd found rattling around in the back of a drawer. Then he steps tentatively out from behind the desk, like he's approaching a scared animal he's half expecting to bite. "Lead the way."
a reporter. that gets her attention if it wasn't already enraptured. imagination is already running wild with what could be lurking within the shadows. once you had seen something you weren’t meant to see, you never stopped chasing that feeling. trying to validate your own experiences when the rest of the world seemed determined to convince you otherwise.
didn’t help that polaris was still strangely active in the back of her mind, almost restless. what’s got you so worked up? she queries. polaris only half responds, he’s hiding more. neither of them can tell what. not super surprising to jesse though. she hides plenty of things; such is the life of one with basically nobody left to trust.
they look down at his hand and visibly pause. one is clearly missing — not just missing, a stub. how in the goddamn fuck does a reporter lose their finger? she tries to shake the thought out of her mind as fast as possible. that’s a very bad line of thinking to start wandering down if she wants to keep her cool. ❛ jesse. ❜ she tentatively gives his hand a shake. ❛ so, miles, do you actually know where you’re going or do you want some help? ❜ they don’t trust him to start wandering around and not accidentally alert security, given his stunning display of acrobatics earlier.
His profession garners all manner of reactions. Some people get defensive, feeling -- often rightfully so -- that he's going to go sticking his nose in their business. Most people don't care, or crack some kind of joke about money and morals and the state of modern media. And others take interest, seeing him as a potential source of assistance. Someone who can help tell their story, or at least help them find answers.
Their interest is plain, and Miles already knows he's probably going to have to bank on that. Either there's something here that she's already suspicious of, something she wouldn't mind tipping him off to, or there's some other area of her life calling for a second scrutinizing set of eyes.
He just hopes that whatever it is, it aligns with his own goals. It'd make this a hell of a lot easier, not that Miles is ever so lucky.
Unfortunately, the way she hesitates before taking his hand is also plain. It's the finger thing, he's certain of it. And even if it's not, that's the assumption his mind latches to. He shoves his other hand into his jacket pocket, doesn't want the prolonged stare if they realize he's sporting a matching set of mutilation. Miles puts up with a lot, can grit his teeth through just about anything, but there's something about being reminded of just how wrong he is that makes him itch.
But Jesse doesn't comment, and that's a small relief -- even if his shoulders remain defensively tensed. "I mean, it's a hospital, they've usually all got the same layout." Somewhere there's a nurse's station, unmanned at this hour, with computers and patient records. That's the easiest way to start digging, but also the most risky. He's got help for the tech -- bypassing passwords, scrambling camera feeds -- but he's always loathe to spread himself too thin on jobs like this. Better to keep things as internal as possible. "But it'd be nice if I didn't have to wander around hoping to get lucky." He smiles a bit and raises a brow, a completely unsubtle hint that he's asking for a guide. "Wouldn't want to interrupt mop duty, though."
the human brain is so cool, if you're tired and stressed enough, your brain will go, "don't worry, I got you" and shadows will start moving
and what's the genital situation on the shadows
oh this is my post
Oscar Isaac’s Criterion Closet Picks
but actually the attempt to reasonably nerf the other protags (waylon limping for a chunk of the dlc, blake having limited sprint stamina and needing bandages after taking major damage) while miles’ repeated suffering has zero impact on gameplay until the last thirty seconds will always be funny to me

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Outlast 1:
Outlast Whistleblower:
*tips fedora with homicidal intent*
𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 : the rules are simple ! post ten characters you’d like to roleplay as , have role-played as , and might bring back . then tag ten people to do the same ( if you can’t think of ten characters, just write down however many you can and tag the same amount of people ) . aside from that, please repost instead of reblogging !
𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬:
in chronological order to the best of my memory
my Warrior Cats oc Mosspath, and at least one canon character (I think it was Jayfeather but it was so long ago I’ve forgotten)
Turbo from Wreck It Ralph
a ghost bride and groom Haunted Mansion oc duo
Ram and Roy Kleinberg from Tron
Elsa from Frozen
Syrena from Pirates of the Caribbean
Poe Dameron from the Star Wars sequel trilogy
Miles Upshur from Outlast
Quentin Beck / Mysterio from the MCU
Geoffrey McCullum from Vampyr
Felix Richter from Dead By Daylight
Alice Wake from the Remdyverse
𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬:
no one at the moment, but I’ll list off some of the muses that never got off the ground:
this blog was originally set up to be for the archangel Gabriel from Supernatural
Alice’s blog was set up as Jesse Faden from Control and sat untouched for months before I switched to Alice as my Remedy muse (there was a period where I was also considering writing Scratch or diver Zane before I settled on Alice)
Bucky Barnes from the MCU had a blog I never used
Marty McFly from Back to the Future, same story
Henry Stein from the Bendy games, I think I only saved a url that’s long gone now
Victoria Frankenstein from the Dark Universe section of the newest Universal park. got the blog all set up but didn’t have it in me to try to find a fandom
𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤:
I’ve tried unsuccessfully to revive my Tron and Haunted Mansion blogs in the last couple years, but at this point I’m content w my lil trio roster and don’t expect that to change any time soon. I abandoned my blogs either bc fandoms dried up or people were shitty so I don’t really have a lot of drive to beat dead horses lol
tagged by: @drxmxtispersonxe ty for the walk down memory lane
tagging: @cyberpawn, @narrated, @bellytochin, anyone else who wants a go <3
she can't help the smile creeping onto her features at his reaction. yes, it was an intentionally cheeky comment. all of the employees know which patients are potentially troublesome, even a lowly janitor like herself, but it's the proof she was after. ❛ aha! ❜ they exclaim with glee. ❛ i knew it. ❜ maybe it was a little bit of validation too, seeing a guy scared just at the concept of some old people wandering around. the number of times she'd been told that a girl couldn't work nights because she'd get too scared. they have no clue what i've handled, she thought to polaris.
they lean in closer to him, eyes narrowing. polaris had been rumbling in the back of her mind this whole time, which they had chalked up to a strange newcomer. that interest hadn't gone away though. was there something else to him? something else that made him special too? ❛ why are you really here? ❜ her voice is softer now, inquisitive more than mischievous. if he's like her and whatever he's trying to do means sneaking in, maybe he knows something. maybe he also knows about the bureau.
Well, so much for that. It was a flimsy cover story anyway -- he wasn't expecting it to last, he'd just hoped to at least get out of this conversation before it fell apart. Sleepwalking patients would've been a good lead, too good to pass up, but he probably should've realized they were only fucking with him.
Miles leans away as she leans closer, and he's halfway to saying something about the unwanted proximity when he pauses. Closer up, there's a sort of... shifting, about her. Subtle, but present. The back of his neck prickles. It could be nothing, just another showing of the latent paranoia he hasn't been able to shake since Mount Massive. But Miles has always been one to trust his hunches, and this particular one is backed up by the responding shifting he feels along his own spine.
"I'm a reporter," he says, closer to the truth than the bullshit hospital worker bit, but still not all of it. "There's something... here, I think. Could just be a couple patients, or it could be the whole thing." The latter seems less likely than the former, but it's not always easy to see Murkoff's fingerprints even when they're everywhere.
"Miles, by the way." He sticks out a four-fingered hand. He could've given a fake name, probably should have, but weird supernatural tingling aside, he knows that look she's giving him. That glimmer of piqued interest. They're not going to rat him out, at least not yet.
@walriding asked something from this
Alex is trying to get his newest camcorder working that he'd purchased. The last one had an unfortunate accident while he and Miles had decided to use it in a test run while recording. Honestly, it was for the best since it justified him buying a newer model. He's currently turning it over in his hands, eyeing the display as he powers it on.
Across from him, Miles is eyeing the drop below them considering the height at which they are standing.
Just as Alex hits record to see how the footage will look on playback, Miles says;
"𝙸’𝚖 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚝."
He grins, chin tucked in against his chest as he centers Miles in frame and captures the dismayed but wry twist to his lips.
“Hey, you were the one who wanted to spend quality time together.” Alex points out with amusement clear to hear in his voice. “Besides, lots of people do this and basically no one ever dies.” His reassuring words probably fall a little short.
"Yeah, y'know, when most people say 'quality time' they usually mean dinner or a movie. Or sex. Not this." He makes a dismayed little noise at Alex's assertion that their chances of death are low but not zero.
Historically, Miles hasn't done well where those stats are concerned.
To the good, this whole situation is forcing him to look at Alex and Alex only. Maybe that's the fucked up point of this version of quality time, he's not really sure. All he knows is that if he looks down again he might throw up. Or cry. Or both. Which wouldn't exactly be good for his image.
"I'm afraid of heights. Have I ever told you that I'm afraid of heights? Like, really really afraid of heights?" Must've slipped his mind, because he doesn't think Alex is the sort of person who'd intentionally torture him. Or maybe he is, and this whole exercise was designed to show Miles what kind of sadist he's been hanging out with. He narrows his eyes at Alex, moderately suspicious all of a sudden. "Or maybe this is all part of your plan."

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The new world was one that he did not expect.
Then again, the bombs falling was also something he didn't expect; to be torn away from a world he knew and cast into the dark with the one man that he'd been trying to stop from continuously killing a bunch of innocent people. It'd been a long seven years, the first few essentially torture. The affirmations that it was all his fault that the world as he knew it was destroyed, his fault that the people he was closest to were all dead, his fault his fault HIS FAULT-
The Judge shakes his head; ridding the thoughts from his mind as he refocuses on the tracks on the ground. A gloved hand lowers, fingers carefully touching the corners of the imprint in the soft earth, studying the shape with knowing and clever eyes.
A voice from behind him pulls him from his study, ragged from years of silence, much like he. Miles, an old friend from Hope Country, from before. One man he thought died.
"Not prey..." The Judge rasps. It hurts to talk these days, but anyone would find the action hard when your throat had been slit. "Won't be gored...I'm here." Finally, he pushes himself to his feet, adjusting his bow over his shoulder as he finally turns his masked face to the other.
"Tracks go North. Irradiated cougar."
It was something of a rhetorical comment -- it's not like actually getting gored would be more than a temporary setback -- but the response is... comforting, in a strange way. Familiar. He'd been just as impervious to death back then, too, not that the Deputy had known it. And maybe Miles had liked letting the other man cover his ass. Protect him, whether he needed it or not. Just because he needs it even less now doesn't mean the sentiment is lacking.
The thought makes his lips twitch, though he isn't sure whether to smile or frown so mostly ends up looking additionally disgruntled. It's been too long without socialization, even of this bizarrely stunted variety, and he doesn't know how to feel about it. How to let himself feel about it.
He looks North instead, away from the Judge's impassive mask, and frowns for real this time.
"And why is this our problem?" The Judge didn't ask Miles to tag along, and yet here he is tacking himself on and making this a collective outing -- only to regret it as the task unfolds. His voice flattens slightly, along with his expression. "Everything is irradiated. One cougar won't make a difference."
Ethan was skulking through the halls, not quite lost, but definitely aimless as he made his way through the rows of similar-looking offices. He had done his best to avoid confrontation, too afraid to be put back where he came from, but was not quite sure where to hide. And besides that, his legs would be too restless to sit still.
He is just as startled as the stranger is when they cross paths, slowly raising his hands in surrender as the man starts speaking to him.
At first he isn't sure he's hearing him right, but then he slowly lowers his hands back down when he's sure the man said that he is not there to do harm.
"Everyone here hurts me," Ethan answers, rubbing at his arm, sore and blistered from strange injections for maladies he didn't believe he had.
He looks at him wide-eyed and paranoid for a moment, seems to make up his mind about something, then tilts his head in confusion at the mention of Martin.
"Father Martin? You shouldn't -- I wouldn't trust him if I were you."
Ethan fidgets for a moment, then smiles, "Maybe I could help?"
Miles laughs at the patient's words in spite of himself. A short, humorless noise, bitter around the edges. "Yeah, I know the feeling." Some of the Variants have tried talking to him, others avoid him, but the vast majority have seemed hell bent on gutting him like a fish. The last time Miles trusted someone in here -- trust being a generous term, it wasn't like he'd had anywhere else to run -- he'd lost two fingers.
He doesn't expect this to go any better, but again, he's trapped between a rock and a hard place. Playing along might at least get him out of this room, and then he can bolt. All that jogging's really been paying off tonight.
"I don't trust him. But the bald bastard dragged me in here, and I'd like to imagine that means he knows the way out." Which might be something between optimism and delusion at this point. "He said something about getting to the upper levels -- you know how to get up there?"