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⬣//JUST AS A SEED TAKES ROOT.
A team of four courageous adventurers managed to unearth a secret Area unique from the others: the Hulle Granz Cathedral. Unlike other Areas, this one is lacking all the usual monsters, dungeons, and treasure. What might the purpose of this Area be, then...?
Well, if you’re feeling penitent or perhaps wish to hold a sermon of your own, head to Hidden Forbidden Holy Ground and knock yourself out. What? Too soon?
Anyway, be not afraid! The cathedral is perfectly safe. Following Ganymede’s little incident in the cathedral, a timely email has been sent out to beta testers regarding health and safety that reads as follows:
To our beta team,
Please exercise caution when playing video games for extended periods of time. Take breaks every thirty minutes and do not sit in the same position for more than two hours at a time. Remember to stay hydrated and play in a well-lit environment.
Failing to take care of your health while gaming can result in a litany of health complications, including but not limited to eye strain, muscle fatigue, headaches, dizziness, and involuntary loss of consciousness and motor functions.
We take the health and safety of our beta testers very seriously. If you have any concerns, please contact us at cccorp.ccmail.com.
Thank you for your continued efforts,
CyberConnect Corporation of Japan.
Guilds have been patched into the current version of Fragment and are now available for players to create their own and join others. While some guilds have opted to go the private route, others are in need of players to fill their ranks!
The admins have kindly supplied those recruiting for their shiny new guilds with a number of goodies to aid in their player gathering efforts:⬣ A bundle of personalized flyers proudly displaying their guild logo and a description of the guild’s @ home and available amenities.
⬣ Party poppers and streamers. Nothing screams “join my guild!” like a face full of glitter, confetti, and colorful strips of ribbon.
⬣ A megaphone that lets your voice echo far and wide, even across Root Towns and Areas, but with great potential for abuse comes restrictions! The megaphone can only be used five times before it breaks. Use it wisely!
⬣ A unique recipe for a cocktail, latte, tea, or other type of beverage that can be blended up and served in little sample cups to court potential members. These drinks are unique to their guilds and, when consumed, have a special effect that reflects the leader of that guild. Is your guild leader a pretty cheerful guy? Drinking their special brew will make you feel happy too!
Whatever effect your guild’s drink has is up to the leader’s discretion, but if you so desire, drop a comment under the questions top level and we’ll brew one up for you.
Additionally, you may host a guild open house and invite potential guildies into your @ home to let them take a look around! Guild @ homes are typically locked to guild members & their guests only, so use this as your opportunity to put your best foot forward and impress the world with everything your guild has to offer.
Also arriving with the newest update are mountable Grunties! Aren’t they cute? ...Well, they’re someone’s definition of cute.
While the ability to ride around town and in Areas at 2x speed is certainly alluring, you can’t just walk up to the Grunty Ranch located in each Root Town and take one out for a stroll. If you want a mount of your very own, you’ve got to commit! Becoming a proud Grunty owner means you must first become a proud Grunty parent, and to do that, you’ll need to raise your Grunty from infancy into adulthood.
Just what kind of adult might your Grunty become? That depends on how you raise them and what you feed them. Those strange "foods" popping up all over Areas might not taste good to you, but they sure do to Grunties!
For more information on how to acquire a baby Grunty of your very own and raise it into a proper — or not so proper — member of Grunty society, head on over to the Grunty Ranch.
Mac Anu, the City of Twilight known for its gentle ocean breezes, has been uncharacteristically warm lately. Very, very warm. Its usual orange skies have been swapped out for vivid blues, the sun dwelling high in the sky and threatening to burn everything in its wake.
It won’t take much wandering to feel the effects of heat exhaustion sink in, and even after you log out for the day, those symptoms seem to linger. Do Hien and Zelkova know what the hell is going on? Of course not. Unusual occurrences are slowly becoming the norm in Fragment, it seems, but the point of a beta test is to work out any kinks. Report it and move on.
Lumina Cloth is similarly affected by unusual weather phenomena, but it’s much more pleasant and hospitable than poor Mac Anu. The sun hangs just above the horizon, bathing the strip in early evening light. It’s much cooler here too, and what’s more, it appears that a carnival has rolled into town. What fun!
All the usual carnival fare is here: greasy fried foods, drinks served in foot long glasses, and a litany of carnival games that are totally not rigged. Entry is free and so are the prizes, but some of them take a bit of legwork to win.
⬣ Successfully PK another player to win the carnival exclusive Thursday The 12th™ skin. PK’d players will receive an appropriately spooky ghost skin of their own!
⬣ Step on up to the dunk tank and get dunked on to win a sexy swimsuit skin! Both the dunkers and the dunkees will win this skin, but only those who successfully dunk the player in the tank will be rewarded with the chance to show off some skin. The appearance this skin takes is dependent on the player wearing it, so have fun and get creative with it!
⬣ Take a trip through the hall of mirrors with a friend and do some reflecting! Stare too long into the mirrors and you might recall a memory that doesn’t belong to you, but to the person venturing through the hall of mirrors with you. Did that really happen? Surely it’s all in your head. Memories available for memshare are limited to the ones listed on your application.
Additional rewards include giant plush monsters that can be used to decorate guild @ homes and private rooms (limit one per player!) and a pet goldfish that, unfortunately, will die a hero’s tragic death within a week. Womp womp.
We’ve had a busy week! It seems like there was a glitch that allowed players to equip other players as weapons, which resulted in a ten player chain, wielded by none other than our hardworking head administrator, Hien! I’ll have a talk with him about not doing this kind of thing in the future, I promise!
That wasn’t all, though. An unknown entity reached out to the players participating in the ten-player chain and issued them a special title: Good Friends Stick Together. Fragment’s not supposed to have titles. Well, at least not in the beta. But you can go ahead and add it to your name if you want to anyway, and it shouldn’t cause any problems! We still can’t pinpoint who sent those messages and how they overrode the permissions to create those titles in the first place, but... Hmm. I don’t want to start any rumors, so I’ll keep looking into it.
There are those armor sets too, which I didn’t know had been handed out to those of you that reached level 25. Oria brought it to our attention, thankfully! There’s not a whole lot we can do about it now, but we know that some of them are pretty invasive. But knowing is half the battle, right?
Our friend Ganymede suffered an accident recently that had him lying unconscious in the hospital for about a day. He seems to be feeling better now, thankfully. Ḩ̵̲̼͆̃͐̆ò̸̧̰͕̥̈́͒̕͜p̷̫͙̯͇̾̄͜ę̸̹̒f̷̠̭͉̱̅͘ǘ̴͎̙̥̭̈́̈́l̵͇̙͍̳̜̇̓̒l̷̬̲̀̆̈̅̂ͅỳ̵̧̻̖ ̷̠̫̭̰̦̋͗h̴̰͕̑͗e̸̦̼͇̾͘ ̴̡̢̝̺̳̊̎̎̔p̴̳̠̼̜͔̂̅̐à̵͕̹̟ͅỹ̴̡̛͝s̶͉̕ ̴̢͕̬̑̆̕͝b̸̹̲͗͒̊͑͠ē̶̛͖͠ṯ̸̻̺́͒͐t̶̻͕͎̑ĕ̶̖̀͗͛͋r̷͙̗̙̲͙̓̚͝ ̷̻̠͉̈́̚a̷̡̙̳̽́̀̋̔ẗ̴̢̨̛̬̺t̴͖̳͝ē̷͇̆͆̍̚ͅn̵̪̜͉͊̉̔̄͐t̵͕̼͈̓͋̈́̕î̷̬o̸͇̐͋͑͌n̶̟̫̟̽̑͒͐͘ ̷̜̈́̈̀̂̎t̶͙̂͛ô̸̠̜ ̶̫͎̎h̶͖̳͛i̸̗͖̖̅̂͆̄͛s̸͔̈́̇̍ ̸̩̗̻̕s̵̬̼̳̲̞͝ù̸̞̺̣͙̾͒͛ŗ̴̻̟̻̭̂̈́r̶̡͈̲̣̣͋̊͗̕o̶̥̝̮̓ų̴̻̯̬̊̑̑͌̉ͅn̶̢̙̦͔͖̈̒͝d̷̰̼̤̥̃̿͒̌̎i̸̯͑̾͊̑͝n̵̦͐g̸̪̾͝͝s̷̛̝͙̣̹̍͛͝ ̸͔̲̠̩͗̓̀͘a̷̛̼̓̈́͊ṅ̵̥͆̎ḑ̶̨̯̱͍̇ ̷̛̗̮̀̆ḧ̴̼̪́͗͝i̵͓̬̤͂͐͒s̶̮̎̿̃ ̴̛͔̋͗̽h̷̝͑ͅē̴̱ȃ̵̝͎ͅļ̷͍̀͐͊̊̽ẗ̸̼̺̟̥̼́̄͛h̶̥̹̬̮̽̅ ̷̟̖̮͛́̿t̸̢̤̤̂͒͋̍o̶̼̟̓ ̵̥̳͙̖̆̈́ả̶̛̳̱͙̖̩̿̽͘v̴͈͉͖͊͘ỏ̶̤͚̅͑͝i̴̱͈̩̳̳̿̇̕͠ḏ̵͙̮͗͆ ̶̯̭̝̹̯͊s̸͍̰͔̔̀͋͋̐u̷̟̠͑̔̏̚c̵̨͖͉͇̀͆͘ͅh̴̨̓͌̄̈ ̶̧̱̻̼̏̃̃i̷̱͉͈̿̎̋͒͜͝n̴̢͓͍̂͝͠c̷̢̢̛̹͚̑̓̅ͅi̶͕̟̻̘̫̾͌d̶͉͉̏̇e̵͉̱̩̯̤͐̎̉̾n̸̡̠̈͜ţ̴̇͑̈́͘s̵̩̼͔̙̙̉͘ ̵̮̯̞̮̾̈́͋̔̈h̵̡̗͉͉͈̉̐̅̚ȁ̵͖͚̖̾p̸̰̬͖̩̀̈́̆̓p̶̢̛̼̈́͆̒͘ͅe̷̟̘̩̲̻̾̊n̵̨̩̜̟͆͘i̵̙͉̺̮͠ͅṋ̷̆ġ̶͙͚ ̴̩̋à̷̄̑̂͝ͅǧ̵͖̜͍͕̒̑͒a̷̧̛̞͐̃̈́͘i̷̯͉̬̯̽̍n̷̘̝͓̽̅̕!̵̩͑
no subject
[ Hien narrows his eyes and gets up. Mithrun is also free of his mandarin cage as they all disappear apart from the peeled ones... which Hien eats in one go. Don't think about it. ]
Lead me to the location.
no subject
Mithrun nods, cheese on head, and gets up, already setting off toward the carnival, to the hall of mirrors. )
You know about the heat. ( He presumes. ) Unless the intensity is intended.
( And, determining if the whole building isn't supposed to exist or just the effect: )
Is the hall of mirrors supposed to exist?
( They step into the remarkably much cooler building, silly mirrors and all... )
1/2 ; cw police brutality, mention of child death
[ He siiiighs. Saying that in a customer service way makes him roll his eyes. He steps inside and damn, this feels way cooler, considering Hien was out in the heat for so, so long. He goes to inspect one of the mirrors. Whatever he's doing isn't visible to Mithrun.
But then Mithrun will "see" something...
You find yourself in an interrogation room, dark with a single lamp dimly lit over the table where your hands are, each wrist bound with a silver handcuff as you sit on an uncomfortable plastic chair. They feel uncomfortable too, and your wrists are so red from attempts at getting out of them—a little too strongly, but to no avail. Your face hurts and it's hard opening one of your eyes. Your entire body aches from beatings. It really hurts. You've always hated pain, but you've been feeling emotionally hollow for a while.
The interrogator says a bunch of things that go in one ear and out the way. It's hard to stay conscious. You taste blood in your mouth and smell it just as clearly.
However, it's not until the interrogator throws an item at your head. It hits and lands on the table's edge where it could fall off at any moment—a dog tag necklace.
"We have your prints all over this. You're as good as dead. Confess that you killed that child already."
And you feel something in your head snap so violently, as if your shackles are finally broken. There's nothing to hold you back. Nothing. Nothing— ]
no subject
He attempts to smash the glass, but his staff only bounces off. Tch. ]
cw: trigger-happy police, eye injury
You have been tired lately. You have been hollowed out. Your professor has not been your professor in a great many years now. You look pretty. He lays his hands on your shoulders and looks at you in the mirror with you. This convention is routine. You think it's strange that he's here. Blouse, black slacks, a little flair at the end. Heels. Very professional, but chic. Investors like professional, and chic. You go to these conventions (they are parties, but noting the expense as a convention lets the organizers write it off for taxes) because you are meeting, primarily, other great minds (who are rich), the elite (positioned as such due to generational wealth), and you will network with those few who have enough intellect for conversation, and find new research opportunities the stupid but wealthy want you to get done for them, and you will gain funding for your own research, which is much more important. You do these all the time.
"Smile, Morgan."
You stretch out the sheet of your face. There goes the exhaustion, and in comes your public face. Wow. You wear your smile better than any Beverly Hills bitch could ever hope botox would get her. You look great.
Except, you see his face in the mirror, and the slight worry in his brow tells you you have fallen short. As always. He is very good at reminding you of the things you are lacking, and the things you can yet have. Nothing is enough, anymore. As you had always suspected, you are not enough. But still, you've got to try.
He pats your shoulder, and steps away.
"I've got to leave a little early, but see that you connect with those we just discussed, yes?" Niamh still doesn't love you, but she could if you just had a few things more. You nod at him. He always has the tone of a caring friend, so worried for you and your failings. "I hadn't wanted to step in, but one of my men said you weren't performing so well... Morgan, Morgan. You're already a captain. You can't be making errors so late in the game. But, no matter your mistakes, I'll always be on your side. So... good luck tonight. I mean it."
Those we just discussed. The rich influentials who will pay a great deal for drugs, and set you loose on their friends, too, to inadvertently ruin them. The people here are younger, not old investors. They're not so hard to befriend, before you later make a sale.
You're back among the crowd. At some point your professor left and you returned to the main hall. You're very good at this. You're doing better than you were earlier in the evening. They really like your results. Why was your professor here? You can get investors any results they're willing to pay for. Why are you here, for that matter? Your rank is too high. Oh, no, I don't drink, but since you're the one offering... —You laugh along at their cretinous jokes. You do these parties, yes, but the crowd here is a little below you and your usual. Your subordinates do these. You link to bigger targets. Your smile is sweet and congenial. There's a problem at the door.
People notice it, but they don't care so much. Security will handle it. You make a sly joke in turn. They'd really like to work with you. It's sort of all a blur. There's a problem at the door. Can't security handle it, already? Your head's been pounding all night, because everywhere you look you see people who have things you can't. Arm in arm with a lover. Attending gladly with their father and mother. Explaining passionately the pursuit of some dream. You could eat them whole.
"Surround the perimeter!"
Oh, things are so loud now. There's a ruckus to be had. "You can't treat me like this!" someone says, the emphasis on "me." You kind of look vaguely in the direction of whatever it all is. Plainclothes cops. They've got one of your guys on the ground. (You aren't the only one working tonight. That you have to work side by side by your people below you is insulting.) Oh, did he slip up somehow? Neanderthal. Wretch, weasel, varlet. You're not getting him out of jail. You sip your wine (it's white wine), though you don't really like it. There's this big panic happening, lots of people are running, fleeing - even ones you know aren't involved in anything related to you. It's getting the cops all agitated, they're getting out their guns. Stupid little things. Uniformed cops are appearing, from somewhere.
They're apprehending men you know are yours, but they don't have a beat on you. No one comes toward you, so you don't really care. You can get other men. Men who don't get caught.
A gunshot rings out. You drop your wine glass, and it shatters. There's a lot of pieces. Since when was she at the party? You never bothered check the guest list, because you didn't care who the casualties were. You come a little to. The world is no longer muted and indistinct, for the first time in forever. People are screaming loudly, and you're beaten by the current; people rushing for the doorways, screaming at the cops blocking them off, cops screaming back at everybody and each other. Wide-eyed, your gaze is fixed on her body.
Niamh was wrongly apprehended, and she wrenched her arm away and struggled. Niamh's been shot, point blank in the face.
She hits the ground, her body the loudest thing in the room.
You rush to her, which alarms the cops already there. Don't come any closer, they shout, or something. You don't even look at them. You're only looking at her.
A gunshot rings out, again, and your vision explodes red, your eye a cavern for the bullet passing through. )
no subject
His wrists still ache from the memory. )
... Did you see that?
no subject
He turns over to Mithrun when he asks, wearing a deeper scowl than before. ]
Yeah.
[ He nearly spits out the answer in complete utter disgust. ]
The hell was that... fuck.
no subject
He rubs at his wrists absently, looking at the eye Hien had so briefly covered. Hmm. )
... Was that my memory, you saw?
no subject
[ Right. Mithrun mentioned something like that. That's why he's here in the first place to investigate it. If his scowl could run any further, this was it. Could it be that Mithrun was some important person? But he could see how the incident has made Mithrun the way he is today. He clicks his tongue in annoyance—sensing that Mithrun probably saw something of his own too. ]
Probably.
[ Mithrun is safe to assume that the memories are not the reason why Hien was so angry at the mirror. ]
no subject
... You seem irate with the mirror. Why?
no subject
...
He figures he should throw him a bone for once. ]
The hall of mirrors was made for the purpose of spending time with other users and taking photos of funny images they can see in the mirrors.
[ Just another harmless friend activity. ]
Whoever fucked it up is the same person who handed out the bonus gear.
[ And that's why Hien is annoyed more than ever.
But first, he bails. He does not want to be perceived and dug at right now. Bye. He leaves the area so fast. ]
no subject
It's fine, Hien can make his exit. Mithrun considers the information, and logs it - watching Hien go without a word. He knows Hien is obliged to his secrets (whether by choice or order), so he isn't clear why Hien chose to confirm this now, however small a confirmation this may be (and it offers more questions, such as: what mark does Hien see that allows him to tell it's by the same hand?). Still, he understands this was something Hien gave to him.
This, too, he logs, in the same way one would log debts and transactions. Factual and heartless. But still remembered. )