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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
Maybe you're just going senile.
[ Still, he takes...A!! cautious step forward, peering into the mirror with a squint for a few seconds, blue eyes carefully scanning the weird distorted reflection up and down. Hmmmmm. ]
Dunno what you're talking about, I don't see anything.
[ Yet- ]
no subject
This is going to sound crazy, [ He lifts his head and turns to look at Dosei, expression serious. ] but I saw a...a memory, of sorts. And I think it might've belonged to you.
[ The raspy voice, the abuse... He'd hate to jump to conclusions, but if the glove fits... ]
no subject
His face falls for a brief moment, bewilderment flickering on his features. Something uncomfortable settles and twists in his guts, but he quickly tries to slap it away with an aggravated morph of his features. ]
I don't know what the fuck you're talking about..
[ It's an irritated, defensive bite. Because- ]
This is a video game, you know that, right?
[ And a video game can't just broadcast stuff it doesn't know. ]
no subject
... But no, actually. This game is kind of fucked up and he's starting to think he needs to think about that some more. ]
I know. [ He looks at the mirror again. Still nothing. ] It doesn't make sense, and I know I sound crazy. What sick dev would program in a person's memories?
[ He pauses for a second before speaking again, unsure of how to word this without immediately going in for the pry. ]
But there was this...man, I guess he was supposed to be my dad. But all I could sense from him was disappointment.
[ He glances at Dosei, wondering if he'll see any recognition on his face. ]
no subject
Dosei almost interjects, fingers twitching, to say he is crazy. That he's drank too many virtual reality margaritas and now he's got a debuff or something.
But then Hector speaks again, and Dosei can't stop the very visible twitch of his features. There's a brief moment of silence as he swallows that down, feeling a sickening burn in his throat, like he does whenever somebody talks of disappointment.
You can't really stutter with text to speech, so there's silence as he seemingly deletes what he's trying to say, makes another attempt, deletes it again, hands curling to dig the nails into his hands. ]
That's your problem.
[ It's about as rushed a vocalizer program can be, yet he notably refuses to make proper eye contact. ]
I don't see it. Maybe there's some other fucker wandering around in here, or maybe you're just delusional.
no subject
So it was him. ]
It wouldn't be the first time. [ He says this quietly, because it's true. Don't dig at his mental illness like that. ]
Look, [ He straightens himself, turns to face Dosei fully. ] if that was your memory—and I'm not saying it was, it's just if—then... No one deserves to be treated like that by a parent. You didn't do anything wrong.
[ Adults are so fucked up. ]
no subject
Feel it. It makes his skin itch worse than whenever they light the fireplace in winter.
He knows he didn't. Of course he didn't. He doesn't need some whackjob in a stupid online game to tell him that, just like how he doesn't need the therapists to. He grows tired of using the vocalizer, and falls into the rapid, aggressive signing of his hands, a pop-up box automatically accompanying the hurried movements to translate. ]
<< You don't fucking know me. >>
[ Nobody really does, and he's just fine with that. Or so he says. ]
no subject
[ Well. If the kid's not taking it, then maybe he should stop twisting himself to open himself up to him. At least, for now.
Hector sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can almost feel the echoes of that migraine from a few weeks ago. Maybe he needs to log out.
When he speaks again, his voice is louder, more tense. ]
Look, it was obviously a breach of privacy. I shouldn't have seen what I saw. I'll just forget about it. [ A lie. ] And just forget what I said.
[ He whirls on his heels to leave, the mirrors behind him, the ones around Dosei, shimmering oddly as he does. ]
no subject
Dosei's hackles are raised in a defensive, aggravated stance, shoulders tense and fingers clenched tight. The fact the guy has the audacity to act exasperated has his face twisting further into an unfriendly scowl.
He's the one who wanted to talk about shit he didn't understand in the first place. ]
<< Like I want your weird fucking pity anyway. >>
[ It just...feels uncomfortable. Being seen, in a way he hates. He'd rather people not look at him at all if it's just to treat him like he's made of broken glass.
Dosei's not going to protest as he leaves, turning his head with a huff ( one almost of relief, now that he'll be alone )-
until he finds a faintly startled noise slipping once his gaze catches the ripple of the mirror. Uh, what the fuck. ]
no subject
[ The mirror ripples, and instead of Dosei's face, it shows a door. It swings open... (click to open, cw: mild psychosis, depression, alcoholism) ]
[ A strange sensation overcomes you. There's a weight on your body; you feel parched, exhausted. You hurt in places you've likely never felt ache before. But it's good, you decide. It's a marker of your youth. Your 21st birthday is only three days away. You've been telling everyone at the bars and the clubs for the past few days that it's your birthday, and they've been giving you free drinks. You look old enough. People don't ask.
The bender has taken a lot out of you, though. The door shuts loudly behind you as you trudge into the neatly-kept hallway of your parents' townhouse. You clearly come from means.
But now, to rest up. Your sister has promised to take you to her favorite bar on your birthday proper. You want to be fully present when she takes you out. Not hungover.
As you come to the bottom of the stairs, you realize your parents aren't in their usual spots in the living room. You crane your neck down the hall and realize there's an odd stillness to the air. Tension fills the rooms to the brim. Something about the quiet of the house settles oddly in your chest, and it sets you on edge.
For a moment, you want to chalk it up to the hangover. Maybe your parents got in a fight again. Maybe you should sleep, so you can deal with it properly later.
Something compels you to step off the stairs and trudge down the hall, to the kitchen.
You stand in the doorway. Your mother—a woman you have only ever known to stand proud, her face elegantly sculped like a statue, the padded shoulders of her work suits making her seem all the more imposing—nestles scared in the crook of the counters. Her shoulders are drawn up, her eyes are wide, glassy, and puffy, and her fists are folded tightly over her mouth. Your father—a kindly man whose voice and laughter always fills the room, whose wrinkles come solely from a lifetime of jokes—stands perfectly still with the phone receiver pressed tightly to his ear. His face is twisted in a scowl of the likes you have never seen, decorated in frown lines and wrinkles that you do not recognize.
Your mother gasps when she sees you, dislodging herself from her safe corner as she takes quick steps towards you. She pulls you into a hug. The hold is tight, desperate. She has never hugged you like this before. Something is scaring her, and that scares you.
"Anneciğim—" There is pain in her voice. She hasn't called you this since you were a child. "Where have you been? I was—"
"Shh." Your father holds up a hand, and silence returns to the room. You turn your head to watch him, and you can hear a faint voice coming from the receiver. It's low, solemn. When it stops, time seems to freeze.
Whatever was said seems not to be the news your father wants to hear.
The silence is shattered when your father whirls around and slams the receiver back into the holder.
"Nothing," he mutters.
Your mother wails.
You pull from her embrace; you have never heard her make that sound before. Alarm slowly colors your expression as you realize something is deeply, deeply wrong.
"Mom," you croak, your voice hoarse from yelling and cheering at the clubs last night. That feels so long ago, now that you're here. "What's going on?"
But your mother is in no state to answer. She sways away from you and crumples over the island counter in a fit of tears. She sobs, her agonizing cries embed themselves into the small cracks of your being. These sounds are going to haunt you.
Your father, instead, approaches you. He takes you by the shoulders and turns you around, his steely eyes piercing you. "Mehmet," he says, his voice solemn. "Have you heard from your sister?"
You stare at him. An unease twists inside of you. It clenches at your throat. You swallow.
"...No. Not since last week." You feel your heart pound in your chest. You feel beads of sweat form on your forehead. "Why?" Your voice rises in panic. "What happened? Where is she?"
Silence.
"She's missing."
You feel the fabric of your own reality tearing at the seams. You stand at the precipice of a turning point in your life. You will never be able to go back.
Demet is everything to you. She is a shining beacon of inspiration for you, of what a person should be like. She has been there for you since your very beginning, and you had so naively assumed that she would be there forever.
And now she's...gone? Just like that? No word, no warning?
What happened to her?
Your father's words will echo in your mind for days and days to come, along with the questions, the disbelief that plague you in the agonizing hours and days that follow. A small part of you is optimistic she'll be home for your birthday, but she never shows. Your father hands you a pack of Efes and calls it a day. Your mother buys you a cake. You never learn what your sister's favorite bar was.
You don't leave your bed for weeks. Your life falls apart. You watch your grades suffer. You watch your long-term girlfriend break up with you. You watch as you continually seek the comfort of booze to fill the void your sister left behind.
Weeks turn into months, turn into a year. They never find trace of her. They stop showing her face on TV. The police declare the case cold, and you never hear anything of this again.
You dream constantly of finding her. You hear her voice, both in and out of sleep. You see her peeking through doorways, looking at you from a distance, with that warm smile you've always known her to wear. But when you approach her, you always find her gone. You never make it in time. You create elaborate scenarios in your mind of finding her, bringing her home. You see shadows in the corners of your vision of whatever—whoever took her away, and you chase them. You'll kill whoever did this to her one day. You swear it. You're a hero in your own mind.
But not in reality.
She never comes home. Demet as you know her is gone for good. ]