∎ ETRAYA MODS ∎ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etrayamods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
etrayamemes2025-05-30 09:20 am
etrayamods) wrote in etrayamemes2025-05-30 09:20 am
Entry tags:
TDM 008
content warnings for this TDM include: gambling references, mild horror themes and suggestive content  ⏵ arrival⏴ Arrival does not happen as Aurora usually plans for it. Newcomers generally find themselves waking up within the hospital, are given a brief overview of their situation, and sent on their way. Now? They wake up immersed in a game within The Gold Saucer. But it doesn't quite feel like a game: whether it's snowy mountains, riding a chocobo as you listened to the wind quickly pass by your ears, or in the middle of a battle with a beast, it feels utterly real. It's only after the game concludes - either by winning or losing - that you find yourself back in the main game area. A bot, dressed as personnel in this lavish playground, approaches each arrival with an earpiece allowing them to communicate with those in their same situation. It also serves to inform them of their goal: collect enough gold saucer points (or GP) by playing the games to acquire a card fashioned to their own likeness from the game counter. Then, they must trade it for someone else's. Seems simple enough, right? Hopefully the cards aren't too expensive...  ⏵ the gold saucer ⏴ The Gold Saucer is an ode to the very idea of fun. It’s huge, labyrinthine, colorful, and lively. Everywhere you look, there’s something to do. At the same time, it’s also impossible to tell what time it is. There are no windows to the outside, there are no clocks. This place is beyond such a thing. There are games everywhere you look, ranging from the pseudo-gambling to sports to pixelated video games in cabinets. Yet no matter which boxing game, pinball machine, or skeeball machine you look at, the same creatures and themes arrive. Cactuars, chocobos, the fiercest Behemoth, the cuddliest Moogle… For those from the realms of Final Fantasy, this will feel natural- homey even. Everyone else will simply understand that there is a fairly strong central theme here about magic, machines, and monsters. It’s hard to tell how long you spend here, and it seems to sit outside of the very concept of time. Still, there are many restaurants, lounges, and vending machines. There are shops and costume rentals. There are even little pharmacies with headache remedies if the partying gets out of hand. And when you grow tired, there is a hotel- though it is made up like a haunted house, you can count on getting some semi-restful sleep.  ⏵ playtime ⏴ At first, stepping through to play any of these games may make participants wonder if they have been teleported somewhere else entirely. But on closer inspection, all the skies above are merely well-constructed interiors with painted ceilings. After all, it always seems to be daytime during these games. Snowboarding - Race to the bottom of the mountain, but avoid obstacles and complete as many tricks as possible! Chocobo Racing- Race on Chocobo-back around a treacherous outdoors race track which can either be taking place in a desert, a swampy forest, or upon an island beach. Work in tandem with your rented bird and against your competition by throwing hazards in their way or utilizing buffs garnered on the track. Different colored birds will yield different advantages. Yellow - Good All Rounder Red - Fast, but hard to steer Blue - Slower, but very easy to steer. Much easier to pick up items from them. Green- Resilient against traps and sabotage Colosseum Battle- Face off against the fiercest beasts around. Pair up with friends or rivals to Collaborate or Compete to do the most damage and deliver the final blow. These battles are synced to the comparative power of the one entering the competition. We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt unnecessarily, after all. And indeed, no one will get seriously, gruesomely, or permanently injured in these battles. Those without fighting capabilities can rent weapons outfitted Materia to assist them in their trial. These will allow anyone to cast spells, though not guarantee any better wielding of weapons. There are a hundred rounds, starting with fairly simple Spriggans, ranging all the way up to blood-thirsty Behemoths to challenge even the most battle-hardened hero. Leap of Faith- Players are presented with an obstacle course that stretches a hundred feet into the air upon floating platforms and islands. Both are held aloft by magical crystals. Powers are entirely nerfed, though falling and hitting the ground is strangely painless. Those who collect the most silver and gold statuettes of cactuars placed at random throughout the course will be awarded proportionate GP; though there is a bonus for those that reach the very top first. Triple Triad- Everywhere you look, people are playing this game on little 3 by 3 boards, or any surface with enough space. You will be given a loaner deck to play with. Are you clever enough to defeat your fellows. Fashion Report- Theobold, familiar to some, stands by himself in a little booth with a dressing room and an incredibly expansive walk-in closet. He is a robot of distinguished fashion and strong opinions on those fashions. Do you dare subject yourself to his scrutiny? Come prepare in his wondrous closets to make the best outfit for the chance to win a prize. Please submit your fashion here! There are Arcade Machines and activities galore. If you can think of it, it’s probably there- Just with that Final Fantasy pastiche on it, of course.  ⏵ the beehive lounge ⏴ There are other places to eat at the Gold Saucer, but the vending machines and cafés all pale in comparison to the dinners at the Beehive. For all the rave reviews, there is a dress code at the Beehive, and this is literal. If you step inside and are not currently wearing a dress, you will be ushered into a sideroom and appropriately made over. However, this is only for those trying to go in through the normal doors. Around the side there happens to be an employee entrance, manned by a bot. He will only allow those in who seem like they intend to work— and therefore must be wearing at least one piece of the Bunnysuit Collection to trick the guard. Once you are made over or have snuck in, you are free to relax inside with drinks, dine on a fine meal, watch the dancers, or participate yourself if you feel brave enough. Why would anyone ever dance here? Well, that’s simple. It pays really well. So if you’re sick of games, or terrible at them— you can always come dance for a shift. Though, don't get any unseemly ideas about freeing yourself of your clothing, this isn't that kind of establishment!  ⏵ haunted house ⏴ When you grow too weary or drunk from a day of games, you may be directed to somewhere a little quieter to sleep. Up the elevator, and through the doors reveals a modest walk through some woods until a quaint, victorian hotel appears. It is always nighttime here, and the stars and moon twinkle above. The receptionist, a bot in a rather bedraggled-looking chocobo mascot costume checks you in and shows you to your room. You can sleep here, especially if you can tolerate the hokey haunted decorations strung up around the place. Though sometimes, late at night, there will come a vigorous thumping on the door to startle sleeping patrons awake- Only for the culprit to vanish and be impossible to locate.  ⏵ ticket counter ⏴ The prize counter is manned by a bot and has a sign posted overhead. Most prizes will be handed over inside an appropriately sized wrapped box, as the contents are a mystery.
This TDM may be treated as a mini-Mission. Time will not pass inside of it in relation to the world outside - meaning, this can be happening at any time between late May into early July! This Gold Saucer is a bit of a mix between that of FF7's and FF14's, but it also has some things that neither have as well. Any inaccuracies are entirely intentional, aimed to make this rest within a space of uncanny valley for those who are familiar. While otherwise being a bit of a chaotic fantastical funhouse for everyone else! If there is something unlisted, chances are it will exist if it is in either of the other versions of the Gold Saucer. Characters already in game are welcome to post to the TDM, too! Please mark them as current characters in your header. Threads can be kept as game canon as long as both characters get into the game! Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! |
act 3 spoilers in this thread
Disappointed. Resentful. Yearning. Those three will only come after a deep conversation, and should she prove herself to be her, then this conversation will be efficent. One more thing the three of them have in common.]
Easier to consider it vulgar, than to consider it might reveal internal desire.
[He stands a short distance away with a glass of whiskey, giving her the kind of stern and critical eye reserved for those who have the wrong opinion. How she reacts to a lesson will tell him what he needs to know. If she is sober enough to manage. But in any case, he will put himself as a shield between her and his family every time.]
oh yeah oops
No. Now she recognizes the voice. But which one? After him, she can't be sure.
And in truth, Clea does not know which Renoir she hopes for before she opens her eyes: The one that hates her for justifiable reasons or the one that will abandon her. Either way, they will disappoint her, but at least the false one is honest. So when she opens one of her eyes and spots the scar across his face, she lets out the very smallest sound of relief.
Not real. ]
I would respect it if it were vulgar. As you say, you might convey something. This place walks up to the edge of saying something and turns around without committing. It suffers in its attempts to be palatable rather than fully committing to its debauchery.
[ There is the slightest elongation of the final syllable, the only testament to the several drinks Clea's imbibed. It is an interesting discussion, which is why she's answered at all, but he does not desire her company and, as, wherever this is, it is not Verso's Canvas, she has no reason to force the issue, the alcohol in her system putting a blanket over the usual spike of hostility that surfaces when she thinks of her not father.
But why are they here? They are Maman's.]
Are you here on purpose?
[ Did they steal from Maman? ]
Please do not stab me. I'm on the verge of inebriation.
[Admitting it means she's been inebriated for some time now.]
no subject
He continues levelling her with a cold and calculating stare. Even in this world, he must worry about the danger she could pose. Even in this world, where he thought he could rest.]
Would I ever leave her side?
[His voice hovers one octave below anger; tired and disappointed that she is reminding him of his separation from his wife.]
Or do you suppose I would abandon her and get drunk on my own illusions?
no subject
She nods. He is correct. Aline would not have painted him as able to leave her. That is the whole point of her false city: A perfect family that will never leave her. Not through death, anger, or any other means. Though Clea had denied her that much. It would never be perfect. ]
It was an inspipid question.
They stole from Maman.
[ There is always room for more anger. The man is not real. He is one of her mother's creations. One that Clea finds twisted. But Maman's nonetheless, and he is not a creation for public viewing. He is a private, personal thing, and for someone to place their claws in Maman's work and rend it so is infuriating. To take her mother's grieving heart and lay it bare.
The answer is enough, and it means she cannot stay. Clea pushes herself into a more proper seated position, then stands with a slight tremor in her legs. One hand remains in contact with the chair longer than strictly necessary, and instead of reaching for the glass of water, Clea's hand wraps around the bottle of wine.
If she drinks the rest quickly, she'll pass the embarrassing stage at the cost of a terrible hangover.
She's not a boor: She pours it into a glass with a surprisingly steady hand and slips the bottle back in her voluminous skirt. She lifts the glass to her lips and drinks the glass in an elegant motion, then refills it and repeats the action before setting the now empty bottle and glass back on the table. She steps forward and puts a hand to her temple, blinking as she's hit with a sudden sensation of nausea.
Aging is a horrific plague.]
Whatever it is, remember they stole from Maman.
[ It's more than she would ordinarily say, a remnant of the unfortunate self that appears only with a very specific level of inebriation is reached. A...warning? Or some expression indicating maybe she is considering his experience. She steps forward, rebalancing. It takes a few mores steps, but she starts to move more confidently towards the exit - if a bit less elegantly than usual. ]
no subject
He finishes his shot and stands with his fingers clawed around the glass. His demeanour reflects the thunderous mood that is tearing her apart; when he thinks he is no longer there to weather that storm on her behalf his lips curl and he looks like he wants to throw the glass across the room. They disrespected her.
But this is reality. He must accept it. The fact she is far away does not mean they will never meet again. So he endeavours to protect her from afar. He questions what she longs for in this situation, considers what the man below the monolith has failed to accomplish, and decides to give her everything she needs.
He sighs in exasperation, sets his glass upon a nearby table, then strides across the room using his cane as support. She would want her family safe. This woman has hurt his loved ones in ways one can never forgive, but to Aline she is a daughter, a member of the same house as his own.]
You are going to embarrass yourself.
[He almost reaches out with his cane to guide her towards the correct path. But her anger is formidable and has imprinted on his memory. Not that it drains his cold and stern tone of voice.]
Take the party upstairs. All this will be here in the morning.
[The real party beyond these walls.]
no subject
The woman steps backwards as he approaches, almost misstepping so badly she nearly steps on her own feet but recovering, and keeps her eyes on the copy of her Papa.
It still might be a trick of some sort, but the words are...not incorrect. How profoundly irritating.
She is going to embarrass herself and given this place's newest revelations (or rather, the lack thereof), it would be imprudent for her to succumb to unconsciousness in public. The worries that had flashed through her mind when she contemplated Alicia's potential presence here are less of a concern, but less does not mean non-existent. ]
And you would know?
[ Please. He has no more context than she does. It's entirely possible this will not be here in the morning.
Show no weakness. Project confidence.
He does prevent her from moving towards the hotel exit, but he's between her and the stairs. Clea crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, standing in place. Only swaying slightly. Is he going to move? ]
no subject
Her projection of confidence matters not. He keeps his gaze upon her, stern and unyielding after all she has done.]
What I know does not concern you.
[Is he going to move? No.]
Now take your hangover and go upstairs. Sleep off whatever remains of your regret if not your conscience.
[Is he going to forget and forgive? No. But he is going to move.]
no subject
'What I know does not concern you.' What a pedestrian answer. Unable to help herself, Clea rolls her eyes, making her way toward the stairs now that he's not in the way, though she refrains from following through with the childish impulse to make Renoir's face back at him and show him how absurd it looks.]
I'm very intimidated and scolded.
[No, she's not. Clea makes her way up the stairs with careful precision. Why are there so damned many?]
And full of regret for having the audacity to enjoy myself for an evening instead of acting as a servant.
[ She does not regret it at all. Her primary regret is running in to him, and she had been several drinks into the evening before that had occurred.]
no subject
He knows her. He knows when she is frightened by the monsters under the bed. He knows when she is afraid of walking the streets alone. He knows what scares her about paintings made in her image. He knows what she fears about her mother.
His head rolls to his shoulder, his eyes flood with disappointment.]
And full of childish bravado.
[Fine. Let her favor the easy choice. This would not be his first time being disappointed by his children.
Are you finished? His patience mixes with frustration. He doesn't need to voice his disapproval.]
no subject
Disappointment.
How dare he? He has no right to that feeling. Perhaps her Papa does, but this man does not. He does not know her and has no responsibility for her. ]
Yes, P-
[No. Absolutely not.]
Renoir. That is one of the effects of copious amounts of wine.
[ The bravado is enjoyable, a bottled reminder of how she felt ten or so years earlier, when the world could not touch her and she had been unbreakable, but stuffed with enthusiasm and the confidence to know that her life would be grand and full of meaning.
She pushes and stands. ]
None of us actually drink for the taste.
[Sommeliers are liars.]
no subject
[Red. Rose. White. Renoir considers his empty glass, sitting on that table, cradling the remains of a full and savoury red. His preference is for a full and savory red. His preference is also a full and savoury red. He weathers the emotional storm of what she almost calls him.
It should bother him that he cannot similarily share his anger. But what use would his anger serve? He takes his leave, believing he made his choice, when in truth he had no choice to make. He would always have chosen to dedicate himself to her happiness.
Should Clea remain awake, or awake one or two hours later, there will be a knock at the door; the delivery of an ice bucket inside which a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon (an incredibly dry red) is being kept cool. A wine with a dry and austere character. Perhaps she will appreciate the reference.
Or perhaps she will appreciate the sketch the waiter hands over in a flat file: a graphite rendition of a miniature green figure wielding a knife and a lamp.]