A relaunch of Mulligan to move away from the interactive format in favor of the monthly release style adopted by other projects such as Crankshaft and Refurbished. Recommended as a starting point for new readers.
 

The Starman and the Refugee Prince Part 1
Perspective: Gallows
The Arrival of The Comedian in the Land of Crowns and the interview that follows

You have a 1.[TASK] to complete.
You feel 2.[FEELING] about it.

The {blood} leaking from your head is not a priority.
It stains your 3.[LIMB]. You hardly notice.



The {trunk} leaves you little room to move.
You pull the release lever, but {rope} bars your escape.

You are {wasting time}.

Luckily, you find a/an 4.[WEAPON/TOOL],
and use it to {cut} the rope.




You climb out of the {trunk}.
Your 5.[BODY PART] doesn't seem to be moving/working well,
due to 6.[RECENT INJURY].

You {don't care}.
You can {hardly feel it}.
You are {wasting time}.


You find yourself in 7.[OUTDOOR LOCATION].
The 8.[WEATHER] is 9.[UNPLEASANT QUALITY].

You {push on regardless}.





You reach a/an {old theater}.

You {walk inside}.




Inside, near the {stairs}, you find an {altar}.

You know {what you have to do}.



You step closer.

You {offer} 10.[OFFERING].
You allow the {altar} to {remove} it {from yourself}.

You think of 11.[CONCEPT/IDEA/BELIEF/ELEMENT/CONDITION].

The {ritual} {commences}.
You feel {pain} and {disorientation}.

You've been here two weeks.





It's Monday.

And it's too early to get up yet.












You've become very acquainted with the cracked blue paint on the ceiling of your new bedroom.
It has entirely splayed out at points, with several peels curling far enough outward to curl in on themselves.



You wonder what makes it do that.

You keep thinking a piece will crack off and fall onto your new bed as you sleep.
But, it hasn't happened yet.





You wonder what would possess someone to paint the room blue in a place this cold.

Maybe blue was somehow mandated.
Maybe someone wanted to paint the room, and blue was the only color they had available.
Maybe someone just really loved blue.





You'd heard that this site had been first built by some military or another.

But who the hell would even find something to guard, this far into the middle of nowhere?



There was something here now.
But they'd built it.
Or at least, moved it here.





Maybe this frozen hellscape had once not been frozen.

Maybe, somehow, this had been a naval outpost.
Or something.










Maybe they were just fools,
building this horrible place.

And maybe the people who decided to use it again -
the ones who painted your ceiling blue, whoever they were -
were also fools.

Maybe your employers are fools,
for taking this place and setting it up again.









Maybe you are,
for ever studying any of what landed you here in the first place.



Two weeks into the first job-
Two weeks into the first hands-on job in your field.
Two weeks into what should've been your career,

and you're cracking.

You read somewhere once
that without stimulation, the brain could end up hallucinating.
You can't stop thinking about that.

It's repeated so much in your head, now, that you swear the thought has its own voice.

You can't stop thinking about




























You'd been so enthusiastic.





oh sure, im used to being alone
Fool.

my biggest problem will probably just be fighting boredom hahaha
 -Dumbass

the pay is so good too itll be worth it = dipshit.








If you could do it all over again

If you were less incompetent












God, if only you could









If you could







































Please

I know it's my fault but i dont wanttoSTAYanymore






please


















could someone hear me




if i thought about it


hard enough  ?













































Interesting breakdown.

Not the worst, not the best.
Less bad than the last one, at least.

4/10 Short but sweet.








OK.


You should get out of bed.



'Let's get up, please,' you tell yourself in your head.

You say it again when no muscles move; without the 'please' this time.








You turn your head and look at the clock.




It's about that time, anyway.

You reach to stop the alarm clock before it goes off,
only to realize you hadn't turned it back on after your weekend.

You're not surprised.







You aren't sure you slept at all.

You haven't been sleeping well.




You drag yourself out of bed, not bothering to put on anything other than the pajamas you were already wearing.

With that,
you leave your bedroom and make your way into the work room.









You can tell by the thin horizontal window at the side of the room that it's still dark outside.

It won't be light again for another few hours.
You wish you'd gotten used to this already.
It still made you feel uneasy.

You take a moment and stare out into the dark grey expanse of snow.


You hated looking outside;
you'd already found out the hard way that the longer you stared outside, the more your brain would assure that you were about to see something there.

But, you felt compelled to look outside at least once per morning.

A little ritual of yours. A survey to make sure everything at least looks fine.



Just as every day: There's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing much in general.
The usual couple of buildings that happened to be in view of the window, the usual scarce handful of lights and lightposts that dotted the area outside.

Nothing else.







With that out of the way, you let yourself have a quick stretch,
then step over to one of the several drawers in the corner, and pull it open.





You sift between the many binders inside, grab one,

and unzip it.



Your hand thumbs through the various plastic pages lined with discs,
searching.







You pull out a random one you're sure you haven't tried yet.


You make your way to the table in the corner,
and pop the CD into the little boom box.








 

THe following thread is chunks of a upcoming Twine project, previews to give a taste for what's to come. Visual assets will be added onto and updated as time goes.
 

 

Your many eyes blink awake.







You are under some blankets, up against something warm.
The texture is nice.

You stretch a tendril out of the blanket, raising it up high to view your surroundings.



You are in a bedroom.
It's very dark, despite the clock by the bed showing 11:41 AM.
The curtains on the window are very thick, blocking out almost all light.
You like it that way.

It's quiet, too.
The walls are lined with more blankets, cheap rugs, and other various sound-blocking objects.
Posters are hung up along them, instead of being attached to the wall.

A rotating fan in the corner of the room adds low volume white noise. Consistent and calming.
It's been running all night and all morning, though.
The room is chilly, now.







You are still up against something warm.

A black-furred hare sleeps in the bed.
This creature's name is Violet.

You are attached to Violet's shadow.
You know that this is New, somehow, even if you can't remember how things used to be.

But, you feel comfortable where you are.
You do know that.









You are also: Bored.

Violet is still asleep.
You should find something to do.

In the room, you see a computer at a desk, a phone on the nightstand, a videogame console connected to the television in the corner,
and a handheld haphazardly dropped under the bed.
The television also has rabbit ears, so it may have access to local channels.
Lots of options, all electronics. Violet must like those, you think.

You could try to wake Violet up, instead.
It's almost noon, after all.

You just know you need something to entertain yourself, or you won't survive.



You think you had a name before, too,
but you'd like a new one.
You should find an identity, while you're entertaining yourself.










Something nags at you, though.

More than anything,
more than Anything at all,
you know that you need More.

It's a dim pang deep within you.
Ever-present, beyond a want.
You know you'll have to tend to it, when the time comes.

More of what, you aren't sure yet.





You'll figure it out.
Soon enough.

Zizi, she/her, 23. Play toys and games

<- My thang

(unforchies i already have beef with the antispam because first it wouldn't let me post with my vpn on and THEN it ate my post because i had the audacity to remake my entire post too fast)

CW: Explorations of grief, Nostalgic Depression, Gentrification, and Supernatural concepts that involve memory dissonance.

Perspective: Dorothy "Dotty" Coil