[MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

[lifeaftr_mods]

Something is wrong.

This may not very well be obvious, at first. The Storyteller is not present to put forth yet another diatribe, informative or apologetic, and the backdrop of guttering flame and sandy campfire is as present as ever...albeit briefly.



Those who tell their stories will start to notice something...odd taking place. Indeed, no matter how they intend to begin their tale, the land of Mu will immediately start to warp to accommodate it, or something utterly unlike it, until storytellers and listeners alike may find themselves in an exact recreation of a seemingly random memory, in the most stark and painstaking of detail. There is no altering the memory, nor is there any preventing it once it's begun to play - you will simply have to witness memories that are not your own this go around.

Furthermore, stories that take place in worlds other than LifeAftr will be, frankly, inevitable. Those memories, too, will be recreated, to be relived by the teller and lived by the listener.

---

It is time, once more, for you to tell a story...with a slight twist! This is, in fact, our first player plot, as provided by Dragon! The initial setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams.

Yet for this Storytelling only, people can imagine whatever stories they wish, from both their homes and their time on LifeAftr, as long as they don't mind the fact that others will be reliving those stories in the form of an impromptu memory share.

Even those who prefer not to voice their stories aloud are not safe this time around. If the memory is recalled in essence, Mu will shift to accommodate it in full.

There is, however, a benefit to this: those who venture memories to be relived will receive both a befuddled apology from the Storyteller, who will assert that this was most definitely not meant to happen (they're the Storyteller, not the Rememberer!), as well as a tired promise that the relived memories will be worth two offerings each, as if in compensation.

Not that it counts for much, probably.

Comments

[postictal]

That's a laugh, or it would be. He's far from the kind of guy who has his head on, so to speak. Between the hospital, the pills, the fact that he's trying to keep his other half muzzled and sedated and caged away without any long-term guarantee of success, despite the inevitability of a slip-up down the road, he's far from the most mentally competent person here.

"Living might be putting it charitably. I kinda managed to die once before ending up here." Not that he's gonna go into the how of that.

Enough of Chara's past has been exposed already.

[onegreeneye]

Ginko gives Tim a brief, sympathetic look. "Ah. I'm... sorry to hear that. ...But it does put you at one less death than me, so I'd say you're doing pretty well overall."

He's just saying.

[postictal]

“Most people here have died at least once.” It doesn’t make Tim special, he knows. Of all the many scattered things that he knows make him a freak, at least he can say that dying isn’t one of them. So that’s...a plus.

Maybe he, too, can aspire to reach the high hundreds someday. Wouldn’t that be fun.

[onegreeneye]

"Honestly, that's... not much of a surprise." Given what he's seen of how these places are. "Not like it makes it any better, though."

Dying still sucked, no matter how common a shared experience it was.

[postictal]

“No. It doesn’t.” He’s tried, too. Tried to make it stick. Tried harder than anyone, sometimes it feels - but that’s not true either, is it? Not when he knows two people who succeeded, for a time.

For a time.

“That’s just kinda how it is for people like us.”

[onegreeneye]

"Hmm." Ginko stares into the fire, his expression flat and contemplative - then he lets out a dry, humorless laugh.

"...Discussing how skewed the terms of our existence seem to be probably isn't getting us anywhere, huh."

Or maybe he's just starting to tire of thinking about what the hell happened to his life. That might also be influencing his line of thought here.

[postictal]

Probably not, no. Tim digs into his pocket again, this time for a phantom pack of cigarettes that he taps between his fingertips, more out of a need to do something with his hands than to indulge in the habit. Smoking a cigarette in a dream is bound to have some weird side effects. On the off chance it doesn’t, he still doesn’t feel much like risking it.

“I think we’re in the minority, at least. I mean, for now.”

[onegreeneye]

"Probably. ...Though, I suppose, if there are enough places like this... hm."

Sorry, Tim, he's got to think out loud for a moment. "I haven't met many people from my own world in these places, so that'd certainly make it seem like it's uncommon... but, I suppose, if there were enough places like this, people could just be spread out over them, making it seem less common than it is. On the other hand, I know there are some people here who knew each other in other worlds, but not the ones they were originally from... that doesn't seem like it would be likely if there were thousands or millions of worlds like this."

He stares into the fire for a moment, then sighs and ducks his head forward to rest his forehead in his palm. "...Probably better to assume we're in the minority. Maybe I should start taking notes on how these places work, if I can get enough paper."

[postictal]

"You'll be writing for a while." It's not a simple science by any means, so Tim settles for making it as simple as he can, by whittling it down to its most basic components: there's overlap. Some people remember. Some don't. There are apparently either infinite variations of the same person, or memories are more fluid in regard to being displaced from one world to another.

But then, mnemonic fluidity isn't a strange or new experience for him. That's not the part that's hard to believe.

"Memory," he says, tapping at his temple with the tip of one finger. "Boils down to memory. Who remembers who. Who doesn't remember what."

[onegreeneye]

"I'm sure I will." But that's far from a deterrent to him, honestly.

He shifts the position of his head, resting his chin in his hand instead. "That sounds about right... what about physical effects, though? If someone's body is changed in one world but their body is back to normal somewhere else."

The main example that comes to mind, of course, is Newt. Memory couldn't account for him looking entirely human here.

"Though, I suppose physical form could be connected to memory... but, in that case, that would be closer to... the memory of space, or reality, I suppose, than that of the person."

He's not sure reality really has a memory. But at this point he's pretty sure anything is possible.

[postictal]

"Different versions of the same people," Tim says simply, offhand, like quantum variation is a simple fucking concept that just anyone would grasp after a time. It's not simple, per se - he doesn't understand it himself, nor does he think he could really get into the science of it, even if he really wanted to - but when you've met three versions of the same Boss Monster kid with three different histories, three different variations on the same theme, there's all sorts that you'll put aside to believe.

He shrugs, tiredly.

"It's been known to happen."

[onegreeneye]

"Mm. Seems so. I only remember encountering anything like that once before getting here."

Which he's pretty glad for, given that he had... no idea how to respond to Mabel just. Being entirely human one day, and not remembering him. He supposes he should feel bad for pretty much just avoiding her after that, but it's not as if she had much reason to care anymore.

At least he's done better dealing with the situation with Newt here. Probably, he thinks.

"I take it you've had more direct experience?"

[postictal]

"I've met...a couple versions of the same person, yeah." It's not like Boss Monsters are ridiculously common enough for there to have been a mix-up - or that "Asriel Dreemurr" is a regular enough title. "Each of them kinda with their own set of experiences. Some were somewhere else first. Some weren't."

And for the sake of privacy, he's very purposefully not disclosing the specifics.

He's violated the poor kid enough.

[onegreeneye]

Ginko can appreciate that, frankly. People deserve their privacy. ...Or, whatever privacy they can get under the circumstances.

So he doesn't question further. Just nods and looks away.

"One more thing to get used to running into, I guess."

[postictal]

Boy, that's a familiar mood. Calm, blank acceptance, a shrug and a move on, because what the hell else can you do? Tim reached that point pretty damn quick himself.

He can't help but wonder, idly, how long it took Ginko to reach the same point. Sometimes it feels like he was just born this tired.

"You just kinda roll with it, huh?"

[onegreeneye]

Too bad Ginko has no idea about his mental state up until he was like ten

"Not much else to do about it - except introduce myself and hope for the best." He gives a quiet snort.

[postictal]

"Well, hey. I'd drink to that if I could." He digs the imaginary tin of cigarettes from his pockets and flips it open. "Want one? I'm pretty they don't really count when it's a dream anyway."

It's more to do with the solidarity of the thing. The symbolic drinking to that, seeing as alcohol is out of the cards but nicotine, thank god, isn't.

[onegreeneye]

"Hm... Why not." He takes one with a slight nod. "Thanks. I should get my own cigarettes here, sometime. More used to 'em than this kind."

[postictal]

"Use a story, if you can. These last me about three months." He flicks the lighter on and ignites the paper's end before offering to do the same to Ginko's. "Guess if it's nonessential, you can't get a permanent refill."

Which, you know, is fair. It's an addiction, and all he's really doing is feeding it. Strategically, it'd be wisest to quit.

But he's not exactly got a long-term strategy in mind here.

[onegreeneye]

"I'll keep that in mind." He accepts the light gratefully and goes to take a pull on the cigarette. Even in a dream, he notices how different it is from the ones he's useful - though maybe that's because he expects to?

He probably shouldn't overthink it.

[postictal]

One of these days he'll have to quit, he tells himself. He keeps telling himself, a lie wrapped up in a resolution that will never come to pass, because he's simply too set in his own faulty ways. One day he'll have to quit.

And one day he will QUIT. Just...not in the way he originally imagined.

For now, a fake smoke on a fake beach in the middle of a dream is close enough.