>>36228684
You wake up, from shifting, serpentine dreams, in a pink-wallpapered room. Or rather, in this light, it's more of a bruise colour. It's warm under the blankets, and going back to sleep is really tempting. The alarm on your bedside table reads three-twelve AM. You wrap your arms around your pillows and stretch. You take a quick look around your room.

There's the tall and foreboding closet that always unnerved you when you were a little younger. It was big enough, and deep enough for Daddy to hide in, and there would be lots of space left over. You're currently in your pyjamas, and while they're warm and nice to pad around in, wearing actual clothes would probably be a good idea. Next to it, there's your bookshelf, stuffed with various books in the “Adventures of the Cheerful Princess” series, and four large, leatherbound volumes, each of whose spines is emblazoned with the title “Taking Care of Your Rabbit: The Definitive Guide” and a volume number.

On the other side of the room, near the door, there's a chest of drawers. For some reason, you can't quite remember what's inside it. There are three drawers, each painted a different colour: one peach, one yellow, one red. The red one, the top one, looks a little scratched, as though someone had dragged a screwdriver or a knife across it. The jacket Mummy gave you for your eleventh birthday is hung over one of the posts of your bed. It's a little too big for you, its hem hangs around your ankles, and the sleeves flop past your hands, but it's the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. Your door is open ajar, and the light to the bathroom is flickering on and off.

Please format it like this next time.
Are there prompts or another post?

>>36228730
When you were younger, you were sure that there was a spider under your bed. It was large and black and furry and had twittering mandibles and eyes so dark that you could get lost in them, and never find your way out. But now you're a big girl. There's nothing under your bed. Can't be. You're a brave and smart and pretty thing, and despite that spiders make you extremely uncomfortable, they don't scare you.

Your fuzzy slippers are by the end of your bed. They're a bit soggy as they've needed to be washed. Squelching around in them at this hour would be quite fun, you think. The ceiling above you is bare and plain and white, save for a few cracks. They've been a comfort. You traced them with your eyes every night to get to sleep. The nighttable beside your bed has your diary on it, but it's locked. The key isn't on the nighttable. Poo. You flinch, and then give yourself a sound talking-to for being so rude.

You feel your fists roll into balls. You're going to make a decision.
>Investigate the drawers
>Investigate the bathroom
>Go look for Mummy
>Get dressed
>Other

>>36228849

>Go look for Mummy

>>36228849
>Go look for Mummy

>>36228885
>>36228912
You hop out of bed. The floor of your bedroom feels cold against the your feet, even with the underfloor heatamathingy that Daddy had the super install last month. Just to make sure, you take a quick peek under your bed. There's nothing. Well, a jumble of old toys that you've grown out of, torn-up bits of paper that used to have homework on them, and a few cardboard boxes. You'll check on them later, now is the time to look for Mummy.

You open the door to your room. If Daddy saw the state that the mini-kitchen is in, she'd say something like “This room is a pigsty! Did a bomb go off in here?” The pots and pans, ones that normally hang from a rack on the ceiling that you can't really reach, are strewn about the floor. Some of the floorboards are cracked, and a few of the pots are dented. In the dark, you can't quite make it out, but you swear you see something scuffle into one of the cupboards.

The island, in the centre of the kitchen, has a knife rack, none of which either Mummy or Daddy had used in weeks. If you squint, you can see the tines of forks and the occasional spoon in the mess on the floor. You turn on the light, and the fridge, next to you, hums consolingly. In the light, it looks a load worse than it did before. There are what you think are called pilsners sticking out of the broken boards, though you're not quite sure. You decide that it's best to avoid the side of the room where all the pots are, unless it's absolutely necessary.

The door to the Bun's Room is open ajar. It's never open. That was one of the conditions that you agreed to for getting them. The door must be always shut. Feeding them is your responsibility. Clearing up their...um...poop is also your responsibility. If they need combing and bathing? Guess what, that's your job too. Your parents would pay for vet checkups, and would occasionally play with them, but that's it. Speaking of feeding them, they must be a bit hungry. You gave them some food and water yesterday, but by now you're pretty sure it's all gone.

You open the fridge. Inside are about twenty-four carrots, some boxes of rabbit food, some butter, open to the air and some slices of bacon. But all this isn't in the right way. Daddy made sure where everything went, and the butter's where the carrots should be. You make nothing of it, and take them.

But wait, shouldn't you be looking for Mummy?

>Continue looking for Mummy?
>Investigate the shadow in the pantry
>Feed the Buns!

>>36229344
>>Feed the Buns!

>>36229344
>Feed the Buns!

>>36229344

>Continue looking for Mummy?

>>36229374
>>36229376
>>36229386
I'm going to give it another few minutes,and unless Continue looking for Mummy gets two more votes, I'm going with Feeding the Buns.

You push open the door to the Bun's Room with your toe, just enough so that you can squeeze yourself inside. This is how you make sure that there is no lagamorphic escapology on your watch no sir! The familiar smell of rabbit pee, food, and fur washes over you. Mm. In the middle of this dark room is a large feeding bowl, about the size of a tire across, and deep enough for the lip of the bowl to be above your ankle. You carefully put in the carrots, and wait for the familiar scuffling, a charging. You haven't had one of the best of nights, and so a good while playing with the buns will do you good.

The water bowl is empty, and so you go to the sink, that's fortunately not on the side of the room with the pilsners. They'll be there munching when you come back, with their whiffly noses and their fat and their squidge. You'll pet them and sing to them and make sure that they're the most beautiful creatures in the world. As the tap is running, you take a quick look into the hallway to the door. Your parents' door is closed, the hallway is silent. Everything is as it should be.

You go back, balancing what Daddy told you was called a menis cuss of the water in the bowl, so that none spilled.
No bunnies are chomping when you return. No bunnies are romping. The hutches that line the walls are empty. Not even the place where Serry hid- in the back corner, behind and underneath her hutch-has anything in it. Something catches your eye in the bottom of the feeding tray. A small piece of lined paper. You fish it out, trying to hold in sobs. On it is simply a thick, red line.
What do you do?

>>36229740
>Go look for mummy.

>>36229740
I don't get it.
Investigate the shadow in the pantry

>>36229872
What don't you get?

>>36229896
Not that anon but I don't get what that paper was all about.

>>36229955
It's a clue.

>>36229835
>>36229872
Okay, to break the tie, could you two please roll a d100.

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>36230066

>>36230206
For what post are rolling?

>>36230066
>>36230229
Just roll a 1d2 and decide that way.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Alright, if it's 1, then we look for Mummy

Rolled 1 (1d2)

You go back into the hallway, and knock on your parents' door. As it's so late, they're probably fast asleep so you knock gently. They don't answer, but the door creaks open, and you stifle a whimper. Your parents' bedroom is just how you remember it. There's the double bed, with the painting of a European city mounted on the wall behind it. There are Daddy's rare books on the shelf, with names that aren't in English. The carpet in this room is so soft on your feet, it's like stepping on dewy grass and sheep's wool. You twinkle your toes.
You don't hear snoring coming from the bed. It was one of his prides, that Daddy snored loudly. When you had nightmares and clambered in next to Mummy, Daddy's snores would make you giggle. You'd be safe, as Daddy is a bear of a man, large, beardy and gruff. He worked in some large company doing large and important things all around the world. Mummy did something similar. You imagined Daddy cracking trees between his toes in the same way that you could crack twigs. Mummy, you imagined, rode on a horse made of satin and was a queen.
You creep up to the bed, keeping your breath shallow and your steps slow. You grab the sheet with both hands, drag it back and find...nothing. An empty bed. You start to sniffle. The world you've woken up to is weird. You don't like it. You want the buns back. You want Mummy and Daddy. But a brave girl like yourself doesn't sniffle. No. S-she doesn't at all. Never! You decide to investigate what you might have seen in the pantry.

The pantry is where your parents keep all the canned and dried food. You're a big girl, and so they showed you how to do things, like how to make pasta if you got hungry and neither of them was around to make you a meal. There are three shelves; the top contains dried spaghetti, a variety of beans and lentils, and some bags of rice. The middle contains three large Kilner jars of tea, with a scooper in each one. In this light, it looks for a moment like it's full of insects, crawling over each other, twisting and flickering their antenna. You see a bright silverish glint from the middle one. The bottom shelf contains cans of fruit, like pineapple, lychee or some things you've never seen before. No canned peaches though. You had the last one with dinner last night. It tasted soooo good. You peer behind the cans, and listen for rustling or scuttling. You hold your breath, and stand as still as you can muster. If something moves, you'll see it.

From behind you, there comes a clattering. You jump, and let out an eep. Another of the pots had fallen from the ceiling and bounced a little too close to your feet. This, you decide, doesn't bode well at all.

The glint from inside the jar reminds you of something you can't quite place. Do you open it?

>>36230593
Yes.

>>36230671

The glint from inside the jar reminds you of something you can't quite place. Do you open it?

You flick off the lid in the way that Mummy showed you. Inside, the tea leaves look so dark and packed together. You might never mind what was glinting. You could pour all of them out, and then grab the whatever when it goes past, or you could scrounch around inside the jar until you find it. The jar is not full of bugs. It's just tea. You'll be fine. Your hand shakes a little, as you plunge it into the tea. It feels rough, like a million feelers each detecting a new presence in their world. Your arm goes down deeper and deeper into the jar. You're surprised, seeing as how small it is. Well, appearances can be deceiving, you tell yourself. The glinting thing could be anything. It could be sharp. What sort of meanie puts something sharp in a jar of tea?
At long last, you feel something that isn't tea. It's cold, quite small, and distinctly metal. You pluck it out.
[Added to inventory: small metal key]

The key has a dot on it in red nailpolish. You wrack your brains for what it could be for. Along with the red line on the notepad, it's like there's something to be found in something red...
The thought of canned peaches reminds you of how hungry you are.

What do you do?

>Make a snack?
>Go back to your bedroom?
>Go to the bathroom?
>Look for red things

>>36230846

>Go back to your bedroom

>>36231014
You go back to your room. You've been shivering, so you pull on your jacket. Everything's a little better with it on. You could probably walk through the Arctic in just this jacket and what you're wearing right now, which is your bunny-print PJ's. You sit down for a moment and think where your bunnies could've got to. Where they could possibly be. It makes you tearful and angry. What if you don't see them again? What if Mummy and Daddy get back to find everything how it is, with no bunnies, the kitchen a mess and-you cry, briefly, trying to look as steadfast and brave as possible. You wipe your nose on the sleeve of your PJ's and stand up. If you're going to at any point leave the house, perhaps it'd be a good idea to get dressed. Your eyes land on the chest of drawers; yellow, peach, red. Red! You open the bottom two drawers. In the bottom drawer, there are some wire-cutters, a flashlight with a working battery in it, and a small baggie of hay. The middle drawer is empty. You put the key into the lock on the top drawer, and turn it. It springs open. Inside is a cellphone. It starts to ring. Loudly.
>Do you answer it?

>>36231221
Yes

>>36231251
"Hello.", says the person on the phone. They have a soft, girlish voice, younger than Daddy's secretary but older than you.
"H-hello. Who are you?"
"I'm Henderson.", she says. You can tell that she's smiling. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"D-do you know where Mummy and Daddy are?"
"They're safe. It's going to be fine. What's your name?"
"I'm _____."
"What a pretty name!" she says, with that same, smiling voice. "I'm sure we're going to be the best of friends!" You're not quite sure what to think of that. Henderson pauses, and her voice becomes businesslike. "I need to tell you the purpose of this call. I know where some of your bunnies are."
"W-where are they? Are they safe? What've you done with them!?"
"I haven't harmed a hair on their adorable little heads. I can help you."
"Help me?"
"Yes, but only if you do me a few favours." She sounds cheerful.
"Where are they?"
"I don't know."
"But you said you could help me!"
"I know how I can return some of them to you."
"Tell me!"
"All in good time. All I want you to do for me, is find me some things."
"W-what sort of thing?"
"Normal, usual things. Household items. There are five. One for each bunny I can return to you."
"What are they?"
"Patience, _____. All in good time." Her voice reverts to business: "Do we have a deal?"

>What is your name?
>Do we have a deal?

>>36231546
Miko

Okay

>>36231600
I'm terribly sorry, Anon, but something has come up and I need to begone for about an hour or two. Thank you so much for playing, I really appreciate it.

>>36231627
No problem. Sorry more people didn't play.

>>36231653
It's fine. Hopefully I'll have more players next week. What do you think so far? I'm sorry for railroading, but it was absolutely necessary for the game to continue for you to get that call.

>>36231679
I liked it. And I don't really mind railroading if the story interests me.

>>36231768
Thanks a lot!

I'm back, if any of you want to play...

>>36233157
Wb

I'll still go wit this >>36231600

>>36233226
You pause to think this over. She does sound a little...too cheerful. You don't know. She's probably going to help you. While you're not so stupid to instantly trust any stranger, this lady seems like she isn't going to hurt you.
"Okay!" you say, "We have a deal."
"Excellent, Miko. Alright. I'll need you to find some chicken soup and put it in Apartment 15C. It should be unlocked."
"W-where am I going to find chicken soup?"
"Where else? In the restaurant. They've got great big vats of it in their fridge."
"How am I supposed to get in there?"
"That's for you to find out. Ta-ta now. Oh, and by the way, you should look in your box at the mailroom. There's something there for you."
Click. Dead line.

>>36233361
Are you waiting for me?

>>36233488
No, I'm writing an explanation of where you live.

[You, Miko, live in The Clocktower, a thirty-five story tall megacomplex for all walks of society. There are restaurants, schools, gyms, gardens, galleries and, of course, the eponymous clock face, to which an entire story is devoted. Your family have a flat on the B-2 floor. There's not much down here apart from the boilers and the supply rooms.]

There are restaurants on the third, eighth, seventeenth and twenty-third floors.
>Which one?

You should get dressed. In your closet, there are some sensible jeans and a warm sweater, a cute satiny dress or a skirt and variety of t-shirts.
>What do you wear?

>>36233672
I assume the mail room is on the ground floor so I'd like to stop there first if I can, then move on to the 3rd floor restaurant.

Jeans and a warm sweater. If the MC has a backpack for school laying around I'd like to wear that too and put the wire-cutters and small bag of hay in there. I'll carry the flashlight in hand.

Sorry for the delay. I'm on a tablet.

What kind of quest is -

>reads OP

Nopenopenopenope! Last movie I watched that started like this ended with the protagonist having sex with his daughter and cutting his tongue out after he found out!

>>36233875
...okay.

File: ins-kusama053[1].jpg (164 KB, 460x360)

164 KB JPG

>>36233828
Great. Seeing as you're my only player at this point, you get to guide the story! Remember to take the phone with you. It's important.

You get dressed. You fold your PJ's neatly and put them under your pillow. You pull on the jeans and zip them up. Fortunately, your parents didn't buy clothes for you to grow into, instead, they bought ones that actually fit. The sweater's a bit scratchy, though. You can deal with it. You fish out your backpack from the bottom of your closet. You don't miss going to school, this being the very beginning of Easter holiday, but there's some comfort in the bag that used to hold all your homework. You lace your shoes tightly. Tightly, double-knotting them just in case, just how Daddy taught you. The keys to the apartment are hidden behind one of the paintings in the hallway, but you don't remember which one. Now that the lights are on, you can see each one: the first is a print of the Crucifixion by Dali, and the other is a photo of Yayoi Kusama scuplture. (pic related) Mummy always liked such strange art. Before leaving, your stomach rumbles.
>Which painting?
>Grab a snack?
>Go to the bathroom?

>>36233875
I assure you, this won't end like Oldboy. Stick around. You may have fun.

>>36234042
>The sculpture
>Yes
>Yes

Thanks for the reminder about the phone.

Brb. Gonna grab something to eat.

>>36234129
No problem!

Taped to the back of the photo of the sculpture are two things. First is the front door key. Etched onto it is "02013". You slip it onto the keychain that's straggling in the bottom of your backpack. There is also a row of small, perfectly polished and white teeth, placed as to look like a smile. You almost drop the framed photograph. Carefully hanging it back up, you quickly make your way to the bathroom. The light has not stopped flashing on and off. You sit down, and the seat feels faintly gelatinous for a second. When you touch it, however, it feels like normal porcelain. You do what you need to, and wash your hands. You look at yourself in the mirror. Back at you stares a timid-looking girl with brown, mousy hair in a pony tail, and green eyes, and around her is darkness. The mirror is dirty enough to frame you. You smile; she smiles. You write a message in the dust on the mirror: "Please be safe", but you write it backwards, as though the you in the mirror was writing it about you. On the sink is a toothbrush and paste, a small bottle of mouthwash and a pair of scissors.
>Take?
Back in the kitchen, you rummage in the back of the pantry and find some rice-cakes, fruit leather and jerky.Seems like a healthy enough meal to you.
You set off down the hall. Your room is at the end of the corridor, it's the thirteenth. After five doors, there's a left turn. You know that at the end corridor, that is, the one you're walking down currently, there's a set of fire stairs. If you take the fork, there's an elevator and the boiler room.
>Go left?

>>36234359
Might as well brush my teeth. Take everthing with me afterwards.

Take the fire stairs. Don't want the power to go out again while I'm in the elevator.

>>36234759
You push open the doors to the staircase and go up them two at a time. If you're going to get to the mailroom promptly, you need to step on it! You go up and up and up! Nothing can stop you. The stairs are the generic dark concrete and black-painted metal steps that you find in every apartment block. Fortunately, at each landing, there's an estimated number of stairs to go until you reach the next floor. It's quite dark, and absolutely silent, apart from the sounds of a small girl running upwards. Something small and red falls very quickly down the small rectangle of space made by the stairs. It disintegrates at the bottom. It was nowhere near you, but in any case, you hug the wall the rest of the way up. Please roll a d4.

Rolled 1 (1d4)

>>36234941

>>36234989
As you reach the top step, you take in a deep breath, grab the banister, and slip. Or rather more accurately, you lose your balance and fall backwards. Because you were grabbing on with both hands, you didn't fall to any painful death or anything, but did bump your knee on the stairs. You get up, a little giggly and shaky, and push open the door to the lobby.

It's one of the largest rooms you've ever seen, at least ten metres high, floor to ceiling, with a slightly bent-over looking oak in the centre of it. You've come out into the top right hand side corner. About two dozen steps from the tree are glass revolving doors that lead outside. But it's so dark that going out there doesn't seem to be the best idea. There is no night-guard napping at the post, but there is a steaming cup of coffee and a bookmarked and dog-eared novel, a copy of "The Trial" by Kafka.

Along the right hand wall (your right), there is the reception desk, with keys, key-cards and all manner of other things a homeowner here would need. The mailroom is a small boxy place, to your immediate left. The solid wooden door is shut, and, you hope, not locked. There are elevators just behind the tree, in a great clear-glass shaft. The rest of the room comprises armchairs and business suites and other comfortable amenities that are being wasted by the residents.

You decide to try the door to the mailroom, and fortunately, it swings open. It's a room that looks like what you'd expect a morgue to look like, even though you've never seen one. Medical, sterile, with rows and rows and rows of large metal drawer-like boxes. On the floor lies something that looks like a bloodstain, but definitely isn't. Your box is the same number as your door key.

You open your box. And at that moment, your phone rings.
"I see you, Miko."
You make a startled noise.
"Do not be afraid, dear." It's a man's voice, salty, deep, and rich, like caramel. "Miko, do you know why you're here?"
"N-no. What's your name, mister?"
"I'm Juliet." says Juliet, as though it was the most natural name in the world for him to have. "How are you feeling? I hope you're not too shaken."
"Not at all!" you say. You can't be afraid in front of strangers! "Now, uh, Mister Juliet, what do you want?"
"Well, dear," he rolls the r, "I can also help you with your quandary."
"My...?"
"Concerning those cute little beasties."
"Y-you know where some of them are?"
"In a way." he pauses, "I can get some returned to you."
"What do I have to do?"
"Well now, must we talk business already? Oh fine," he sighs, "Well, yes, as a matter of fact I do need a certain little someone to hop around the Tower." You're about to say something when he says, "You see, I'm making a film, and I'm wanting of a, what is called, cinématographier. Could you, perchance, indulge me?"
"W-what sort of film?"
"Oh, don't let things like that bother you, just a....home movie."
"Okay. You see, I'm already doing things for someone to get my bunnies back."
"Who, may I ask?"
>Do you lie to him?

>>36235607
Yes

>>36235607
No, but don't tell him Henderson's name.

>>36235669
What do you want to tell him, and why, out of interest?

>>36235692
Nevermind. I'll go with what the new guy said >>36235683

>>36235772
>>36235683
"A nice girl. All I have to do is pick something up from the kitchen."
"Well...well that's very nice, isn't it?"
"Y-yes."
"When I think about it, there is some footage I need from the Suzette on the third floor."
"Footage?"
"Your phone has a camera, yes?"
"I-it does, why?"
"So I don't have to furnish you with one. Yeesssss, that'd be good."
"What would?"
"There will probably be a pot on the boil. I want you to film it boiling over. Could you do that small thing for me, dear? Oh, and, while you're at it, I heard that the owners of the Benston haven't yet cleared out their fridge. That, that as well...."
Juliet makes an awful coughing sound, somewhere between a dry heave and a laugh.
"Excuse me." he says. "Do we have an agreement?"

>>36235914
Okay.

>>36235954
Do you think you should trust Juliet?

>>36235914
>>36235963

We'll just be careful that it isn't a gas bomb or something.
To be honest it feels like talking to Sander Cohen.

>>36235963
No. Creeps me out. But we don't have a lot of options.

>>36235963
To be clear, that's a "Accept job but don't trust him." vote.

>>36236084
Right.

>>36236056
>>36236044
"Yeah, okay. Do I just text you the film once I'm done, or.."
"No," he purrs, "That'd be good."
Click. He scares you. You don't particularly like him too much.

Inside your mailbox is another piece of A4 lined paper with the words written in red crayon BUNNY GO HERE ONCE WORK DONE. You're not sure how to feel. On one hand, you're going to see your bunnies again. On the other hand, you're not sure how nice it would be for even one of them to be put into your mailbox. How would it fit?
Taped to the back of it is a staff keycard to all the restaurants on the third floor. It's small and orange, not much larger than a bank card. The black strip feels furry for some reason. You try not to think about. Back in the atrium, you take a seat in the biggest, comfiest, fluffiest armchair, a black leather one that squeaks when you sit down on it. You quietly eep with delight. You reach into your backpack and nibble on one of the ricecakes. It tastes bland, but temporarily fills the hole. You gaze up at the ceiling, and see a starry night, painted in blues and golds. It's very delightful.
You get up. "Should I take the stairs again, or the elevator? It's only three floors, so..."
>Stairs
>Elevator

>>36236084
Thank you.

>>36236293
I'll stick with the stairs.

>>36236358
I'm sorry, but now I really do have to g2b.
I'll run probably on the weekend, if I have time. I'll announce in /qtg/ an hour before I start.

>>36236293
>>Stairs
Press the elevator call button and see if it comes.
Then we can press it again upstairs to see if it can actually make it between floors.

Thank you all very much for play.

>>36236519
You are a very clever bunny.

>>36236508
Thanks for running. It was fun and pretty creepy.

>>36236508
>>36236533

Got it Spec-QM.
Thanks for running. I feel like it's is going to be a good quest.

Are you going to archive it?

>>36236579
Thanks a lot! I really wanted to run an Original quest. I'm glad that you were creeped by it.
>>36236599
Thanks! Um, yes, I will.

Do any of you have advice/requests/questions/comments/things?

>>36236800
Is this quest directly inspired by anything? A movie or game or something?

>>36236800
I haven't seen enough of you writing to point out any flaws with confidince. It's more or less the same with the quest itself. Give us another tread or two and we can point out any reoccurring problems.

On the other hand I'm enjoying your character dialogs. You can really feel the distinct personalities of the people when they talk.

>>36236912
Well. Influences include
>Bioshock
>Yume Nikki
>Corpse Party
>My actual IRL little sister
>Claire
>A touch of Killing Floor
>Alice in Wonderland
>Coraline
Then again, just because it's inspired by it, doesn't mean events from it will happen.

>>36236914
Thanks!! I try really hard on dialogue.