No, your character would be an exception. It's the others that won't know about it.
I did an example for my other game, so here is one for this game. Edit: Expanded it with an extra two paragraphs and another hint.
Edit 2: New Out of Sight post. This one gives us a glance into the chambers of Dr. Gregory Hound.
Edit 3: Man, this isn't checked that often, and neither are the notices at the top of the normal posts. I don't know what to do! Anyway, Thomas Trenklin has been deceased this update. May he rest in peace (Which may be doubtful considering the planned continuations).
Edit 4: Here is a pre-end counting of who's winning. So far:
- Neutrals are in 1st, with a total of 134% stability. Maintain your lead! The endings for good and bad ending are rather obvious... Aren't you curious what will happen if you win?
- Heroes are in 2nd, with a total of 79% stability. Continue your quest! The villains are weak, now is the time to finish them!
- Villains are in 3rd, with a total of 48% stability. Keep up the fight, villains! Are you really going to let the weaker heroes win by fleeing your might?
I won't post Update 16 until at least tomorrow, due to it being late currently. But it should... change quite a few things in the game, depending on where you are currently... and how desperate you are.
The people inside the desolate buildings still live, but not as they used to. With the emergence of the "unnatural," new myths have replaced the old ones, and they are whispered in fear to the young, the elders trying to warn them of the dangers they have seen. From the "dead man," as he calls himself, wandering New York in search of something unknown, to the dark-eater, feeding on what was believed impossible to feed on, though why is a mystery, and the "Hunter," who tracks down those foolish enough to leave and places their skinned hide on the doorstep the next day. His purpose is also not known. The children will ask why everything is a mystery, annoyed at the meager answers unable to satisfy their craving for knowledge. "The skies hold the answer," the elders will say to the young, their eyes large and gazing out dreamingly, probably of better times in their youth, "but not the ones we want. They say that this is merely the first part, and even if we survive, it will get worse. So much worse." It matters not that tears are in the eyes of the children, it matters only that they know. That they fear leaving cover, and will stay, so as to not get tangled up in the web being spun by some unknown force, which is slowly coming to encase everything humanity holds dear.
"The unnatural have caused this," the elders say, an entirely new light to their legends taking hold, one that does not strike fear, but instead stirs something deep within the children, something telling them to rise, "They will destroy humanity. But eventually they must fall. They cannot keep on coming forever," then the speakers will gesture out the dirty window at the starlit sky, unsure of exactly what they are pointing at, "Then we will rise again. Humans will once more be able to live without fear in their own cities, and the unnatural will be the ones fleeing. They will flee our soldiers, and we will hunt them, we will hunt them like the freaks they are."
No remorse is in the eyes of the people there, only anger, and excitement. Excitement at reclaiming "what is theirs," reversing the situation on the Hunter, making the "dead man" truly dead, and slaughtering the dark-eater. The villains will be next, with a pike through the dark-filled robes of the man walking smugly down the streets, the sword of the kid with the spear turned on himself, and similar fates to anyone else that is trying to harm this city even more. There are the "heroes," too. From the shadowless kid to the armored animal man and the asian controlling the air, all will die. For they are guilty of being stronger than the people in the buildings, and no matter what is said, a certain portion of the hatred will always be based on jealousy. Jealousy that someone else is the special one.
The elders send the children to bed with these images firmly in mind, setting them off to morbid dreams. Then they go back to the windows and watch at night, intent on seeing who else is wandering the streets, especially now that darkness has enshrouded the city physically as well. "They will die," one will whisper to an agreeable silence, "They will all die."
At the Lab
Dr. Gregory Hound looked up from his document at the sound of a knock on the door. "Come in," he said, somewhat indifferently. The door opened to reveal the S.W.A.T. commander Vincent, and Dr. Hound put aside his document, leaving it for later. "How are your troops doing?" he asked Vincent, staring intently at the man. Vincent replied calmly, "They're getting their heads handed to them over and over again by these freaks in New York. Hurry up with 'the answer,' Gregory," to which Dr. Hound simply stared for a moment. Then he suddenly came back to life, and stood up, staring out of the only window in his office as he said nonchalantly, "You must be patient, Vincent. With my meager budget it will be a while before the Strength-Zappers are finished."
Vincent almost exploded at that, his face mocking the shade of a tomato, and his eyes bulging out, "Your meager budget!? Have you seen the bill you receive each month!? You better get that thing finished soon, Mr. Hound, or else you'll be added to my soldiers' list with the freaks!" Dr. Hound glanced at Vincent, amusement in his eyes, something horribly out of place. "What if I could buy you time, Vincent?" he says just as mildly as before, "I want them alive. You want them out of New York. We can both be pleased," Vincent calms now, puzzled. "What are you saying...?" he asks slowly, thinking that he likes the direction this is going. Dr. Hound grins, the first large sign of emotion he's made that day, "The Dull-Water, Vincent. The Dull-Water," he pauses and sits back down, putting his feet on his desk and looking up at Vincent, "A treasure to the "freaks," as you aptly called them. And a useless liquid to us. Get all of it that you can. We're going to need it," a gleam appears in his eyes, and Vincent nods, not bothering to interrogate him further. He turns to leave, but glances back at Dr. Hound one last time, saying, "That...thing killed Ben," with sorrow in his eyes.
Dr. Hound sighs in an annoyed fashion, talking like a tired teacher to a little kid, "If you cared about him, then why did you let him pretend to be you on that foolish mission?" Vincent looks hurt at this, but also guilty, and he mutters to himself as he leaves, "I don't know..." the door shuts behind him, and Dr. Hound stares at it for a moment before picking back up his document, resuming his reading. "Oh, you freaks," he mutters, "How interesting can you get?"
The title of the document is 'power siphoning.'
< Message edited by Kosefira -- 8/23/2012 22:00:31 >
Light cannot shine through a closed door.
Orfa orema ofa yma amazinga umorha oga ota: