AmnesiaQuest (aka, "my brain a little ouchie")

AmnesiaQuest (aka, "my brain a little ouchie")
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Whether through sheer bad luck, or more nefarious methods, the strings of who you once were have been severed.
[X] Attempt to wake up for a little bit just to confirm that there really is nothing to signal the neurons. Once confirmation has been acquired, go back to sleep. If something does signal the neurons though, stay awake a little longer to investigate.
 
Residue
[x] Continue non-existing.

This is nice.


The darkness continues to envelope your consciousness, like a warm blanket in the middle of winter.

You think you could get used to this... void?

Void implies the ABSENCE of a thing, however. It's true, that there's literally nothing here.

But.. from the looks of it? You don't think there ever was.


[X] Attempt to wake up for a little bit just to confirm that there really is nothing to signal the neurons. Once confirmation has been acquired, go back to sleep. If something does signal the neurons though, stay awake a little longer to investigate.












Something horrible begins in your pre-frontal cortex. Your body is starting up again. Hurting. Longing.

Seems that you've got to get up again, whether you like it or not.



Like a moth to a flame, your awareness sticks to the inside of your eyelids. It's not a very pleasant feeling.

You become aware of a aching pain on your temple, making you suck in your breath.

A moan of pain exits your mouth.

You're beginning to long for the nothing that came before this.


Your eyes slowly crack open. Light pierces your retinas, and something comes into view above you.

An unfamiliar ceiling.

A celling fan spins lazily above you, catching smoke from a ashtray to your right.

You struggle to your feet, incredibly disoriented. The blood in your body is not a fan of this course of action.

Your vision goes dark for a moment, and you end up having to catch yourself on the coffee table, but ultimately, you end up standing.

Now on your feet, you look around the moonlit room, listless, head still pounding fiercely.

It's a... House? If you're remembering correctly. House sounds correct.

[x] Explore the house you've found yourself in.
[x] Sit down, take a breather. Recollect.

[x] Write in.
 
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Kansas?
You sigh, still clutching your head. While you'd love to sit down, you need to know where you are, first.

Using the couch as a crutch, you shuffle behind it, into the first room you find. The cold, porcelain tiles steal heat from your socked feet, and you shiver.

This... Is a bathroom.

You can't really make out yourself in the mirror. There's not enough light to really see in here, but something reflets the moonlight.

It's a

[x] Knife.

[x] Pill Bottle.

[x] Medkit.

You don't know what compels you to take it, really. Maybe there's something in there, ratting around in your brain, that remembers?

Eh. Not likely.

You look around the bathroom again, but there's not much to say about it. Just a cold, dark room.

Now done with the freezer, you move back into the main room, following the wall into a bedroom on the other side of the house.

You push the door open, and are met with, surprise surprise, a bedroom. You step inside, head on a swivel.

The bed is large, but not overly so. Just enough room for two people. Same goes for the dresser beside it.

Your eyes wander around the room, catching on the dresser again. What is it about this thing that's so important?

You step closer, unable to decipher the apparent cause of this attraction.

Guess whatever's up here, just isn't that important.

You feel like you've lost something... But that's not really a unique feeling right now, is it?

You look around again, not really finding anything... Till you open the closet. There's a bunch of suits in here that are much to big for you. Nothing else, aside from the single pair of pink tennis shoes at the bottom.

You look around the room again. Predominantly blues and blacks, Same color as the suits. That's... weird, right? Everything in this room, is the same color scheme of blue, and black.

Sighing, you leave the room, and keep walking along till you reach the last room in the house.

The walls in here don't match the beige of the rest of the house, but then again, neither did the other bedroom.

It's just a quaint bedroom. Small twin sized bed, a dresser, and closet. Nothing that immediately catches your eye.

You can see the kitchen from the living room, not even a wall between the two, just a counter.

You sit down on the couch, thankful for a reprieve from walking.


[x] Go to sleep.

[x] Write in.
 
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explorative surgery (buddy was a little curious)
[x] Pill bottle won. I flipped a coin.

[x] Go to sleep.



You close your eyes, and drift off, exhausted.



It's nice. The dark and welcoming void attempts to swallow you whole, and you let it.



You baste in the warmth for a while...
but you need to get up again. They demand that of you. They demand you walk and dance to the sound and fire of the waking world.





Your eyes snap open at the sound of answering machine going off. You wince.



A male voice rings out through the house. "Hey sweetie, it's me. I'm going to be in Cali for a few more days, I left money for food in my dresser. Love you."



Your eyebrow raises. You're intrigued. Assuming this is your house... That's a family member? Perhaps the owner of the blue bedroom?



You get up off the couch and your head swims. The nausea almost makes you puke.



You open your eyes after your vision has steadied, and you see the spot you woke up in.



There's blood staining the rug around the coffee table.



You reach up, and touch your head, and surely enough, when you find, and touch the injury, it hurts.



Really, ground breaking discoveries.







[x] Tend to your injury.

[x] Attempt to clean the carpet. IT'S STAINED!

[x] Call the number back, they have to know something!

[x] Go back to sleep. It's too early for this.



[x] Write in.
 
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You look like ten pounds of crap in a five pound bag.
[x] Tend to your injury.


Yeah, probably best to get this out of the way first.

You rack your brain. How DO you fix something like this?

You pull the pills out of your pocket, and ponder them for a moment. Well, these are supposed to help you, aren't they?

Maybe you could find more, now that you've got daylight.

Walking back into the bathroom, nothing but the lighting has changed since the night before.

You look into the mirror.

A stranger stares back.


A small Caucasian girl stands on the other side of the mirror. She looks sad. Greasy black locks frame her face, not made any better from the deep eye bags.

Your eyes make their way up to an injury on her hairline.

Then, it clicks.

This, is you.

Oh.

This is you.

You stop looking at the mirror. No point in wasting time.

You look under the sink, to find something to patch yourself up with.

Butterfly bandages return your gaze with a judgemental stare.


...

You attempt to open the box with shaky fingers. Not quite able to figure out how to open the box, you end up pulling too hard, and the thin paper box tears open.

Bandage packages spill all over the sink.

You're too tired to clean them up.

You grab one out of the pile, and put it on.

Better than nothing.


You leave the bathroom again, walking out to the couch, and sitting back down.

You feel lethargic.

But you know there's still much to be done.



[x] Replace the carpet. IT'S RUINED AT THIS POINT!

[x] Call the number back, they might know something.

[x] Go back to sleep. you're tired.



[x] Write in.
 
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capybara? capybara. coconut doggy.
[x] Call the number back, they might know something.

[x] Get something to drink
I think we need to take care of our basic needs now, we are likely thirsty



New energy seeps into your limbs. That's right, that number called earlier! Possibly a lead?

You bring yourself to your feet once more. There's still much to be done, after all.


Namely, your throat is dry.

You enter the kitchen, and instead of looking for a cup, you turn on the spout, and drink directly from it.

You're... an interesting critter, to say the least.

Once you've regained throat permissions, you actually go call the guy back on the phone.

There's just one small issue. You are clueless on how to use this thing.

Eventually, after fumbling with the buttons for a bit, you focus up. The cold plastic of the phone hugs the side of your face.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

"I'm sorry, the person you are trying to reach is not available at this time. If you would like to leave a message, please wait until after the tone."

And just like that, the energy leaves you again. What are you going to do now?

*Beep*

[x] Hang up.

[x] Explain what happened.

[x] Ask for them to call you back.


[x] Write in.
 
Uh, Hello, Hello?
[x] Explain what happened.



Oh who are you kidding. He's not going to believe you. Although, it doesn't hurt to try.

"Hey." You start. "Listen... I uh. How do I even say this.."

"I woke up, yesterday, on the floor. I think I hit my head... And I can't remember anything. Nothing. Like everything before last night is just GONE."

"Please call me back when you get this." You ask, hoping that somehow they were still listening.

You put the phone back on the receiver. You feel pretty god damn stupid. 'I can't remember anything' is the BEST you could come up with? Very tactful.

Your stomach grumbles, interrupting your thoughts.

Food time?

[x] Food time.

[x] No, we need to clean that Carpet!

[x] Curl into a ball and sob.


[x] Write in.
 
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the beginning of a long, arduous journey for nom-noms.
[x] Food time.

Right. Food time. You enter the kitchen again, and open the fridge. Nothing. Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought? Is that not what fridges are used for?

Whatever.

You open the cupboards one by one, looking for SOMETHING to eat. Nothing. I mean... Unless you want to try your hand at eating porcelain?

Wait. Hold on. Didn't phone-guy say something about leaving money for food?

Why isn't there food here?

Guess you just weren't worth the hassle.



You walk into the blue room, and start digging through the drawers, looking for the money phone-guy left. He said it was for food, right?

Eventually, you find it. Five twenty dollar bills set in a nick-nack drawer. You pocket them. As you leave to turn away you notice something.

A small photo frame on the dresser is face down. You pick it up, and look at the photo.

It's a tiny you, a man in a blue suit, and a woman. Neither of the people bear any significance to you, but you seem rather close in the photo.


You put the photo back on the dresser, up-right this time. You feel a little lighter.

You leave the room, and pause.

Where, exactly, can you buy food?

You.. don't exactly know, but you can certainly find out!

You march over to the door, and out of the house. Clearly, if you wanted food, you were going to have to get it yourself.

Opening the door, you immediately get blinded by the deadly cancer ray in the sky. "Gah!"

You hold your hand up to block out the sun. You are a woman on a mission. Petty things like blindness weren't going to stop you from getting your food.

Once your vision adjusted, you looked around, for a sign or something. You spot a McDonald's sign out of the corner of your eye. It's faded in color.

You look back down, and look around. The side walk on your side is cracked, and leads down a row of houses.

On the other, is a chain link fence, a park on the other side. It's sketchy.


You begin your walk to the McDonald's, and whatever else is over there. As you walk by a rusty fence, your skin crawls. That's just tenus waiting to happen.

The fence leads you to the park, and you enter, seeing the shopping area on the other side.

The park is very pretty, all things considered. Sure, the benches littered around may need a little TLC, all in all it's pleasant.

You stop for a moment, to take in your surroundings. The leaves, the smell in the air, and... The dirt under your boots. Admittedly, that kind of sours things.


"Excuse me, you're Michael's kid, right?"

You pause, turning twords the smiling man who just addressed you. His eyes are blown wide. He seems surprised.

"...No?"

His grin turned, lips thinning. More barring his teeth than smiling at this point.

He rushes you and grabs you by the neck, pulling you behind some trees.

"Course' he couldn't do the job, he's got kids of his own."

He presses a cold, hard cylinder against your chin. Your eyes flick down to it, and he laughs, saying something vaguely threatening.


As he's blabbering on, you realize something. The hammer on his revolver isn't pulled back. This man, pardon your French, is a fucking moron.

[x] Idiot or not, he's still got at least a hundred pounds on me! (Surrender.)

[x] We can talk about this. (Stall, hope someone sees you.)

[x] He wants to throw you around like some kind of doll? Then let's show him how you play. (Go for the throat.)


[x] Write in.


(Edit: I felt like I was kinda floundering, So I expanded on the chapter a little. Hopefully, this is a bit more entertaining.)
 
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[x] He wants to throw you around like some kind of doll? Then let's show him how you play. (Go for the throat.)

I have no idea why he's trying to murder a kid
 
Acronyms are like kinder eggs. (They're both HIDING THINGS!)
[x] He wants to throw you around like some kind of doll? Then let's show him how you play. (Go for the throat.)



When he blinks- you lunge. Your left hand comes up, and you punch the rotten bastard as hard as you can in the throat.

Something in his throat gives underneath your fist, and you gasp for air
as he falls over.

He falls to the ground in front of you, clutching his throat.

The world... Shifts? The more you breath, the clearer your head, and by extension, the world gets. The darkness at the edge of your vision recceds.

You look down at the man you just sucker punched in the throat. Once he catches his breath, he looks up at you, and gives you a concerned smile.

"Jesus. Michael said your episodes could get bad... Sorry about that, kid, I know I shouldn't have touched ya. You okay?"

Are you?


[x] I'm fine.

[x] No. Something's wrong with me.

[x] Run.

[x] What.

[x] Lunge. He can't fool you.
 
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[x] No. Something's wrong with me.

Okay so I think I understand the mechanics betterish?
Red Text is supposed to represent violent thoughts, they may make up sensory information to make their violent narrative fit.
Normal Text I am not so sure about, these seem to be middle of the road options?
Yellow Text I am even less sure about right now, it seems to correlate to constructive and positive thoughts, it mentioned cleaning the carpet and appeared when we examined the photo, it also seems to be on the more optimistic bend
 
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