What's the point of any of this? [Game End]

Looks like we might be getting a hats mafia style of game.

Hats mafia was a game where clues were favoured over powers.

@________@

I would like to file a complaint about the slanderous portrait I received that I think is supposed to be of me. It depicts me as having sides of different length. I assure you all my sides are of equal length IRL.

omg i'm already loving this screams (but not too loud)

WHAT WAS THAT? COULD YOU SPEAK UP PLEASE, DEO?

What is there to love...

my face irl when i saw my role

reading role pm like

I'm excited for the game to kick off!!! ;w;

My shape is spiffy.

Baww, I don't wanna wait another three and a half hours for D1!
*impatient twitching*

My shape is pretty inspiring, not going to lie to you all.

It's midnight when the girl wakes up. It's midnight on a Tuesday. She never did anything useful on a Tuesday. She thinks, maybe I might do something today. Maybe I can reinvent myself. She's hopeful, with her cheek against the desk. It's smooth. The cold air from the window--that's smooth, too. It's so smooth she can't even hear it creep in the room. Her curtains hardly even shiver. Neither does she. She gets up anyway.

Standing, the room is darker than she remembers. The clouds are out. They hide the stars, but she can still see the moon. It's faint. An opal rolling in the fog. The girl reaches into the quiet recess of her room and flicks on the lights. She blinks. She blinks again, and then she sees the glass at her feet. It's still unshattered, so she picks it up. If only it were still full, she thinks. But she puts it back on her desk. There's something else on the floor, too.

By the wastebasket.

The crumpled paper.

The girl kneels down beside it, one hand on the wastebasket. She picks up the crumpled paper. It's no longer wet. The crumpled ridges comfortably rest in the creases of her palm. It's ruined, though, so she throws it in the basket and stands up, ready to think of other matters.

She doesn't, though. She blinks. This time it's not from the glare of light.

It's hard to trust herself as she does it, but she kneels down beside the wastebasket again. Her fingers are funny. Humor me, she says to them. So they do. They rummage for the crumpled paper, and they find it. She pulls it back out. She's certain it was all her mind playing tricks. It often did that, after all. But no. There they were. All the shapes that she drew, only now they're not lonely. They're together.

The girl frowns as she unfurls the paper. It's so wide and empty, except for the one spot where it wasn't. She stares at it. She doesn't believe her eyes, so she holds the paper closer. She believes her eyes. The shapes are moving. Not much. But just enough.

She drops the page. Shakes her head. This isn't right, she says. I can't have this happen, she thinks. I'm going mad, she feels.

I'm picking it up again, she realizes, as the paper touches her skin.

The girl takes a deep breath. Steadying. Calm. She's calm in all the ways a sphere is square. She's also not as calm as the shapes are attentive. They're waiting on her. They're expectant.

She is going mad, she knows.

"What's the point of any of this?" she says. Her fists clenched. She wants to tear the paper in two. Fortunately for the shapes, she doesn't. Unfortunately for the shapes, none of them know what to say. They look at each other. They're silent. They're as silent as anything that's never had a voice before. But now. Now they feel like they might. So one gives it a try.

A shape named ezzelin moves forward.

She says,

"To be able to pretend there are things you can do instead of facing the myriad of things around you that you can't," she says. "Also, forty-two," she says.

---

Day One

Night Zero has ended. Day One begins.
ezzelin decided to go to a children's book. She was town.
The introduction post has been updated.

The ratio is 4M:12T. This phase will end at 7:00 PM PDT on March 23nd.