≫ WHAT WE BECOME PART 2: WHAT REMAINS APPLICATIONS CLOSED ≪

  • As of today (08/19/2021), we'll no longer be accepting applications for What We Become Part 2: What Remains.

    We've given it some thought and have decided that with the current state of the lore, it's in everyone's best interest if we focus on what we have currently so that we can finish the story in a timely manner. Introducing new characters into the mix would not only complicate things, but it would be difficult for new players to acclimate considering the current player base consists exclusively of long-time players.

    All currently pending applications will be processed, but the application form is closed so no new applications may be submitted.

    Applications will open again closer to the release of our Build 41 lore. Info on that will be released at some point in the future, but I can at least confirm that we're making good progress with our writing and planning.

    Thanks for your understanding!!

Misfortune

Anonymous

Guest
Alpha.

Claudius.

Castle.

Shakespeare.


The names of old companions are recorded on a yellowed piece of parchment. Various newspapers and letters from the C.P.F. lie about the table, the snow gently falling to a rest atop the piles. The wind whistles by in calm waves--the extent of Monroe’s liveliness. Few are awake at this hour. The warm hum of the lanterns have all been snuffed out, for now. Fear that the next stroke of misfortune will fall on them should they stay lit.

Those were not their real names, of course. One would be a fool to use something as valuable as that now. But it was important that they were recorded and recorded often. If they weren’t, they would surely be forgotten. Some people don’t deserve to be forgotten.

That would be true death.

But it isn’t just the people. It’s the places, too. And the events that occurred there. Sketches of an old shopping center. A mall. Some forests. A farm. Each location has something in common—each one had their lanterns lit for too long.

Misfortune fell on them all.

It wasn’t all so bad. There were happy times, too. Everyone has an enemy. A caring father can be pushed to kill. But the big picture is often lost; in the end, even the vilest of people have something they love. Those calling Monroe home are reminiscent of it, after all.

Family.

It was more than a group. It truly was, in all sense of the word, a family. It only takes one instance of misfortune to take it all away, but the memories will be there forever. As long as they are recorded.

Alpha.

Claudius.

Castle.

Shakespeare.


They could never be brought back, of course. But they could be honored. Lanterns could be lit in their memory—lanterns symbolizing what was. Even if misfortune would have to follow.

Chh-ck. Chh-ck. Chh-ck.

A lighter is flicked on. It’s flicked off. It’s flicked on again.

There were lanterns to light.
 
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