OBSERVER

Your name is Ray. Your friend is [[dying.]]

You knew it was going to happen for a while now, like a bug instinctively knows that it will soon die. With every risk they took, the looming shadow of death loomed ever closer, and you told yourself you were helpless to stop it. But how did the two of you come to this point? You [[recall...]]

(set: $password to 0) (set: $morale to 0) (set: $compliance to 0) (set: $defiance to 0) (set: $metlan to false) (set: $lanfavor to 0) (set: $metjinghua to false) (set: $jinghuafavor to 0) (set: $prologuestart to false) (set: $prologueend to false) (set: $bold to false) (set: $inquisitive to false) (set: $reticent to false) (set: $charisma to 1) (set: $wisdom to 1) (set: $intelligence to 1) (set: $lastPassage to "") (set: $result to 0) (set: $alttext to true) (set: $textsize to 1) (set: $youarewalkingtoclasswithjinghua to false) (set: $leavebeforejinghuabutshedislikesyou to false) (set: $leaveafterjinghuaandshedislikesyou to false) (set: $playingcards to false) (set: $encouragelanA to false) (set: $discouragelanA to false) (set: $uniformpolicy to false) (set: $demerits to false) (set: $roccalendar to false) (set: $haircode to false) (set: $waishengren to false) (set: $military to false) (set: $cyc to false) (set: $photosapproved to false) (set: $drawingsapproved to false) (set: $letterapproved to false) (set: $cartoonapproved to false) (set: $poemapproved to false) (set: $forgetaboutitjunnie to false) (set:$didnotimmediatelyintervene to false) (set: $junapologized to false) (set: $late to false)

(live: 0.5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''> PROLOGUE...''](stop:)] A cool breeze brushed through the overhanging maple leaves, having reddened with the coming of fall. Chatter among the incoming students rose through the crowd like smoke, reaching your ears in a variety of murmurs. Your black school shoes clicked against the cobblestones. Fall of 1969. Your senior year of highschool. [[> You're excited to be done with it.]] There's much more to be done after you leave highschool, and you can't wait to make your mark on the world.(if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Charisma, Bold personality)]] [[> You're interested to see what lays ahead.]] A year is still quite a bit of time for things to change, and you're curious to see what you'll experience. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Wisdom, Inquisitive personality)]] [[> You're worried about what comes after.]] Even though things are a little unstable now, it's been a significant portion of your life so far. What can come after you leave this familiar framework? (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Intelligence, Reticent personality)]] (text-colour:grey)[(Check the menu for an in-depth explanation of game mechanics if you need help.)] (set: $prologuestart to true)

==> <div class="fixed"> (unless: (passage:)'s tags contains "no-footer")[ [[Menu]] [[Profile]] [[Inventory]] ] </div>

You have some things you've been carrying around with you. [[a school bag]] [[a pencil case]] [[your journal]] (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

[[Achievements]] [[Mechanics]] [[Skills]] [[Settings]] [[Crash Course Guide]](text-colour:grey)[; for first-time players] <img src="https://starlightreverie0.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/omori-lightbulb.gif?w=123" width="13" height="30">(link: " Give up and start again.")[(reload:)] (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

(if: $prologuestart is false)[You haven't done anything of note yet!] (if: $late is false)[''ACHIEVEMENT 1:'' Meet a certain person before you're supposed to.](if:$late is true)[''LATE ON LAN'S FIRST DAY:'' Meet Lan before her official introduction in class.] (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

(if: not ((passage:)'s tags contains "menu"))[(set: $lastPassage to (passage:)'s name)]

OBSERVER relies on the use of social stats to determine the outcomes of certain rolls, which decide whether or not you succeed in a special action or if you receive special text. This is a common TTRPG mechanic. Ray's social stats used in OBSERVER are (text-colour:orange)[Charisma], (text-colour:purple)[Wisdom], and(text-colour:#1dbf1d)[ Intelligence.] (text-colour:orange)[Charisma] covers skills like (text-colour:orange)[Persuasion, Deception, and Intimidation. Charisma] is your sense of self, force of personality, and the way you may interact with others in the world. (text-colour:purple)[Wisdom] covers skills like (text-colour:purple)[Insight, Medicine, and Perception. Wisdom] is your attunement to the world around you and represents your intuition to the goings-on happening. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[Intelligence] covers skills like (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[History, Investigation, and Arcana. Intelligence] is your mental acuity and reasoning, giving you an edge over the world. Check [[Skills]] for an in-depth explanation of skills. Check [[Crash Course Guide]] for a really in-depth explanation of game mechanics. (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

Your skills are ways in which you can interact with the world around you. Skill checks will be marked with the name of the skill and the number you need to beat in your roll to succeed in the check. Skills belonging to certain social stats will use the value of those stats to roll. (link: "(Insight - 10) Try to understand the author's meaning behind this page")[(set: $result to (random: 1, 20) + $wisdom)(if: $result >= 10)[(text-colour:#1dbf1d)[Insight: $result] >> You intuit that the author means to explain skills a little more to you. How thoughtful!](else:)[(text-colour:#1dbf1d)[Insight: $result] >> You don't understand a thing...But it's okay! The skills page will help you.]] You can gain bonuses to your stats in a variety of ways, including items you carry on you, thoughts you internalize, and choices you make. (text-color:orange)[''Charisma Skills:''] <div style="text-indent: 2em;"> Persuasion. Sweet-talk others. Sway people to your side.</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;"> Empathy. Feel the emotions of others like they're your own. </div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Cohort. Feel the bonds of classmates. Understand the student body.</div> (text-color:purple)[''Wisdom Skills:''] <div style="text-indent: 2em;"> Insight. Read the intentions of others. See into their hearts.</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;"> Interfacing. Interact with the world and its mechanics in interesting ways.</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Perception. See the world how it truly is.</div> (text-color:#1dbf1d)[''Intelligence Skills:''] <div style="text-indent: 2em;"> History. Recall important lore about the world.</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Regime. Understand the motivations of the grand empire.</div> <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Encyclopedia. Call upon your memory. Remember fascinating trivia.</div> (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

(if:$bold is true)[Ray is a bold personality, forthright and passionate.](if:$inquisitive is true)[Ray is an inquisitive personality, curious and exploring.](if:$reticent is true)[Ray is a reticent personality, intelligent and withdrawn.] (if:$compliance > $defiance)[Ray complies well with authority and is well-liked by authority figures.](if:$defiance > $compliance)[Ray challenges authority and is not held in high favor by authority figures.] (if:$bold is false and $inquisitive is false and $reticent is false)[Ray has not established themselves in the world yet.] (if:$compliance is 0 and $defiance is 0)[Ray has not encountered authority significantly yet.] Their stats are: (text-color:orange)[Charisma: +$charisma] (text-color:purple)[Wisdom: +$wisdom] (text-color:#1dbf1d)[Intelligence: +$intelligence] (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

(align:"=><=")[<img src="https://starlightreverie0.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/omori-lightbulb.gif?w=123">] (align:"=><=")+(css: "font-size: 200%")+(css: "font-family:Helvetica")[''(text-style: "blink")[>] OBSERVER''] (align:"=><=")[[Start->DISCLAIMER]](align:"=><=")[[Acknowledgements]]

This game was made in 2025 by Cynthia Lin as their final project for MELC 485! Thank you for opening the game, I hope you enjoy it :] OBSERVER includes the usage of image assets from the game OMORI. The copyright for it is held by OMOCAT, LLC., who created the software. The usage of these assets is noncommercial and for educational purposes only. [[References]] [[Extended Themes Discussion]] [[< Back->TITLE]]

Your pencil case. It's a simple metal tin, with two pencils and a chunk of eraser in it. (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

OBSERVER makes reference to historical events in Taiwan, such as the martial law period called the White Terror and so on. Here is a list of relevant citations in APA if you wish to look more into the history behind this game! [[1.->your glossary]] School Uniforms in Japanese Colonial-Era Taiwan｜Culture｜2019-05-02｜web only. (n.d.). CommonWealth Magazine. Retrieved May 13, 2025, from https://english.cw.com.tw/article/article.action?id=2382 [[2.->your glossary]] Rosen, L. (2005). School Discipline: Best Practices for Administrators. Corwin Press. [[3.->your glossary]] Yang Ya-Che (Director). (2012, August 3). Girlfriend, Boyfriend. [[4.->your glossary]] Officials ask end to demerit rule—Taipei Times. (2000, December 30). https://www.taipeitimes.com/News/local/archives/2000/12/30/0000067688 [[5.->your glossary]] Hair flies in debate over ban on schools’ regulations—Taipei Times. (2005, August 22). https://www.taipeitimes.com/News/taiwan/archives/2005/08/22/2003268711 [[6.->your glossary]] Republic of China calendar. (2025). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Republic_of_China_calendar&oldid=1276074592 [[7.->your glossary]] Han, W. (2022, July 16). Opinion: ‘I am part of a dying breed of Taiwanese.’ CNN. https://www.cnn.com/2022/07/15/opinions/taiwan-independence-china-ukraine-war-intl-hnk-han [[8.->your glossary]] Liu, J. (2012). ANTICIPATING INVASION: MILITARY TRAINING IN TAIWAN’S HIGH SCHOOLS, 1953–1960. Twentieth-Century China, 37(3), 204–228. https://doi.org/10.1179/1521538512Z.0000000007 (link-undo:"< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

This game includes a dedicated stats and personality system. Do you want to see when choices will affect your character's stats or personality? For example, this is a persuasive choice.(text-colour:grey)[(+Charisma)] And this is a persuasive choice, without the alt text. [[Yes! Turn on alt text (+Alt Text)]] [[No, I'd like to go in blind.]]

Got it. Enjoy the game. (text-colour:grey)[(You can toggle alt text off in the menu at any time. Read the [[guide->Crash Course Guide]] for help.) ] [[Start->INTRO]] (set: $alttext to true)

Got it. Enjoy the game. (text-colour:grey)[(You can toggle alt text on in the menu at any time. Read the [[guide->Crash Course Guide]] for help.) ] [[Start->INTRO]] (set: $alttext to false)

This is the settings page. Change the appearance of your game here. ''ALT TEXT:'' Alt text is currently (print:$alttext). Alt text indicates when a choice will change your stats or personality with a tag, like this. (text-colour:grey)[(+Stats Change)] |alttext>[(display: "AltText")] Changes will take place immediately, but will only be displayed when this page is reloaded. [[< Back->Menu]] (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

{ (if: $alttext)[ (link: "=> Change alt text setting.")[ (set: $alttext to false) (replace: ?alttext)[(display: "AltText")] ] ] (else:)[ (link: "=> Changed!")[ (set: $alttext to true) (replace: ?alttext)[(display: "AltText")] ] ] }

Your sturdy school bag. Passed down from one of your older cousins, the stitching and fabric show signs of wear and tear, but the bag is still hardy enough to withstand your daily activities. The canvas fabric is water-resistant with its tight weave. Your cousin got this bag from her father as a reward for testing into a prestigious high school, and passed it down to you when she went off to university. Your own father reminded you thoroughly not to waste the gift, and to see it as a reminder to work hard in your own education. It's got solid carrying capacity, and currently holds some of your school textbooks. Check your [[textbooks.]] (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

It's your journal. You usually use it for notetaking and simple journalling about your day-to-day life, though you've been doing that a little less now. You take notes on the things you encounter, mostly. Read your [[diary entries]] Flip to [[your glossary]] (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

Schooling has been a bit of a long journey for you. You're friendly with your classmates and decently well-liked, but it doesn't mean you don't wonder what's next for you, after you get out of highschool and establish yourself as an adult in the world. It'll be a new chapter of your life after then, and it's pretty exciting to think about what comes next. But first, you have to pass this last year. Your shoes click against the rough cobbles as you begin making your way through the school gate, weaving past your conversing classmates. At the gate, the education officer, Officer Mei, watches each passing student with eagle eyes, broad arms crossed tightly in her vigilance. "//You!//" she barks from a distance, accusing finger pointing out one of your classmates—Jinghua, who's shown up to school with her skirt hitched up at least one inch past the acceptable length for about as long as you've known her. The girl in question takes one glance at Officer Mei, assessing the situation, and immediately ducks into the crowd to disappear with a yelp. You catch her ruffling her hair smooth and tucking her skirt back down while she escapes, doing her best to become unrecognizable. "//Lu Jinghua! Get back here!//" There's a snicker somewhere around you. "Don't you think that Oppressor Mei gets tired of chasing down Jinghua every day? Look, she still hasn't caught on yet!" As Officer Mei leaves her post to hunt in vain hope of finding Jinghua, you see a stream of younger female students scurrying past behind her back, correcting a host of uniform violations between each other. More than a couple of them have their hands firmly tucked away from sight, as much as they can without looking rude; you'd bet that they still have their nail polish on from the weekend, and haven't yet found the time to remove it, or aren't willing to. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Uniform Policy)] A sigh from somewhere behind you. "I just pity Jinghua, honestly. Must be exhausting to have to dodge Officer Mei every day, and with what happens whenever she's caught..." Tense silence falls over the chatter, dampening it with all the effectiveness of a funeral shroud. You press on doggedly through the crowd of students, ignoring the further gossip. The atmosphere of your school has always been tense, but it's only gotten worse in recent years with the increasing restrictions slapped on you and your classmates as you've gone up the grades. Lu Jinghua isn't the only one not content with the situation. [[> Schooling has always been strict.]] It's the way it should be. Discipline keeps the rowdier students in line, and you don't usually step out of line. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance)]] [[> It grates on you.]] With the tightening restrictions, you've witnessed growing discontent among the students, including you. The strictness is suffocating. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance)]] (set: $bold to true) (set:$charisma to it + 2) (set:$uniformpolicy to true)

While what might come after high school still interests you, you're more intrigued by what could happen in this year. New material, perhaps new classmates, and the new authority and responsibility you hold as an upperclassman. Not everyone makes it to this point and graduates, and you hold the responsibility of having made it to senior year heavy upon your shoulders. At this stage, it's more important than ever to focus on your studies. Disappointing your family with subpar results in your education is unacceptable now. Within you, however, there's still kindling interest and hope that this year might surprise you with the challenges and experiences it'll send your way. But first, you have to pass this last year. Your shoes click against the rough cobbles as you begin making your way through the school gate, weaving past your conversing classmates. At the gate, the education officer, Officer Mei, watches each passing student with eagle eyes, broad arms crossed tightly in her vigilance. "//You!//" she barks from a distance, accusing finger pointing out one of your classmates—Jinghua, who's shown up to school with her skirt hitched up at least one inch past the acceptable length for about as long as you've known her. The girl in question takes one glance at Officer Mei, assessing the situation, and immediately ducks into the crowd to disappear with a yelp. You catch her ruffling her hair smooth and tucking her skirt back down while she escapes, doing her best to become unrecognizable. "//Lu Jinghua! Get back here!//" There's a snicker somewhere around you. "Don't you think that Oppressor Mei gets tired of chasing down Jinghua every day? Look, she still hasn't caught on yet!" As Officer Mei leaves her post to hunt in vain hope of finding Jinghua, you see a stream of younger female students scurrying past behind her back, correcting a host of uniform violations between each other. More than a couple of them have their hands firmly tucked away from sight, as much as they can without looking rude; you'd bet that they still have their nail polish on from the weekend, and haven't yet found the time to remove it, or aren't willing to. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Uniform Policy)] A sigh from somewhere behind you. "I just pity Jinghua, honestly. Must be exhausting to have to dodge Officer Mei every day, and with what happens whenever she's caught..." Tense silence falls over the chatter, dampening it with all the effectiveness of a funeral shroud. You press on doggedly through the crowd of students, ignoring the further gossip. The atmosphere of your school has always been tense, but it's only gotten worse in recent years with the increasing restrictions slapped on you and your classmates as you've gone up the grades. Lu Jinghua isn't the only one not content with the situation. [[> Schooling has always been strict.]] It's the way it should be. Discipline keeps the rowdier students in line, and you don't usually step out of line. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance)]] [[> It grates on you.]] With the tightening restrictions, you've witnessed growing discontent among the students, including you. The strictness is suffocating. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance)]] (set:$inquisitive to true) (set:$wisdom to it + 2) (set:$uniformpolicy to true)

The idea of leaving behind the familiar framework of school is a little frightening to you, simply because you're already so used to the routine. Imagining waking up without having to go through the motions of heading to class, studying, and working to complete your education sends a shiver down your spine, and you force it away with a quick shake of your shoulders. For right now, you're focused on the present and nothing else. The future will come to you in its own time, whether frightening or not. But first, you have to pass this last year. Your shoes click against the rough cobbles as you begin making your way through the school gate, weaving past your conversing classmates. At the gate, the education officer, Officer Mei, watches each passing student with eagle eyes, broad arms crossed tightly in her vigilance. "//You!//" she barks from a distance, accusing finger pointing out one of your classmates—Jinghua, who's shown up to school with her skirt hitched up at least one inch past the acceptable length for about as long as you've known her. The girl in question takes one glance at Officer Mei, assessing the situation, and immediately ducks into the crowd to disappear with a yelp. You catch her ruffling her hair smooth and tucking her skirt back down while she escapes, doing her best to become unrecognizable. "//Lu Jinghua! Get back here!//" There's a snicker somewhere around you. "Don't you think that Oppressor Mei gets tired of chasing down Jinghua every day? Look, she still hasn't caught on yet!" As Officer Mei leaves her post to hunt in vain hope of finding Jinghua, you see a stream of younger female students scurrying past behind her back, correcting a host of uniform violations between each other. More than a couple of them have their hands firmly tucked away from sight, as much as they can without looking rude; you'd bet that they still have their nail polish on from the weekend, and haven't yet found the time to remove it, or aren't willing to. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Uniform Policy)] A sigh from somewhere behind you. "I just pity Jinghua, honestly. Must be exhausting to have to dodge Officer Mei every day, and with what happens whenever she's caught..." Tense silence falls over the chatter, dampening it with all the effectiveness of a funeral shroud. You press on doggedly through the crowd of students, ignoring the further gossip. The atmosphere of your school has always been tense, but it's only gotten worse in recent years with the increasing restrictions slapped on you and your classmates as you've gone up the grades. Lu Jinghua isn't the only one not content with the situation. [[> Schooling has always been strict.]] It's the way it should be. Discipline keeps the rowdier students in line, and you don't usually step out of line. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance)]] [[> It grates on you.]] With the tightening restrictions, you've witnessed growing discontent among the students, including you. The strictness is suffocating. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance)]] (set:$reticent to true) (set:$intelligence to it + 2) (set:$uniformpolicy to true)

It's the natural way of education—those who misbehave should naturally receive discipline and punishment to prevent them from repeating the behavior, and to show a good example to other students. Otherwise, order would certainly be lost. What's happening to Lu Jinghua is simply a natural consequence of her behavior. You pull your eyes away from the growing crowd surrounding Officer Mei as she dives and dashes for the escaping Jinghua, who's nimble as ever. But sooner rather than later, her luck runs out when she stumbles over a stray brick dislodged from the path and Officer Mei grabs onto the back of her collar. From where you're standing, you witness how Jinghua is yanked back viciously until she's on her feet, glowering at Officer Mei in a towering rage. "Lu Jinghua, how many times are you going to resort to these juvenile antics?" bellows Officer Mei, her hand tight on Jinghua's shoulder like a brand. "You should be setting an example for your underclassmen, not acting like a wild dog!" There's a stony silence from Jinghua as she pulls herself up to her full height, all five foot two of it, and stares into Officer Mei's eyes with a calculated defiance. Officer Mei shoves her back with a hand, sending her stumbling into the back of a couple younger students that scramble away as soon as she bumps into them, like she's a leper. Officer Mei scowls, expression thunderous. "That's a demerit. Watch yourself, or another one might get you suspended from this school. And fix your wretched skirt." She turns sharply on her heel, catching the last couple stragglers trying to slip by in the wake of Jinghua's distraction in the corner of her eye. "You there! Pants dragging on the floor, socks falling? Report to the disciplinary office!" (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Disciplinary Demerits and Merits)] There's a couple strangled yelps before the stragglers duck their heads down and sprint for their lives into the school, huddling up to cover each other from being recognized. You watch them pass, and catch the moment on Officer Mei's face where she decides chasing after them isn't worth the effort. She stalks back to her position at the gate, keeping a vigilant eye out for more stragglers. At the gate, there's a blown whistle, signalling the warning sound for class starting in ten minutes. You see the guards begin to shift the rolling school gates out of their locked positions, preparing to roll the gates across and lock them to catch any late students in a sticky situation. At the far end of the courtyard, Jinghua is slinking away, head bowed. You can't see the expression on her face, and her shirt is in disarray from the force with which Officer Mei handled her. [[> Talk to Jinghua.]] After a scene like that, she might need some reassurance, or a warning about her behavior. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Will take some time)]] [[> Hurry to class.->> Leave for class.]] If the ten minute warning whistle has been blown, the starting chimes for school are sure to follow if you don't pick up the pace and head to class. Being late would be a mark against you, for sure—it might even warrant a demerit. (set: $compliance to it + 1) (set: $demerits to true)

There has to be a limit to how strict a school's administration can be before there starts to be discontent brewing within the students, and you're pretty sure your school passed that limit with all the exuberance of a marathon finalist crossing the finish line with fireworks and cheers. You've seen harsh enough punishments for talking back, uniform violations, and wit often enough to distrust the judgement of the administrators running the school, who dictate everything from punishments to disciplinary action. It's too much. Lu Jinghua's in trouble now, but you see how the students around her are trying to keep her hidden and safe from Officer Mei's pursuit. No one wants to see her punished, especially when she acts out to protect the underclassmen. You keep your eyes trained on the growing crowd surrounding Officer Mei as she dives and dashes for the escaping Jinghua, who's nimble as ever. But sooner rather than later, her luck runs out when she stumbles over a stray brick dislodged from the path and Officer Mei grabs onto the back of her collar. From where you're standing, you witness how Jinghua is yanked back viciously until she's on her feet, glowering at Officer Mei in a towering rage. "Lu Jinghua, how many times are you going to resort to these juvenile antics?" bellows Officer Mei, her hand tight on Jinghua's shoulder like a brand. "You should be setting an example for your underclassmen, not acting like a wild dog!" There's a stony silence from Jinghua as she pulls herself up to her full height, all five foot two of it, and stares into Officer Mei's eyes with a calculated defiance. Officer Mei shoves her back with a hand, sending her stumbling into the back of a couple younger students that scramble away as soon as she bumps into them, like she's a leper. Officer Mei scowls, expression thunderous. "That's a demerit. Watch yourself, or another one might get you suspended from this school. And fix your wretched skirt." She turns sharply on her heel, catching the last couple stragglers trying to slip by in the wake of Jinghua's distraction in the corner of her eye. "You there! Pants dragging on the floor, socks falling? Report to the disciplinary office!" (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Disciplinary Demerits and Merits)] There's a couple strangled yelps before the stragglers duck their heads down and sprint for their lives into the school, huddling up to cover each other from being recognized. You watch them pass, and catch the moment on Officer Mei's face where she decides chasing after them isn't worth the effort. She stalks back to her position at the gate, keeping a vigilant eye out for more stragglers. At the gate, there's a blown whistle, signalling the warning sound for class starting in ten minutes. You see the guards begin to shift the rolling school gates out of their locked positions, preparing to roll the gates across and lock them to catch any late students in a sticky situation. At the far end of the courtyard, Jinghua is slinking away, head bowed. You can't see the expression on her face, and her shirt is in disarray from the force with which Officer Mei handled her. [[> Talk to Jinghua.]] After a scene like that, she might need some reassurance, or some support. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Will take some time)]] [[> Hurry to class.->> Leave for class.]] If the ten minute warning whistle has been blown, the starting chimes for school are sure to follow if you don't pick up the pace and head to class. Being late would be a mark against you, for sure—it might even warrant a demerit. (set: $defiance to it +1) (set: $demerits to true)

You've written down nothing of note yet. (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

The maple leaves float down in a passing breeze, sending the fallen leaves twirling across the ground. You cross the path to take up a position by Jinghua's side, where a small gaggle of her friends are already beginning to crowd around her. "It's okay, Jinghua," comforts one girl, her hand hesitantly hovering over Jinghua's shoulder like she's about to pat it. At the lack of response from Jinghua, she slowly retracts her hand. "Listen, you got off easy today! I heard that Ming had to hop back home on one shoe to change after she showed up in heels last week. What's a little demerit to that?" Near the back of the crowd, Ming sulks at the mention of her name. "They weren't even high heels! //And// I only wore them because my sister hid my school shoes!" The first girl giggles, dropping back to bump Ming with her shoulder. "Guess the officer doesn't care, huh?" Ming scowls. "She still won't give my other heel back, and my folks don't care enough to argue with the school about it. Saved my pocket money for ages for those shoes..." Next to Jinghua, another girl pipes up. "Really, Lu Jinghua, haven't you had enough punishment? You wore those bruises on your knees for weeks after Officer Mei had you kneel on the gravel outside when you had your skirt above your knee." The unspoken question lingers in the air after the girl goes silent. //Don't you feel ashamed?// You're close enough to speak to Jinghua now, and she looks up through the fringe of her short hair to catch your eye. There's an unreadable glint in her eyes, but she greets you with a friendly-enough nod. "Ray. Think it's a good morning today?" [[1. "Pretty good, with the show you put on. Don't think anyone's going to forget that anytime soon, least of all that Oppressor Mei."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Charisma, Defiance)]] [[2. "It's a good morning, yeah. Saw those kids get away behind you when you drew Officer Mei's attention, so there's another couple people safe from her. Great work."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Wisdom, Defiance)]] [[3. "Sure. Are you okay, after all that?"]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Wisdom)]] [[4. "Not really. It reflects poorly on the rest of us when you act like that."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Intelligence, Compliance)]] [[5. "Not at all. Don't you think it's time you stopped acting out? You're going to get hurt one of these days."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Wisdom, Compliance)]] [[6. "It's been alright. See you."->> Leave for class.]](text-colour:red)[''(Leave.)''] (set: $metjinghua to true)

They're textbooks. (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

Jinghua gives you a sharp grin, eyes bright. "Good to see that I can still have that kind of impact, then. Thought that woman would get tired of it after a year, but she's still kicking." Ming sighs, shoving her hands in the hidden pockets of her skirt. From rumor, you heard she paid a tailor to get the pockets sewn in. Certainly they weren't part of the standard-issue uniform. "Maybe if we keep harassing her, we can run her out of the school entirely," she suggests with a little too much hope. "No," sighs Jinghua. "She's too much of a hardass. Won't back down against students, won't back down against adults either. Saw Jiayi's mother leave while holding back her tears after she was called in to discuss Jiayi's demerits. That Officer Mei won't stop for anything." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You find it difficult to understand Officer Mei's motivations, beyond harassing the students for her own enjoyment.] (else:)[That Officer Mei is just another extension of the administration. Weakness on her part shows weakness of the administration, which can't happen. Breaking her down would be like breaking the hand of the state—impossible.] [[1. "Aren't you going to be in trouble with more demerits on your record?"]] [[2. "We might stand a chance if we all raise a fuss and make things difficult for her? Strength in numbers and all."]] [[3. "Alright, see you." (Leave for class)"->> Leave for class.]] (set: $defiance to it + 1) (set: $charisma to it + 1) (set: $jinghuafavor to it +1)

Jinghua gives you a sharp grin, eyes bright. "Good to see that I can still have that kind of impact, then. As long as the kids are a little better off, it's worth it to be getting into trouble with that woman." Ming sighs, shoving her hands in the hidden pockets of her skirt. From rumor, you heard she paid a tailor to get the pockets sewn in. Certainly they weren't part of the standard-issue uniform. "Maybe if we keep harassing her, we can run her out of the school entirely," she suggests with a little too much hope. "No," sighs Jinghua. "She's too much of a hardass. Won't back down against students, won't back down against adults either. Saw Jiayi's mother leave while holding back her tears after she was called in to discuss Jiayi's demerits. That Officer Mei won't stop for anything." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You find it difficult to understand Officer Mei's motivations, beyond harassing the students for her own enjoyment.] (else:)[That Officer Mei is just another extension of the administration. Weakness on her part shows weakness of the administration, which can't happen. Breaking her down would be like breaking the hand of the state—impossible.] [[1. "Aren't you going to be in trouble with more demerits on your record?"]] [[2. "We might stand a chance if we all raise a fuss and make things difficult for her? Strength in numbers and all."]] [[3. "Alright, see you." (Leave for class)"->> Leave for class.]] (set:$jinghuafavor to it + 1) (set: $defiance to it + 1) (set: $wisdom to it + 1)

Jinghua blinks up at you with surprise, but her shocked expression quickly melts into a grateful smile. "Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks for checking up on me...it's been pretty tough." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's a tightness in her expression. Jinghua really hasn't been taking it well.] (else:)[She's hiding it, but she looks deeply stressed. It's taking a toll on her, but it seems to have soothed her a bit to receive genuine interest in her wellbeing.] Ming sighs, clapping a hand to Jinghua's back. "God knows you need more people on your side, Jinghua. I swear, all of these students are crazy to just be ignoring you." Around the lot of you, you see that other students are giving your group a decent berth, swerving out of your way where they can. Where some of them tried to help Jinghua before, the large majority of them seem to be avoiding her. [[1. "Hey, I'm on your side. What you're doing...I think it's the right choice."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Encourage Jinghua)]] [[2. "Maybe you should consider slowing down? Let things cool off before you get back in trouble again."]] (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Dissuade Jinghua)]] [[3. "Alright, see you." (Leave for class)"->> Leave for class.]] (set:$jinghuafavor to it + 1) (set: $wisdom to it + 1)

Jinghua scowls fiercely, glaring at you. "I'm glad //reputation// is what you're thinking of now, Ray. Don't you think it's sick that education officers get to treat us like this, herding us like animals?" Ming puts a hand on Jinghua's shoulder, gently. "Don't get worked up, Jinghua." She shoots a sharp look in your direction. Jinghua's expression is stony, eyebrows drawn together harshly. She stalks up to you. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's a hard look on Jinghua's face, drawn tight with tension.] (else:)[Jinghua's nervous and scared, and it shows in her barely-trembling shoulders. Being called out like this has surprised her, and she's unsure if what she's doing is right.] "Are you really content like this? Living without the freedom to be yourself?" [[1. "I'm worried you're going to get hurt, Jinghua."]] [[2. "If you keep behaving so shamefully, you're going to get the rest of us in trouble sooner or later."]] [[3. "..." (Leave for class)"->> Leave for class.]] (set:$jinghuafavor to it -1) (set: $compliance to it + 1) (set: $intelligence to it + 1) (set:$leavebeforejinghuabutshedislikesyou to true)

Jinghua scowls bitterly. "Acting out? Is that all you think this is?" She scuffs her school shoes against the cobblestones, scratching a long mark in the leather. "I could fix my uniform violations at any time. God knows I've been screamed at enough to know the uniform policy from front to back. But you have to understand or at least //see//, that there's something more that I do this for." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's a hard look on Jinghua's face, drawn tight with tension.] (else:)[Jinghua's nervous and scared, and it shows in her barely-trembling shoulders. Being called out like this has surprised her, and she's unsure if what she's doing is right. But something more is driving her forward to speak like this.] She stares up at the sky overhead, blue as can be, and watches a blue-winged magpie trace its way through the clouds, flying up and far away. "What I do shows others that there's more they can do through the fear, rather than being so scared they don't dare step out of line. "The underclassmen see that someone dares to challenge the education officers. My classmates see that someone just like them is trying to change the way things are. Because I'm //exhausted// of the 'way things are'. Aren't you?" Jinghua meets your gaze, eyes steely. "I can't be content with how things are, Ray. They had Susu hold boiling water in her hands because she kept them in her pockets. Jin Ling had his head entirely shaved over a disagreement on the way he wanted to wear the uniform. Are these decisions you're willing to stand by? Will you tell me they deserved it?" [[1. "I'm worried you're going to get hurt, Jinghua."]] [[2. "If you keep behaving so shamefully, you're going to get the rest of us in trouble sooner or later."]] [[3. "..." (Leave for class)"->> Leave for class.]] (set:$jinghuafavor to it -1) (set: $compliance to it + 1) (set: $wisdom to it + 1) (set:$leavebeforejinghuabutshedislikesyou to true)

(if: $metjinghua is false)[You ignore Jinghua as her friends begin to gather around her, offering comfort. Class waits for no one, and being late isn't something you want to face.](if: $metjinghua is true)[(if: $youarewalkingtoclasswithjinghua is false)[(if:$leavebeforejinghuabutshedislikesyou is false)[(if:$leaveafterjinghuaandshedislikesyou is true)[You watch Jinghua and Ming's retreating backs for a moment, before walking after them to get to your classroom. Somehow, they manage to vanish from your sight when you take your eyes off of them. They might be avoiding you.](if:$jinghuafavor is 0)[Jinghua blinks in confusion, then gives you a short nod. "Sure? See you in class." You sweep past her and towards the school, leaving her little group of friends to converse behind you.](if:$jinghuafavor>0)[Jinghua nods, giving you a smile. "See you later." You sweep past her and towards the school, listening to the chatter of her friends fade away behind you.]]](if:$leavebeforejinghuabutshedislikesyou is true)[You walk ahead of Jinghua and her friends, ignoring how they glare after you. It doesn't matter.](if: $youarewalkingtoclasswithjinghua is true)[You hurry to class with Jinghua, the both of you matching each other's pace.]] Climbing the tiled stairs, you make it out to your classroom's hallway, open to the air on one side that overlooks the sports field and courtyard. In the middle of the field, you catch sight of the principal setting up for the morning rally with several other administrators. Looks like you'll be leaving class for the rally soon. You make it to the heavy metal door of your classroom and swing it open, stepping lightly over the doorstep. Inside, your teacher Mr. Xu is setting up for the day, as your classmates chatter away at their desks. Mr. Xu wipes the chalk away from the green chalkboard, chalk dust gathering in a light layer of powder over the stone floors, and tilts his head to greet you with a nod. You incline your head as is expected. "Good morning, sir." He nods in approval. "Good morning." He picks up a new stick of chalk, beginning to note down the date (58年9月10日, or the year 58, September 10th) and today's lesson plans. It seems that you're going to be covering Ethics today. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; ROC Calendar)] As you settle in to your desk, you unload your textbooks from your school bag into your desk compartment, slipping your pencil case into the compartment as well. Always good to be prepared. Your pencils go on your desk, as does your notebook. The chimes that herald the start of class ring out throughout the school, the familiar sound snapping most of the class to attention. At the front, the class leader stands, averting her eyes as one last straggler slips into class. (if:$jinghuafavor < 0 or is 0)[At the back, Jinghua slips into her seat just in time.] "Stand!" shouts the class leader, leading the class in the morning ceremonies. You follow along, the motions already automatic after years of practice. "Bow!" "Sit!" The class choruses a morning greeting to Mr. Xu, who greets them back. He adjusts his silver glasses with a hand, leaving accidental chalk prints on the sides, and begins, "Today, we're covering the history of ethics—" With a //clang//, the metal door of the classroom swings open, barely caught by the handle before it can bang into the back wall. Over the doorstep comes a tall girl, all lanky limbs and angles. Her uniform is dishevelled and her bookbag is clutched inelegantly in one hand. She's an unfamiliar figure—you've never seen her before, so she must have transferred since she looks like she's in your year. But what worries you most is her hair—down to her shoulders and with bleached ends, a flagrant violation of the uniform policy. The classroom is caught in a moment of stillness, all eyes fixated upon this new intruder. The girl heaves out a couple breaths, back shaking with the effort, and finally stands up straight, inclining her head to bow to Mr. Xu. "Morning sir," she wheezes. "Sorry for being late." Mr. Xu raises a thin eyebrow. "Being late on your first day certainly isn't a good look, Miss Lan." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You see the way he looks her up and down, taking in the rumpled uniform. Yikes. Talk about a bad first impression.] (else:)[You see how he eyes her shoulder-length hair, in flagrant violation of the school's hair code that came into effect this year. Her dishevelled uniform certainly isn't doing her any favors, either.] (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; 1969 Hair Restrictions)] The girl, apparently called Lan, straightens up and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, sir, I'll do better." A breeze flows in from the open door, stirring up the muggy air and sending strands of Lan's hair fluttering around her face. Against the identical rows of your classmates, dark hair cropped short above their ears and undyed, the blonde in Lan's hair stands out as a shock. You don't ever really see people with their hair dyed, especially not students. It'll have to go. The school would never allow it. Mr. Xu sighs, and gestures towards you. "Take the seat next to Ray. She'll walk you through how this school works later." Suddenly, your classmates' eyes are on you, who are now tied to this unruly new girl. Lan looks to you and her eyes are bright and mischievious, as she makes her way through the rows and plops herself down in the seat to your right. In her windswept hair, a bud of a blossoming wild orchid is caught, shedding a wayward petal to the floor. "Nice to meet you, Ray," she mutters to you as Mr. Xu gets back to teaching the lesson. The rustle of textbook pages opening at once almost drowns out the rest of her words. "I hope we get along." [[End of prologue, enter Interlude 1->Interlude 1]] (set: $haircode to true) (set: $roccalendar to true) (set: $metlan to true)

Jinghua shrugs, but you can see a shadow of unhappiness on her face. "All she can do is give me more demerits, or put me through some punishments. It's not going to break me." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Her face is unreadable, but there's a tightness in her expression.] (else:)[She's hiding it, but she looks deeply stressed. It's taking a toll on her, and you still can't see exactly how much Jinghua has to pay of herself and her wellbeing to stand up to Officer Mei like that.] (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $intelligence))(text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< //History: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You don't remember what Jinghua's family situation is like, for her to be so blasé about her demerits.] (else:)[Jinghua's family has always been tough on her about schooling. She must be facing more repercussions than just academic if she's getting into trouble this often. With Officer Mei at school and her concerned family at home...it's a wonder Jinghua is keeping her head above water.] [[1. "Hey, I'm on your side. What you're doing...I think it's the right choice."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Encourage Jinghua)]] [[2. "Maybe you should consider slowing down? Let things cool off before you get back in trouble again."]] (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Dissuade Jinghua)]]

Jinghua sighs, a defeated sound. "Hey, that might be true, but who exactly is going to be willing to stick out their necks for this?" (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Cohort: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You're not that familiar with the general attitude of the student body, but you get the feeling that the answer to Jinghua's question is 'just about no one'.] (else:)[From your previous interactions with the student body, you can judge that while there's discontent among the students, no one is brave enough to really try and take a stand, much less a unified one. Everyone's scared, with the administration holding punishment and expulsion over their heads. No one's willing to risk their future.] Next to her, Ming grimaces. "I mean, you've got me, and //maybe// Ray, but three people is about as good in a fight against the school as a tick is against an elephant." Jinghua nods. "What we really need is //something// to shake the school's confidence. Something to bargain with, at least. If the students can get a bit of power..." But reality hangs over all of your heads. In what world can that be possible? What exactly do school-aged students have to bargain with a school administration? What can really scare the school administrators, when they can simply get rid of any misbehaving student like snipping a dead leaf off of a plant? The same conclusion seems to have reached Jinghua, who lets out another deep sigh. "Right now, it's just me working against Officer Mei. And at this rate, I'm not going to last long doing it either." [[1. "Hey, I'm on your side. What you're doing...I think it's the right choice."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Encourage Jinghua)]] [[2. "Maybe you should consider slowing down? Let things cool off before you get back in trouble again."]] (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Dissuade Jinghua)]]

Jinghua grimaces. "I want to, believe me. But if I stop, who's going to pull the younger students out of the line of fire?" She sighs, tousling a hand through her short locks. "I have to believe that this is all doing something. At least I can show the kids that there's more they can do besides cower in front of Oppressor Mei." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's a tenseness in her expression, but her face is turned away from you. You can't read her.] (else:)[There's a hard edge to her frown. She really does do this to inspire the kids, and to try and stick it to Officer Mei, but there's a more personal aspect to it all as well. She might be partially doing it to prove to herself that there's more to life than cowering, too.] Suddenly, chimes ring out over the school's broadcast system, tolling the five-minute warning. Ming looks up with alarm on her face, clapping a hand to Jinghua's shoulder with a muttered curse under her breath. "That's my cue," she calls, already jogging ahead. "Can't be late to class again!" Jinghua's picking up the pace too, a hint of panic in her movements. "Another demerit and I'll get my parents called again," she mutters bitterly. "Let's go, Ray!" The final stragglers around you all are rushing into the school in a panic, sprinting to save themselves from being late. [[1. "Got it." (Head to class alongside Jinghua.) ->> Leave for class.]] [[2. "You go ahead, I'll see you later." [Linger.] ]]

Jinghua glances up at you in surprise, before her expression softens into a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ray. Not a lot of people think the way you do." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's a hint of relief in her smile, and the stress seems to lift for just a second.] (else:)[It's the truth. Jinghua hasn't received much support for her actions, but a friendly word of support seems to have gone a long way. There's more than just gratitude in her smile—her smile is like that of a man seeing an oasis in the desert, after miles of crawling through burning sand. Relief.] (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Cohort: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You haven't really paid attention to the reactions of the other students to Jinghua's actions, but you don't think it's good.] (else:)[Jinghua's been in hot water for a while. Getting catcalled for her shortened skirts, scolded behind closed doors by other classmates who think her behavior is shameful, and being mocked in the halls for her demerits...she's been having it rough.] Ming pats her on the back, reassuring her. "Just a matter of time, Jinghua. They can't look away forever." Suddenly, chimes ring out over the school's broadcast system, tolling the five-minute warning. Ming looks up with alarm on her face, clapping a hand to Jinghua's shoulder with a muttered curse under her breath. "That's my cue," she calls, already jogging ahead. "Can't be late to class again!" Jinghua's picking up the pace too, a hint of panic in her movements. "Another demerit and I'll get my parents called again," she mutters bitterly. "Let's go, Ray!" The final stragglers around you all are rushing into the school in a panic, sprinting to save themselves from being late. [[1. "Got it." (Head to class alongside Jinghua.) ->> Leave for class.]] [[2. "You go ahead, I'll see you later." [Linger.] ]] (set: $youarewalkingtoclasswithjinghua to true)

Jinghua throws a disbelieving look over her shoulder at you as she rushes ahead. "Really? Well, don't hang around too long! I don't want to hear what Mr. Xu will say if you're late because of me!" Her and Ming quickly disappear into the school's hallways, thundering footsteps heralding their departure. You, on the other hand, linger around on the steps, kicking at fallen leaves. For what purpose, you're unsure. Then, as the rolling school gates begin to clack shut with a certain finality, you see one last person slip past the gate and make it into the courtyard, picking up the pace and running headlong for the school's entrance. She's tall, with lanky limbs and a uniform that's clearly a little rumpled from her abrupt arrival. Her features are fine and she moves with a certain grace, even when sprinting. An unfamiliar figure—you've never seen her before, so she must have transferred since she looks like she's in your year. But what worries you most is her hair—down to her shoulders and with bleached ends, a flagrant violation of the uniform policy. As she passes like a bat out of hell, she looks over as if by chance, and your eyes meet. Her eyes are dark and deep, with a spark of surprise in them. The moment lingers, stretches like syrup, and is broken when she whips her head back around and sprints through the doors of the school. You stare after her retreating back. Well, you're definitely going to be late to class now. [[> Head to class.]]

You hurry up the tiled steps of your school, stepping through beams of light and shadow flooding in from the open-air hallway to your classroom, overlooking the field and courtyard below. In the middle of the field, you catch sight of the principal setting up for the morning rally with several other administrators. Looks like you'll be leaving class for the rally soon. The heavy metal door of your classroom is already open, with the tall girl from before already stepping in. "...orning, sir. Sorry for being late," you hear from the doorway. Murmurs come from inside the classroom in response. You brace yourself, and walk towards the door. As you enter, you see the surprised faces of your classmates turn towards you, and Mr. Xu's surprise stings a little more than the rest. "Miss Ray. Not usually late," he notes, writing down your name on the board with a stroke next to it. "Alright, never mind it for now. Meet Lan." The girl in front of you, apparently called Lan, spins around to meet your eyes. Her bright hair flutters in the breeze, flowing in through the open door. Lan's eyes are bright and mischievious, and she offers you a quick smile. "She'll be sitting with you," Mr. Xu continues. "Make her feel welcome and...get her settled in with the school's rules." He raises an eyebrow at you over Lan's turned shoulder, message clear. //Make Lan adhere to school policy.// The task weighs heavy on you already. As Mr. Xu turns back to the green chalkboard, continuing on with the lesson, you make your way down to your desk amidst the fluttering sound of textbooks opening and pages rustling. Lan is an unfamiliar presence at your back, as she slips into the open seat to the right of yours. In her windswept hair, a bud of a blossoming wild orchid is caught, shedding a wayward petal to the floor. Setting up your textbooks and pencils, you almost miss it when Lan leans close to you, murmuring, "Nice to meet you, Ray." The rustle of textbook pages opening at once almost drowns out the rest of her words. "I hope we get along." [[End of prologue, enter Interlude 1->Interlude 1]]

Jinghua smiles, dispassionately. "That's kind of you, Ray. But I'm never going to get anywhere if I'm afraid of getting hurt." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Jinghua's shoulders are set with a determination that you can't quite understand.] (else:)[Whatever Officer Mei and the school administration can do to her is secondary to Jinghua's goal, to rebel against the strict restrictions set upon her. Being hurt comes last in her list of priorities, with her ideals coming top of that list.] Ming pats her on the back, checking the clock at the entrance of the school. A little away from five minutes to the start of class. "Hey, we should get going. Class is going to start soon." Jinghua nods at Ming in acknowledgement. "Right. Goodbye, Ray." The two and the rest of Jinghua's friends pick up the pace, hurrying away and into the halls of the school. You get the sense that they're giving you a bit of a cold shoulder on their way out. [[Leave for class.->> Leave for class.]] [[> Linger.]] (set:$leaveafterjinghuaandshedislikesyou to true)

The girls around Jinghua are withdrawing, shooting each other nervous looks. Ming glances over to Jinghua, worry evident in her eyes. Jinghua scoffs, staring you dead in the eye. "Ray, all of us have always been in trouble. Staying at this school is what's endangering us. If you're nervous about getting in trouble, don't be. What happened to me today could happen to you too, to any of us, at any time." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Jinghua's eyes are steely and cold.] (else:)[Jinghua is no longer nervous like she was before. Your words have strengthened her resolve—this is an argument she knows clearly, front to back. She has rehashed this argument with herself many times.] "None of us are ever safe. That's the point. This school, the government, the secret police...they want to keep us scared, so we'll be too scared to criticize them. But what's going to be left if we bend to authority every time? We'll just keep getting trampled." She steps forward, jabbing a finger at you and punctuating her every word. "Me. Our underclassmen. You. All of us, stepped over like trash." Jinghua's eyes are wild and dark when she looks at you, a spark of both fury and desperation glimmering in them. "Aren't you tired? Aren't you sick of it all? How can you just stand there and watch?" The five-minute-warning chimes ring out over the school, sending the last straggling students out in the courtyard into a flurry of motion. Ming grabs Jinghua by the shoulder, reeling her back from where she's crowded into your space. "Jinghua, come on, we're going to be late. Don't waste your time here." There's a note of pleading in Ming's voice. Jinghua steps back with Ming, sending you a sharp look. "Ray. Stand there and mock me all you like, but do it knowing what you're condemning. You owe it to me to know." She turns on her heel and hurries away with Ming, darting into the dark corridors of the school. The school's entrance yawns forth like a gaping mouth, waiting to suck you in. [[Leave for class.->> Leave for class.]] [[> Linger.]] (set:$jinghuafavor to it -1) (set:$leaveafterjinghuaandshedislikesyou to true)

You linger around on the steps to the school, kicking at fallen leaves. For what purpose, you're unsure. Jinghua, Ming, and their friends have long since left. Most of the stragglers have packed up and gone as well. Then, as the rolling school gates begin to clack shut with a certain finality, you see one last person slip past the gate and make it into the courtyard, picking up the pace and running headlong for the school's entrance. She's tall, with lanky limbs and a uniform that's clearly a little rumpled from her abrupt arrival. Her features are fine and she moves with a certain grace, even when sprinting. An unfamiliar figure—you've never seen her before, so she must have transferred since she looks like she's in your year. But what worries you most is her hair—down to her shoulders and with bleached ends, a flagrant violation of the uniform policy. As she passes like a bat out of hell, she looks over as if by chance, and your eyes meet. Her eyes are dark and deep, with a spark of surprise in them. The moment lingers, stretches like syrup, and is broken when she whips her head back around and sprints through the doors of the school. In the cracks between the cobblestones where she runs, a blossoming wild orchid sways playfully in the breeze she kicks up, just shy of full bloom. Chimes ring out over the school. You stare after her retreating back. Well, you're definitely late to class now. (text-colour:grey)[(+New [[achievement->Achievements]] unlocked: Late on Lan's first day)] [[> Head to class.]] (set: $late to true)

(text-colour:grey)[(This page is under construction!) ] This page is password protected, but you might be able to crack it. |password>[The password is...] (click:?password) [(set: $password to (prompt: "Hey, what //is// the password again?", ""))] (live: 5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[ [[Hmm...Is that the correct password?->Essay]] ](stop:)] (link-undo:"< Back")

This is a really in-depth guide for game mechanics that appear in OBSERVER. (seq-link:"> SOCIAL STATS AND SKILLS","> SOCIAL STATS AND SKILLS: • Your choices throughout the game will shape Ray's personality and contribute to their social stats (Charisma, Wisdom, and Intelligence). • Personality choices (Bold, Inquisitive, and Reticent) will stay the same throughout the game and exist to show you flavor text about Ray in the [[Profile]] page. • You can choose how Ray interacts with authority (Compliant or Defiant), which results in more flavor text in the [[Profile]] page and may unlock special choices for Ray later on. • Passive skill checks will be rolled in the game page and will display text based on whether you rolled high enough to unlock the specific text.") (seq-link:"> MENU AND INVENTORY","> MENU AND INVENTORY: • You can adjust out of game settings through the menu. [[Mechanics]] and [[Skills]] explain social stats and skills, while [[Achievements]] tracks achievements you can unlock throughout the story. [[Settings]] allows you to adjust if you want alt text or not in the story. • The inventory contains some interesting items that can help Ray in the story, including the [[glossary->your glossary]]. • The [[glossary->your glossary]] will update with definitions for key terms and concepts you encounter throughout the story, which will be noted in-game as a new addition to your glossary. Please check the glossary from time to time if you're interested in learning more about the world.") (seq-link:"> VARIABLES", "> VARIABLES: • OBSERVER uses variables to track various points determined by your choices in the story. • You can gain favor points with the characters you meet according to how you treat them. • You can get points to your compliance and defiance stats respectively according to the choices you make.") (seq-link:"> BASIC GAME MECHANICS", "> BASIC GAME MECHANICS: • Press links like these to advance to the next page of the story. Links will allow you to dictate your choices in the game. Pick accordingly, as it will affect the story. • Check your profile in the bottom right from time to time to see how your stats change according to your choices.") (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

You keep records of everything you encounter here. (if:$uniformpolicy is false)[You haven't encountered anything of significant note yet.] (if:$uniformpolicy is true)[(link-rerun:"> UNIFORM POLICY")[: • Regulations on school uniforms, often enforced by dedicated education officers. • Regulations may include details such as the length of sleeves, hems (skirts, shirts, and pants), the number of pleats on a skirt, required neatness of uniform, and colors of uniform. • For schools with logos or identifying information on the uniform, such as a student's ID number or name, the obscuring of this information is also a violation.[[^^1^^->References]] • Stricter uniform policies extend to student appearance as well, and clothes that are not part of the uniform, jewelry, nail polish, and dyed hair can be banned. ]] (if:$demerits is true)[(link-rerun:"> DISCIPLINARY DEMERITS AND MERITS")[: • A point system wherein demerits are given to students for poor behavior. • A student starts with a certain number of merits and has them deducted through demerits for infractions. • Once a certain number of demerits are accumulated, disciplinary action may be taken by school administration.[[^^2^^->References]] • Taiwan's education system in the 1960s made use of the demerit system[[^^3^^->References]], which still continues today.[[^^4^^->References]] • Demerits can be permanently tracked on a student's disciplinary record, which may affect their prospects for higher education in the future. ]] (if:$roccalendar is true)[(link-rerun:"> ROC CALENDAR")[: • The Republic of China(ROC) calendar, used in Taiwan. This calendar uses 1912, the year the ROC(Taiwan) was established, as the first year of the calendar. • It has been the official calendar used by Taiwan since 1945.[[^^6^^->References]] ]] (if:$haircode is true)[(link-rerun:"> 1969 HAIR RESTRICTIONS")[: • Restrictions imposed on students' hairstyles, introduced by the Ministry of Education in 1969. Extension of the pre-existing uniform policy. • Hair regulation criteria in Taiwan between 1969 and 1978, as provided by the MInistry of Education, dictated that secondary school students must have crewcuts for the boys and ear-length hair for the girls, a requirement that strictly controlled student appearances. [[^^5^^->References]] • These hair restrictions were especially unpopular among girls, due to the unstylish nature of what often ended up as bowl cuts above the ears. ]] (if:$waishengren is true)[(link-rerun:"> WAISHENGREN AND BENSHENGREN")[: • Waishengren is a term used to refer to people who fled to Taiwan after the KMT's defeat in the Chinese Civil War in 1949. • Waishengren is translated directly to "people outside of the province". • Benshengren refers to people who are descended from Chinese settlers who arrived on Taiwan in 1895, when Taiwan was ceded to Japan.[[^^6^^->References]] • Benshengren is translated directly to "people from the province". ]] (if:$military is true)[(link-rerun:"> MILITARIZATION OF EDUCATION")[: • After the KMT's defeat in 1949 and the subsequent migration to Taiwan, President Chiang Kai-Shek sourced soldiers from high schools and colleges within Taiwan to make up for the soldiers who were aging out of service en masse. • The KMT feared that the CCP would storm Taiwan with military reinforcement in retaliation for the KMT's actions during the civil war, making strengthening Taiwan's military a priority in the years after the 1949 migration. • Mandatory military education was established to train students to be able to fight for the country, as well as ideology education to drum up nationalist fervor.[[^^7^^->References]] • To this end, military instructors were placed within schools to take roles in educating the youth on military training, political ideology, and for general discipline of the student body. • Military education was seen as being able to discipline rebellious and political youths, and military instructors were instructed to monitor and restrict the movement of student protests. ]] (if:$cyc is true)[(link-rerun:"> CHINA YOUTH CORPS")[: • INSERT INFORMATION ON CHINA YOUTH CORPS LATER (CITE #7) ]] (link-undo: "< Back") (link-goto: "< Back to game", $lastPassage)

(live: 0.5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''> INTERLUDE 1...''](stop:)] The first thing you learned about Lan in the day was that she had an uncanny ability to get along with //everyone//. The younger girls loved that she had sweets in her pockets for them, the boys liked her bawdy jokes, Jinghua and Ming were charmed by her devil-may-care attitude, and even some of the faculty were touched by her infectious enthusiasm. At one point during lunch, after the students on lunch duty this week serve everyone in the line, you catch Lan with a suspicious amount of desks crowded around hers (and by extension, yours). Walking back with your metal lunch tray, you see a flash of cards being exchanged from her hands to the gossiping students around her, the groan of disappointment from the girl to her left immediately being covered by the conversation. (text-colour:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] It looks like they're playing a card game. At the back of the classroom, Mr. Xu is at his desk, reviewing lesson plans. He doesn't seem to have noticed the commotion. Blinds have been drawn over the windows to keep out the bright sun, leaving the room in a cool dimness. You see several other students also slacking off in creative ways. As you sit at your desk, Lan catches your eye and subtly tucks her hand of cards further under her desk. She gives you a quick smile and busies herself with finishing the rest of her lunch. Keeping up the facade. "Hey, Ray," she whispers, cupping her hand over her mouth as she leans over to you. Another card finds itself in her hand, having appeared there while you blinked. "Ever played deuces before?" (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< ENCYCLOPEDIA >] Deuces, or more commonly referred to as 大老二 (Big Two), is a common card game in East and Southeast Asia, where players play higher card combinations in succession against each other. You've had the chance to play it with some friends before. The version you're familiar with, called 十三 (cha̍p-saⁿ) in Taiwanese Hokkien, has spades as the highest suit, with hearts, diamonds, and clubs following behind. (text-colour:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] You can see from the discreet pile placed on the chair in the center of the little desk cluster that the current card on top is a 7 of Diamonds. The game appears to be in the middle of its playtime. Lan slips a single card out of her hand and beneath the desk mat on her desk, just barely peeking out in your direction. She raises an inquisitive eyebrow at you. [[1. "Sure, I've played." Accept the card.]] No point in lying, and you do want to play a game of cards with Lan. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance, +Lan)]] [[2. (Lie) "No, sorry." Decline the card.]] It could get you in trouble if you were caught. Best to distance yourself from the situation, even if only a little. (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance)]]

Lan grins brightly when you take the card, moving to deal you in from a hidden card pile. "Nice, nice. Knew you might like it." Around the clustered desks, there's a rise of whispers. The girl next to Lan hisses over, "What, you're dealing a new player in now? It's midway through the game!" Agreeing murmurs of discontent follow, and you feel a couple confused stares being directed at you. The cards flutter between Lan's hands as she shrugs, continuing to deal you your cards. "Hey, that's tough. Not my problem." A cutting look is all she needs to level at the gathered students for the dissent to be quelled, and the game continues on. (text-colour:orange)[< COHORT >] You've rarely seen such force of personality among the students. The fact that they are so willing to listen means that Lan has charmed them, and charmed them well. She has their ear like no other. "So..." Lan catches your attention with a click of her tongue, eyes resting idly on the discard pile. She tosses out a pair of eights (diamond and club) without a second look, and turns her body slightly towards you. "What's the deal here?" (text-colour:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] You've got a decent deck. There's a couple lower number cards, but most of it is on the higher end of the scale. There's enough for a few good plays, if you play it smart. Using too many cards at once might deplete your hand, but using too little will make it difficult to win. (text-colour:purple)[< INSIGHT >] There's a flicker of a smile at Lan's mouth. She might have stacked your hand for you. You're not sure if she knows the specifics of your hand, however. [[1. "What do you mean?" (Play a higher pair)->1. "What do you mean?"]] [[2. "With you? Well, our classmates sure seem to like you." (Play a triple)->2. "With you? Well, our classmates sure seem to like you."]] [[3. "I don't know. You tell me." (Pass)->3. "I don't know. You tell me."]] (set: $playingcards to true) (set: $defiance to it + 1) (set: $lanfavor to it + 1)

Lan shrugs, letting your refusal slide right off of her like water off a duck's back. "Hey, suit yourself. Just listen..." She shuffles and reshuffles her hand of cards over and over, clearly chewing something over in her mind that she wants to discuss with you. The murmur of conversation is rhythmic and soft, lulling you into a sense of comfort. "So..." Lan catches your attention with a click of her tongue, eyes resting idly on the discard pile. She tosses out a pair of eights (diamond and club) without a second look, and turns her body slightly towards you. "What's the deal here?" (text-colour:orange)[< COHORT >] Lan's actions are tracked by the eyes of just about every girl gathered around your little table cluster. Her sheer force of personality is magnetic to them, fascinating in the way a shiny new toy is fascinating. Lan has charmed them, and charmed them well. She has their ear like no other. (text-colour:purple)[< INSIGHT >] There's a flicker of a smile at Lan's mouth. She knows the effect she has on your classmates, and she's comfortable in the attention. Perhaps she's enjoying it a bit too much. [[1. "What do you mean?"]] [[2. "With you? Well, our classmates sure seem to like you."]] [[3. "I don't know. You tell me."]] (set: $playingcards to false) (set: $compliance to it + 1)

(if:$playingcards is true)[You place down your pair. Eights, same as Lan's, but a spade and a heart. There's an approving murmur from around the table. A safe play that keeps you in the game. The game continues on.] "You know," Lan says quietly. "It's so... military. The 'retake, retake, retake the mainland' anthem that played over the speakers earlier? I thought at least some people would laugh, but no one did. And the readings? What //is// all this?" (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] By readings, she means the course content your class covered this morning. The Youth of the Honorable President Chiang, covering President Chiang Kai-Shek's illustrious childhood and education and extolling his numerous values instilled into him from his grand upbringing. It's a hefty reading. You've seen it for years already. Mr. Xu brought it back with the justification of using it to examine the ethics and virtues within it in preparation for the ethics section of your university exams. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY > ]Retaking the mainland has been a hope held by many of the //waishengren// who came to Taiwan from the mainland some decades ago, including your parents. You've heard many discussions over the dinner table about being able to go back someday. Having grown up in Taiwan, you hold no particular feelings about the mainland. This island is all you've ever known. The mainland is an abstract concept to you. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Waishengren and Benshengren)] Cards fly between desks and the conversation continues to chug along between the gathered students. You hear snippets of it, all idle talk. It's really just serving as cover for the game. Lan tosses in a triple of sixes. (if:$playingcards is true)[Your play.] (if: $playingcards is true)[[[1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already." (Play a higher triple)->1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."]] [[2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?" (Play a straight)->2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"]] [[3. "What do you mean by that?" (Pass)->3. "What do you mean by that?"]]](else:)[[[1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."->1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."]] [[2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"->2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"]] [[3. "What do you mean by that?"->3. "What do you mean by that?"]]] (set:$waishengren to true)

Lan laughs, charmed. "Well, you sure are a smooth talker." (if:$playingcards is true)[You place down your triple—all nines, getting you an impressed whistle from one of the girls around the table.] The game rotates onwards. "It's honestly nice—everyone's been so welcoming, I hardly know what to do with myself." (text-colour:orange)[< COHORT >] You suspect that while Lan's immense friendliness has helped along her integration into the student body quite a bit, it's her rebellious attitude that's really cemented her place in your classmates' hearts and minds. People know the look of someone who's shiny and new, not yet worn down by the endless restrictions and discipline. (text-colour:purple)[< INSIGHT >] Some of them want to hang around and bask in the refreshing vibe of someone new like that while they can. Some of them just want to see the moment she inevitably crashes and burns. "Most of the students I've met have been nice," Lan recalls, flipping her stack of cards from hand to hand. "A little preoccupied with their studies, sure, but it's to be expected in the last year of senior high." The last year is always packed with material, in preparation for the upcoming university exams for those who plan on going to university. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Remarkable, really, given the state of militarized education just a decade ago. If you were born any earlier, you would still be running military drills in class daily to prepare to beat the Communists if they ever invaded. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Of course, there are still the military instructors present. Next to you, there's a long sigh. Lan stretches, cracking her neck side to side, and flicks her eyes over to look at you. "That's not what I'm talking about, though. I mean, what's the deal with this school?" "You know," Lan says quietly. "It's so... military. The 'retake, retake, retake the mainland' anthem that played over the speakers earlier? I thought at least some people would laugh, but no one did. And the readings? What //is// all this?" (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] By readings, she means the course content your class covered this morning. The Youth of the Honorable President Chiang, covering President Chiang Kai-Shek's illustrious childhood and education and extolling his numerous values instilled into him from his grand upbringing. It's a hefty reading. You've seen it for years already. Mr. Xu brought it back with the justification of using it to examine the ethics and virtues within it in preparation for the ethics section of your university exams. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY > ]Retaking the mainland has been a hope held by many of the //waishengren// who came to Taiwan from the mainland some decades ago, including your parents. You've heard many discussions over the dinner table about being able to go back someday. Having grown up in Taiwan, you hold no particular feelings about the mainland. This island is all you've ever known. The mainland is an abstract concept to you. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Waishengren and Benshengren)] Cards fly between desks and the conversation continues to chug along between the gathered students. You hear snippets of it, all idle talk. It's really just serving as cover for the game. Lan tosses in a triple of sixes. (if:$playingcards is true)[Your play.] (if: $playingcards is true)[[[1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already." (Play a higher triple)->1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."]] [[2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?" (Play a straight)->2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"]] [[3. "What do you mean by that?" (Pass)->3. "What do you mean by that?"]]](else:)[[[1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."->1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."]] [[2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"->2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"]] [[3. "What do you mean by that?"->3. "What do you mean by that?"]]] (set:$waishengren to true)

"Well, you know," Lan says quietly. "It's so... military. The 'retake, retake, retake the mainland' anthem that played over the speakers earlier? I thought at least some people would laugh, but no one did. And the readings? What //is// all this?" (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] By readings, she means the course content your class covered this morning. The Youth of the Honorable President Chiang, covering President Chiang Kai-Shek's illustrious childhood and education and extolling his numerous values instilled into him from his grand upbringing. It's a hefty reading. You've seen it for years already. Mr. Xu brought it back with the justification of using it to examine the ethics and virtues within it in preparation for the ethics section of your university exams. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY > ]Retaking the mainland has been a hope held by many of the //waishengren// who came to Taiwan from the mainland some decades ago, including your parents. You've heard many discussions over the dinner table about being able to go back someday. Having grown up in Taiwan, you hold no particular feelings about the mainland. This island is all you've ever known. The mainland is an abstract concept to you. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Waishengren and Benshengren)] Cards fly between desks and the conversation continues to chug along between the gathered students. You hear snippets of it, all idle talk. It's really just serving as cover for the game. Lan tosses in a triple of sixes. (if:$playingcards is true)[Your play.] (if: $playingcards is true)[[[1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already." (Play a higher triple)->1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."]] [[2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?" (Play a straight)->2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"]] [[3. "What do you mean by that?" (Pass)->3. "What do you mean by that?"]]](else:)[[[1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."->1. "It's pretty standard curriculum. Aren't you familiar with it? It's senior high school already."]] [[2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"->2. "Is it hard adjusting to it? Was your last senior high not like this?"]] [[3. "What do you mean by that?"->3. "What do you mean by that?"]]] (set:$waishengren to true)

Lan clicks her tongue, tugging on a section of her bangs in frustration. "This is standard? Extolling the virtues of..." The sound of the approaching clomping of boots comes from the hallway. Her mouth clamps shut. A hush falls over the classroom, nervous and tense. Even Mr. Xu in the back of the room seems to still, the rustling of papers stopping. (text-colour:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The girls around you are frozen in fear. You see several brave hands dart out and hide the piles of cards wherever they can—behind textbooks, in bags, and in desks. Through the gauzy blinds, you all see a sharply defined silhouette pass by, casting long shadows on the floor as it passes. It's one of the military officers in charge of discipline at your senior high, Officer Wen. The sound of his footsteps is always staggered—he has a slight limp. Among the military officers, his footsteps are the easiest to identify. His silhouette pauses, right before reaching the open door at the back of your classroom. A muggy breeze stirs the air. It's almost like the classroom holds its breath. Then, the sound of his footsteps starts again, and he passes by without a second glance. It's several long moments before someone exhales in relief, followed by the tentative start of conversation again. Slowly, the noise level comes back up to normal. Beside you, Lan stares pointedly at you, flicking her eyes to the door that Officer Wen passed by. "Like //that's// standard." (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY > ]The military officers have patrolled your senior high since long before you were here. Looking for leftist activity, anti-government sentiment...it's difficult to tell who they're looking for and how. Avoiding them has always been the best course of action. You never know who they could crack down upon. The card game continues round. [[1. "Hope you don't ever have to meet them. They're terrifying."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance)]] [[2. "It's just more discipline. All you have to do is not get on their bad side."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance)]]

Lan laughs, and it sounds almost like a scoff. "Not in the slightest. I'm from further south, a rural township around Hualien. Our schools weren't like this at all." (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Hualien County is located on the northeastern coast of Taiwan, comprised mainly of rural and mountain townships, with some urban townships also present. It's a bit more in the countryside, some would say. (text-colour:purple)[< INSIGHT >] You might have guessed. Though Taiwanese Hokkien is widely spoken just about everywhere in Taiwan, including within your school, Mandarin Chinese has taken precedence in most urban areas due to the ban on Taiwanese within schools and public areas. Lan has nearly slipped more than once, leading to some reprimands from your teacher. She seems endlessly familiar with Hokkien, almost enough for it to be her first language. Being from a //waishengren// family, you grew up speaking Mandarin exclusively at home and chatting with every other young kid in your neighborhood in Taiwanese. Unfortunately, you've fallen more out of practice with it as you've been restricted from speaking it in school. The ban grates on your classmates too, you can see it. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] It's as intended. Locking off use of the first language of //benshengren// is like chopping off one of their hands. When keeping people from organizing, language is the first tool to go. It's difficult to organize and protest when you're working around an unfamiliar second language. "You're right that it's difficult adjusting," admits Lan, bitterly. "I feel like I'm walking on a bed of nails, about to slip off at any moment. Really, it's just way too harsh—" The sound of the approaching clomping of boots comes from the hallway. Her mouth clamps shut. A hush falls over the classroom, nervous and tense. Even Mr. Xu in the back of the room seems to still, the rustling of papers stopping. (text-colour:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The girls around you are frozen in fear. You see several brave hands dart out and hide the piles of cards wherever they can—behind textbooks, in bags, and in desks. Through the gauzy blinds, you all see a sharply defined silhouette pass by, casting long shadows on the floor as it passes. It's one of the military officers in charge of discipline at your senior high, Officer Wen. The sound of his footsteps is always staggered—he has a slight limp. Among the military officers, his footsteps are the easiest to identify. His silhouette pauses, right before reaching the open door at the back of your classroom. A muggy breeze stirs the air. It's almost like the classroom holds its breath. Then, the sound of his footsteps starts again, and he passes by without a second glance. It's several long moments before someone exhales in relief, followed by the tentative start of conversation again. Slowly, the noise level comes back up to normal. Beside you, Lan stares pointedly at you, flicking her eyes to the door that Officer Wen passed by. "That's also a big part of the 'difficult adjustment.'" (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY > ]The military officers have patrolled your senior high since long before you were here. Looking for leftist activity, anti-government sentiment...it's difficult to tell who they're looking for and how. Avoiding them has always been the best course of action. You never know who they could crack down upon. The card game continues round. [[1. "Hope you don't ever have to meet them. They're terrifying."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance)]] [[2. "It's just more discipline. All you have to do is not get on their bad side."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance)]] (set:$waishengren to true)

Lan lets out a low hiss of frustration. "What I mean by it is that it's all...weird. Strict, crazily so. The military instructors look prepared to let loose on students at any moment, the teachers are so intense about the ideology teachings...don't you think it's way too much?" "I mean, like for real? Extolling the virtues of..." The sound of the approaching clomping of boots comes from the hallway. Her mouth clamps shut. A hush falls over the classroom, nervous and tense. Even Mr. Xu in the back of the room seems to still, the rustling of papers stopping. (text-colour:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The girls around you are frozen in fear. You see several brave hands dart out and hide the piles of cards wherever they can—behind textbooks, in bags, and in desks. Through the gauzy blinds, you all see a sharply defined silhouette pass by, casting long shadows on the floor as it passes. It's one of the military officers in charge of discipline at your senior high, Officer Wen. The sound of his footsteps is always staggered—he has a slight limp. Among the military officers, his footsteps are the easiest to identify. His silhouette pauses, right before reaching the open door at the back of your classroom. A muggy breeze stirs the air. It's almost like the classroom holds its breath. Then, the sound of his footsteps starts again, and he passes by without a second glance. It's several long moments before someone exhales in relief, followed by the tentative start of conversation again. Slowly, the noise level comes back up to normal. Beside you, Lan stares pointedly at you, flicking her eyes to the door that Officer Wen passed by. "Like //that's// normal." (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY > ]The military officers have patrolled your senior high since long before you were here. Looking for leftist activity, anti-government sentiment...it's difficult to tell who they're looking for and how. Avoiding them has always been the best course of action. You never know who they could crack down upon. The card game continues round. [[1. "Hope you don't ever have to meet them. They're terrifying."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance)]] [[2. "It's just more discipline. All you have to do is not get on their bad side."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance)]]

Lan shudders. "Yeah. Terrifying is one word for that." (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Your career in school has always been marked by the presence of military officers. They're there to ensure the school is in compliance with KMT guidelines, for one, but everyone knows that they're looking for rebellion among the student body. Students with leftist ideals, students who oppose the KMT, who aren't complying with the administration... The best-case scenario, the student is warned off. Worst-case, like if a student is caught with banned material or endorsing anti-KMT beliefs...You've heard of students being sent to prison before, or simply disappearing. It's not something you want to experience for yourself. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Militarization of Education)] (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< ENCYCLOPEDIA >] The KMT stands for the Kuomintang, the dominating Chinese nationalist political party in Taiwan headed by President Chiang Kai-Shek. When the KMT lost against the Chinese Communist Party back in the mainland in the civil wars, they split off and fled to Taiwan, taking control of the island and establishing an unchallenged rule as the Republic of China under martial law. It started in 1949, three years before your birth. You've lived your entire life under martial law. The cards continue flowing. Right now, there are no military officers in the room to catch you at wrongdoing, and your textbooks on President Chiang are stacked and shoved off to the side. Airy laughter rises to the ceiling, tempered though it is by the need to be quiet, lest people hear from the outside. Lan tosses out a flush, all spades. (if:$playingcards is true)[It'll be hard to beat. All eyes are on you for the next move.] "It's really normal for you? For everyone? Living like this?" questions Lan, hesitance in her voice for the first time. She looks up at you, searching for answers with her shoulders bowed. (if:$playingcards is true)[[[1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live." (Play a full house)->1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live."]] [[2. "Normal as can be." (Play a flush)->2. "Normal as can be."]] [[3. "It is what it is." (Pass)->3. "..."]]](else:)[[[1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live."->1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live."]] [[2. "Normal as can be."]] [[3. "..."]]] (set: $defiance to it +1) (set: $military to true)

Lan raises a critical eyebrow. "More discipline. You need to carry a rifle for discipline? We're still students, exactly what kind of discipline are they allowed to carry out?" The threat of getting on their 'bad side' hangs untouched in the air, no one daring to talk about it. (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Your career in school has always been marked by the presence of military officers. They're there to ensure the school is in compliance with KMT guidelines, for one, but everyone knows that they're looking for rebellion among the student body. Students with leftist ideals, students who oppose the KMT, who aren't complying with the administration... The best-case scenario, the student is warned off. Worst-case, like if a student is caught with banned material or endorsing anti-KMT beliefs...You've heard of students being sent to prison before, or simply disappearing. It's not something you want to experience for yourself. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; Militarization of Education)] (text-colour:#1dbf1d)[< ENCYCLOPEDIA >] The KMT stands for the Kuomintang, the dominating Chinese nationalist political party in Taiwan headed by President Chiang Kai-Shek. When the KMT lost against the Chinese Communist Party back in the mainland in the civil wars, they split off and fled to Taiwan, taking control of the island and establishing an unchallenged rule as the Republic of China under martial law. It started in 1949, three years before your birth. You've lived your entire life under martial law. The cards continue flowing. Right now, there are no military officers in the room to catch you at wrongdoing, and your textbooks on President Chiang are stacked and shoved off to the side. Airy laughter rises to the ceiling, tempered though it is by the need to be quiet, lest people hear from the outside. Lan tosses out a flush, all spades. It'll be hard to beat. All eyes are on you for the next move. "But, Ray, it's really normal for you? For everyone? Living like this?" questions Lan, hesitance in her voice for the first time. She looks up at you, searching for answers with her shoulders bowed. (if:$playingcards is true)[[[1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live." (Play a full house)->1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live."]] [[2. "Normal as can be." (Play a flush)->2. "Normal as can be."]] [[3. "It is what it is." (Pass)->3. "..."]]](else:)[[[1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live."->1. "It's what we've grown up with. We've never known any other way to live."]] [[2. "Normal as can be."]] [[3. "..."]]] (set: $compliance to it +1) (set: $military to true)

(if: $playingcards is true)[Your final play lands upon the discard pile with a flourish. The full house trumps Lan's spades flush, and the dumbfounded looks on the girls around you tell you that it probably trumps their hands too. A round of passes later, the win goes to you.](else:)[The final play lands upon the discard pile with a flourish, ending the game with a round of passes.] As Lan collects the cards back, shuffling them with practiced motions in preparation to deal them out again, she leans over to you. "It can't be just this," she whispers. "There has to be a better way." She shuffles the card in a fancy waterfall, cards flying between her hands beneath her desk. "I see it in everyone's eyes, Ray. They're all scared, even the ones that don't show it." There's a tenseness in the way she holds herself, curled in to hide the cards in her hands. (text-colour:orange)[< COHORT >] She's not wrong. The constant presence of the military officers, the harsh discipline...It's hard to keep from flinching whenever you walk by the teachers' offices, having to listen in to the verbal beratement of the day. The more sensitive students walk out crying, and the more resilient ones walk out with expressions hard as stone, pain written into the lines of their face. "Honestly? It scares me too," she admits. The deck is split evenly as she deals out the cards around the desks, hidden hands taking them and hiding them away, out of sight. "Everyone cowering out of fear..." Lan murmurs quietly, eyes fixed on the rapidly depleting deck. "The world's flipped upside down. My ma always told me that she was confident that the youth were the future, but here there's no chance of that being realized." (if: $playingcards is true)[Your cards feel heavy as weights in your hand. ]The game goes around. Lan puts down an ace, trumping the previous eight. "The pressure's so intense around here, Ray," she whispers. "It's suffocating." (if: $playingcards is true)[[[1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way." (Play a two)->1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."]] [[2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?" (Pass)->2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"]]](else:)[[[1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."->1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."]] [[2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"->2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"]]]

(if: $playingcards is true)[The two beats the ace, drawing a surprised murmur of approval from around the clustered tables. Lan blinks, stunned, even as the round goes on. "Hm. Good play, I don't see that often."](else:)[A two is thrown out, beating the ace and drawing a surprised murmur of approval from around the clustered tables. Lan blinks, stunned, even as the round goes on. "Hm. A good play, I don't see that often."] (text-colour:purple)[< INSIGHT >] The highest rank in the deck, beaten by the lowest...You can see the gears turning away in Lan's mind, drawing her closer to some unseen conclusion. She organizes the cards in her hand, tapping the ends lightly against her leg to neaten the stack. "And if it doesn't have to be this way...how can it change?" she muses to herself. There's a renewed excitement in her voice, a sort of wonder that reminds you of hope for the future and the brightness of the world. The cards go around. The game turns ever onwards. The bell rings, signalling the end of lunchtime. Quick as a flash, the cards are stowed away into a classmate's bag, two decks disappearing into a couple tiny card boxes. Lan gets to work shuffling everyone's desks back, the sound of the old wood screeching against the smooth stone floor loud in the classroom, but drowned out by the rest of your classmates scrambling out the door to wash their lunch trays in the sinks outside. In the commotion, Lan turns towards you, eyes bright in the dim classroom. The blinds flutter in a breeze, and a stripe of golden sunlight cuts across her face, throwing her features into stark relief. "Think about it, Ray. How could things be different?" [[1. "Anything's an improvement."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance, Encourage Lan)]] [[2. "It'll be hard to change anything."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance, Discourage Lan)]] [[3. "...Let's go clean up."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(Discourage Lan)]] (set: $encouragelanA to true)

Lan's ace goes unchallenged with a round of passes, starting another round. There's a stormy look on her face as she watches it. "I can't make myself believe that we can't change anything. As long as we're alive...there has to be something we can do, from where we are." (text-colour:purple)[< INSIGHT >] Even the optimistic Lan is struggling to make a good thing out of this situation. It's hard to hold onto hope when the world denies it at every turn. She organizes the cards in her hand, tapping the ends lightly against her leg to neaten the stack. "But how can we change things?" she muses to herself. There's an exhausted quality to her voice, speaking to her frustration with the situation. Her question goes unanswered, dissipating in the muggy air. The cards go around. The game turns ever onwards. The bell rings, signalling the end of lunchtime. Quick as a flash, the cards are stowed away into a classmate's bag, two decks disappearing into a couple tiny card boxes. Lan gets to work shuffling everyone's desks back, the sound of the old wood screeching against the smooth stone floor loud in the classroom, but drowned out by the rest of your classmates scrambling out the door to wash their lunch trays in the sinks outside. In the commotion, Lan turns towards you, eyes dark in the dim classroom. The blinds flutter in a breeze, and a stripe of cold sunlight cuts across her face, throwing her features into stark relief. "Think about it, Ray. How could things be different?" [[1. "Anything's an improvement."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Defiance, Encourage Lan)]] [[2. "It'll be hard to change anything."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Compliance, Discourage Lan)]] [[3. "...Let's go clean up."]](if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(Discourage Lan)]] (set: $discouragelanA to true)

(if:$encourageLanA is true)[Lan grins, fiercely. There's a bite to it, that grin. "Right. Just need to figure out where to start."](else:)[A smile slowly finds its way back to Lan's face. There's a uncertain quality to it, that smile, but the potential for the conviction behind it to become stronger. "Right. Just need to figure out where to start."] Chatter flows from the hallway into the classroom, students coming back from washing their dishes—something that you and Lan still have to do. With a start, Lan jumps into action, grabbing her lunch tray with a clang and clatter. "Come on! We're going to run out of time!" Utensils slip and slide over her tray as she dashes out the door in a cacophony of sound, leaving a sharp breeze that rustles the blinds in her wake. Sunlight pours into the classroom in fluttering patterns, the blinds stirred up by the sudden movement. The light stretches from the window to your lunch tray, making it gleam. Underneath it, it looks like there's a card from the game stuck there, a strange memento. It's a two of spades—the lowest rank of the deck, but the highest suit. A rank that can beat aces. [[End of Interlude 1, enter Act 1->MAIN STORY 1]] (set: $defiance to it + 1) (set: $lanfavor to it + 1)

(if: $encouragelanA is true)[Lan's smile turns wry, a twist to her lip. "You never know what you can do until you do it, Ray. Just might have to take a chance.](else:)[Lan frowns, sad lines etching themselves into her expression. "True...but what else can we do?"] Chatter flows from the hallway into the classroom, students coming back from washing their dishes—something that you and Lan still have to do. With a start, Lan jumps into action, grabbing her lunch tray with a clang and clatter. "Come on! We're going to run out of time!" Utensils slip and slide over her tray as she dashes out the door in a cacophony of sound, leaving a sharp breeze that rustles the blinds in her wake. Sunlight pours into the classroom in fluttering patterns, the blinds stirred up by the sudden movement. The light stretches from the window to your lunch tray, making it gleam. Underneath it, it looks like there's a card from the game stuck there, a strange memento. It's a two of hearts—the lowest rank, but the second highest suit. With the correct circumstances...could this beat aces, too? [[End of Interlude 1, enter Act 1->MAIN STORY 1]] (set: $compliance to it + 1) (set: $lanfavor to it - 1)

(if: $encouragelanA is true)[Lan's smile falters, quickly disappearing. "Ah. Right. Sorry, I forgot."](else:)[Lan frowns, expression turning mildly sour. "Right. I almost forgot."] Chatter flows from the hallway into the classroom, students coming back from washing their dishes—something that you and Lan still have to do. With a start, like she's shaking herself awake, Lan jumps into action, grabbing her lunch tray with a clang and clatter. "Come on! We're going to run out of time!" Utensils slip and slide over her tray as she dashes out the door in a cacophony of sound, leaving a sharp breeze that rustles the blinds in her wake. Sunlight pours into the classroom in fluttering patterns, the blinds stirred up by the sudden movement. The light stretches from the window to your lunch tray, making it sparkle coldly. Underneath it, it looks like there's a card from the game stuck there, a strange memento. It's a two of clubs—the lowest rank of the lowest suit. The first and easiest to be beaten. [[End of Interlude 1, enter Act 1->MAIN STORY 1]]

(if: $playingcards is true)[Your final play lands upon the discard pile. The spades flush is only just enough to beat Lan's spades flush. The game goes around until someone ends it with a full house. A round of passes later, the win is taken.](else:)[The final play lands upon the discard pile with a flourish, ending the game with a round of passes.] As Lan collects the cards back, shuffling them with practiced motions in preparation to deal them out again, she leans over to you. "It can't be just this," she whispers. "There has to be a better way." She shuffles the card in a fancy waterfall, cards flying between her hands beneath her desk. "I see it in everyone's eyes, Ray. They're all scared, even the ones that don't show it." There's a tenseness in the way she holds herself, curled in to hide the cards in her hands. (text-colour:orange)[< COHORT >] She's not wrong. The constant presence of the military officers, the harsh discipline...It's hard to keep from flinching whenever you walk by the teachers' offices, having to listen in to the verbal beratement of the day. The more sensitive students walk out crying, and the more resilient ones walk out with expressions hard as stone, pain written into the lines of their face. "Honestly? It scares me too," she admits. The deck is split evenly as she deals out the cards around the desks, hidden hands taking them and hiding them away, out of sight. "Everyone cowering out of fear..." Lan murmurs quietly, eyes fixed on the rapidly depleting deck. "The world's flipped upside down. My ma always told me that she was confident that the youth were the future, but here there's no chance of that being realized." (if: $playingcards is true)[Your cards feel heavy as weights in your hand. ]The game goes around. Lan puts down an ace, trumping the previous eight. "The pressure's so intense around here, Ray," she whispers. "It's suffocating." (if: $playingcards is true)[[[1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way." (Play a two)->1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."]] [[2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?" (Pass)->2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"]]](else:)[[[1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."->1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."]] [[2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"->2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"]]]

(if: $playingcards is true)[Lan's spades flush stands unchallenged. A round of passes later, the win is hers, but she looks dissatisfied.](else:)[The final play lands upon the discard pile with a flourish, ending the game with a round of passes.] As Lan collects the cards back, shuffling them with practiced motions in preparation to deal them out again, she leans over to you. "It can't be just this," she whispers. "There has to be a better way." She shuffles the card in a fancy waterfall, cards flying between her hands beneath her desk. "I see it in everyone's eyes, Ray. They're all scared, even the ones that don't show it." There's a tenseness in the way she holds herself, curled in to hide the cards in her hands. (text-colour:orange)[< COHORT >] She's not wrong. The constant presence of the military officers, the harsh discipline...It's hard to keep from flinching whenever you walk by the teachers' offices, having to listen in to the verbal beratement of the day. The more sensitive students walk out crying, and the more resilient ones walk out with expressions hard as stone, pain written into the lines of their face. "Honestly? It scares me too," she admits. The deck is split evenly as she deals out the cards around the desks, hidden hands taking them and hiding them away, out of sight. "Everyone cowering out of fear..." Lan murmurs quietly, eyes fixed on the rapidly depleting deck. "The world's flipped upside down. My ma always told me that she was confident that the youth were the future, but here there's no chance of that being realized." (if: $playingcards is true)[Your cards feel heavy as weights in your hand. ]The game goes around. Lan puts down an ace, trumping the previous eight. "The pressure's so intense around here, Ray," she whispers. "It's suffocating." (if: $playingcards is true)[[[1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way." (Play a two)->1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."]] [[2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?" (Pass)->2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"]]](else:)[[[1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."->1. "But you're right. It doesn't have to be this way."]] [[2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"->2. "It's awful, but what can we really do?"]]]

(live: 0.5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''> ACT 1...''](stop:)] "Shit! Ming, grab it!" "Who left the window open?" "You're telling me to close it when we're sweating like pigs in here already?" "Just get the //damn papers//, please." A warm breeze sweeps merrily in through the open window, stirring yet another stack of loose papers and sending the whole pile fluttering across the room in a grand flurry. Ming dives to grab a couple papers in her hands before they fly through the open window. On the side, Liang struggles to hold down two scattered piles of papers with his own body, lanky limbs splayed out flat over the dusty floors. Hao is frantically bustling back and forth across the room, grabbing papers at random and tossing them into cabinets to store, safe from the wind. Junhui slouches over in a rattan chair, dragging one miserable hand down his face at the situation. Boxes filled with papers—previous editions of the student newspaper, rejected submissions, failed prints, sketches, drafts, editions with printing errors—are stacked almost high enough along the walls to cover the windows, the topmost boxes (and the lightest) swaying dangerously in the wind. The playful breeze threatens to swipe a couple papers right out of Ming's hands, and she yelps in terror as the wind flings open another sliding window next to her that was previously shut, sending it slamming into the window frame with a loud bang. Lan glances over to you, from where she's perched atop a nearby desk. "Is the newspaper club always this lively?" [[1. "They're just rowdy because someone new is here. Don't mind it."]] [[2. "It's pretty much always like this, yeah. Still want to join a club?"]]

(live: 0.5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''> INTERLUDE 2, PART 2...''](stop:)] //Snip//. The sound of your mother's haircutting scissors is loud in the quiet of evening, even with the cicadas buzzing outside. Tonight is warm and muggy, the air dense with moisture. Beneath your hands, blonde locks are slowly dropping to the floor. Before you, Lan is sitting on the edge of her family home's wooden porch, opening out into the tiny courtyard out back. She's curled into herself, shoulders drawn inwards. Dim yellow light shines from the open door behind you, leading further into the house. In the light, her hair gleams gold. //Snip//. Another lock falls to the ground. Your hands part the layers of Lan's dyed-blonde hair, coming to a stop once you reach a roughly chopped portion. Lan had stepped out of the meeting with Officer Wen, a chunk of her hair buzzed off. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] She flinched when you reached that part, right behind her ear. There's a shallow nick on the lobe, where a hair razor might have slipped. "...Thanks for helping, Ray," comes a small voice from Lan's direction. Her hands are fisted tightly in her lap. "I don't think I could cut it neatly by myself." [[1. "...Don't mention it."]] [[2. "Why do you dye your hair, anyway?"]]

Lan laughs brightly, eyes turning up at the corners in mirth. "That's a really enthusiastic welcome, if you're right!" The laugh rings out through the room, even over the sound of the wind whipping at the windows, and your club members perk their ears up at the sound. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Lan's joy draws the eyes of everyone around her. They can't help it—they turn to her like sunflowers to the sun. She's the brightest thing around in this school. It's been some weeks since Lan joined your class, and in that time, the school's seen fit to send you everywhere with her in the name of getting her used to the environment. When you're doing your morning cleaning of the hallways and classrooms—Lan's with you, joking with the other girls about the old brooms and mops you all are still using, putting on little comedy skits. When you're reporting to the club advisor on club activities and meeting minutes—Lan is with you, vibrating with the need to ask questions that burst out of her as soon as you both leave the offices. When you're walking down to the school library—Lan is with you, poking fun at your choices in literature and exploring up and down the hallways with unabashed curiosity. Safe to say, you've grown extremely accustomed to Lan following just a step behind you, like an overly-familiar shadow. This week is Lan's time to tag along with you to newspaper club, and as you might have expected, she has boundless interest in club activities too. Junhui rolls onto his side, still suspended between the stiff arms of the rattan chair, and stretches out like a cat towards you. "Not like it isn't great to have fresh blood, Ray, but why are //we// the ones trying to show a new student how cool clubs are?" As an afterthought, he throws a peace sign up in the general direction of where Lan is. "Hi, Lan. I promise we're usually more organized." Lan waves back, barely holding in her giggles. As if punctuating his words, a couple boxes topple over from where they were precariously perched, spilling a grand flood of failed prints across the floor. The flood of paper shifts like a wave, finally coming to a stop right before the tip of Hao's shoe. Hao scowls, reeling his shoe back. "Oh my god. We've never been organized, Junhui." On the floor, Liang groans in response where he's been buried in the new flood of paper. Only his hand is visible, reaching up like he's trying to be saved. Hao leans down and high-fives it instead. At the window, Ming wrenches the window shut, flipping the latch with a grinding sound. A new sheen of sweat covers her forehead. "God, we need to start keeping these windows shut more often. Or beg the school for better storage." She glares in disdain at the toppled boxes, kicking at the pile of spilled papers like leaves in fall. "Junhui, your turn to start picking up papers." Junhui sighs, long and sad, even as he stands and starts slowly grabbing papers off of the floor. "Burning up in the heat...forced to pick up papers...you're really killing me here, Ming." She rolls her eyes and starts kicking more papers in his direction, shifting the pile slowly to become more collected. "Get to it, chair boy." Lan shifts on the desk, gaze roaming and roving over the papers and people. "So...what exactly do you all do here, besides organize papers?" She shifts back on the desk, lightly swinging her feet back and forth in the air. "Newspaper club has to be doing something, right?" [[1. "Uh, yeah, we print the newspaper. Receive student submissions, get them reviewed, all that. Some of us write articles."]] [[2. "No, we just sit and bicker all day. What do you think?"]]

Lan giggles, eyes turning up at the corners in mirth. "Sure, if it's going to be this entertaining all the time. Her laughter rings out through the room, even over the sound of the wind whipping at the windows, and your club members perk their ears up at the sound. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Lan's joy draws the eyes of everyone around her. They can't help it—they turn to her like sunflowers to the sun. She's the brightest thing around in this school. It's been some weeks since Lan joined your class, and in that time, the school's seen fit to send you everywhere with her in the name of getting her used to the environment. When you're doing your morning cleaning of the hallways and classrooms—Lan's with you, joking with the other girls about the old brooms and mops you all are still using, putting on little comedy skits. When you're reporting to the club advisor on club activities and meeting minutes—Lan is with you, vibrating with the need to ask questions that burst out of her as soon as you both leave the offices. When you're walking down to the school library—Lan is with you, poking fun at your choices in literature and exploring up and down the hallways with unabashed curiosity. Safe to say, you've grown extremely accustomed to Lan following just a step behind you, like an overly-familiar shadow. This week is Lan's time to tag along with you to newspaper club, and as you might have expected, she has boundless interest in club activities too. Junhui rolls onto his side, still suspended between the stiff arms of the rattan chair, and stretches out like a cat towards you. "Not like it isn't great to have fresh blood, Ray, but why are //we// the ones trying to show a new student how cool clubs are?" As an afterthought, he throws a peace sign up in the general direction of where Lan is. "Hi, Lan. I promise we're usually more organized." Lan waves back, barely holding in her giggles. As if punctuating his words, a couple boxes topple over from where they were precariously perched, spilling a grand flood of failed prints across the floor. The flood of paper shifts like a wave, finally coming to a stop right before the tip of Hao's shoe. Hao scowls, reeling his shoe back. "Oh my god. We've never been organized, Junhui." On the floor, Liang groans in response where he's been buried in the new flood of paper. Only his hand is visible, reaching up like he's trying to be saved. Hao leans down and high-fives it instead. At the window, Ming wrenches the window shut, flipping the latch with a grinding sound. A new sheen of sweat covers her forehead. "God, we need to start keeping these windows shut more often. Or beg the school for better storage." She glares in disdain at the toppled boxes, kicking at the pile of spilled papers like leaves in fall. "Junhui, your turn to start picking up papers." Junhui sighs, long and sad, even as he stands and starts slowly grabbing papers off of the floor. "Burning up in the heat...forced to pick up papers...you're really killing me here, Ming." She rolls her eyes and starts kicking more papers in his direction, shifting the pile slowly to become more collected. "Get to it, chair boy." Lan shifts on the desk, gaze roaming and roving over the papers and people. "So...what exactly do you all do here, besides organize papers?" She sits back on the desk, lightly swinging her feet back and forth in the air. "Newspaper club has to be doing something, right?" [[1. "Uh, yeah, we print the newspaper. Receive student submissions, get them reviewed, all that. Some of us write articles."]] [[2. "No, we just sit and bicker all day. What do you think?"]]

She hums, taking in the information. There's an interested gleam in her eye. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] You think her eyes started to twinkle around when you mentioned 'student submissions'. Seems she likes the sound of that. By the pile of papers, Hao has miraculously produced a stiff push broom, and is now sweeping both papers and Liang's limp body into a corner to be organized, rolling Liang across the floor with every sweep of the broom, one foot at a time. "I'm mostly the one that handles receiving the student submissions," he explains, huffing with the effort of sweeping. "We set a deadline for every paper and hang up fliers on the bulletin boards in classrooms. The box for submissions is over by the door." Hao gestures over to the door, where a milk crate sits. The crate is piled up with multicolored papers, full to bursting. A reckless sweep of Hao's broom sends both Liang and a couple papers off the top of the submissions crate flying. "We get tons of them every month," he mutters, "and we have to reject even more. So many papers..." "Besides that," Hao continues, still sweeping, "I also handle distribution of the newspaper, along with Junhui. We deliver them every month at school assemblies, mostly." Crouched on the floor, Junhui gives Hao a thumbs-up that's only barely visible from among the desks he's hidden in. The rustling of papers is the only other thing giving away his location. Lan smiles, interest lighting up her face. "And the rest of you?" (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] She's leaning in, body language open and easy. Looking over the room, checking each face, getting more comfortable. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Empathy: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You're not sure what her intentions are, but she seems to be deeply interested in the affairs of the newspaper club.] (else:)[You can read her intent on her face immediately. Lan is looking for places she can slot herself into. Somewhere to belong.] [[1. "I take the student submissions and review them. Make sure they're acceptable for printing, that they follow the submission guidelines, that they abide by the content restrictions..."]] [[2. "I'm in charge of checking the student submissions and running interference between us, Officer Wen, and those jerks from the CYC."]]

Lan smirks at you, clearly amused by the sarcasm. "From where I'm sitting, it really does look that way." (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] You think her eyes started to twinkle around when you mentioned 'student submissions'. Seems she likes the sound of that. Ming calls out, "What do you think a newspaper club does! We print the student newspaper!" Between picking up papers and shoving them back into boxes, she looks over and grins. "The club receives and reviews student submissions, then gets them approved for printing." By the pile of papers, Hao has miraculously produced a stiff push broom, and is now sweeping both papers and Liang's limp body into a corner to be organized, rolling Liang across the floor with every sweep of the broom, one foot at a time. "I'm mostly the one that handles receiving the student submissions," he explains, huffing with the effort of sweeping. "We set a deadline for every paper and hang up fliers on the bulletin boards in classrooms. The box for submissions is over by the door." Hao gestures over to the door, where a milk crate sits. The crate is piled up with multicolored papers, full to bursting. A reckless sweep of Hao's broom sends both Liang and a couple papers off the top of the submissions crate flying. "We get tons of them every month," he mutters, "and we have to reject even more. So many papers..." "Besides that," Hao continues, still sweeping, "I also handle distribution of the newspaper, along with Junhui. We deliver them every month at school assemblies, mostly." Crouched on the floor, Junhui gives Hao a thumbs-up that's only barely visible from among the desks he's hidden in. The rustling of papers is the only other thing giving away his location. Lan smiles, interest lighting up her face. "And the rest of you?" (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] She's leaning in, body language open and easy. Looking over the room, checking each face, getting more comfortable. EMPATHYroll: Lan is looking for places she can slot herself into. Somewhere to belong. [[1. "I take the student submissions and review them. Make sure they're acceptable for printing, that they follow the submission guidelines, that they abide by the content restrictions..."]] [[2. "I'm in charge of checking the student submissions and running interference between us, Officer Wen, and those jerks from the CYC."]]

Ming raises an eyebrow from where she's poking at Liang to make sure he's still alive. "More like put up with those assholes from the CYC and their endless complaints. You know you can complain about them, right?" (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< ENCYCLOPEDIA >] The CYC refers to the China Youth Anti-Communist National Salvation Corps—or just China Youth Corps, like you and literally everyone else calls them—a youth organization comprised mostly of 'patriotic students dedicated to serving their country'. Many students join up not just because they believe in the cause, but also because the CYC offers programs for education and military instruction, appealing to low-income youth and their families who turn to the CYC to learn discipline. (if:$defiance>$compliance)[(text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] But in this school, they're a gang of jackasses always 'concerned' about the content of the student newspaper. You can't remember how many times you've been pointlessly called to the teachers' offices to be berated because of some complaint a CYC member filed against the newspaper, or the newspaper club, or your club members, or just you in general. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Great, the state is getting the youth to do their work for them here too. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Even in your restrictive school, the CYC has gained a sizable following, full of youth indoctrinated into the belief that patriotism is what will save them. And that selling out their schoolmates for gold stars is going to get them anywhere. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] It's not all just about their personal beliefs, though. Joining the CYC means they get support for them and their families, alleviating the financial burden of education and recreational programs. You know some people who are only in this senior high because the CYC sponsored their education. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; China Youth Corps)] (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] It's another way to establish political control over the youth—offering genuine benefits as the carrot, and hiding indoctrination as the stick. Rile them up, get them to rally behind the KMT's anti-communist banner, drill patriotism into them until it's everything they stand for. Indoctrinate the youth into blind obedience and unquestioning political loyalty. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] They've hounded you before, too. Seeing that you're //waishengren//, and 'Chinese' in their eyes, they've been doggedly trying to recruit you too. Accusations of unpatriotic behavior, betraying your country, forgetting your loyalty to your country...you've heard it all. They just can't get it into their heads to understand why you haven't joined them yet.](else:)[(text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You know some of them personally. They're not bad people, but they're just driven. Following orders from the educators around them, dedicating themselves to a cause they think is morally right and correct. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] Most of them, like any //waishengren// who was suddenly forced to uproot their life and settle in an unfamiliar country, are just searching for somewhere to belong. Finding stability in a group of likeminded people. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Those kinds of youths usually turn to street gangs to find some petty control over their lives and the lives of others. But these ones turned to support state-sponsored violence and snatch at control over the actions of their fellow students. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] It's really not a bad deal for them. For the price of being resented by their classmates, they get support for them and their families, alleviating the financial burden of education and recreational programs. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; China Youth Corps)] (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] It's another way that the state gets the youth to buy into its scheme—offering genuine benefits as the carrot, and hiding indoctrination as the stick. Establish political control over the youth, rile them up, get them to rally behind the KMT's anti-communist banner, drill patriotism into them until it's everything they stand for. Indoctrinate the youth into blind obedience and unquestioning political loyalty. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Not all of them believe it. But enough do. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You're in with their crowd enough to avoid the worst of their harsh scrutiny, but the newspaper club gets the bulk of the flack. As the intermediary between the club and the school, you can't count how many times you've been called into the teachers' offices to address another meaningless complaint a CYC member has filed against the newspaper.] [[1. "They're not that bad to handle, Ming."]] [[2. "God, what problem do they have with us anyway?"]] (set: $cyc to true)

Ming cackles from where she's poking at Liang to make sure he's still alive. "That's right! God, I hate the CYC kids. Always another complaint about the newspaper, and then all of us have to go grovel in front of Officer Wen to beg him not to cut us down." (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< ENCYCLOPEDIA >] The CYC refers to the China Youth Anti-Communist National Salvation Corps—or just China Youth Corps, like you and literally everyone else calls them—a youth organization comprised mostly of 'patriotic students dedicated to serving their country'. Many students join up not just because they believe in the cause, but also because the CYC offers programs for education and military instruction, appealing to low-income youth and their families who turn to the CYC to learn discipline. (if:$defiance>$compliance)[(text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] But in this school, they're a gang of jackasses always 'concerned' about the content of the student newspaper. You can't remember how many times you've been pointlessly called to the teachers' offices to be berated because of some complaint a CYC member filed against the newspaper, or the newspaper club, or your club members, or just you in general. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Great, the state is getting the youth to do their work for them here too. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Even in your restrictive school, the CYC has gained a sizable following, full of youth indoctrinated into the belief that patriotism is what will save them. And that selling out their schoolmates for gold stars is going to get them anywhere. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] It's not all just about their personal beliefs, though. Joining the CYC means they get support for them and their families, alleviating the financial burden of education and recreational programs. You know some people who are only in this senior high because the CYC sponsored their education. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; China Youth Corps)] (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] It's another way to establish political control over the youth—offering genuine benefits as the carrot, and hiding indoctrination as the stick. Rile them up, get them to rally behind the KMT's anti-communist banner, drill patriotism into them until it's everything they stand for. Indoctrinate the youth into blind obedience and unquestioning political loyalty. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] They've hounded you before, too. Seeing that you're //waishengren//, and 'Chinese' in their eyes, they've been doggedly trying to recruit you too. Accusations of unpatriotic behavior, betraying your country, forgetting your loyalty to your country...you've heard it all. They just can't get it into their heads to understand why you haven't joined them yet.](else:)[(text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You know some of them personally. They're not bad people, but they're just driven. Following orders from the educators around them, dedicating themselves to a cause they think is morally right and correct. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] Most of them, like any //waishengren// who was suddenly forced to uproot their life and settle in an unfamiliar country, are just searching for somewhere to belong. Finding stability in a group of likeminded people. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Those kinds of youths usually turn to street gangs to find some petty control over their lives and the lives of others. But these ones turned to support state-sponsored violence and snatch at control over the actions of their fellow students. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] It's really not a bad deal for them. For the price of being resented by their classmates, they get support for them and their families, alleviating the financial burden of education and recreational programs. (text-colour:grey)[(+New addition to the [[glossary->your glossary]]; China Youth Corps)] (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] It's another way that the state gets the youth to buy into its scheme—offering genuine benefits as the carrot, and hiding indoctrination as the stick. Establish political control over the youth, rile them up, get them to rally behind the KMT's anti-communist banner, drill patriotism into them until it's everything they stand for. Indoctrinate the youth into blind obedience and unquestioning political loyalty. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Not all of them believe it. But enough do. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You're in with their crowd enough to avoid the worst of their harsh scrutiny, but the newspaper club gets the bulk of the flack. As the intermediary between the club and the school, you can't count how many times you've been called into the teachers' offices to address another meaningless complaint a CYC member has filed against the newspaper.] [[1. "They're not that bad to handle, Ming."]] [[2. "God, what problem do they have with us anyway?"]] (set: $cyc to true)

Ming raises an eyebrow, dragging Liang off of the floor to throw him in a chair. He slumps over, exhausted from digging through papers. "You sure? So you just don't remember what happened last time?" (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] 'Last time' refers to when one of Liang's CYC friends complained to him about the scandalous content in the newspaper, and the news spread to some of Liang's friend's friends, then their friends, and then their parents, and then the news spread to reach Officer Wen's ear. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< ENCYCLOPEDIA >] The scandalous content was a poem, if anyone cares. A sweet one, about the nostalgia of growing up among Japanese architecture, speaking Taiwanese, listening to music from the West. A rumination upon Taiwanese identity and the unique blend of cultures it exists within. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You and the newspaper club members all agreed that it was a wonderfully written poem, perfect for a fluff piece. The students you showed the poem to for review complimented the poem along similar lines. Even your advisor had no problem with it. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Officer Wen shredded the original poem in front of you all, when you were called in to kneel side by side in the disciplinary office, and shouted until your ears were ringing and your arms were sore from lifting chairs above your head. Liang sighs, rubbing at his arms. "I think I still remember those welts from Officer Wen's ruler." Next to him, Ming flicks his forehead. "Serves you right for skipping out on fitness class. I don't think those noodle arms can hold anything for long, let alone chairs." (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] You filtered out most of Officer Wen's lecture that day, too tired to really comprehend it, but the key points stayed. You represent the Republic of China and its values, not Taiwan. Through the school newspaper, you should exemplify the honorable attitude of Chinese students, despite not being present in the mainland. The movements of the newspaper determine the movements of the school as a whole. Hao leans on the handle of his push broom, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "It's just a shame that we lost the poem. We could have kept it if //someone// hadn't ratted us out," he says idly, deliberately ignoring the way Liang scowls. "How many times do I have to apologize for it to stick?" Liang complains, throwing up his hands. "I didn't know Sicheng would talk to so many people about it!" "Yeah, and spread the news to half the school in a day," snaps Ming. "Do you know how humiliating it was to have to hear people gossiping about us getting beaten behind our backs?" [[1. "I remember. It was miserable."]] [[2. "Just forget about it. It's in the past."]]

Ming scowls deeply, dragging Liang off of the floor to throw him in a chair. He slumps over, exhausted from digging through papers. "If you ask me, I think they just hate us personally. Who has the heart to deliberately send their classmates off to get beaten?" (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Ming is referring to when one of Liang's CYC friends complained to him about the scandalous content in the newspaper, and the news spread to some of Liang's friend's friends, then their friends, and then their parents, and then the news spread to reach Officer Wen's ear. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< ENCYCLOPEDIA >] The scandalous content was a poem, if anyone cares. A sweet one, about the nostalgia of growing up among Japanese architecture, speaking Taiwanese, listening to music from the West. A rumination upon Taiwanese identity and the unique blend of cultures it exists within. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You and the newspaper club members all agreed that it was a wonderfully written poem, perfect for a fluff piece. The students you showed the poem to for review complimented the poem along similar lines. Even your advisor had no problem with it. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Officer Wen shredded the original poem in front of you all, when you were called in to kneel side by side in the disciplinary office, and shouted until your ears were ringing and your arms were sore from lifting chairs above your head. Liang sighs, rubbing at his arms. "I think I still remember those welts from Officer Wen's ruler." Next to him, Ming flicks his forehead. "Serves you right for skipping out on fitness class. I don't think those noodle arms can hold anything for long, let alone chairs." (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] You filtered out most of Officer Wen's lecture that day, too tired to really comprehend it, but the key points stayed. You represent the Republic of China and its values, not Taiwan. Through the school newspaper, you should exemplify the honorable attitude of Chinese students, despite not being present in the mainland. The movements of the newspaper determine the movements of the school as a whole. Hao leans on the handle of his push broom, blowing his soft bangs out of his eyes. "It's just a shame that we lost the poem. We could have kept it if //someone// hadn't ratted us out," he says idly, deliberately ignoring the way Liang scowls. "How many times do I have to apologize for it to stick?" Liang complains, throwing up his hands. "I didn't know Sicheng would talk to so many people about it!" "Yeah, and spread the news to half the school in a day," snaps Ming. "Do you know how humiliating it was to have to hear people gossiping about us getting beaten behind our backs?" [[1. "I remember. It was miserable."]] [[2. "Just forget about it. It's in the past."]]

Junhui yawns, standing up and stretching. "Hey, it's okay. All you have to do is get thicker skin. What does it matter what other people are saying about us?" (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's something odd about his expression when he says that, but it disappears behind another yawn.] (else:)[Despite saying that, Junhui looks strangely tense. You get the sense it mattered to him—deeply. But the tension disappears behind another yawn, gone in an instant. ] The student submissions crate is in his hands, and he strolls over to drop it at your feet. "Don't argue in front of outsiders. We still have work to do, anyway." Lan, who has been sitting quietly and listening so far, tilts her head in curiosity. "Work?" "Mhm," nods Junhui, already taking a seat opposite yours and pulling out a pencil and paper. "We have to decide on the contents of the newspaper, send it in for review, then edit up everything and send our final draft of the paper to the printers. "Add on sourcing information from students, writing up articles, getting pictures in...and that makes up the bulk of the work the club does." He scratches his head with the butt of the pencil, droopy eyes already blinking sleepily. Lan nods along, thinking it over. "So what do you, Ming, and Liang do in the club? I know Ray reviews the submissions and gets approval from the education officers, Hao does distribution with you and receives submissions..." There's a huff from Junhui, who's starting in on drafting an article. "I'm the newspaper editor, so I organize the paper and do all the last touches on the newspaper before it's printed. There's also articles, which Ming and I write together." Ming waves from her spot next to Liang. "I'm also the student reporter!" Ming calls, smiling. "We have to get student interviews in the newspaper too, as well as some photos." (text-color:purple)[< INTERFACING >] There's a small 35mm film camera that the newspaper club uses, mostly handled by either Ming or Hao, whoever is out talking to students on a given day. Hao's pictures are meticulously taken and take ages to set up, while Ming's photos are charming and as candid as she can get them without the photos coming out blurry. Photos are sent out for development a week or two before the newspaper's due to be sent for printing, so Junhui can have the photos in hand in time to add them into the paper. For the most part, you and the members eat the costs of development yourselves, with the minimal budget you're afforded by the school being mostly eaten up by the printing costs alone. "Anyway," continues Junhui, "Ray, we need to get through the student submissions by today or tomorrow so we can get them sent to Officer Wen. Just approve or reject the submissions like usual." Lan hops off of the desk, hauling the student submissions crate into her hands. "Wow, this weighs a ton," she mutters. "You have to get through all of these?" [[1. "Not that many. We take on the burden together."]] [[2. "We could leave it for another day—if we wanted to be backlogged."]]

Junhui yawns, standing up and stretching. "Ray's right. All you have to do is get thicker skin. What does it matter what other people are saying about us?" (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's something odd about his expression when he says that, but it disappears behind another yawn.] (else:)[Despite saying that, Junhui looks strangely tense. You get the sense it mattered to him—deeply. But the tension disappears behind another yawn, gone in an instant. ] The student submissions crate is in his hands, and he strolls over to drop it at your feet. "Don't argue in front of outsiders. We still have work to do, anyway." Lan, who has been sitting quietly and listening so far, tilts her head in curiosity. "Work?" "Mhm," nods Junhui, already taking a seat opposite yours and pulling out a pencil and paper. "We have to decide on the contents of the newspaper, send it in for review, then edit up everything and send our final draft of the paper to the printers. "Add on sourcing information from students, writing up articles, getting pictures in...and that makes up the bulk of the work the club does." He scratches his head with the butt of the pencil, droopy eyes already blinking sleepily. Lan nods along, thinking it over. "So what do you, Ming, and Liang do in the club? I know Ray reviews the submissions and gets approval from the education officers, Hao does distribution with you and receives submissions..." There's a huff from Junhui, who's starting in on drafting an article. "I'm the newspaper editor, so I organize the paper and do all the last touches on the newspaper before it's printed. There's also articles, which Ming and I write together." Ming waves from her spot next to Liang. "I'm also the student reporter!" Ming calls, smiling. "We have to get student interviews in the newspaper too, as well as some photos." (text-color:purple)[< INTERFACING >] There's a small 35mm film camera that the newspaper club uses, mostly handled by either Ming or Hao, whoever is out talking to students on a given day. Hao's pictures are meticulously taken and take ages to set up, while Ming's photos are charming and as candid as she can get them without the photos coming out blurry. Photos are sent out for development a week or two before the newspaper's due to be sent for printing, so Junhui can have the photos in hand in time to add them into the paper. For the most part, you and the members eat the costs of development yourselves, with the minimal budget you're afforded by the school being mostly eaten up by the printing costs alone. "Anyway," continues Junhui, "Ray, we need to get through the student submissions by today or tomorrow so we can get them sent to Officer Wen. Just approve or reject the submissions like usual." Lan hops off of the desk, hauling the student submissions crate into her hands. "Wow, this weighs a ton," she mutters. "You have to get through all of these?" [[1. "Not that many. We take on the burden together."]] [[2. "We could leave it for another day—if we wanted to be backlogged."]] (set: $forgetaboutitjunnie to true)

Junhui nods along, the steady scratching of his pencil against paper a familiar sound. "A lot of the student submissions don't turn out that good, so we do an initial sift of them together to weed out the low quality ones." Hao strolls over, pulling up a chair to sit. "Lan, you can sit in and watch the review if you want," he says, already pulling a stack of papers out of the submissions crate and putting them down in front of him. "Take some papers for yourself and sort them into 'approved' and 'rejected'." Lan leans over the submissions crate, judging the contents with an assessing eye. "Wait, how can I tell what's good to be approved and what to reject?" Junhui waves a hand dismissively, already tuning out the conversation. "You'll be able to tell. Just reject anything that seems like it can't be printed." (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] There's been a long list of content guidelines posted on the wall of the newspaper club's room for ages. It's been mostly buried behind boxes at this point, but everyone remembers them anyways. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Nothing anti-state, nothing vulgar, nothing that leans too far one way or another politically. That's about what you need to keep in mind, generally. Lan claps her hands together, already excited. "Okay! Let's get to it, then!" [[> Start the review process]]

Junhui nods along, the steady scratching of his pencil against paper a familiar sound. "Sure, sure. We can pick up the slack, right?" he jokes, laughing lazily. "Anyway, a lot of the student submissions don't turn out that good, so we do an initial sift of them together to weed out the low quality ones." Hao strolls over, pulling up a chair to sit. "Lan, you can sit in and watch the review if you want," he says, already pulling a stack of papers out of the submissions crate and putting them down in front of him. "Take some papers for yourself and sort them into 'approved' and 'rejected'." Lan leans over the submissions crate, judging the contents with an assessing eye. "Wait, how can I tell what's good to be approved and what to reject?" Junhui waves a hand dismissively, already tuning out the conversation. "You'll be able to tell. Just reject anything that seems like it can't be printed." (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] There's been a long list of content guidelines posted on the wall of the newspaper club's room for ages. It's been mostly buried behind boxes at this point, but everyone remembers them anyways. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Nothing anti-state, nothing vulgar, nothing that leans too far one way or another politically. That's about what you need to keep in mind, generally. Lan claps her hands together, already excited. "Okay! Let's get to it, then!" [[> Start the review process]]

You pull a stack of papers from the submissions crate closer to you, beginning to sort through them. The content ranges from mostly text, to drawings, to self-developed photos...It's a pretty diverse spread. "Whoa, do people really send in stuff like this?" Lan mutters, pulling her hands away from what looks like a glued-together collage of complaint letters. The glue has stuck the document to many other papers. The sounds of paper ripping very, very slowly, fill the room as Lan tries to unstick the papers from each other. Ming cranes her neck to get a glimpse. "They're getting artistic with it! Let's hang it on the wall, show it off a little." Liang groans. "Then we'll have to flip it around every time someone comes in. Just toss it in with the others." He directs Lan to toss it in an overstuffed box in the corner labeled 'Submissions'. It's where you all keep your favorite submissions that can't be printed. Lan gives Liang a confused look as she does it, but doesn't object. "Soon enough, we'll have to start renting out storage lockers to keep up if we keep saving submissions like this," Hao complains, long-suffering. "I can barely walk in here without having to squeeze past another stack of boxes! Be a little more sparing with it, could you?" "Isn't it nice to see how many submissions we've gotten?" counters Ming, coming over to pick up a stack of submissions of her own. "It's like a little record! God knows we'd have nothing to keep at all if we didn't keep these submissions ourselves." (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] You're not exactly supposed to keep leftover submissions. Especially not the 'content-inappropriate materials'. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] Transcriptions of Taiwanese song lyrics, mini-essays complaining about the military training, amateur cartoons of the education officers drawn as ugly ghosts and demons...a great deal of 'content-inappropriate materials' are in front of you already. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Dealing with student submissions meant to express the feelings of the student body inevitably means you get to look at a decent amount of banned content. Everyone's eager to find an outlet to express their repressed thoughts and feelings, which is especially easy in the newspaper club's submissions box, always anonymous. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] Some people just want to get their thoughts out there, onto paper, somewhere where they can dodge discipline for expressing themseslves. It doesn't matter if it makes it into the paper—they just want to share a part of themselves to someone else, no matter who. [[> Review your first submission]]

You tune out the chatting voices of your members, focusing on the papers in your hands. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The first submission you see is a strip of photographs, clipped onto a paper. The photographs are simple in content, capturing shots like the front of the school, students walking by in blurs down the hallway, and some shots of the forested mountains behind the school. (text-color:purple)[< INTERFACING >] The photos aren't bad in quality, but they're clearly taken by an amateur photographer. There are some minor mistakes, like underexposure, blur, and incorrect focus. These photos might have been developed at home. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The paper the photos are clipped to reads: "These are the first photos I took and developed by myself! I got reprints ordered, but these are the originals. Please consider them for the paper! Thank you!" There's no signature, but that's par for the course with student submissions. You could justify these photos as part of an amateur photography column. Photos are pretty interesting to include in the paper, but they're a little expensive to get printed. [[> Approve the photos]] [[> Reject the photos]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Hey, we got another poem! Sweet!"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Is it printable?"](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Uh... Not really."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Figures."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(+STRIP OF PHOTOS approved)] You sort the strip of photos into the 'approved' pile. Submissions are already starting to pile up there, slowly but steadily. Ming holds up an elegantly written poem, done in gorgeous calligraphy, and squints. "Junhui, does the first character of every line in this read 'Officer Mei Sucks?' Junhui leans over to examine the poem, his eyebrows raising as he reads it. "Oh yeah, it definitely does. You should put that in my favorites box." Ming cackles, waving the poem above her head. "No, I'm keeping it! Get your own poems!" [[> Review your second submission]] (set: $photosapproved to true) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "Oh, people send in photos too?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Sure, sometimes. It's exciting to get your photos printed in a newspaper."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "You mean expensive?"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "That too."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(-STRIP OF PHOTOS rejected)] You sort the strip of photos into the 'rejected' pile. Submissions are already starting to pile up there, quite quickly. There's a lot of rejects with every submissions review. Ming holds up an elegantly written poem, done in gorgeous calligraphy, and squints. "Junhui, does the first character of every line in this read 'Officer Mei Sucks?' Junhui leans over to examine the poem, his eyebrows raising as he reads it. "Oh yeah, it definitely does. You should put that in my favorites box." Ming cackles, waving the poem above her head. "No, I'm keeping it! Get your own poems!" [[> Review your second submission]] (set: $photosapproved to false) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "Oh, people send in photos too?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Sure, sometimes. It's exciting to get your photos printed in a newspaper."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "You mean expensive?"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "That too."](stop:)]]

The next submission is a stunning sketch of a branch of plum blossoms, in full bloom. It's clipped to a couple other papers. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The first sketch was just the start. The second shows the plum blossoms as buds, then the third shows them beginning to bloom, and the fourth shows the branch weighed down with fresh plums, round and plump. (text-color:purple)[< INTERFACING >] The artistry is gorgeous. Whoever drew these, they must have had the eye of a eagle to render the light and shadow so expertly, as well as the soft texture of the petals. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Plum blossoms are the newly declared national flower of Taiwan, having been declared so in 1964. The three stamens represent Sun Yat-sen's Three Principles of the People, while the five petals represent the five branches of government. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] At the very back of the set, a small piece of paper is clipped: "I drew these a while ago, but hadn't yet worked up the courage to send them in until now. Thank you for considering them, and please take care of them." There's a little doodle of a flower next to the message. The drawings are beautiful indeed, but could be taken as a political statement. [[> Approve the drawings]] [[> Reject the drawings]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Junhui, are you actually trying to sleep right now?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "...Trying to."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "And your article?"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "Snzz..."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(+PLUM BLOSSOM SKETCHES approved)] You drop the clipped-together sketches onto the top of the approved pile, which has grown in size since you last saw it. Junhui has put his drafted article to the side and is resting his head on his folded arms, drifting off into a catnap. "What's our policy on criticism again?" asks Ming, bored. There's a worrying amount of writing on the paper she's waving about. "Criticism or threats?" Hao responds, busy sorting through his papers. "Mmm...'Your newspaper includes ridiculous criticisms of the state of education, and should be shut down before you corrupt anyone else alongside you'..." Ming reads out, in a disaffected monotone. Hao hums, waving dismissively. "That's nothing. Just trash it like all the others." "Alrighty." [[> Review your third submission]] (set: $drawingsapproved to true) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "Hey, someone's at the window. I'll go talk to them."](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "...It better not be Sicheng again."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "Come on, he's a friend."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "He's a snitch, that's what."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(-PLUM BLOSSOM SKETCHES rejected)] You drop the clipped-together sketches onto the top of the rejected pile, which has grown massively since you last saw it. Junhui has put his drafted article to the side and is resting his head on his folded arms, drifting off into a catnap. "What's our policy on criticism again?" asks Ming, bored. There's a worrying amount of writing on the paper she's waving about. "Criticism or threats?" Hao responds, busy sorting through his papers. "Mmm...'Your newspaper includes ridiculous criticisms of the state of education, and should be shut down before you corrupt anyone else alongside you'..." Ming reads out, in a disaffected monotone. Hao hums, waving dismissively. "That's nothing. Just trash it like all the others." "Alrighty." [[> Review your third submission]] (set: $drawingsapproved to false) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "Hey, someone's at the window. I'll go talk to them."](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "...It better not be Sicheng again."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "Come on, he's a friend."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "He's a snitch, that's what."](stop:)]]

The next submission is an extensive complaint letter. Instead of being against you, as are most of the complaint letters you get, it appears to be targeting the military officers. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] "The presence of military officers in our school is antiquated and unnecessarily hindering our education...the use of military training only exhausts the students and subjects them to needless discipline..." This is a brave letter indeed, to be submitted to what is essentially the school's public forum. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] If the author of this letter was discovered, they would face immediate crackdown. It could result in suspension, or worse punishment. The letter is unsigned, for obvious purposes, but the handwriting could still be identified. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The letter goes on for several attached pages, devolving into rambling near the end. The handwriting is sloppy. A small note at the very end, clipped on, reads, "You probably aren't even going to consider this. But I needed somewhere I could share my thoughts to. Thank you for keeping the newspaper alive." The writing is tiny and cramped, but full of heart. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] This letter would most certainly give the education officers more fuel to use to target the newspaper. Even bringing it to Officer Wen to review would be an audacious move to risk. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] Beyond that, it's low quality. [[> Approve the letter]] [[> Reject the letter]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "Sicheng! What's up?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''SICHENG'': "Hey. You're showing the new girl around?"](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "Yeah, just introducing her to the club."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "Is that Sicheng? Hey, get him out of here!"](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(+COMPLAINT LETTER approved)] You slip the complaint letter into the pile of approved submissions, which is growing at a quick rate. Hao raises an eyebrow at you when he sees it. "Officer Wen is going to have you hung out to dry if he sees that letter," he warns, tapping the end of his pencil against the desk. "Don't stir the pot unnecessarily." Junhui levers himself up from the desk, one side of his face still retaining the crumpled marks from his shirt sleeve. "We'll look the pile over when we're done, it's fine." At the window, there's a familiar face—Sicheng, one of Liang's friends that's part of the CYC. Liang stands near him, chatting through the window frame. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Sicheng is, as most people know, a ridiculous gossip. Anything you tell him, the whole school will know by lunchtime. It works great in your favor when Liang tells him to anticipate the next release of the newspaper, hyping it up...and works poorly when Liang tells him about some of the more sensitive content you all are reviewing for the newspaper, getting all of you in trouble. Sicheng leans over the window frame, peering into the club room. "Nice seeing this place again. Am I unbanned yet?" Junhui scowls, striding over and shouldering Liang aside from where he's stood at the window. "Fat chance, man. You sold us out to Officer Wen!" [[> Review your fourth submission]] (set: $letterapproved to true) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "Wait, is that letter really safe to be approved?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Oh yeah, wow. No way that's getting through."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "...Who's that at the window?"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Is that Sicheng? Yikes."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(-COMPLAINT LETTER rejected)] You slip the complaint letter into the pile of rejected submissions, which is beginning too overflow off the desk. Hao raises an eyebrow when he sees it. "Students are getting bolder with their complaints," he muses, tapping the end of his pencil against the desk. "Can you imagine any staff actually //seeing// this letter? There'd be hell to pay." Junhui levers himself up from the desk, one side of his face still retaining the crumpled marks from his shirt sleeve. "It's just us that's seeing it, it's fine." At the window, there's a familiar face—Sicheng, one of Liang's friends that's part of the CYC. Liang stands near him, chatting through the window frame. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Sicheng is, as most people know, a ridiculous gossip. Anything you tell him, the whole school will know by lunchtime. It works great in your favor when Liang tells him to anticipate the next release of the newspaper, hyping it up...and works poorly when Liang tells him about some of the more sensitive content you all are reviewing for the newspaper, getting all of you in trouble. Sicheng leans over the window frame, peering into the club room. "Nice seeing this place again. Am I unbanned yet?" Junhui scowls, striding over and shouldering Liang aside from where he's stood at the window. "Fat chance, man. You sold us out to Officer Wen!" [[> Review your fourth submission]] (set: $letterapproved to false) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "That letter's actually pretty opinionated..."](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Yeah, and sloppy."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "...Who's that at the window?"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Is that Sicheng? Yikes."](stop:)]]

The next submission is a black and white cartoon drawing. Among rows of desks where students are nervously studying, a ferociously ugly demon in the uniform of a military officer is strolling up and down, a ruler in hand. Below the cartoon, a caption is written: //"One step out of line, and you're done!"// On the back, a small note is written: "Please keep up the great work, newspaper club!" (text-color:purple)[< INTERFACING >] Well, it's a great cartoon. Sharp lines, in clear black ink... (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] And it's obviously criticizing the military officers. Forget a reprimand, you'd get kicked off the club if you took this to Officer Wen. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The one saving grace is that it isn't in color. You could argue that the ugly demon //isn't //supposed to be a military officer, if you tried... (text-color:purple)[< INTERFACING >] If you took off the caption and wrote something like, "The stress of final examinations", you might be able to have it pass. Easily relatable without looking overtly political. Right? (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] There's no way that's going to pass. [[> Approve the cartoon]] [[> Reject the cartoon]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''SICHENG'': "Well, I didn't talk to him about you all!"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "So how do you explain him knowing? Telepathy?"](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''SICHENG'': "Hey, I'm not involved in what he does or doesn't know!"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "Yeah, but you spread the rumor that he heard!"](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(+INSULTING CARTOON approved)] (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] You're really going ahead with this??? You add the political cartoon to the top of the approved pile, which has grown to about half a foot tall. Hao glances over idly, then stares at it, long and hard. "You're asking for trouble with that one, Ray," he sighs. "Do you want the newspaper to be shut down?" Ming hops to her feet, staring at the window where Junhui and Sicheng are arguing. "Forget that, I think we have a bit of a problem." (live: 5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(text-color: gray)[(''HAO'': "I think the offensive cartoon getting approved is a pretty big problem, actually—")]](stop:)] At the window, Junhui fists a hand in the collar of Sicheng's shirt, dragging him closer over the window frame. "Was it fun, hearing us getting screamed at in the disciplinary office?" he snaps, shaking Sicheng by his collar. "It was you, right? That snitch that spread the word all across the school?" Sicheng slaps Junhui's hands off of him, straightening his shirt out violently. "Get your hands off me, jackass," Sicheng hisses, looking visibly ruffled. "People would have known with or without me. Officer Wen was shouting so loud, he nearly blew the roof off. What makes you think I need to get involved at all for anyone to know?" (live: 10s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(text-color: gray)[(''LIANG'': "Wait, calm down, you don't have to yell—")]](stop:)] "You're scum," snarls Junhui. "Spreading rumors so quickly you get us in trouble before anything happens. Telling all your little CYC friends everything they need to get us one more demerit." He shoves Sicheng roughly, sending him stumbling back into the hallway. "That's what you want, right? Land us in hot water so you can have a laugh?" Liang is wringing his hands next to Junhui, looking increasingly panicked. "Jun, hang on, don't start a fight—" Junhui looks like he's one step away from jumping out of the open window to chase Sicheng into the hallway. [[> Review your fifth submission]] (live: 13s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[ [[> Intervene]]](stop:)] (set: $cartoonapproved to true) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "Junhui's getting pretty worked up, should we get involved?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Well, the rumor Sicheng spread hit him pretty hard."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Yeah, and he's had it in for Sicheng ever since."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "But this is going to blow up in his face if he keeps going. Badly."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(-INSULTING CARTOON rejected)] You add the political cartoon to the top of the rejected pile, which has begun spilling over from one desk to another. Hao glances over idly, then stares at it, long and hard. "Oh, wow," he sighs. "The political cartoonists are coming out again, with better work." Ming hops to her feet, staring at the window where Junhui and Sicheng are arguing. "Forget that, I think we have a bit of a problem." (live: 5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(text-color: gray)[(''HAO'': "I think the offensive cartoon deserves some more attention, actually—")]](stop:)] At the window, Junhui fists a hand in the collar of Sicheng's shirt, dragging him closer over the window frame. "Was it fun, hearing us getting screamed at in the disciplinary office?" he snaps, shaking Sicheng by his collar. "It was you, right? That snitch that spread the word all across the school?" Sicheng slaps Junhui's hands off of him, straightening his shirt out violently. "Get your hands off me, jackass," Sicheng hisses, looking visibly ruffled. "People would have known with or without me. Officer Wen was shouting so loud, he nearly blew the roof off. What makes you think I need to get involved at all for anyone to know?" (live: 10s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(text-color: gray)[(''LIANG'': "Wait, calm down, you don't have to yell—")]](stop:)] "You're scum," snarls Junhui. "Spreading rumors so quickly you get us in trouble before anything happens. Telling all your little CYC friends everything they need to get us one more demerit." He shoves Sicheng roughly, sending him stumbling back into the hallway. "That's what you want, right? Land us in hot water so you can have a laugh?" Liang is wringing his hands next to Junhui, looking increasingly panicked. "Jun, hang on, don't start a fight—" Junhui looks like he's one step away from jumping out of the open window to chase Sicheng into the hallway. [[> Review your fifth submission]] (live: 13s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[ [[> Intervene]]](stop:)] (set: $cartoonapproved to false) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "Junhui's getting pretty worked up, should we get involved?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Well, the rumor Sicheng spread hit him pretty hard."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Yeah, and he's had it in for Sicheng ever since."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "But this is going to blow up in his face if he keeps going. Badly."](stop:)]]

The next submission is what looks to be a poem, constructed out of the lyrics to the national anthem. In blackout fashion, the lyrics have been defaced to spell out a poem: "The Republic / Without resting, day or night / obliged to / carry through until the very end". Though choppy, as is not unusual for blackout poems, the simple poem seems to convey a sense of deep burden and resigned obligation associated with the neverending struggle of the citizens under the Republic. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Defacing the national anthem is an unacceptable bastardization, carrying deep weight. The very existence of this poem is an insult. A poem like this could never be expressed in public. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] Clipped to the back of the poem is another small note: "Thank you for holding space for our submissions, newspaper club! I hope you like this poem, even if it never sees front page." There's a small doodle of a laughing bunny next to it. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Officer Wen would surely dislike the poem. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] Forget 'dislike'—Officer Wen would see it as a deliberate mockery of him and his position if you brought this to his doorstep. [[> Approve the poem]] [[> Reject the poem]] (set:$didnotimmediatelyintervene to true) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LAN'': "Wait, Junhui, hang on!"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''JUNHUI'': "Don't ever show your face around here again, Sicheng!"](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''SICHENG'': "They were right about you, Junhui! You're just another delinquent!"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''LIANG'': "Stop it already! Stop fighting!"](stop:)]]

You leave the submissions crate and the desks behind, quickly making your way over to the developing situation by the window. Liang has one hand gripped tight in the crook of Junhui's elbow, desperately trying to restrain him without escalating the situation further. "Jun, man, come on," he pleads, worried eyes flicking between Junhui and Sicheng. "It's not worth it, so don't go starting anything now." Outside in the hallway, Sicheng sneers, brushing down the front of his shirt. "You're walking a fine line, Liang. Not worth it? Remember who you're talking to." He raises a hand, brushing it through his hair sharply. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[From where you're standing, you see Liang's shoulders curl inward, like he's expecting to be hit. In front of Sicheng, he shrinks away.] (else:)[Liang shrinks away from Sicheng immediately, like he's expecting to be hit. You catch a glimpse of his face—fear and shame is written across his expression. He's afraid.] "Stop talking to him," Junhui hisses, shouldering in front of Liang to block him from view. "You're sick in the head." Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lan stand up to rush over, followed by Hao and Ming. Sicheng whistles, long and low. The argument has attracted a growing crowd out in the hallway, students peering out of classrooms and clustering around corners just out of view to get an eyeful of the action. "Careful. Liang's been working so hard to smooth things over with the CYC, do you want to ruin that?" At your back, there's a solid presence. Lan whispers, "Ray, what does he mean? What is he talking about?" There's worry in her voice—this situation is rapidly escalating out of control. [[1. (Whisper) "Liang's our CYC liason. It's his job to mediate."]] [[2. (Whisper) "Sicheng's our contact with the CYC. Liang's the mediator between us and them."]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "What's going on over there?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Sicheng and Junhui are fighting..."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Shit. This is getting bad."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Come on, we need to shut this down."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(+BASTARDIZED ANTHEM POEM approved)] You put the poem on the top of the approved pile, sending a couple other papers drifting down. The poem marks the end of your stack of submissions. Though the content is certainly objectionable, this time you receive no complaints. Hao and Ming have both left the desk, chasing after Lan to get to the brewing situation unfolding at the window. Liang is wrestling Junhui back from the window, where Sicheng is backing away, looking disheveled. Next to him, Lan is trying to reason with Junhui, while Hao and Ming are looking to defuse the situation. "This is exactly why no one likes your club, Junhui," hisses Sicheng, busy neatening his ruffled appearance. "You just never know when to quit." The argument has drawn a crowd, students pushing and peeking to catch a glimpse of the conflict. You see a decent number of faces from the CYC, laughing behind their hands and whispering to each other. Beside Junhui, Lan is pushing past him to step between him and Sicheng, hands raised in an attempt to deescalate. "Okay, that's enough," she says, firmly. "This has gotten a little out of hand, so I think we can all agree to drop it and part ways—" Junhui jerks forward, only held back by Liang dragging him back with a tight hand on his elbow. "We're giving the student body a voice!" he protests, voice close to cracking. Sicheng scoffs, backing up further. "You're just crazy. Making a spectacle of yourselves all on your own." His expression closes off, unreadable. "Liang, you're really hanging out with the wrong crowd now." Liang flinches, like he's been slapped. "Sicheng, I—" "Save it," snaps Sicheng, and Liang's mouth snaps shut. "You can come apologize when you come to your senses. You know where to find me." Ignoring Junhui still trying to protest, Sicheng turns on his heel and slips into the crowd, a small group of students following him away. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You can see the students around Sicheng immediately gossiping with him about what just happened, but you can't quite make out what they're saying. From the sneers they send back at you and the club, you can guess it's nothing good.] (else:)[As they leave, you catch a snippet of their conversations with Sicheng. "It's just like Junhui to pick a fight with you in the middle of the hallway," mutters one. "With that kind of upbringing, it was bound to happen. And the circles he runs in?" says another. Sicheng clicks his tongue, seemingly fed up with the conversation. "Come on, let's go. It's over."] The crowd still lingers outside, craning their heads to watch Junhui fall back onto his heels, the fight going out of him. Whispers float out of the crowd, judging eyes watching. Breaking the silence, Ming marches up to the window and sticks her head out. "Scatter!" she barks, glaring out at the assembled students. "Don't you all have better things to do?" With a loud //bang//, she slams the window shut, dragging the curtains over them for good measure. A couple papers drift to the floor, knocked loose from their boxes with the impact. Darkness fills the room, interrupted only by brief flashes of sunlight through the curtains. And suddenly, the silence in the room is stifling. [[1. "What was that, Junhui?"]] [[2. "Jun—are you okay?"]](if: $forgetaboutitjunnie is true)[ [[3. "What happened to not caring about what others said about us??"]]] (set: $poemapproved to true) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Junhui's fighting with someone again?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Looks like Sicheng was right about him..."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Can't believe they let someone like that in here."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "It's disgraceful."](stop:)]]

(text-colour:grey)[(-BASTARDIZED ANTHEM POEM rejected)] You put the poem on the top of the rejected pile, sending several papers drifting down. The pile has grown to cover two desks and is still increasing in size. This poem marks the end of your stack of submissions. Though the content is pretty questionable, this time you receive no comments. Hao and Ming have both left the desk, chasing after Lan to get to the brewing situation unfolding at the window. Liang is wrestling Junhui back from the window, where Sicheng is backing away, looking disheveled. Next to him, Lan is trying to reason with Junhui, while Hao and Ming are looking to defuse the situation. "This is exactly why no one likes your club, Junhui," hisses Sicheng, busy neatening his ruffled appearance. "You just never know when to quit." The argument has drawn a crowd, students pushing and peeking to catch a glimpse of the conflict. You see a decent number of faces from the CYC, laughing behind their hands and whispering to each other. Beside Junhui, Lan is pushing past him to step between him and Sicheng, hands raised in an attempt to deescalate. "Okay, that's enough," she says, firmly. "This has gotten a little out of hand, so I think we can all agree to drop it and part ways—" Junhui jerks forward, only held back by Liang dragging him back with a tight hand on his elbow. "We're giving the student body a voice!" he protests, voice close to cracking. Sicheng scoffs, backing up further. "You're just crazy. Making a spectacle of yourselves all on your own." His expression closes off, unreadable. "Liang, you're really hanging out with the wrong crowd now." Liang flinches, like he's been slapped. "Sicheng, I—" "Save it," snaps Sicheng, and Liang's mouth snaps shut. "You can come apologize when you come to your senses. You know where to find me." Ignoring Junhui still trying to protest, Sicheng turns on his heel and slips into the crowd, a small group of students following him away. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You can see the students around Sicheng immediately gossiping with him about what just happened, but you can't quite make out what they're saying. From the sneers they send back at you and the club, you can guess it's nothing good.] (else:)[As they leave, you catch a snippet of their conversations with Sicheng. "It's just like Junhui to pick a fight with you in the middle of the hallway," mutters one. "With that kind of upbringing, it was bound to happen. And the circles he runs in?" says another. Sicheng clicks his tongue, seemingly fed up with the conversation. "Come on, let's go. It's over."] The crowd still lingers outside, craning their heads to watch Junhui fall back onto his heels, the fight going out of him. Whispers float out of the crowd, judging eyes watching. Breaking the silence, Ming marches up to the window and sticks her head out. "Scatter!" she barks, glaring out at the assembled students. "Don't you all have better things to do?" With a loud //bang//, she slams the window shut, dragging the curtains over them for good measure. A couple papers drift to the floor, knocked loose from their boxes with the impact. Darkness fills the room, interrupted only by brief flashes of sunlight through the curtains. And suddenly, the silence in the room is stifling. [[1. "What was that, Junhui?"]] [[2. "Jun—are you okay?"]](if: $forgetaboutitjunnie is true)[ [[3. "What happened to not caring about what others said about us??"]]] (set: $poemapproved to false) (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Junhui's fighting with someone again?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Looks like Sicheng was right about him..."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Can't believe they let someone like that in here."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "It's disgraceful."](stop:)]]

(if: $didnotimmediatelyintervene is true)[Hao steps up, gently pulling the limp Junhui back from the window. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.](else:)[Hao gently pulls the limp Junhui towards a chair. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.] "I fucked up," Junhui admits without preamble. "I'm sorry, but I saw him and..." His fists clench tightly, a bitter look on his face. "I can't look at him without feeling miserable, after what happened with him the last time." Ming sighs, gathering a fistful of curtain in her hand to worry at. "It's fine, Jun. He came up to us looking to pick a fight, you know that. We all know that." Despite her words, there's worry in her eyes. Getting onto Sicheng's bad side is an extremely poor turn of events. In the dim light, Junhui sighs, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands. "It was a trap, Ming. One that I fell for, hook, line, and sinker. Did you see the size of that crowd? It came together so fast, I wouldn't put it past Sicheng to have deliberately arranged it." He scrubs at his eyes with a hand, turning his face away from all of you. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. You can't see his face clearly enough to determine how he's feeling.] (else:)[As he turned his face away, you caught the sparkle of unshed tears in his eyes. This situation is clearly hitting him harder than he wants to let on, or to let any of you see. His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. It gives away what he's feeling too quickly.] Behind you, Lan is quiet, contemplative in her silence. "Junhui..." she begins, slightly hesitant. "What's going on between you and that Sicheng?" Junhui glances away, face cast into deep shadow. "...It was a while ago." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Empathy: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Junhui isn't a fan of telling this story on the best days. This day is certainly one of the worse ones.] (else:)[Junhui hates having to retell this story. It's shameful, not only for him, but for the rest of you too. Telling this story himself is like pulling teeth.] [[1. "...Sicheng spread a rumor."]]

(if: $didnotimmediatelyintervene is true)[Hao steps up, gently pulling the limp Junhui back from the window. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.](else:)[Hao gently pulls the limp Junhui towards a chair. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.] "No, I'm not," Junhui admits without preamble, voice cracking halfway through. "I'm sorry, but I saw him and..." His fists clench tightly, a heartbroken look on his face. "I can't look at him without feeling miserable, after what happened with him the last time." Ming sighs, gathering a fistful of curtain in her hand to worry at. "It's fine, Jun. He came up to us looking to pick a fight, you know that. We all know that." Despite her words, there's worry in her eyes. Getting onto Sicheng's bad side is an extremely poor turn of events. In the dim light, Junhui sighs, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands. "It was a trap, Ming. One that I fell for, hook, line, and sinker. Did you see the size of that crowd? It came together so fast, I wouldn't put it past Sicheng to have deliberately arranged it." He scrubs at his eyes with a hand, turning his face away from all of you. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. You can't see his face clearly enough to determine how he's feeling.] (else:)[As he turned his face away, you caught the sparkle of unshed tears in his eyes. This situation is clearly hitting him harder than he wants to let on, or to let any of you see. His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. It gives away what he's feeling too quickly.] Behind you, Lan is quiet, contemplative in her silence. "Junhui..." she begins, slightly hesitant. "What's going on between you and that Sicheng?" Junhui glances away, face cast into deep shadow. "...It was a while ago." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Empathy: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Junhui isn't a fan of telling this story on the best days. This day is certainly one of the worse ones.] (else:)[Junhui hates having to retell this story. It's shameful, not only for him, but for the rest of you too. Telling this story himself is like pulling teeth.] [[1. "...Sicheng spread a rumor."]]

(if:$password is 'secret')[That's the correct password! ''REFLECTION ESSAY '' Thank you for picking up “OBSERVER”! This is a quick essay covering the thought process behind the game, the ideas and frameworks that inspired it, and the overall themes that (I hope) are incorporated into the game. When I started building the text game, I had a million ideas in my head: What should the setting be? What’s the plot? What are the characters going to be like? Do I even know how to code? How does this mean anything in the context of the course? I worked over drafts of the plot for a long while—perhaps the player character would be in college, the right age to participate in the Sunflower Movement, a political movement in Taiwan that championed for Taiwan independence in the aftermath of the lifting of martial law and protested the Cross-Strait trade agreement. Surely this would be a setting that could work. But later, having found inspiration in other places—Taiwanese films, like Girlfriend, Boyfriend by Yang Ya-Che, or A Brighter Summer Day by Edward Yang, or video games in the same time period, like Detention by Red Candle Games, I eventually decided to settle on setting the game in the White Terror, a period of martial law in 1960s Taiwan. I chose this particular period because I felt that it would be the easiest to execute my hoped-for themes in—the setting would be a good one to portray scenes of everyday resistance against authoritarianism in, while not being overly ambitious with the scope of the project by aiming for a contained setting in a school. Though the project quickly grew out of hand anyway, I feel that these original goals have still held true. During the project, I wanted to keep in mind the Politics of the Ordinary, from “Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East” by Asef Bayat. Throughout the chapter, it mentions how the deliberate occupying of space and the presence of people in public spaces, actively using the space in ways that conflict with the expected passive use of the space, can disrupt the workings and authority of officials and challenge the state prerogatives. Emphasis is also placed on acts of everyday resistance within Bayat’s book, as well as the concept of youth resistance—defending the youth’s ability to act creatively, express themselves individually, and reclaim their ‘youthfulness’, even under extensive social control, often by creating ‘passive networks’ to form communities. These acts all create resistance by challenging the narrow doctrinal foundations of exclusivist regimes. I hoped to be able to express this deliberately through my cast of characters—members of the motley crew of the newspaper club, young students working to form connections and support each other even under a repressive administration, set in place by an authoritarian government. In an environment where dissent is heavily penalized and the strange is disciplined, I wanted to show that even students can reclaim the spaces of their hallways and classrooms, breaking out of the rigid conformity expected of them. During the story, the newspaper club and its activities are a big highlight, specifically for their role in printing a newspaper that can both reflect the voices of the students and cooperate with the conservative policies of the school—one part of this arc is the featuring of student submissions to the newspaper, kept secret to everyone else outside of the club. Holding space for these submissions and creating a space where students can express their repressed thoughts and opinions freely was a big reason why I chose to feature a newspaper club—the club is a small slice of freedom, allowed to the students within the walls of their school. The club challenges the school administration while becoming a space of safety and solidarity between students at the same time. Throughout the story, the player also gets to interact with and know the character Lan, an out-of-place new student who threatens the sanctity of the school’s policies by violating the restrictive hair code, elaborated upon further in the game itself. Lan, as a character, takes on the role of the player in a way—while the player character is accustomed to this world, Lan is the mouthpiece of the player, who reacts with alarm and shock to the oppressive environment she’s found herself in, and feels out a lot of the story through her new reactions to it. Lan also represents, to an extent, hope and belief that things can change. The player accompanies Lan on her journey, watching as that hope slowly begins to die, until Lan works to set off one last surprise in hopes of bringing renewed joy and hope to the students around her, a surprise that results in her disappearance. Though this is a dismal result for the story’s characters, Lan’s disappearance leads to unexpected results, still. As the player works throughout the story to progress, they can witness many acts of everyday resistance, kept together by the solidarity of the students and their community bonds. In the wake of Lan’s disappearance, a renewed effort is made to change things for the better, starting a movement that can’t be quelled so easily. Lan’s disappearance is the catalyst for change, started by the people she inspired and left behind. The story wraps up with the player character finding Lan again, years after their graduation. Though she’s changed, deeply, there is still the possibility that the change could lead to new beginnings, leaving behind a spark of hope. “OBSERVER”, as a game, tries its best to illustrate the impacts of engaging with your community and working to preserve the bonds between people, as compared to standing aside and letting the world crumble without you. Through your gameplay choices, you always have the (sometimes comical) option of opting out, staying silent, letting others drive the scene. Becoming an observer in your own life—a choice that can lead to devastating outcomes for the people around you. At its heart, I hoped to have “OBSERVER” be about choosing to work towards community, and choosing to do good even within the bounds that you’re restricted in. ](else:)[Hmm...that's not the correct password. Go back!] (link-undo:"< Back")

Lan puts a hand on your shoulder, softly. "Ah. Shit. So this isn't going well, then?" At the window, Liang seems to have found a sudden burst of courage. "Sicheng, please, we can talk this out later," he says, trying to inject some strength into his voice. "No one wants to fight over this, right?" Sicheng huffs, arms crossed. "Sure, I'll leave. If Junhui apologizes." He turns, arms spread wide to the gathering onlookers. "You all saw that, right? He grabbed me, out of nowhere!" he calls, eyes searching the crowd for support. And he finds it. Murmurs are building in the crowd—"I saw it, I did–" "Well, Junhui did grab him..." "I'm scared, is that guy violent?"—signifying a growing tide of public opinion. Liang's gone rigid, stiffening in shocked understanding of Sicheng's ploy. Junhui's face is going red, helpless with embarassment. Sicheng turns back, raising an eyebrow. "Well? So many people saw it, aren't you going to apologize for what you did?" Liang suddenly cuts in, stepping in front of Junhui. "Okay, Sicheng, let me apologize for Junhui's behavior—" "Shut it," Sicheng snaps. "I was talking to Junhui. Don't get involved." Junhui's head is bowed. Standing behind him, you can see how his shoulders are shaking, just slightly. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[It's all part of Sicheng's ploy—humiliating the club, putting you all in your place. Junhui especially.] (else:)[It's a ploy to humiliate Junhui—strike at his pride. Junhui isn't especially prideful, but you know it's important to him to keep his dignity and his composure. This is Sicheng's tactic—drag out everything a person wants to keep hidden. Ruin them.] [[1. "That's enough, Sicheng. Get out."]] [[2. "Liang, don't just let Sicheng push you around."]] [[3. "...Junhui, you should apologize. It's okay."]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Sicheng said Junhui grabbed him?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Is Junhui really that kind of person?"](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Junhui, come on, let's just go."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Liang, can't you say something?"](stop:)]]

Lan puts a hand on your shoulder, softly. "Oh, so we can't just kick this guy out?" She chews on her lip, worrying at it. "That makes this...complicated." At the window, Liang seems to have found a sudden burst of courage. "Sicheng, please, we can talk this out later," he says, trying to inject some strength into his voice. "No one wants to fight over this, right?" Sicheng huffs, arms crossed. "Sure, I'll leave. If Junhui apologizes." He turns, arms spread wide to the gathering onlookers. "You all saw that, right? He grabbed me, out of nowhere!" he calls, eyes searching the crowd for support. And he finds it. Murmurs are building in the crowd—"I saw it, I did–" "Well, Junhui did grab him..." "I'm scared, is that guy violent?"—signifying a growing tide of public opinion. Liang's gone rigid, stiffening in shocked understanding of Sicheng's ploy. Junhui's face is going red, helpless with embarassment. Sicheng turns back, raising an eyebrow. "Well? So many people saw it, aren't you going to apologize for what you did?" Liang suddenly cuts in, stepping in front of Junhui. "Okay, Sicheng, let me apologize for Junhui's behavior—" "Shut it," Sicheng snaps. "I was talking to Junhui. Don't get involved." Junhui's head is bowed. Standing behind him, you can see how his shoulders are shaking, just slightly. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[It's all part of Sicheng's ploy—humiliating the club, putting you all in your place. Junhui especially.] (else:)[It's a ploy to humiliate Junhui—strike at his pride. Junhui isn't especially prideful, but you know it's important to him to keep his dignity and his composure. This is Sicheng's tactic—drag out everything a person wants to keep hidden. Ruin them.] [[1. "That's enough, Sicheng. Get out."]] [[2. "Liang, don't just let Sicheng push you around."]] [[3. "...Junhui, you should apologize. It's okay."]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Sicheng said Junhui grabbed him?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Is Junhui really that kind of person?"](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''HAO'': "Junhui, come on, let's just go."](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''MING'': "Liang, can't you say something?"](stop:)]]

(set: $junapologized to true)Behind you, you can feel Hao and Ming staring at you in shocked horror. Liang whips his head around, the whites of his eyes visible in surprise. "Ray, you shouldn't—" Outside, Sicheng barks out a surprised laugh. "That's right, Junhui! You're in the wrong, so you should be apologizing. Isn't that right, Ray?" There's a charged sense of anticipation in the air, floating like static off of the gathered crowd, all watching and waiting. Junhui grits his teeth, head hanging low. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[His shoulders are tensed. Having you put him in this situation is something he deeply resents.] (else:)[This is a humiliating situation for Junhui to be caught in. Having to apologize to his aggressor grates deeply on him, especially because it's you telling him to apologize. He won't forget this.] "...I apologize," he grits out, lifting his head and glaring straight at Sicheng. At his side, Liang looks at him in horror. Sicheng's laugh is like that of a hyena's. "Incredible! I never thought I'd see the day!" He leans forward, brazenly resting his arms on the window frame. "What else do you have for me, Junhui? A smile? Some sincerity?" At your side, Ming stomps up to the window, gently pushing Liang and Junhui to the side. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hao pulling them away, out of sight of the windows, speaking softly to the still Junhui. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You can't make out what he's saying, but Hao seems to be reassuring Junhui. At his side, Liang is clutching onto Junhui's arm as Hao leads them away—turning his face away from the window, not meeting Sicheng's eyes.] (else:)[Hao's comforting Junhui, keeping him turned away from the windows and speaking close to him to drown out the whispers of the crowd. At his side, Liang is clutching onto Junhui's arm as Hao leads them away—turning his face away from the window, not meeting Sicheng's eyes.] "You got what you wanted, Sicheng," Ming hisses, gripping the edge of the sliding window and shoving Sicheng out of the window frame, hard. "Get someone to send in a submission for you if you want to talk again." Outside, Sicheng opens his mouth to speak, but Ming slams the window shut with a loud bang, drawing the curtains immediately after. ''Darkness fills the room,'' interrupted only by brief flashes of sunlight through the curtains. There's a renewed burst of whispers outside, but they're too muffled to hear properly with the window closed. After a few minutes, you hear the sounds of the crowd pulling away, Sicheng's loud footsteps among them. And suddenly, the room falls silent. [[1. "What was that, Junhui?"]] [[2. "Jun—are you okay?"]](if: $forgetaboutitjunnie is true)[(if:$junapologized is true)[ [[3. "I'm sorry, Junhui."]] [[4. "What happened to not caring about what others said about us??"->3. "What happened to not caring about what others said about us??"]]]](if: $junapologized is true)[(if:$forgetaboutitjunnie is false)[ [[3. "I'm sorry, Junhui."]]]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Junhui's actually apologizing?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Ha! Look at his face!"](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "I think---"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "---"](stop:)]]

Sicheng blinks at you, surprised. "This is a matter between me and Junhui, Ray. Don't stick your nose into matters that don't involve you." Whispers from the gathered crowd bubble up—"They're not going to apologize? How stuck-up of them..." "That's really poor behavior, grabbing someone and refusing to admit your wrongs..." At your side, Ming stomps up to the window, gently pushing Liang and Junhui to the side. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hao pulling them away, out of sight of the windows, speaking softly to the still Junhui. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You can't make out what he's saying, but Hao seems to be reassuring Junhui. At his side, Liang is clutching onto Junhui's arm as Hao leads them away—turning his face away from the window, not meeting Sicheng's eyes.] (else:)[Hao's comforting Junhui, keeping him turned away from the windows and speaking close to him to drown out the whispers of the crowd. At his side, Liang is clutching onto Junhui's arm as Hao leads them away—turning his face away from the window, not meeting Sicheng's eyes.] "It's gone on long enough, Sicheng," Ming says bluntly, gripping the edge of the sliding window. "Get someone to send in a submission for you if you want to talk again." Outside, Sicheng opens his mouth to speak, but Ming slams the window shut with a loud bang, drawing the curtains immediately after. ''Darkness fills the room'', interrupted only by brief flashes of sunlight through the curtains. There's a renewed burst of whispers outside, but they're too muffled to hear properly with the window closed. After a few minutes, you hear the sounds of the crowd pulling away, Sicheng's loud footsteps among them. And suddenly, the room falls silent. [[1. "What was that, Junhui?"]] [[2. "Jun—are you okay?"]](if: $forgetaboutitjunnie is true)[ [[3. "What happened to not caring about what others said about us??"]]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Aren't they being rude to Sicheng?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Yeah, that was so blunt..."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "I think---"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "---"](stop:)]]

Liang hesitates, flicking nervous eyes back at you. "Ray..." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[He's folding in on himself. Asking him to stand up to Sicheng might be difficult for him in this state.] (else:)[Liang is shaking, just slightly. He's almost folding in on himself, jittery with nerves. Asking him to stand up to Sicheng might be difficult for him in this state.] At your side, Ming steps up to Liang's side, clapping a firm hand to his shoulder. "She's right, Liang. Go on, let him have it." She leans forward, meeting eyes with Liang. "He's just one guy, and you don't deserve to be treated like that." Quietly, Hao steps to Junhui's side and gently pulls him away, out of sight of the windows. Liang lets Junhui be pulled away without a fight, conflict still on his face. As Hao and Junhui retreat further into the room, you hear Hao speaking softly to Junhui, reassuring words floating around them just out of earshot. Sicheng folds his arms over his chest, scowling. "...Okay. This is...getting out of hand," Liang starts, hesitantly. Ming pats him on the shoulder in encouragement. "Sicheng, you're being...unprofessional. You shouldn't have come here." Outside, Sicheng raises an eyebrow. Whispers float up from the gathered crowd—"They're blaming Sicheng?" "With how Junhui acted?" "Crazy..."—and you can see how Liang cringes away from the voices, but still holds firm with Ming supporting him. "You're actually serious?" he scoffs, bewilderment evident in his voice. "Liang, you're going to take this big of a risk?" (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Cohort: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Insulting Sicheng, your contact within the CYC, is a difficult move to pull. It may make interaction with them strained and difficult later on.] (else:)[It's risky to alienate Sicheng like this, if you want the newspaper club to continue safely coexisting with the CYC. Sicheng is capricious in his worst moods, and the continued relationship between the club and the CYC depends on his whims.] Liang hesitates, but forges onward. "You knew you were banned, Sicheng. You came here to pick a fight with us." Here's where his courage falters, and in his place, Ming steps forward. Behind her, Liang sags into a chair, the relief of losing Sicheng's attention hitting him. "This has gone on long enough, Sicheng," Ming says bluntly, gripping the edge of the sliding window. "Get someone to send in a submission for you if you want to talk again." Outside, Sicheng opens his mouth to speak, but Ming slams the window shut with a loud bang, drawing the curtains immediately after. ''Darkness fills the room,'' interrupted only by brief flashes of sunlight through the curtains. There's a renewed burst of whispers outside, but they're too muffled to hear properly with the window closed. After a few minutes, you hear the sounds of the crowd pulling away, Sicheng's loud footsteps among them. And suddenly, the room falls silent. [[1. "What was that, Junhui?"]] [[2. "Jun—are you okay?"]](if: $forgetaboutitjunnie is true)[ [[3. "What happened to not caring about what others said about us??"]]] (float-box: "X====","Y")[(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "Aren't they being rude to Sicheng?"](stop:)] (live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "Yeah, that was so blunt..."](stop:)] (live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''BYSTANDER'': "I think---"](stop:)] (live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''ONLOOKER'': "---"](stop:)]]

(if: $didnotimmediatelyintervene is true)[Hao steps up, gently pulling the limp Junhui back from the window. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.](else:)[Hao gently pulls the limp Junhui towards a chair. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.] Junhui is still, and silent. Having to apologize to Sicheng took a heavy toll on him. "...Don't do that to me again, Ray. Please." His voice cracks halfway through, and you all wince when you hear it. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[It was deeply humiliating, having to grovel in front of Sicheng. A slight not easily forgotten.] (else:)[Sicheng strikes a chord within Junhui—one that fills him with both misery and shame. It's instinct, immutable. When Sicheng's around, everything seems to come crumbling down for Junhui. That's why he has all of you—to support him. He trusted you to support him.] Ming sighs, gathering a fistful of curtain in her hand to worry at. "It's over, Jun. Don't think too hard about it—he came up to us looking to pick a fight, you know that. We all know that." Despite her words, there's worry in her eyes. Getting onto Sicheng's bad side is an extremely poor turn of events. Behind Junhui's back, she sends a sharp look towards you. In the dim light, Junhui sighs, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands. "It was a trap, Ming. One that I fell for, hook, line, and sinker. Did you see the size of that crowd? It came together so fast, I wouldn't put it past Sicheng to have deliberately arranged it." He scrubs at his eyes with a hand, turning his face away from all of you. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. You can't see his face clearly enough to determine how he's feeling.] (else:)[As he turned his face away, you caught the sparkle of unshed tears in his eyes. This situation is clearly hitting him harder than he wants to let on, or to let any of you see. His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. It gives away what he's feeling too quickly.] Behind you, Lan is quiet, contemplative in her silence. "Junhui..." she begins, slightly hesitant. "What's going on between you and that Sicheng?" Junhui glances away, face cast into deep shadow. "...It was a while ago." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Empathy: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Junhui isn't a fan of telling this story on the best days. This day is certainly one of the worse ones.] (else:)[Junhui hates having to retell this story. It's shameful, not only for him, but for the rest of you too. Telling this story himself is like pulling teeth.] [[1. "...Sicheng spread a rumor."]] [[2. (Stay silent)]

(if: $didnotimmediatelyintervene is true)[Hao steps up, gently pulling the limp Junhui back from the window. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.](else:)[Hao gently pulls the limp Junhui towards a chair. "Come on, sit down," he says, a note of sympathy in his voice. Junhui collapses like a dead man into the chair Hao pulls out for him, immediately dragging a hand down his face in misery.] Junhui finds it within himself to laugh, quietly. "Sorry, Ray." His fists clench tightly, a bitter look on his face. "I guess I'm a bit of a hypocrite." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[There's something about Sicheng that has Junhui always riled up, loosening his tongue and making him more eager to start a fight. Junhui seems to deeply dislike the hold Sicheng has on him.] (else:)[Sicheng strikes a chord within Junhui—one that fills him with both misery and shame. It's instinct, immutable. When Sicheng's around, everything seems to come crumbling down for Junhui. That's why he has all of you—to support him.] Ming sighs, gathering a fistful of curtain in her hand to worry at. "It's fine, Jun. He came up to us looking to pick a fight, you know that. We all know that." Despite her words, there's worry in her eyes. Getting onto Sicheng's bad side is an extremely poor turn of events. In the dim light, Junhui sighs, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands. "It was a trap, Ming. One that I fell for, hook, line, and sinker. Did you see the size of that crowd? It came together so fast, I wouldn't put it past Sicheng to have deliberately arranged it." He scrubs at his eyes with a hand, turning his face away from all of you. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Perception: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. You can't see his face clearly enough to determine how he's feeling.] (else:)[As he turned his face away, you caught the sparkle of unshed tears in his eyes. This situation is clearly hitting him harder than he wants to let on, or to let any of you see. His face is still flushed in embarassment. Junhui goes red easily—it's something he hates. It gives away what he's feeling too quickly.] Behind you, Lan is quiet, contemplative in her silence. "Junhui..." she begins, slightly hesitant. "What's going on between you and that Sicheng?" Junhui glances away, face cast into deep shadow. "...It was a while ago." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Empathy: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Junhui isn't a fan of telling this story on the best days. This day is certainly one of the worse ones.] (else:)[Junhui hates having to retell this story. It's shameful, not only for him, but for the rest of you too. Telling this story himself is like pulling teeth.] [[1. "...Sicheng spread a rumor."]]

Junhui curls further into himself on his chair, drawing his legs up. It's like he's trying to hide. "...Yeah. He did." Hao hums, passing soothing hands over Junhui's back. "You don't have to listen to us retell it if you don't want to, Jun," he says, quietly. "You can back out of this." (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Cohort: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[This is something Hao does—leave an out for people, especially you all. He's good with emotions, and uses that to navigate situations delicately. If Jun says he wants to stop this, Hao would shut the situation down immediately.] (else:)[Hao shines when it comes to delicately navigating tough emotional situations. He knows how to handle Junhui, who gives in to others if he feels pressured—Hao always makes sure to give him an out, make sure that he knows that it's safe to back down. He's extended this grace to the rest of you before, too, whenever he can.] Junhui places a hand on Hao's, holding it fast where it rests on his shoulder. "It's...I can handle it," he says. Tension fills his voice. "I need to know that it's told right." Despite the tightness in his voice, he gives Hao's hand a gentle pat. "I can handle it," Junhui repeats, steadying his breath. At the side of the room, Liang slumps down against the wall, coming to a stop on the floor. "...Sicheng was more bearable before," he says, a bit of wistfulness in his voice. "He was still a gossip, still involved with the CYC, but he held off when it came to us. We were close friends, before." Ming nods, stepping away from the window and pulling up a chair for herself. "Yeah. Sorry that you had to see, uh, all of what happened just then, Lan, but Sicheng wasn't always like that." She leans against the side of the chair, sighing. "It was his father that changed." Lan nods along, gently pulling you along by the wrist to take a seat. "Yeah? What happened?" You sit back at the desks, the piles of submissions forgotten in front of you. Slowly, the rest of your club members migrate over, pulling up their chairs and taking their seats. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] Liang is sitting slightly further away than the rest. There's a look of guilt on his face. [[1. "His father worked in the government, as a minor official. He came over in 1949."]] [[2. "Sicheng's father was a waishengren; his family fled from China to here in 1949."->1. "His father worked in the government, as a minor official. He came over in 1949."]]

Ming nods, pulling some papers closer to her to sort. "That's right. He's //waishengren//, was friends with a lot of Chinese intellectuals. That's not too uncommon around here for //waishengren// families." She organizes the papers into a stack, taps the ends together on the desk to align them neatly. Sets them aside, working on the next one. (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $charisma))(text-colour:orange)[< //Cohort: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[Ming likes to have something to do with her hands, often. She fidgets without the distraction.] (else:)[Ming's always moving, always fidgeting. Having something to do with her hands helps her take the edge off of the freneticness. She likes organizing the newspaper club's papers, and she's good at it.] Junhui huffs, uncurling slightly to rest his arms on the desk. "It's what did him in. Something happened one day—maybe it was one of Sicheng's father's friends, relatives, whoever. Someone said something that led back to him." He scratches at the back of his head, ducking his head slightly. "By the end of the day, everyone knew." Hao hums, rifling through the stack of approved submissions to give them a last check. "It was all anyone heard for a little while. (text-colour:red)['Sicheng's father was taken for questioning.'] Who knows why? No one dared to say anything about it openly, but somehow there were hundreds of different rumors that everyone knew. That the government thought he was collaborating with elites on the mainland to work against the KMT, that he was related to anti-state criminals, that he was proliferating leftist beliefs..." Liang nods, miserably. "Sicheng was inconsolable back then. Wouldn't speak a word to anybody, looked like he was dead even while he was up and walking. It was like something died in him." [[1. "They said Sicheng's father was being held for questioning at the police station."]] [[2. "They thought that he was being held by the police, so he'd be at a police station for questioning."->1. "They said Sicheng's father was being held for questioning at the police station."]]

Lan leans on the edge of the desk, eyes round and morbidly curious. "Was he not? Isn't that the standard procedure?" Ming sighs, the stacks of paper building up around her. "Yeah, if it was the authorities that took him. But everyone knew it was the secret police." (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] The Taiwan Provincial Garrison Command is officially a military division, but unofficially, it functions as secret police, suppressing suspected Communist sympathizers and activists, both pro-democracy and pro-Taiwan independence. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] Disappearing undesirable people, people who would challenge the rule of the state—that's the function of the secret police. Spread fear in the street, so only choking, stifling silence exists among the people—silence, kept with the threat of being the next one to be picked off if you're the next one to speak. "Sicheng's father disappeared in the night," Liang says, grimly. "Took him right from his house, right in front of Sicheng's face. His family couldn't find him in any police station, no matter how far and wide they searched and asked." You catch the look slowly unfolding on Lan's face—horrible realization, calculating and narrowing down the possibilities. Underneath it all, masked tightly—fear. "Surely someone would have found him eventually," Lan argues, rationalizing. "There's only so far they could have taken him." Ming shrugs, rolling her shoulders uncomfortably. "Maybe, but it was months before anyone saw him again. Right at the market next to his neighborhood, just a stone's throw away." [[1. "Sicheng was ecstatic, for a little while."]] [[2. "But Sicheng's father...changed."]]

Hao hums in agreement, picking out papers from the approved pile and delicately dropping them into the rejected pile. (if: $cartoonapproved is true)[(if:$poemapproved is true)[Among the ones Hao rejects, you catch sight of the offensive cartoon and the bastardized poem in the pile. Maybe it's for the best.](else:)[Among the ones Hao rejects, you catch sight of the offensive cartoon in the pile. Maybe it's for the best.]](else:)[(if:$poemapproved is true)[Among the ones Hao rejects, you catch sight of the bastardized poem in the pile. Maybe it's for the best.]] The approved pile becomes smaller and neater, more manageable. Hao usually prunes them down, each month. "He was. Glowing with happiness that his father came back, on top of the world. It was good for a bit." Liang nods along. "He was at his best during that time. But there were...cracks." His face grows pinched with concern at the memory. "Sometimes things fell flat, and you could see this...lost look on his face. Like he was expecting something to be there, but it wasn't. It was like that, but with his dad." As you all converse, the sun draws lower and lower in the sky, the bright gold of it peeking through the gaps in the blinds. Sunset is nearly upon you. "Sicheng's father changed, in his time away," Ming explains, to the conflicted and confused look on Lan's face. She's still processing. "We all grew up near each other, in the same neighborhood or a few over, so it was pretty noticable. He used to be the warmest man around, but it was like night and day to see the change. He was paranoid of everything, flinching at the slightest sound and flying into rages." "We used to visit," Hao says, wistful. "Come by, greet Sicheng's folks and go out on bikes, ride around. Play with the stray cats. That kind of thing. Used to be that we were welcome any time." Liang cringes. "So we came around one evening, maybe later than we would have normally, knocked on the door and called for Sicheng. His dad came out with a knife, convinced that we were trying to kidnap Sicheng out of his house." Almost unconsciously, he traces a light scar over the palm of his hand. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You remember that day, and you remember the blood. Liang wore his hands in bandages for weeks after. None of you dared to walk past Sicheng's house after that day. "We had to run before anyone got hurt, but Sicheng's brother had to come out and drag him back inside—you could hear his dad screaming himself hoarse from the end of the street." Ming continues stacking papers, silently. Her hands hesitate over the next pile. "Sicheng's mom was crying," she says, quietly. "All throughout the night." [[1. "His brother left in the morning."]] [[2. "We didn't see his brother again, after that night."->1. "His brother left in the morning."]]

As you all converse, the sun draws lower and lower in the sky, the bright gold of it peeking through the gaps in the blinds. Sunset is nearly upon you. "Sicheng's father changed, in his time away," Ming explains, to the conflicted and confused look on Lan's face. She's still processing. "We all grew up near each other, in the same neighborhood or a few over, so it was pretty noticable. He used to be the warmest man around, but it was like night and day to see the change. He was paranoid of everything, flinching at the slightest sound and flying into rages." "We used to visit," Hao says, wistful. "Come by, greet Sicheng's folks and go out on bikes, ride around. Play with the stray cats. That kind of thing. Used to be that we were welcome any time." Liang cringes. "So we came around one evening, maybe later than we would have normally, knocked on the door and called for Sicheng. His dad came out with a knife, convinced that we were trying to kidnap Sicheng out of his house." Almost unconsciously, he traces a light scar over the palm of his hand. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You remember that day, and you remember the blood. Liang wore his hands in bandages for weeks after. None of you dared to walk past Sicheng's house after that day. "We had to run before anyone got hurt, but Sicheng's brother had to come out and drag him back inside—you could hear his dad screaming himself hoarse from the end of the street." Ming continues stacking papers, silently. Her hands hesitate over the next pile. "Sicheng's mom was crying," she says, quietly. "All throughout the night." [[1. "His brother left in the morning."]] [[2. "We didn't see his brother again, after that night."->1. "His brother left in the morning."]]

"...I saw him, early in the morning," Junhui says, voice barely above a low murmur. He buries his head in his folded arms, speaking into the crook of his elbow. "Sicheng's mom sent him off, before the sun rose. He was..." Cutting himself off, he raises his head, drawing a slash clean across his face with the tip of his index finger. Junhui falters when he draws dangerously close to his left eye, hands shaking. "So. He couldn't have stayed." There's a long moment of silence, broken only by the rustling of the papers in Hao's hands. He's separated the wheat from the chaff, dividing the approved pile into a second stack of rejections and an exceptionally short stack of approvals. Hao clicks his tongue, slightly. "Sicheng was ruined, after that." Liang sighs, the sound shaky. He's worrying at the scars on his palms, picking at the skin. His palms bloom red in the dim light, barely visible. "We stopped visiting, because we were scared to death. Who wouldn't have been? But it was torture to Sicheng. He had to live out every day in that house." Lan's listening, intently. Waiting with bated breath to hear the next part of the terrible saga. [[1. "And...it all blew up one day."]] [[2. "Sicheng broke down."->1. "And...it all blew up one day."]]

Ming sorts her stacks of papers into boxes, pulling the boxes right up against the side of the desk with a hand. "He couldn't take it, so he turned on us. The newspaper club was still thriving at the time, going well." She gestures around the room, at the other empty chairs. Five stand around the room, all tucked into their respective desks tightly. They haven't been touched since they were abandoned. "We used to have way more people than just us." Hao nods, confirming it. "Sicheng secretly joined up with the CYC and immediately went to making changes. It was pretty lax before, but he really riled them up here. Fed them lie after lie about us, and they believed all of them. He was one of us, back then. If anyone would have known the 'truth', it would have been him." "What lies could there have been about the club?" asks Lan, bewildered. "Did he try to smear the club's reputation or something?" Ming sighs. "Or something, yeah. Told them everything, from lies that we were Communists, that the newspaper was full of secretly coded messages to our Communist allies in the student body, that we hated the CYC and were plotting to attack them somehow...Made us look like human devils in their eyes. Riled them up until they were rabid." She drops another stack of papers into a box, kicking up a huge plume of dust. "But it wasn't enough. He didn't think we'd had enough yet." "...So he started backing up his lies." Liang picks up the rest of the story, spinning a pencil in his hand. His eyes cloud over with the memory. "He was the editor back then, and we gave him a lot of leeway with what he put into the newspaper since he usually had good sense. And, uh, with everything going on with his family, we didn't want to stress him out. "He made up his own secret messages and printed them in the paper, in ways we couldn't have possibly caught," Liang continues, voice seemingly pulled from deep within him, dragging the rest of his words out. "Told the CYC kids how to find them and made that his 'proof' that we were working against them all along. Who would have said he was lying? The proof was right there in print." "Then he encoded a message for a 'meetup of Communists'," Ming hisses. [[1. "He invited us out after school, said he just wanted to hang out with his friends again."]] [[2. "Sicheng wanted to hang out, so why would we have denied him?"->1. "He invited us out after school, said he just wanted to hang out with his friends again."]]

Hao nods, sliding the small stack of approved submissions over the desk to you. It's a thin stack, not even the width of a finger. "Sicheng used to be so down before then, but he was practically sparkling that day. We were just happy that he was acting almost close to how he used to be, so we agreed. No questions." As the conversation has drawn nearer and nearer to this point, Junhui has drawn further into himself, like a snail back into its shell, burying his face in his folded arms. From what you can see of his face, he looks miserable. "We hadn't gone out in a while because of the whole situation," Ming continues, "so we were delighted. Talked about everything we would do—buy snacks, go catch tadpoles, whatever. And Junhui...brought his younger brother along." The immediate wince among all of you is evident to even Lan, who looks around with rising nervousness. "It shouldn't have been any different from any other time we brought Junhui's little brother along with us," Liang sighs. "We'd gone out tons of times with him. Nothing ever happened, he was always safe. We'd even cross the street for him when there were stray dogs or cats, even if they were harmless." "It's just...we didn't expect anything to happen," Ming says, quietly. "But we went, we showed up, Sicheng was there, things were good..." "And he led us right into an ambush where the CYC kids were waiting with bats, ready to fight the Communists," Hao scoffs, harshly. He passes a stack of the rejected submissions over to Ming, who starts back up sorting the papers, the motion repetitive and soothing. Her eyes are far away, drawn back into the memory as she runs a hand over her collarbone. "Broke six bones between us, we bruised for weeks, and..." "They shattered my brother's knee," Junhui murmurs. "The limp might be permanent. He'll have to live with our mistake for the rest of his life." His eyes are hard, sharp with their grief. Ming coughs, dropping off her stack of rejections into another box and closing the lid on top. "So. Sicheng was off the club, but his final print of the newspaper came out before any of us could stop it. He distributed it himself, late at night." [[1. "And it almost got all of us kicked out of school."]] [[2. "It nearly ruined our lives."->1. "And it almost got all of us kicked out of school."]]

Ming nods. "Right. Every last page was filled with horrible lies. Sicheng spilled everything he ever wanted to slander us with, right on the front page and everything after. He wrote full articles about the predicted fight, put up headlines, printed our names right there on the paper and accused us of violence and collusion with dangerous criminals." "And we walked into class that day covered in bandages," Liang sighs, restlessly bouncing his leg. "And everyone looked up from the front page of the paper, reporting on the CYC fight with our names disclosed, and immediately connected the wrong dots." "It was worse because some of it was true," Hao says, irritation bristling in his voice. "It was true that we got into a fight, that we fought back. Then, because we couldn't deny that, it naturally followed that everything else Sicheng said sounded like the truth too." "So the whole school thought we were dangerous Communists." From across the desk, Ming drags over the emptied submissions crate to restore it to its place by the door. Walking back, she continues, "It took us months to fight off the allegations and clear our names. They shut down the newspaper for that entire school year. Every time something happened, the teachers threatened to call the police. And we had Officer Wen breathing down our necks, watching our every move." "I think some people still believe what Sicheng printed about us," Liang says, quietly. "No one listened to us, anymore, after the entire thing. Because Sicheng said we were dangerous and violent, and he had the benefit of setting it up so it all looked true." The club room is quiet, for a long while. The sky outside grows darker, the last traces of sunset fading. "So. We're still working off that debt and that burden Sicheng saddled us with," Junhui murmurs, grit in his voice. "And we'll carry it with us, as long as we're in this school. That's what everyone here thinks we are—dangerous and violent. It's a stain on our reputation that's never going to go away." . .. ... "...And that's why Sicheng is banned?" asks Lan, angling for a joke. Ming's startled into a giggle, lightening the mood. "Yeah, that's why." [[1. "So...after all that, do you think you want to join the newspaper club?"]] [[2. "...There could be better clubs than ours to join, in hindsight."]]

Lan claps a hand on your shoulder, smiling as warm as she can to try and brighten the mood. "Hey, at least I'm in good company here." She looks around all of you, gathered around the desks, and grins. "Nothing you've told me is going to get me to leave. If you'll have me, I'll gladly hang around." Ming smiles, standing from her seat. Retelling the story has taken a lot out of all of you, and you see stress written into the lines of everyone's faces. But for a moment, it seems to lift. "We'd love to have you, Lan." Hao yawns, stretching. He reaches over, patting Junhui on the back as he unfolds himself out of his chair, stretching out his long limbs. "I'm just glad we aren't going to have to retell this story again to any new members. We only have space in here for one more spot, so I guess it's yours." Junhui blows out a long breath, summoning up a small smile. It's a relief to see the smile on him, especially after the draining conversation. "I won't say no to another new face in here, especially if it's you." He's caught in a yawn, following right after Hao's, and he squints at Hao after, who just smiles. "You're welcome here, as long as you'll have us." Liang reaches over, patting Lan on the hand. "I promise, even though things are pretty though, you'll always have something to enjoy when you're around here." His eyes go soft as he reaches into the approved pile, pulling out a thank-you note. "After all, this is work that's worth doing." (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Reflecting the feelings of the student body. Providing a space for the unspoken thoughts and wishes of the students, even if it's just within these four walls. The newspaper club is infinitely precious to you, and still beloved by others, despite the beatings your reputation has taken. There will always be people out here who are saved, even if just a little, by the workings of the club. Lan laughs, brightly and blazing. "Then I'll have to thank you, Ray," she says, a smile in her voice when she turns to you. Her eyes are gleaming, framed by her fluffy blonde locks. "You've given me a place to belong." Outside, the lights turn on in the hallway, flooding the room with warm yellow light in the night. The curtains have been pulled back. The future looks bright. [[End of Act 1->INTERLUDE 2]]

This is the end of Act 1 for now! Please stay tuned for future updates!

(live: 0.5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''> INTERLUDE 2...''](stop:)] "You have everything, right?" The afternoon sun streams in through the blinds, illuminating the countless papers spilled over your combined desks. Hao grabs the folder in your hands and adds in a couple more documents—you catch the headings on them, marking them as letters of approval from your advisor. Around the room, Lan is collecting up the remainder of the late submissions you've received in the couple of weeks since your first meeting with her and the club. It's been a short period, but Lan has been finding her ways of fitting into the spaces the rest of you leave open for her. She hasn't locked down a solid club member position yet, her duties still unclear, but Lan has been taking her time to help the club out where she can. Liang appreciates the support she gives him when she backs him up in discussions with the CYC, Ming has been delighted with her progress in learning the workings of the film camera, Junhui has been teaching her how to negotiate with the printers of the paper and how the club finances are managed, and... Before you, Hao snaps his fingers in front of your face. "Ray? You're not spacing out on me, are you?" [[1. "Sorry, I'm good. Yeah, everything's here."]] [[2. "I'm leaving the earth behind, Hao. Going to become an alien."]]

SKILL CHECKS: (link: "(Skill Name - 12) Action")[ (set: $result to (random: 1, 20) + $charisma) (if: $result >= 12)[(text-colour:orange)[Skill Name: $result] >> Success Text] (else:)[(text-colour:orange)[Skill Name: $result] >> Failure Text] ] { (if: $alttext)[ (link: "off")[ (set: $alttext to false) (replace: ?alttext)[(display: "AltText")] ] ] (else:)[ (link: "on")[ (set: $alttext to true) (replace: ?alttext)[(display: "AltText")] ] ] } (link:"CORE OVERRIDE",(action:'mouseout'))[Core overridden. The programs are going wild.] ^use this for translations? decide if it's annoying or not (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Charisma)]] (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Wisdom)]] (if: $alttext is true)[(text-color:gray)[(+Intelligence)]] (set:$result to (random: 1,20+ $wisdom))(text-colour:purple)[< //Insight: $result// > ](if:$result<10)[You find it difficult to understand Officer Mei's motivations, beyond harassing the students for her own enjoyment.] (else:)[That Officer Mei is just another extension of the administration. Weakness on her part shows weakness of the administration, which can't happen. Breaking her down would be like breaking the hand of the state—impossible.] - notes: - choices shoul (link-rerun:"Show definitions")[|definitions>[(float-box:"=XX=","=YY=")[List of definitions using the dialog macro when clicked on them. ===> (text-size:0.8)[(link-rerun:"hide definitions")[(hide:?definitions)]]]]] |box>[AN ANNOUNCER'S VOICE ON THE RADIO: //"Here is some important radio announcement. Checking if this works."//] This down here v will remove one option if you choose the other! Fucking crazy can be. changed. [(link: "1. ''No, I just want to add it in.''")[ (replace:?fuckingcrazy)["No, I just want to add it in," you say. Hao raises an eyebrow at you. You shrug.] ] (link: "2. ''Yeah, you're right. I'll take it out.''")[ (replace:?fuckingcrazy)["Yeah, you're right. I'll take it out," you say. Hao nods, gesturing.] ] ]<fuckingcrazy|

This is the end of the prologue for now! Stay tuned for more updates. (set: $prologueend to true)

This is the end of Interlude 1 for now! Stay tuned for further updates.

Hao sighs with relief, patting you on the shoulder. "Good. If we lost another document to mishandling, I think I'd scream." He's been double-checking your folder of materials all afternoon, checking and re-checking just to make sure nothing's escaped his notice. It's the day you're scheduled to meet with Officer Wen to get the contents of this month's newspaper approved, after all. Lan bustles by the other side of the desk, pausing when she comes around to your side. "Honestly, are you ever nervous about these meetings? I feel like all I ever hear about Officer Wen are horror stories," she says, hefting a box of reports onto the desk beside her. Without looking, Hao holds his hand out and she places a report into it. Hao snorts. "Trust me, that's most of what we hear, too." [[1. "Nervous? These meetings happen every month, how can I be nervous after so long?"]] [[2. "It's scary leading up to it, but the meeting usually goes by fast. I wouldn't worry."]]

Hao huffs out a long breath, just short of becoming a laugh. "An alien, and not an astronaut? We're going to lose you to the stars someday, I swear." He rifles through the papers on the desk, fishing out a spare pencil. "Be serious. You've got everything with you?" He's been double-checking your folder of materials all afternoon, checking and re-checking just to make sure nothing's escaped his notice. It's the day you're scheduled to meet with Officer Wen to get the contents of this month's newspaper approved, after all. Lan bustles by the other side of the desk, pausing when she comes around to your side. "Honestly, are you ever nervous about these meetings? I feel like all I ever hear about Officer Wen are horror stories," she says, hefting a box of reports onto the desk beside her. Without looking, Hao holds his hand out and she places a report into it. Hao snorts. "Trust me, that's most of what we hear, too." [[1. "Nervous? These meetings happen every month, how can I be nervous after so long?"]] [[2. "It's scary leading up to it, but the meeting usually goes by fast. I wouldn't worry."]]

Lan smiles, bumping you with her hip as she walks past to shelve another load of boxes. "Fearless, huh. That's what I like about you, Ray." Her shoulder-length blonde hair sways in the wind, caught up in a light breeze. You've had Mr. Xu take you aside several times now, impressing upon you the importance of 'adhering to regulations' and 'sticking to the expected standard' for some time, always managing to bring up Lan in conversation. The message is pretty clear—Lan's hair has to obey policy, and soon. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] Mr. Xu's warnings are a courtesy that he's been extending to you, giving you the space to break the news to Lan on your own time. But it's clear that time has been running out, recently. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] The day for appearance checks is drawing near. You've seen several classmates already going out to get haircuts, freshening up their looks to adhere to policy—buzz or crew cuts for the guys, and hair at ear-length for the girls, without dye or perms. Lan's hair—dyed blonde and flowing loose to her shoulders—breaks both of the rules for girls' hairstyles, and it's starting to become a point of pressure. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You know that Lan has been approached before by teachers to discuss her hair, but she hasn't yet cut it. The stress of constantly getting reminded about it, however, seems to be wearing on her. She's been wearing her hair tied back recently. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] The issue is, however, that if Lan doesn't cut her hair herself, there's a very real possibility and threat that a teacher might do it for her. You haven't yet had the opportunity to approach Lan about it. There's no good way to come up and tell her to cut her hair, especially when it's clear she's fond of her hairstyle. Besides, Lan knows without you having to say. It's a little obvious, when she's the only blonde in a sea of black hair. That's the point—to create a unified, cohesive student body. The nail that sticks out gets hammered. [[1. "Lan, we should talk after this meeting...?"]] [[2. "Thanks, Lan. I'll be back after the meeting's done."]]

Lan laughs, bumping you with her hip as she walks past to shelve another load of boxes. "You're never shaken by anything, Ray. That's what I like about you." Her shoulder-length blonde hair sways in the wind, caught up in a light breeze. You've had Mr. Xu take you aside several times now, impressing upon you the importance of 'adhering to regulations' and 'sticking to the expected standard' for some time, always managing to bring up Lan in conversation. The message is pretty clear—Lan's hair has to obey policy, and soon. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] Mr. Xu's warnings are a courtesy that he's been extending to you, giving you the space to break the news to Lan on your own time. But it's clear that time has been running out, recently. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] The day for appearance checks is drawing near. You've seen several classmates already going out to get haircuts, freshening up their looks to adhere to policy—buzz or crew cuts for the guys, and hair at ear-length for the girls, without dye or perms. Lan's hair—dyed blonde and flowing loose to her shoulders—breaks both of the rules for girls' hairstyles, and it's starting to become a point of pressure. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] You know that Lan has been approached before by teachers to discuss her hair, but she hasn't yet cut it. The stress of constantly getting reminded about it, however, seems to be wearing on her. She's been wearing her hair tied back recently. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] The issue is, however, that if Lan doesn't cut her hair herself, there's a very real possibility and threat that a teacher might do it for her. You haven't yet had the opportunity to approach Lan about it. There's no good way to come up and tell her to cut her hair, especially when it's clear she's fond of her hairstyle. Besides, Lan knows without you having to say. It's a little obvious, when she's the only blonde in a sea of black hair. That's the point—to create a unified, cohesive student body. The nail that sticks out gets hammered. [[1. "Lan, we should talk after this meeting...?"]] [[2. "Thanks, Lan. I'll be back after the meeting's done."]]

Lan turns to face you halfway, sending you a smile over her shoulder. "Sure, I'll meet you here when you're done. We're walking home together anyway, right?" (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Since she was new, you walked her home to her neighborhood the first night, showing her around the area and making sure her route was safe. When the newspaper club got involved, they naturally wanted to walk with Lan too. Hao sighs impatiently, folding your hands tightly over the folder of the club's materials for this month's newspaper. "You can see Lan as much as you like //later//, but you need to get this to Officer Wen before the offices close for the night. Alright, Ray?" (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] The rest of the club can't proceed with duties until the newspaper content is officially approved, so this is the one thing delaying you for a while. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Last time, when you all jumped the gun and went ahead with planning before things were approved, Officer Wen found fault with one thing or another in your materials and ordered the thing scrapped, when the rest of you already had most of the paper done and ready to go. That was a terrible week of scrambling. [[1. "You got it. I'll be back before you know it, approved folder in hand."]] [[2. "Mhm. See you later.->1. "You got it. I'll be back before you know it, approved folder in hand."]]

Lan blinks back at you in curiosity, turning to face you halfway. "Sure? I'm just helping Junhui with an article today, so I'm not busy. We're walking home together after this, anyway." (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] There's no hint of suspicion on her face—she really doesn't suspect what you want to talk to her about. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] Since she was new, you walked her home to her neighborhood the first night, showing her around the area and making sure her route was safe. When the newspaper club got involved, they naturally wanted to walk with Lan too. Hao sighs impatiently, folding your hands tightly over the folder of the club's materials for this month's newspaper. "You can talk to Lan as much as you like //later//, but you need to get this to Officer Wen before the offices close for the night. Alright, Ray?" (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] The rest of the club can't proceed with duties until the newspaper content is officially approved, so this is the one thing delaying you for a while. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< HISTORY >] Last time, when you all jumped the gun and went ahead with planning before things were approved, Officer Wen found fault with one thing or another in your materials and ordered the thing scrapped, when the rest of you already had most of the paper done and ready to go. That was a terrible week of scrambling. [[1. "You got it. I'll be back before you know it, approved folder in hand."]] [[2. "Mhm. See you later.->1. "You got it. I'll be back before you know it, approved folder in hand."]]

Hao waves you off without looking, already pulling out another stack of unfilled forms from somewhere to work on. Lan grins and waves, her smile bright on her face. By the window, Junhui, Ming, and Liang are clustered together playing cards, switching to doing homework whenever Hao looks over. As you pass, they wave you a quiet farewell. hiding their cards in their other hand. "Good luck!" whispers Junhui, smiling softly. You step out the metal door, closing it behind you, and set off to see Officer Wen. His desk is located in the teachers' offices, and he usually stays until the offices lock for the night, so there's no chance of you missing him. (text-color:#1dbf1d)[< REGIME >] While most of the content in the newspaper can typically pass without comment—simple articles on developing school life, opinion pieces, featured photos—the thing you and Hao struggle with the most is the adherance to party policy required of you. Editorials that align with the popular KMT views, opinion pieces echoing the decisions of KMT newspapers from around Taiwan. The stance expected of the school newspaper is conservative, limiting the scope of your reporting. (text-color:orange)[< COHORT >] As the primary article writers in the club, Junhui and Ming have complained to you many a time about how many restrictions they face when deciding what to write. Reporting about the daily happenings in the school is difficult enough, when they have to skirt around sensitive topics. [[1. It's not unexpected. There's only so much that can be allowed to go to print, especially in the current political climate.]] [[2. It's restrictive. A student-run newspaper should be able to reflect the actual thoughts of students, as much as possible.]]

As you think it, it seems to ring true. The school still has strict standards on the type of material it allows itself to be associated with, and the school newspaper is a prime example. The newspaper can't be allowed to make a fool of the school or display disgraceful behavior. Even if that behavior is the true thoughts and feelings of the students. You shake off your lingering thoughts, stepping down the hall to the teachers' offices. Slipping through the heavy metal door, you're immediately blasted by a jolt of wind from an old electric fan, mounted on the wall and rotating to blow dusty air around the room. The offices are large and decently spacious, with long desks arranged neatly against each other in double rows down the center of the room. Filing cabinets line the walls tightly. You make uncomfortable eye contact with the large portrait of Chiang Kai-Shek hung up on the wall, a standard for every office and classroom in the school. His judging eyes bore into you. "Miss Ray." Officer Wen sits in the desk directly opposite the door, and he beckons you forward. "Let's start the review process, shall we?" [[> Review]]

The school still has strict standards on the type of material it allows itself to be associated with, and the school newspaper is a prime example. The newspaper can't be allowed to make a fool of the school or display disgraceful behavior. But it's ludicrous to have the newspaper be so strictly controlled, when the primary goal of it is to reflect the true thoughts and feelings of the students. There's no room for expression, in a place like this. You shake off your lingering thoughts, stepping down the hall to the teachers' offices. Slipping through the heavy metal door, you're immediately blasted by a jolt of wind from an old electric fan, mounted on the wall and rotating to blow dusty air around the room. The offices are large and decently spacious, with long desks arranged neatly against each other in double rows down the center of the room. Filing cabinets line the walls tightly. You make uncomfortable eye contact with the large portrait of Chiang Kai-Shek hung up on the wall, a standard for every office and classroom in the school. His judging eyes bore into you. "Miss Ray." Officer Wen sits in the desk directly opposite the door, and he beckons you forward. "Let's start the review process, shall we?" [[> Review]]

For a moment, it's deathly quiet. The door opens, swinging out slowly. Lan steps out, knocking the door open the rest of the way with her shoulder. Almost on instinct, her hand darts out to catch it by the handle before it bangs into the opposite wall—and she releases the handle immediately with a pained wince, like she's been burned. (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] Thick, red welts are crisscrossed over the palms of Lan's hands, the raised lines stark against her skin. Her palms are slightly swollen. As she turns her head, it looks like a chunk has been cut out of her hair. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] You can tell by the way Lan's shoulders are shaking, that she's trying not to cry. When she sees you, she tries for a smile. It doesn't reach her eyes, dark and dull. "Ray. I—I couldn't save your folder. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten involved, should I?" [[1. "It's okay, Lan. You did your best."]] [[2. "...Hey. Let's go home."]]

Her fragile smile wobbles dangerously to one side, lip trembling. "...Yeah." Lan clenches a fist, only to hastily let it go again with a pained hiss. There are tears welling up in her eyes. "But Ray...why did this happen?" (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] It's not just the physical pain that's getting to her. This incident has dealt a severe blow to her spirit—her belief that she can live in this world while upholding her values. She sincerely believed that she could have gotten that folder back for you. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] There's none of that belief shining in her eyes now. Instead, she simply looks like she's been hollowed out. "You're right, Ray," Lan says, voice rough with unshed tears. "Let's just go home." Darkness closes in on the two of you as you leave the school. [[> Walk home with Lan (End of Interlude 2)->HAIR SIDE STORY]]

Her fragile smile wobbles dangerously to one side, lip trembling. "...Is that so? So why..." Lan clenches a fist, only to hastily let it go again with a pained hiss. There are tears welling up in her eyes. "Why did this happen?" (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] It's not just the physical pain that's getting to her. This incident has dealt a severe blow to her spirit—her belief that she can live in this world while upholding her values. She sincerely believed that she could have gotten that folder back for you. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] There's none of that belief shining in her eyes now. Instead, she simply looks like she's been hollowed out. "Ray," Lan says, voice rough with unshed tears. "Let's just go home." Darkness closes in on the two of you as you leave the school. [[> Walk home with Lan (End of Interlude 2)->HAIR SIDE STORY]]

Lan startles, and you barely avoid poking her with the scissors on accident when she turns her head slightly, long bangs framing her curious eyes as she peeks out at you. "What, you really want to know?" (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] Since she's come here, you've seen students look at her hair with curiosity, some asking if they can touch it, or asking where she got it done. Mostly, Lan's blonde hair has been a simple novelty for the people around her, something they see first before they see her. No one really asks about her. (text-color:purple)[< INTERFACING >] Running your hands through her hair to part out strands to snip, the texture feels a little rough, coarse in a way your naturally smooth hair isn't. It's fluffy, under your hands. The bleached strands have come out on the yellower side. She sits back on her hands, careful to mind your scissors, and sighs. "Mmm...well, the easiest answer is that I just wanted to. Hair regulations weren't as strict back at my old school, but it definitely wasn't like, a common thing to have your hair dyed. But people would just frown upon it and that was all, so I kept doing it." Another snip, and another lock falls. You've amassed a small halo of blonde hair around Lan where she's sitting. "But the whole truth is that I saw a picture of this lady singer, from the U.S.. Etta James," she continues. "My sister got her hands on some cassettes of her music, and I was blown away. Wouldn't stop listening to them for days, kept the neighborhood cats up at night yowling. Those were my first favorite songs." Lan leans back and grins up at you, boyish and charming even as her bangs fall in her face. "She's even blonder than me! Like a white-blonde, super pretty. Hair like a fluffy cloud. And her voice...she could make angels weep, Ray." You've shorn Lan's curls short, snip by snip, around most of the back of her head. Evening out the buzzed section has taken a lot of trimming, resulting in a cut close to the skin. With the blonde snipped away, you can see Lan's dark roots. [[1. "Yeah? What's her music like?"]] [[2. "You're a fan of Western music?"]]

Lan smiles, with a bit of a bitter twist. "...I won't." She's worrying at the frays in her loose pants, pulling at loose threads. Fidgeting, to take her mind off of things. The scissors snip away, again and again. More blonde locks fall to the floor. Lan seems to grow tenser with each snip. [[1. "So, why the blonde?"->2. "Why do you dye your hair, anyway?"]] [[2. (Stay silent)]]

She hums, relaxing into the weight of your hands a little more as she reminisces. Outside, you hear the distinctive rumble of military vehicles rolling by, the clack of guns like a melody. "Mm...I'd say soulful. She's got this wonderful, crooning way of singing, and her voice is so deep." Lan sighs, wistfully. "I'm almost jealous. Wish I could sing like that." The streetlamps flicker on the side street, moths fluttering about to reach the golden light. You watch them dart about together, throwing their tiny bodies at an unreachable blaze, utterly transfixed. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] They'll never reach what they're trying to get to, but isn't there meaning in that pursuit too? "She mostly does jazz, and soul," she continues, ticking them off on her fingers as she thinks. "Blues, R&B...that kind of thing. Wide range, great voice." Lan smiles to herself. Your hands brush through her hair, which is shortening with each pass of the scissors. It's about ear length now, just at the right length to adhere to policy. Blonde still stands out brightly on the top of her head, making her hair look two-toned as a whole with the dark under layer. "When I was back home, playing her cassettes, it was almost like I could feel her music bringing me to life," she says. "It was gorgeous. She was like my idol back when I was a little younger—I wanted to be like her. Drew this little mole on my face every day for a month, just like hers, before I got bored of it. So I moved to dying my hair." Without skipping a beat, Lan picks up the bowl next to her, mixing the dye together. "So...ready to give this a try?" (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The bowl of dye is pitch black, dark as night. A quick solution to the problem of Lan's blonde hair. [[> Dye Lan's hair black]]

The time passes quickly, with each snip of the scissors. A miniature halo of blonde locks spreads itself out on the floor where Lan's sitting, creating an effect of encircling her with light. Throughout it all, Lan hums quietly to herself, the sound of a popular Western jazz song. Outside, you hear the distinctive rumble of military vehicles rolling by, the clack of guns like a melody. The streetlamps flicker on the side street, moths fluttering about to reach the golden light. You watch them dart about together, throwing their tiny bodies at an unreachable blaze, utterly transfixed. Your hands brush through her hair, which is shortening with each pass of the scissors. It's about ear length now, just at the right length to adhere to policy. Blonde still stands out brightly on the top of her head, making her hair look two-toned as a whole with the dark under layer. With a small sigh, Lan picks up the bowl next to her, mixing the dye together. "So...ready to give this a try?" (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The bowl of dye is pitch black, dark as night. A quick solution to the problem of Lan's blonde hair. [[> Dye Lan's hair black]]

She hums, relaxing into the weight of your hands a little more as she reminisces. Outside, you hear the distinctive rumble of military vehicles rolling by, the clack of guns like a melody. "Sure, I like it. Maybe I'm not that big a fan of Elvis, but I like a lot of the lyrical stuff they have over there." Lan sighs, wistfully. "But her music really is the best." The streetlamps flicker on the side street, moths fluttering about to reach the golden light. You watch them dart about together, throwing their tiny bodies at an unreachable blaze, utterly transfixed. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] They'll never reach what they're trying to get to, but isn't there meaning in that pursuit too? "She mostly does jazz, and soul," she continues, ticking them off on her fingers as she thinks. "Blues, R&B...that kind of thing. Wide range, great voice." Lan smiles to herself. Your hands brush through her hair, which is shortening with each pass of the scissors. It's about ear length now, just at the right length to adhere to policy. Blonde still stands out brightly on the top of her head, making her hair look two-toned as a whole with the dark under layer. "When I was back home, playing her cassettes, it was almost like I could feel her music bringing me to life," she says. "It was gorgeous. She was like my idol back when I was a little younger—I wanted to be like her. Drew this little mole on my face every day for a month, just like hers, before I got bored of it. So I moved to dying my hair." Without skipping a beat, Lan picks up the bowl next to her, mixing the dye together. "So...ready to give this a try?" (text-color:purple)[< PERCEPTION >] The bowl of dye is pitch black, dark as night. A quick solution to the problem of Lan's blonde hair. [[> Dye Lan's hair black]]

Lan has a ratty old towel hung around her shoulders, and you've spread some newspapers on the floor. About as good as it can get. With each stroke of the brush loaded with dye, Lan's fluffy blonde locks disappear between strokes of pitch black, weighing down her hair and sticking it flat to her skull. She giggles when you comb through it, trying to evenly deposit the dye. "Having trouble?" A cat yowls in the night, crooning its song out into the darkness. There's a bark in the distance, like a call-and-response. [[1. "Just a little bit."]] [[2. "Did you bleach your hair yourself?? How??"]]

"It's to be expected," she says, a smile in her voice even though you can't see it, turned away from you as she is. "Dyeing hair is hard, huh?" Lan swings her legs back and forth, looking out over the low rooftops. There's some stars in the sky tonight, visible even through the amber glow of the streetlamps. Something flashes by—it could have been a shooting star. "Hey, Ray..." she begins, slowly. "Do you think it's causing problems, me being here?" She glances back at you, craning her neck awkwardly to avoid getting dye on her skin. "I mean, the blonde hair, that thing with...Officer Wen...then Sicheng's whole ordeal," she mutters. "I just seem to bring trouble with me, wherever I go." (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] She sounds quiet, withdrawn. It's been difficult for her, too. The fact that you're cutting and dyeing her hair now is just proof of that fact. The cut blonde locks on the floor stare at you accusingly. [[1. "Not your fault. Just the circumstances."]] [[2. "A little bit. Do you think that's bad?"]]

"Yep," she says, a smile in her voice even though you can't see it, turned away from you as she is. "Took me the whole night, and some burns with it. Dyeing hair is hard, huh?" Lan swings her legs back and forth, looking out over the low rooftops. There's some stars in the sky tonight, visible even through the amber glow of the streetlamps. Something flashes by—it could have been a shooting star. "Hey, Ray..." she begins, slowly. "Do you think it's causing problems, me being here?" She glances back at you, craning her neck awkwardly to avoid getting dye on her skin. "I mean, the blonde hair, that thing with...Officer Wen...then Sicheng's whole ordeal," she mutters. "I just seem to bring trouble with me, wherever I go." (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] She sounds quiet, withdrawn. It's been difficult for her, too. The fact that you're cutting and dyeing her hair now is just proof of that fact. The cut blonde locks on the floor stare at you accusingly. [[1. "Not your fault. Just the circumstances."]] [[2. "A little bit. Do you think that's bad?"]]

Lan chuckles, but there's no warmth in it. She gazes up at the stars, far away. The moon is a winking crescent in the dark night, barely visible. "It feels like it's my fault, Ray." Past the courtyard wall, you hear the sound of bikes rolling down the street, the tinkling sound of their bells ringing past. Stray dogs bark in a chorus, somewhere out in the neighborhood. "I just can't process it all." Lan hovers a hand over her dyed hair, and you pull the brush back. The dye's applied, anyway. She laughs, sharp and bitter, as she brushes a hand against the shorn-short back of her head. "Haven't had hair this short in forever." "I've dyed my hair for years, now," she continues, "and this is the end of it all. Feels a bit like my past self died." Lan's eyes are glossy and dark in the dim light. "Ray, this is really...I can't stand it." She lifts her head to lock eyes with you, desperate for your understanding. "I can't." [[1. "...I'm sorry."]] [[2. (Say nothing)]]

Lan chuckles, but there's no warmth in it. She gazes up at the stars, far away. The moon is a winking crescent in the dark night, barely visible. "Ha. It is, a little bit." Past the courtyard wall, you hear the sound of bikes rolling down the street, the tinkling sound of their bells ringing past. Stray dogs bark in a chorus, somewhere out in the neighborhood. "I just can't process it all." Lan hovers a hand over her dyed hair, and you pull the brush back. The dye's applied, anyway. She laughs, sharp and bitter, as she brushes a hand against the shorn-short back of her head. "Haven't had hair this short in forever." "I've dyed my hair for years, now," she continues, "and this is the end of it all. Feels a bit like my past self died." Lan's eyes are glossy and dark in the dim light. "Ray, this is really...I can't stand it." She lifts her head to lock eyes with you, desperate for your understanding. "I can't." [[1. "...I'm sorry."]] [[2. (Say nothing)]]

She searches your eyes for some hidden insight, but finds nothing. You see her eyes fill with an impenetrable sadness as she pulls away, drawing away from you. The space between the two of you feels vast as an ocean. "...I'll go wash up. Be right back," she says, quietly. Lan leaves like she's fleeing, steps heavy on the creaking floorboards of her house. Time passes slowly, measured out in raindrops. It starts as a light drizzle, a couple drops falling at a time, and evolves into a downpour. Rain pours down the streets, scouring them clean. You sweep the shorn locks of Lan's hair off the porch and into the courtyard, watching as the rain sweeps the blonde strands rapidly into the drain. A creak behind you signifies Lan's return. When you turn, she's ruffling a towel through her freshly black hair, wringing out the moisture. "Just our luck for it to be raining," she mutters, mulishly, and flicks a couple droplets off her fingers. Shaking her hair out like a dog, Lan sends you a curious look. "So? How do I look?" Lan's new hair is sleek, matted to her skull with lingering moisture. The locks are pitch black, reaching to just above her chin. She looks a little like you. She looks nothing like her at all. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] There's a hint of bleakness in her eyes. She knows it, too. Looking in the mirror, she must have seen the way she looked—a far reach from the girl who stepped into your classroom on the first day, bright and full of reckless joy. But she's still waiting on your response. [[1. "It's great."]] [[2. "It's different."]]

She searches your eyes for some hidden insight, but finds nothing. You see her eyes shutter as she pulls away, drawing away from you. The space between the two of you feels vast as an ocean. "...I'll go wash up. Be right back," she says, quietly. Lan leaves like she's fleeing, steps heavy on the creaking floorboards of her house. Time passes slowly, measured out in raindrops. It starts as a light drizzle, a couple drops falling at a time, and evolves into a downpour. Rain pours down the streets, scouring them clean. You sweep the shorn locks of Lan's hair off the porch and into the courtyard, watching as the rain sweeps the blonde strands rapidly into the drain. A creak behind you signifies Lan's return. When you turn, she's ruffling a towel through her freshly black hair, wringing out the moisture. "Just our luck for it to be raining," she mutters, mulishly, and flicks a couple droplets off her fingers. Shaking her hair out like a dog, Lan sends you a curious look. "So? How do I look?" Lan's new hair is sleek, matted to her skull with lingering moisture. The locks are pitch black, reaching to just above her chin. She looks a little like you. She looks nothing like her at all. (text-color:purple)[< INSIGHT >] There's a hint of bleakness in her eyes. She knows it, too. Looking in the mirror, she must have seen the way she looked—a far reach from the girl who stepped into your classroom on the first day, bright and full of reckless joy. But she's still waiting on your response. [[1. "It's great."]] [[2. "It's different."]]

She gives you a small smile, still dark. "I thought that too. It's a big change, isn't it? I wonder if you'll still recognize me in the hall!" Her laughter holds a brittle, fragile edge—on the verge of breaking. Lan holds out the towel, looping it gently around your neck. "Thanks for saying that, Ray," she says, smiling thinly. "I'm sure...that I can get used to it." She pulls you in, wrapping you into a tight hug. You feel her clutch at your back, and her shoulders shake. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] She doesn't want you to see her cry. Overhead, the rain continues to pour... [[End of Interlude 2, Part 2, enter End->END]]

She laughs, a sudden bark that startles you. "Of course. It looks great, right?" Her laughter holds a brittle, fragile edge—on the verge of breaking. Lan holds out the towel, looping it gently around your neck. "Thanks for saying that, Ray," she says, smiling thinly. "Even if it's not true." She pulls you in, wrapping you into a tight hug. You feel her clutch at your back, and her shoulders shake. (text-color:orange)[< EMPATHY >] She doesn't want you to see her cry. Overhead, the rain continues to pour... [[End of Interlude 2, Part 2, enter End->END]]

End for now!

The rain pours. You should have seen it coming. Lan had an idea of holding a small psuedo-concert for the students, playing music over the school's broadcast system. A quick, in and out job. If everything went well, she would never have been caught. During the school assembly, strains of faint, familiar music began to play over the assembled rows of students. As the school officials began panicking, looking for the source of the disturbance, the music only swelled to a grand rise, playing Western pop music brazenly over the field. As you looked around you, you saw excitement and joy in the faces of the students, breaking out of their military formations even in the midst of the admonishments from the teachers, dancing openly in the field. The music blended seamlessly, one track into the next, and you could see panic rise in the teachers' faces as you heard the familiar sounds of banned Taiwanese music—something that shouldn't have been in Lan's plan. Banned music was a step too far into criminal territory, even for a plan you were sure wouldn't be exposed. And as you looked beyond them, you saw a disturbance at the stairs. From afar, you barely recognized her. It was Lan, struggling against a military officer's grip. At a distance, Sicheng watches her leave, a cassette tape held loosely in one of his hands. Lan whips her head around, shorn black hair whipping in the wind, and meets desperate eyes with you from across the field. There's too many bodies between the two of you, you would never make it in time. And in that instant of matching panic, you see the officer drag her out of the school gate, out of view. That was the last time you saw her, for the next six years. [[> Find her, six years later]]

Your last year of senior high is long behind you, at this point. You took an unremarkable job out of high school, climbing the ranks slowly, and took your steps out into the adult world. As you step out of your office building, clocking out of work for the night, the glistening city streets of Taipei glow around you, leading you to the alluring lights of the nearest night market. Market stalls crowd every corner of the square, plastic stools cluttering the floors and people everywhere, laughing and chatting, having food together over the same tables that they have for years. And in the corner, in a small florist's shop just off of the night market and about to close, you see a young woman. Her hair is long and dark, bound in a tight, plaited bun. A long skirt flows down to her knees, patterned with familiar flowers. As she reaches up to close the security gate over the shop, you see a nick on her earlobe, like where a hair razor might have slipped and cut her. You take a step closer, drawn unconsciously by a force you can't explain. When she turns around, locking eyes with you even over the bustle of the night market, you realize instantly that something is deeply wrong. Lan smiles at you, with dull eyes, and waves. "It's you, Ray." In her arms, gently swaying in the night breeze, is a pot of potted orchids. [[FIN.]]

Thank you for playing OBSERVER! This is the end of the story, but please stay tuned for any updates on the itch.io page!

It was an utter disaster. Officer Wen found holes to poke in every one of the materials you brought—from Junhui and Ming's articles, to their photos, to the harmless student submissions...every one of them was inadequate, in his eyes. He dragged a trash can out in front of you and slammed the entire folder into it, dismissing you without further comment. When you returned to the club, having to report your failure, Lan demanded to march right back to Officer Wen and ask for the folder back. You thought she was joking, but she left while you were distracted and you couldn't stop her. With panicked footsteps, you rush back to the offices, screeching to a halt outside of the shut metal door. The door is never shut, but today presents itself as a unique outlier. There's a foreboding presence about it. [[> Wait->FINAL SCENE OF INTERLUDE 2]]