psychopomp 1

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Before starting the story you have the chance to choose the gender of the therapist you will be spilling your guts out to. This is an opportunity for players to be able to throughly enjoy the experience and be comfortable throughout the entire game. select therapist pronouns: [[plural - they/them|1][$plural to true,$they to "they"]] [[singular - he/him, she/her|1][$plural to false,$they to "she"]]

Psychopomp

arjie

Made in SugarCube 2.34.1.

<<link "Credits" "Credits">><</link>> <<link "Back">><<if tags().includes("game-info")>><<goto $return>><<else>><<run Engine.backward()>><</if>><</link>> <<link "Fullscreen">><<run Fullscreen.toggle();>><</link>>

<<script>> var passages = document.getElementById("passages"); passages.scrollTop = 0; <</script>>  <<if tags().includes("title")>> <<elseif tags().includes("credits")>><h1>Credits</h1> <<elseif tags().includes("character")>> <h1>Character</h1> <<elseif tags().includes("codex")>> <h1>Codex</h1> <<else>><h1>$chapter</h1> <</if>>

<<set $chapter to "">> <<widget "are">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "were">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "s">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "have">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>have<<case false>>has<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "do">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>have<<case false>>does<</switch>><</widget>> <<set $ending1 to "0">> <<set $ending2 to "0">>

$Cthey look<<s>> at you. $Cthey <<are>> a $person. And $their pronouns are $they/$them. Is this correct? <<link "Yes" "3">><<set $chapter to "Chapter One">><</link>> <<link "No" "00">><</link>>

<ul> <li>Banner assets <a href="https://www.canva.com/it_it/">Canva</a></li> <li>Fonts <a href="https://fonts.google.com/">Google fonts</a></li> <li>Template <a href="https://nyehilism.itch.io/sugarcube-template">nyehilism</a></li> <li> Pronouns Code <a href="https://itch.io/profile/nyehilism">nyehilism</a></li> </ul>

ORANGE: Game info - character page, codex, credits. Populate these with what you like. GREEN: UI & game set-up elements. These can be edited to suit your needs. RED: Code. Everything in these passages should be labelled; things might break if you mess with them.

An interactive fiction game.

<style> #ui-bar {display:none;} #passages {width:100vw;margin:0;background-image:var(--banner-top),var(--banner-bottom);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-size:50%;background-position:top center, bottom center;overflow:hidden;scrollbar-width:none;font-family:var(--header-font);transition:0s;padding:0;} ::-webkit-scrollbar {width:0px;} .passage {text-align:center;transition:0s;} #passages a:before {content: none;} #story {margin-left:0;} h1 {text-align:center;margin-top:25vh;} @media screen and (max-width: 800px) {#story {margin:0;}} </style> <h1>Psychompomp</h1> <<if Save.autosave.ok() and Save.autosave.has()>><<link "Resume Game">><<script>>Save.autosave.load()<</script>><</link>> | <</if>><<link "New Game" "0">><</link>> | <<link "Load Game">><<run UI.saves()>><</link>> | <<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings()>><</link>> | <<link "Fullscreen">><<run Fullscreen.toggle();>><</link>>

This story contains themes whom some people may find disturbing. Players' discretion is advised along with a list of spoiler-ish [[trigger warnings|tw]]. If you still want to play, click [[here|00]].

Here is the list of trigger warnings currently present in the story so far: *Death *Violence (car crash, ...) *Mentions of past trauma *Depictions of anxiety attacks *Gore *Blood loss <<link "return" "0">><</link>>

<h2>DENIAL</h2> <style> h2 {text-align:center;} </style> “So, what do you remember?” You look at the figure sat on a black leather chair opposite of you, legs crossed and pen in hand. $Cthey <<are>> scribbling something down on a small jade green journal, probably today’s date and the name of $their new patient, ''you''. $Ctheir hand stops moving, and $they expectantly turn<<s>> to you. You shriek at the sudden attention. “Nothing” you say looking at your slightly trembling hands. You focus your attention on the ring on your index finger and start playing with it, you take it off and you wear it again. The simple repeating motion making you less nervous. “Well, that is alright,” a brief pause followed by a hum, “Let us start with the basics then, yes?” You nod, still fidgeting with the ring. “What is your name?” As $they ask<<s>> the question you can feel $their eyes on you, and it makes you shudder. It always is hard to start anew with a therapist, and it is even harder when you are a blank canvas and can’t remember anything besides your name. Your name is: <<textbox "$name" $name>> \ <<button "Confirm">> << set $name to $name.trim()>> <<if $name is "">> <<replace "#name-error">>Please enter a name!<</replace>> <<else>> <<goto "4">><<set $chapter to "">> <</if>> <</button>>    \ <span id="name-error"></span>

“$name,” you say letting a long pause stretch the silence, “I think”. “You think?” “I mean- yeah. It feels foreign. As if it means nothing. Or at least it means nothing to me”. Was that truly your name? Did it mean anything? Did you like it? How would it sound on somebody else’s tongue? Your grip around the ring tightens. If your mind really wanted you to remember, you would have, instead there is a shield blocking the view of your past and present. What if it is better not to know? Is it not trying to protect you? Is it that important to know? //God, $they only asked you one question, and here you are, already spiralling.// You shake your head and focus on the moment, hoping you did not miss any question while up deep in your head. "What about your last name?" Your last name is: <<textbox "$lastname" $lastname>> \ <<button "Confirm">> << set $lastname to $lastname.trim()>> <<if $lastname is "">> <<replace "#name-error">>Please enter a name!<</replace>> <<else>> <<goto "4.5">> <</if>> <</button>>    \ <span id="name-error"></span>

<<liveblock>>$they <<are>> hungry. $they <<were>> mad. $they run<<s>> down the road. $they <<have>> pretty eyes. <</liveblock>> Click to live change the pronouns! <<link "Woman">><<set $they to "she">><<set $them to "her">><<set $their to "her">><<set $theirs to "hers">><<set $themself to "herself">><<set $Cthey to "She">><<set $Cthem to "Her">><<set $Ctheir to "Her">><<set $Ctheirs to "Hers">><<set $Cthemself to "Herself">><<set $person to "woman">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>> <<link "Man">><<set $they to "he">><<set $them to "him">><<set $their to "his">><<set $theirs to "his">><<set $themself to "himself">><<set $Cthey to "He">><<set $Cthem to "Him">><<set $Ctheir to "His">><<set $Ctheirs to "His">><<set $Cthemself to "Himself">><<set $person to "man">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>> <<link "Person">><<set $they to "they">><<set $them to "them">><<set $their to "their">><<set $theirs to "theirs">><<set $themself to "themself">><<set $Cthey to "They">><<set $Cthem to "Them">><<set $Ctheir to "Their">><<set $Ctheirs to "Theirs">><<set $Cthemself to "Themself">><<set $person to "person">><<set $plural to true>><<update>><</link>> <<link "next" "2">><</link>>

You see a person watching you in the mirror. As you pull your hand away from the ring to touch your face, so does the other staring back at you. You are looking at yourself and… You are young; your hand slowly and carefully trails all over your face and when its journey reaches your hair you pass your hand through it. This is you. You are $name $lastname. And you are— “22.” Your stare has never broke contact with the one in the mirror. The therapist props it down on the desk and reaches for $their pen. $Cthey nod<<s>> satisfied and quickly write<<s>> down something on $their run-down journal. “You are doing great,” $they smile<<s>> warmly at you, “I will ask you some other questions now”. You nod. “What do you like?” Your eyebrow quirks up and a frown adorns your face. What do //you// like? <<link "//Who are you?//" "5.5">><</link>>

You feel your mind slipping away from your grasp, from your control. There is a pull that urges you to immerse yourself completely in the room you’re in, to fully memorize every little detail of it. Your eyes flicker on the wall behind the $person. There are plenty of pictures hung up on it along with some posters and a clock. You can’t really make up the pictures and the posters, they appear to you as hazy. You are unable to distinguish figures. You think it is because you are a too far. The clock is a bit bigger, and you can see it better than the other stuff. You notice there are only two hands, the hour hand and the minute one. Both of which are fixed on— A cough brings your attention back to the person still waiting for an answer. //Right, the question.// “I-I don’t know. I don’t remember.” It is true you do not remember; however, it is also true you spent the time you should have used to think about the question looking at a wall and forgetting about it. You lower you head and begin fidgeting once more with the ring, you wear it, you take it off, you scratch it, and rotate it all over again. Your movement is faster, restless. //Who are you? $name, what do you like?// You hear the therapist shuffling on $their seat, the sound of jeans rubbing against the leather of the couch filling the room. “Alright, mountains or sea?”. You frown, eyes on them, you make to open your mouth— “Don’t think, just answer. You don’t have to believe it either” $they interrupt<<s>> you, $their tone patient. $Cthey repeat<<s>> the question. With a deep breath your eyes closed, you keep turning the ring with your hands. It somewhat gives you a sense of certainty. <<link "Mountains" "7">><<set $scenery to "Mountains">><</link>> <<link "Sea" "7">><<set $scenery to "Sea">><</link>>

<<if $scenery=="Mountains">>You hesitate, “Mountains.” Low-hanging clouds ever present. Frothing waterfall’s sounds in the distance. The smell of fresh earthy moss after a whole night of raining. Meandering trails leading to heavenly landscapes. You beam at the memories; the mountains are part of you, and you could never forget it. You miss it. How long has it be—<<else>>You hesitate, “Sea.” Sand on skin. The glow of the sun at the horizon, slowly engulfed by the sea. Salt air and children laughing. The cold ice cream melting down your hot hand. You beam at the memories; you could never forget the sea for it is an important part of you. You miss it. How long has it be— <</if>> Another question interrupts your reminiscing. “Chrysanthemum, Carnation, or Orchids?” <<link "Chrysanthemum" "8">><<set $flowers to "Chrysanthemum">><</link>> <<link "Carnations" "8">><<set $flowers to "Carnations">><</link>> <<link "Orchids" "8">><<set $flowers to "Orchids">><</link>>

<<if $flowers=="Chrysanthemum">>“Chrysanthemum” you reply. The $person smiles, clearly liking the immediate response despite the lack of confidence and continues scribbling on $their journal until the next question.<<else>><</if>><<if $flowers=="Carnations">>“Carnations” you reply. The $person smiles, clearly liking the immediate response despite the lack of confidence and continues scribbling on $their journal until the next question.<<else>><</if>><<if $flowers=="Orchids">>"Orchids" you reply. The $person smiles, clearly liking the immediate response despite the lack of confidence and continues scribbling on $their journal until the next question.<<else>><</if>> You do not know much about flowers so your opinion on what you like, and dislike is based only on aesthetic. $flowers are pretty, and also your mother’s favourites. Yes, mother really loves them— //Wait. Mother—// “Rings or Bracelets?” This time your answer comes instantly and louder. Without missing a beat you answer, “Rings.” And as you say it you look down at your ring now on your index finger, a smile spontaneously cracks on your face as you trace it with one finger of the opposite hand. A warm feeling engulfing you. “Good. That is really good” $they say<<s>>. You look up at $them and notice $them looking over at your hand, most specifically, at your ring. “Do you mind showing it to me?” $they ask<<s>> you, already putting $their hand out in the air. You stare at it and hide your ringed hand with the other. A sudden protectiveness towards your ring raising inside of you. The therapist, still with $their hand in air, reassures you $they <<do>> not mean harm. You know it too, yet… Something tells you it is not tim— //Time. What time is it? How long have you been here?// You find the clock on the wall, it reminds you of the one in your childhood home, but you can’t remember the time it signed from when you had taken a look before. The light from outside the window has disappeared too, all that is left is darkness and if once you could see <<if $scenery=="Mountains">>mountains<<else>>the sea<</if>>, now blackness made it undistinguishable. A cough. Then, another. The person still waits, $their hands are now laying on the desk. Nothing but warmth and patience in $their gaze. You feel a bit guilty and silly for not trusting $them. //After all, it’s just a ring, right?// On the desk, close to the lamp, there is a vase with $flowers in it. A frown comes over your face, was it there before? Aren’t they your favourites? And the desk, its setup it seems so— ''Something is off.'' <<link "Something is very off." "9">><</link>>

You ignore the therapist’s stare and glance around the room. The more you see, the more... wrong you feel. You have been here before. You feel a pull to your ring. In a swift movement you take it off and stare it as if you were waiting for something. And perhaps you were indeed. The space inside the circumference of your ring falters, a colour— no, many colours— swirl around in it. You gaze is locked in place while whatever is going on keeps shifting. Is it trying to tell you something? No, it wants you to see. You pull it closer, and you can feel the world around you fade, still your gaze remains unmoved. Then, you close your eyes, just to bat it once and if once through the ring you could see the therapist’s office floor and carpet, now what you see is grass. You snap your head up and you’re outside. A blue sky stretches before you, no cloud in sight. The warm breeze caresses your hair carefully passing through, almost as if an invisible hand was reassuring you. Familiarity washes over you. <<link "Home." "10">><</link>>

$Cthey hum<<s>> as $their fingers come to lay on $their mouth in a pensive pose, “How old are you?” You think. And as you do, the room grows quieter. There don’t seem to be many sounds coming from the outside either. If it weren’t for the company, you’re pretty sure the room would have had a more eerie atmosphere to it. There was faint light coming from the window on the right side of the office, which you noted was the only one, and the other source of light was a small familiar lamp sat on the edge of the therapist’s desk. The desk was rather bare, the lamp and the journal along with few pens were the only things on it. You shake your head and sigh; you have no idea how old you are. Surely you are not a kid or a teenager, you think to yourself, maybe an adult? Though adult ages varies a lot, could you be— “I’ll give you a hint” $they tell<<s>> you, and from one of the desk’s drawers pull<<s>> out a small sized rectangular mirror, more or less large as $their face, which then $they place<<s>> it in front of you. “Give me an estimate, <<link "how old do you think you are?”" "5">><</link>>

... <<link "//Why are you here?//" "6">><</link>>

Remembering the ring you throw your head back down, instead you find nothing, your hands carry no other weight than the air around you. You immediately check your pockets; you pat yourself slowly freaking out. You can’t lose— A voice breaks your panicking, “$name? Are you here?” You automatically turn around and see a woman; your mother; walking while looking around the garden, seemingly trying to spot something, or better yet, someone. ''You.'' Before you know it you speak and call out to her, “Mom! Here!” //You are not in control of your body.// When she sees you she strides happily to you, her arms locked behind her back. “There you are! I should have known you’d be in the garden” a soft smile reveals itself to you and you can’t help but returning the favour. Next to her, your shoulders loosen up and your hands stop shaking. “Close your eyes, I have a surprise for you!” she tells you, excitingly jumping in place. //She could never stop moving,// you think to yourself. <<link "You love surprises." "11">><<set $surprise to "love">><</link>> <<link "You dislike surprises." "11">><<set $surprise to "hate">><</link>>

<<if $surprise=="love">>You always loved surprises so you do as she says, you can’t wait to know what it is.<<else>>You always disliked surprises, you still do as she says with a chuckle. //Stubborn woman.//<</if>> You feel her shifting closer to you and taking your hands to lay something on them. She makes a sound, something you could define as a whelp and tells you to open your eyes. In your hands lays a little box adorned with flower decorations, which you obviously recognize as your mother's signature paintings, on top of it your name is handwritten in beautiful black ink. You carefully pass your fingers over the box to assess the realness of it. It is so beautiful and well done, and the more you look at it the more you notice little details such as the use of your favourite colours, your favourite flowers, and plants. You try your hardest not to tear up as your mother watches your every move. Finally, you open it and inside there is a beautiful silver ring in the shape of a little tiara decorated with one diamond at the centre, the highest part of it. It is the exact same ring you had been wearing just a few moments ago. <<link "You are speechless." "12">><<set $reaction to "reserved">><</link>> <<link "You hug her." "12">><<set $reaction to "sweet">><</link>> <<link "You tear up." "12">><<set $reaction to "crybaby">><</link>>

<<if $reaction=="reserved">>No word is able to make its way out of your mouth as you stand still staring at the ring. You wear it. The woman before you still watches you, however there is a veil of anxiety in her gaze, confirmed by the words escaping her mouth, “You-You don’t like it, do you? Ah, I should have known… You never were one for expensive jewellery-I am sorry I can take it back and get you a different pres- “, her stream of words is interrupted by your sudden hug. She lets out a whelp and then ease under your touch. She returns the hug, her face tucked away in the crook of your neck and when you move to let go she does not let you.<<else>><</if>><<if $reaction=="sweet">>She lets out a whelp as you give her the strongest hug you could master up and then eases under your touch. She returns it, her face tucked away in the crook of your neck and when you move to let go she does not let you.<<else>><</if>><<if $reaction=="crybaby">>She immediately hugs you very tight as you let your sobs wet the base of her neck, where your head now lays. She pats your head gently with one hand, while with the other she caress your back<<else>><</if>> “Mom, I love it. I love it so much.” Her grip on you tightens. “I love you, but I can’t breathe.” You chuckle, and as you try to distance yourself this time she lets you. Wet eyes and a wide smile look over you.<<if $reaction=="crybaby">>She's a crier just as much as you are, one of the many things you both have in common<<else>><</if>>.“I love you too, kid”. She offers you her hand, you take it, and you move away from the house behind you to the edge of the garden in which you can overlook the scenery. You both lay on the grass, eyes up to the sky, the <<if $scenery=="Mountains">>mountain's air<<else>>sea breeze<</if>> and your synchronised breaths are the only sounds around you. You close your eyes to better relax, however tiredness overtakes you. You feel yourself being pulled to darkness, and when you open your eyes your therapist is right there in front of you. You sit still on your chair, air knocked out of you, shocked. <<link "//What the hell was that?//" "13">><</link>>

It seemed too tangible, real, vivid to be a dream or vision and you were not able to do anything except watch, stuck in your body only as a spectator. Palms itching, sweat damping the place your hands had been tightly gripping during that vision and the $person's curious look still pending. You let out a long breath you had been holding for quite some time, and once done you address $them, “My mother…I remembered her,” you murmur looking down at your hands, at your ring, “ She loves painting and our <<if $scenery=="Mountains">>house on the mountains.<<else>>sea house.<</if>>" $Cthey write<<s>> in $their journal and proceed<<s>> to ask you questions regarding the memory. Which colours attracted your attention the most? How was the garden like? What was the view from it? Can you remember and describe your childhood home? Is the ring you are now wearing the same from the memory? Slowly you answer each one of them, and as you do so, your gaze wanders all over the room and you seem to notice many more objects in the office. “Well, today has been a good first session,” $they praise<<s>> you. “You managed to do so well in so little time. I am sure the next appointment will go even better.” You thank $them and just as you are about to leave, that is when you see it, the blurry pictures of the wall behind $them. You’ve seen those pictures before. No. Not only have you seen them, some of those you took and in others you’re even in. Mouth agape, no words dare leaving it. The person, still oblivious, is reaching for the doorknob to open the door for you but you have not moved an inch and your eyes are still lingering on the photos. <<link "“$name?”" "14">><</link>>

The pictures, the lamp, the window, the clock… The reason why it is so familiar to you is because you have been here so many times before. Enough to lose count. This is your mother’s studio. Inside your childhood home. You fall to your knees. Something is wrong. You are not sure what exactly, but you just know it. The $person is immediately at your side, making sure you did not hurt yourself. $Ctheir concern is genuine, yet… “Here, let me help you” $they drag<<s>> you to $their leather chair and advise<<s>> to talk some more. “I have been here before” you blurt out without thinking. Silence looms over you both but, if once it was comfortable, now some kind of tension lurks in the shadow of the room. “Well, there is no more putting it off now I guess” $they fumble<<s>> with $their hands and for the first time $they appear<<s>> very nervous. “Before I say anything, it was not meant for you to know it by the first session already… It was supposed to happen more naturally, and slowly, to help you process everything”. $Cthey stand<<s>> still opposite of you and look<<s>> down at $their feet, and the way $they avoid<<s>> your stare hint that $they <<are>> clearly still trying to think a way to avoid all of this. “There is no right way to say this.” “$name $lastname," a sorry look paints $their face, <<link "“You are dead”." "15">><</link>>

<<link "..." "16">><</link>>

<<link "What?" "17">><</link>>

//Is this a joke? That makes no sense. You are not—// Lights blind your eyes, which you close instantly to shield you from the damage. Loud sounds all around you, you cannot even hear yourself thinking. Instead, what you do hear is what seems like sirens coming in the distance, along with humans cries and gasps. You have the biggest headache you’ve ever experienced in your whole life. <<link "//Stop, stop, stop, stop.//" "18">><<set $ending1 =+ 1>><<set $memory to "none">><</link>> <<link "//Let it happen.//" "17.5">><<set $ending2 =+ 1>><</link>>

You make to get up, but there is no strength in your body. But why would you need to get up? Are you laying down? As you ask yourself such questions you begin to feel your cheek scraped against a solid and rough surface. You can’t move, but you could try to open your eyes, and you do. Except you close them immediately after. Everything is bright, too bright and you can’t make up anything, only that you are not in your car anymore. And you’re cold. A bit too cold for you to be since it’s late summer and the temperature is high, no matter day or night. You shiver and tears well up in your eyes. No, no, no… <<link "GIVE UP" "18">><<set $ending1 =+ 1>><<set $memory to "very partial">><</link>> <<link "Keep trying" "17.5.5">><<set $memory to "partial">><</link>>

You’re back in your mother’s office and you’re shaking, and crying as you compulsively keep shouting no. You are not dead; you can’t be dead. You’re here after all, at home and you’re talking with a person, a therapist… but, you have not been to a therapist since you were dismissed in your early twenties— NO. You are not dead. They’re wrong. You are alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. <<link "@@#blinky;Alive@@" "19">><</link>> <<script>> $(document).one(':passagerender', function (ev) { $(ev.content).find("#blinky").fadeTo(1000, 0).fadeTo(1000, 1).delay(200).fadeTo(1000, 0).fadeTo(1000, 1).delay(200).fadeTo(1000, 0).fadeTo(1000, 1); $(ev.content).find("#blinky").css("color", "red"); }); <</script>>

You try forcing yourself to move, starting from your legs, nothing; moving up to your arms, nothing-that is when your pinkie finger slightly twitch, so faint you could have missed it if you were not trying so hard. You focus on the hand of the finger that moved, your left, and try with the other ones too. You can barely move your left arm, but you reach for your face and let it linger in front of your eyes to create a barrier, keeping the lights away. Eyes open, you stare in horror at your bloodied hand, which gets worse when you notice that your left arm has no visible scratch except little cuts and burns which could not possibly explain all that blood. You let the exhausted arm fall on the ground which now you can clearly feel is cement, and start frantically touch your body, or what was left of it with your hand. A smell creeps its way into your nostrils, which until now had been numb and the scent of burnt and gasoline overwhelms you, making you even dizzier. Still, your hand finds its way to your body. On your chest glass is scattered all over it, your hand, where your shirt should be, finds skin, or worse, open skin, teared apart by a piece of thick glass still inserted there inside. You force open your eyes and see a pool of blood slowly engulfing you. A pool of your own goddamn blood. And, with a sudden clarity, as if all the sounds and sensation around had disappeared, you know you are dying and there is nothing you can do. You think of your mother, of your friends, of your lovers, of your career, of your failures and successes. As you take your last breath the last thought hovering in your mind is: <<link "I love you, directed at all the people I’ve lived my life and grown whole with." "18">><<set $ending2 =+ 1>><</link>> <<link "Why me? Why does it have to be me?" "18">><<set $ending1 =+ 1>><</link>> <<link "Last plead to God. He does not answer." "18">><</link>>

A kind touch on your shoulder brings you back to the world outside of your mind, your eyes remain down, looking at the blurry image of the ring on your finger as the figure speaks. “I am sorry. It should not have happened this way, however I cannot control it. Once it comes, there is no stopping it. I apologize, I should have noticed the signs” $they smile<<s>>, and it is warm as the first ray of sunlight after a long snowy winter, yet you can’t help but be confused by $their words. “You see, child. I am the one who comes for all, the one who will always be there until and after the end,” $they take<<s>> your hands in $theirs and crouch down to your level, “I am Death, and I am here to help you”. You let out a loud laugh, something akin to mockery as you move your hands away from $theirs. You are not dead, and $they certainly <<are>> not Death. You must have gone crazy. You must be seeing things. You look $them straight in the eyes, “No”. Death is taken aback for a split second, then $they return<<s>> to $their usual empathetic smile. “I do not expect you to believe me, but you should believe what you saw”. //How did $they know<<s>> about the visions you had? Could $they be telling the truth?// //No, no, no,// a voice deep inside you keeps shouting and you can’t help but follow suit. You abruptly stand up, kicking the chair down you exit the room and call for your mother. If you’re here, that means she is too, after all it is her house. As you scream her name you search every room trying to find her, and as you do you feel the steady and silence presence of Death following you around, watching attentively. Nothing, no one. //Maybe she went out//, you think and you towards the entrance of your childhood home, you unlock and go outside but as you do you find yourself inside your house again, this time facing the inside of your home. Your eyebrows shoot up and you frown. //Whatever, she must be in the garden then//, and you leave to go there. Once you reach it and step outside, you recognize the breath-taking view in front of you, after all you’ve seen it all your life. You shake your head and look everywhere for your mother, finding every corner empty. Dread takes over you. This is not real. This ''cannot'' be real. You are not dead. You are alive and when you’ll wake up tomorrow everything will be as it always had been. You let out a deep breath and turn to Death <<link "Get out." "20.5">><<set $bhvr to "hostile">><</link>> <<link "Could you please leave?" "20.5">><<set $bhvr to "neutral">><</link>> <<link "I would like you to go." "20.5">><<set $bhvr to "diplomatic">><</link>>

<<if $bhvr=="hostile">>“Leave”, you snap. Your head hurts and you just want this liar out of your way. Death's smile falters a bit at your aggressive tone as $they genuinely ask<<s>> you if you’ll be alright alone, $their patience gets on your nerves and your urge $them to go. Maybe if $they’ll leave everything will be alright.<<else>><</if>><<if $bhvr=="neutral">>“Could you please leave my house?”, you plead. Your head hurts and you just want this weirdo out of your way. Death's smile falters a bit at your cold tone and $they genuinely ask<<s>> you if you’ll be alright alone, $their patience gets on your nerves and your urge $them to go. Maybe if $they’ll leave everything will be alright.<<else>><</if>><<if $bhvr=="diplomatic">>“I would like you to leave, please”, you beg. Your head hurts and you just want this day to be over with. Death's smile falters a bit at your tone and $they genuinely ask<<s>> you if you’ll be alright alone, $their patience gets on your nerves and your urge $them to go. Maybe if $they’ll leave everything will be alright.<<else>><</if>> $Cthey open<<s>> the door to exit, then linger<<s>> silently there for some seconds and as $they walk<<s>> away you hear $them say<<s>> “I’ll give you space, but if you need anything call for me and I shall be there with you”. The door closes. The house now empty, you stand still at the entrance not sure what to do, you figure it is late and go to sleep in your room. Days pass, even though it is very hard to say, for no clock works and days, nights, sunsets and dawns seem to behave very differently than what you are accustomed to. Sometimes there is only night, other there is a constant sunset, or day and dawn alternate each other and more. Here, wherever here is, time means nothing. It pass and also it never does. And your mother never comes home. <<link "Chapter Two" "21">><<set $chapter to "Chapter Two">><</link>>

Unfortunately you reached the end of the current demo of Pshychopomp. Thank your for playing! Feel free to leave a comment or a rating letting me know what you thought<3 much love, arjie♡