The Human Game: A Shrine for a Fake God

> Who is "A"?

KATE: A…?
KATE: Who the heck is that?
JOE: You’re asking me?
JOE: All I know of this A is that they have absolutely no shame for defacing a book such as this!
JOE: No shame at all!
JOE: Why, I never…
JOE: I hardly am the type to unleash some kind of judgement on anyone…
JOE: But oh, if I met this A, I’d give them a piece of my mind! Many pieces, in fact!

Joe lets out a frustrated sigh and folds his arms – he almost sounds like he’s personally offended by the whole thing, like this “A” specially chose him out of all the rest to play some kind of weird “your poetry sucks and I don’t like you” prank.

As you take from the book from Joe to peer at the marked-up page, you can’t help but wonder a few things. First of all, is this the only page that’s marked like this? You quickly leaf through the book, and…actually, it isn’t the only page, but Ash Hearts is the only one with a message, as far as you can tell. Some of the rest just have the weird underlines and jotted symbols and doodles. This poem, for some reason, was chosen for this message. What does the message mean? Who is the message for? And now that you think of it, maybe these marks aren’t necessarily a bad sign – maybe this “A” really liked the poem, and was trying to show it to someone else…?

But you don’t really know. You have little to nothing to go on, besides the fact that the way the lines are drawn eerily remind you of all the wonderful graffiti decorating the place. Maybe it’s the same person?

KATE: Maybe A did the drawings around the place too…
JOE: Huh? What?
KATE: Don’t the scribbles look similar?
JOE: Maybe! Maybe. Anyways, I’m not looking at that anymore, so I can’t really tell you.
JOE:Put the poor maligned book back, it’s obvious there’s nothing of worth to find in there.

He’s right. There’s nothing else in there. No medallions stuffed between the pages, or anything. You put it back on the shelf, deciding that this is a good time to end the conversation to go talk with someone else.

But as you turn to go, a thought occurs to you, and you pause to speak up to the poet again:

KATE: Hey…Joe?
JOE: Yes?

He turns, his expression worried, like he’s half expecting you to chew him out again.

KATE: I, uh, just wanted to say…
KATE: Um. It isn’t your fault. Don’t think that.
KATE: I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone.
KATE: Just…stick in there, alright? Don’t let things get you down.
KATE: Don’t beat yourself up over it.
KATE: You don’t deserve that.

Wow, that sounded lame. Good going, you. Way to be awkward.




But, even as awkward as those words are, Joe Verger smiles. It’s strange, you think, how bright that smile is, and yet how empty his eyes seem. They’re almost blank, glassy, and momentarily he almost gives off the impression that he is a doll, far too complacent with being kept in a glass cage.

But his voice is surprisingly warm. Sincere.

JOE: Oh, well…
JOE:Thank you kindly.
JOE:I certainly won’t do that. Don’t worry about me.
JOE: I’ll be just fine, Kate.

And he turns back to the bookshelf, face hidden from view.

You really hope he’ll be alright. He may be a stranger, he may be weird, he may have almost led some of you to your deaths…but all in all, it’s hard to think that there’s any ounce of ill will in his heart.

He’s not a bad person. He just seems…broken.

>Connor: When did you hear that voice...? Did one of your coworkers sound like that?

You are suddenly CONNOR CAVANAGH, and you are far too distracted. Not by anything that’s going around you, no, but by the fact that you can’t get a good grip on your thoughts. You’ve been racking your mind for goodness knows how long, trying to come up with a reason as to why that voice from before sounded familiar. You started, and now you can’t stop.

Hammond, Hammond…the worst thing is, you feel like you’re so close, that’s the frustrating part! You have the answer right there, it’s right under your nose, and yet…it all slips through your mental hands the moment you think you’re close. It’s like a mirage mocking you as it stands on the horizon, unattainable. A face appears, shadowy, a friendly voice speaks in your ear with a pleasant, cheerful, tone-

“Oh, Mr. Cavanagh, how are the kids…?”

But no, no, there it goes again! It’s gone. What’s wrong with your memories? It’s clear that they’re there, you know they are, and yet…why can’t you recall any of them? A sudden chill runs down your back.

….Maybe, just maybe, someone’s tampered with them? No. That’s absurd. But what if?

What if…?




You’re KATE GREENWOOD again, and you’re eager to lighten your mood a little and chat up someone else. Now, who to talk to next? You glance over and see the big bulk of a man that Connor is standing not too far away, and make a beeline to him.




He said some interesting things before, so maybe it’s time to get the scoop from him as far as what he thinks is going on with, well, everything.

>Hey Connor, uh... good thing you did there.

You step up to Connor, who suddenly frowns, averting his gaze. Uh. Okay.

KATE: Hey, Connor. Just wanted to see how you were doing.
CONNOR:I’m doing fine.
KATE:No medallions yet?
CONNOR: …I, uh, haven’t started looking yet.

Oh. Huh. Maybe he’s still shook up by the whole Seth thing? You wouldn’t blame him. If it weren’t for that robot thing…you don’t want to think about it. He and Camilla really put their lives on the line for you all. Would’ve you been able to do the same thing yourself? You don’t know.

KATE: …Connor. You did a good job back there.
KATE:I mean, at the doors. With Seth.
KATE: If it weren’t for you…
KATE: Well, you really saved us, in a way.
KATE: So…thanks.
CONNOR: …

He shifts in place, uncomfortable.

CONNOR: …
CONNOR: Can’t say I’ve honestly heard that said to me before, but…
CONNOR: It’s nothing.
CONNOR: Glad it turned out better than you all expected.
KATE: Are you okay?
CONNOR: I’m fine.

He’s…really obviously not fine.

KATE: So, um, what about that robot? The one you mentioned before.
KATE: Have you come up with any ideas about what it was about?
CONNOR: I don’t know.
CONNOR: Uh…no ideas, really.

You can’t help but frown now, too. Connor really seems to be beating the bush around something, but you’re not sure what. It’s like he wants to say something, but he’s far too reluctant to begin to do so.

Should you try to pry? Push him a little to open up? Or should you leave well enough alone and let the man be?

Author's Note:

Show Content

Spoiler
That awkward moment when you start updating every few days again and then suddenly 3 months have gone by

Thanks for being patient and sticking with me, everyone! I'm already starting to work on the basic framework of the next update. This is how it’s gonna work, kids. Next update will be finishing up Connor and checking out that note (tucked in the angel statue) and then update after that…THINGS WILL START HAPPENING.

SUFFERING THINGS.