The invitations arrive, although they are not delivered. On nightstands, on tables, mingled with the mail. Fine parchment, gilded in filigree and sealed with red wax marked with a heart. The paper smells of roses.
Stepping through the green door (for there is always a green door) there is a moment of cold, and of light. Then there is the foyer, where guests may admire their new attire. There is no apparent rhyme or reason to it, different eras and styles of fashion. All are appropriate for a ball, and all come with a mask to match. There is no rule that they must stay on. Whatever other jewelry they may wear, there is always one piece with seven brilliant opals. For each day that one is in attendance, it fades to something matte. This is the timer by which all guests may count their days.
Leaving the foyer, there is the ballroom. It is a prism all of glass, reflecting light in a million colors. It is difficult to see anything through the windows but rainbows, but those who are determined will see only stars. The servers are faceless, blank white masks carrying whatever their guests may desire. There is an oak tree in the middle of the ballroom, at least a century old, and yet within the great hall it is dwarfed.
Mirrored halls lead to powder rooms, to libraries and bedrooms and solariums. It seems easy to get lost, but instead it is difficult. The door that is wanted it always the door at hand.
There is only one door that leads to the outside. One way, it will always lead to the masquerade. The other way will return a guest to their place of origin. Once a guest leaves, they may not return, no matter how many days they had left. Whatever the jewelry that marks them, they may not stray from it; when the timer is done, they will find themselves home, exactly when and how they were.
This is a between place, between times and worlds and universes. A bubble of light and of sound, where there is always music and champagne, where new clothes always fit and nothing is ever too hot or too cold. Guests may take nothing with them: not silk, not jewels, not even memories. It is as if it never happened, as if it never will.
Sometimes, very rarely, a guest may glimpse something in their dreams. The faintest echo of an image of something lost, so delicate that to breathe would make it shatter.
Welcome to the Otherworld Masquerade.
1. Don't worry too much about logistics. It is fairytale cartoon dream logic. Turtles all the way down. Characters can try to bend the rules, but they won't break.
2. Physical violence is a general no-go. It just doesn't really suit the theme, you know?
3. The basic idea is to get a chance to play a character at a time or place in their life that you usually wouldn't. For most people, this will be when their characters were younger and less jaded. For some, this will be older characters with less to prove, or maybe alternate universe versions of the same. There are no real limits on what kinds of characters are allowable, though trying to keep it humanoid is a good idea. Characters who know each other under circumstances can 'meet' here in ways that would otherwise never make sense, and characters from different universes can make friends. Cyborgs befriending fairies! Aliens drinking with dwarves! Pandemonium! There's no reason you can't just play things the way you usually would, but why would you?
4. Music will usually be kind of orchestral, instrumental, that kind of thing. The most risque it will get is jazz. Probably no Top 40 hits. Characters are nonetheless free to try and twerk in ballgowns to Mozart, or sing AC/DC, if that's what they're into.
5. The area is based on the Crystal Palace, so it is pretty much... huge. Big enough to have a tree in it huge. It is freaking huge. And that's not counting the side rooms. Huge.
6. Pretty dresses, wacky hijinks, people that would normally be at each other's throats accidentally falling into doomed interdimensional puppy love, people that would otherwise love each other becoming bitter rivals. Yes? Yes.
Stepping through the green door (for there is always a green door) there is a moment of cold, and of light. Then there is the foyer, where guests may admire their new attire. There is no apparent rhyme or reason to it, different eras and styles of fashion. All are appropriate for a ball, and all come with a mask to match. There is no rule that they must stay on. Whatever other jewelry they may wear, there is always one piece with seven brilliant opals. For each day that one is in attendance, it fades to something matte. This is the timer by which all guests may count their days.
Leaving the foyer, there is the ballroom. It is a prism all of glass, reflecting light in a million colors. It is difficult to see anything through the windows but rainbows, but those who are determined will see only stars. The servers are faceless, blank white masks carrying whatever their guests may desire. There is an oak tree in the middle of the ballroom, at least a century old, and yet within the great hall it is dwarfed.
Mirrored halls lead to powder rooms, to libraries and bedrooms and solariums. It seems easy to get lost, but instead it is difficult. The door that is wanted it always the door at hand.
There is only one door that leads to the outside. One way, it will always lead to the masquerade. The other way will return a guest to their place of origin. Once a guest leaves, they may not return, no matter how many days they had left. Whatever the jewelry that marks them, they may not stray from it; when the timer is done, they will find themselves home, exactly when and how they were.
This is a between place, between times and worlds and universes. A bubble of light and of sound, where there is always music and champagne, where new clothes always fit and nothing is ever too hot or too cold. Guests may take nothing with them: not silk, not jewels, not even memories. It is as if it never happened, as if it never will.
Sometimes, very rarely, a guest may glimpse something in their dreams. The faintest echo of an image of something lost, so delicate that to breathe would make it shatter.
Welcome to the Otherworld Masquerade.
Rules and Guidelines
1. Don't worry too much about logistics. It is fairytale cartoon dream logic. Turtles all the way down. Characters can try to bend the rules, but they won't break.
2. Physical violence is a general no-go. It just doesn't really suit the theme, you know?
3. The basic idea is to get a chance to play a character at a time or place in their life that you usually wouldn't. For most people, this will be when their characters were younger and less jaded. For some, this will be older characters with less to prove, or maybe alternate universe versions of the same. There are no real limits on what kinds of characters are allowable, though trying to keep it humanoid is a good idea. Characters who know each other under circumstances can 'meet' here in ways that would otherwise never make sense, and characters from different universes can make friends. Cyborgs befriending fairies! Aliens drinking with dwarves! Pandemonium! There's no reason you can't just play things the way you usually would, but why would you?
4. Music will usually be kind of orchestral, instrumental, that kind of thing. The most risque it will get is jazz. Probably no Top 40 hits. Characters are nonetheless free to try and twerk in ballgowns to Mozart, or sing AC/DC, if that's what they're into.
5. The area is based on the Crystal Palace, so it is pretty much... huge. Big enough to have a tree in it huge. It is freaking huge. And that's not counting the side rooms. Huge.
6. Pretty dresses, wacky hijinks, people that would normally be at each other's throats accidentally falling into doomed interdimensional puppy love, people that would otherwise love each other becoming bitter rivals. Yes? Yes.
The following 1 user Likes Tindome's post: megs
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