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You awake into this world with a scream.
Your eye flies open as your vision blurs. Panicking, you quickly stand up only for you to immediately fall over. You feel like you want to vomit.
So vomit you do, as you crawl over to a nearby tree and hold onto it for dear life as you puke whatever was inside your digestive system.
A few minutes pass as your show of repugnance slowly fizzles out. A sigh of relief passes over you as you move closer to the tree and plop yourself onto it for support.
You're breathing steadily now. Your eyes aren't blurry any longer and they adjust to the moon-lit night.
Looking around you realize you are in a forest, an ancient looking woodland to be more specific. The trees that surround your corpse (Did you just refer to ourself as a corpse?). Are old and- wait who said that?
(Me you fool, I am your conscience.)
That... Isn't normal. You think to yourself, one would think it impossible for your own conscience to have thoughts independent of your own, let alone have it's own voice.
(Well, something clearly happened before we woke up here. I don't remember much myself so I'm hoping you could fill me in.)
Ah right, your current predicament. You snap out of your thoughts and take another look at the forest around you.
You don't even know where you are. How does one even find themselves in a forest?
Like a quick clap of thunder however, you suddenly realize something.
Your breathing quickens in panic as it becomes increasingly obvious to you that you cannot recall a single thing before your awakening.
(Shit.)
You can't remember anything.
(Okay look I know this is a bad-)
You can't remember your life before waking up here.
(Let's just take a breather and coll-)
You can't even remember your own name.
(FOCUS.) Your conscience shouts.
(Look, we can't sit all day moping about the fact that we can't remember anything. Need I remind you we're in the middle of a forest?)
I guess you're right.
(Good, now get up and let's get out of here.)
With as much effort you can put into your body you shakily stand.
"Hey, Mister."
That came from behind you.
A chill runs down your spine.
You quickly turn around and see a small girl. She's around 10 you believe, with blond hair and red eyes that pierce the night. She's wearing a black and white looking dress and has a red ofuda fixed onto her head.
Relief passes over you and you nervously chuckle. Honestly what's a child like her doing in a place like-
(Run.) Your conscience says.
What?
(That's not a child. Run. Now!)
I think not! Although your conscience may be telling you to skedaddle right this instant. Your concern overrules whatever nonsense your other-half says.
"Hey kid," you crouch down trying to level your eyes with her own. "What's a girl doing out here all by herself?"
"Hey Mister!" The girl repeats, her eyes gain a sharp look with a smile that goes from ear to ear revealing a sharp set of... bloody teeth?
"Can I eat you?" She says as she charges at you with such tenacity comparable to that of a starving lion.
(LEG IT!) Your conscience shouts.
"Shit shit shit," you curse as you hightail it into the ancient forest.
Running into the night, you feel bits of your clothes rip as they snag on stray branches. Without care, you desperately try to get away from the monster chasing you.
"Oh, I guess we're running now!" The girl shouts from behind you with glee as she gives chase.
"I love it when they run! It helps me get my blood pumping!"
(What the hell is wrong with this girl?!)
What the hell is wrong with this girl?!
As you continue your mad dash into the woodland. You come across a forked path.
[ ] You go right because right is always right.
[ ] You go left because you're left handed.
[ ] Let's go straight forward.
[x] You go right because right is always right.
righ
[X] Let's go straight forward.
I CARE Not for the well-being of such flimsy objects as 'plants'! I cleave my way through them like a marauding Mongol!
[X] Let's go straight forward.
A real man charges straight ahead! Well, unless the character is actually a girl, in which case... a real woman charges straight ahead?
[X] Let's go straight forward.
[x] Let's go straight forward.
[x] While ignoring known specialty forks, such as the carving fork or the aptly named trident, ponder why it is that when a pathway splits off into two more paths it is called a forked path, considering the fact that forks usually have four prongs, which themselves are also know as tines.
>>214268
Changing vote to
[x] The forking pathway knows where it is at all times. It knows this because it knows where it isn't, by subtracting where it is, from where it isn't, or where it isn't, from where it is, whichever is greater, it obtains a difference, or deviation. The guidance directions use deviations to generate corrective commands to drive the pathway from a position where it is, to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position where it was, is now the position that it isn't. In the event of the position that it is in is not the position that it wasn't, the system has required a variation. The variation being the difference between where the pathway is, and where it wasn't. If variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too, may be corrected by the GEA. However, the direction must also know where it was. The directions guidance computance scenario works as follows: Because a variation has modified some of the information the observer has obtained, it is not sure just where it is, however it is sure where it isn't, within reason, and it knows where it was. It now subracts where it should be, from where it wasn't, or vice versa. By differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where it shouldn't be, and where it was. It is able to obtain a deviation, and a variation, which is called "straight".
[X] Let's go straight forward.
Fools, all of you.
[X] You go left because you're left handed.
Statistically, most people are not left handed. Taking advantage of this trait is the kind of upper hand needed to survive.
>>214276
that just ain't right!
P.S: To make things a bit more clearer I've decided to make it so whenever our main character is thinking or conversing with his conscience the text will be italicized.
[X] Let's to straight forward.
As you run closer to the forked path-
Actually why is it a forked path? There's only two pathways splitting here, even though a fork has typically four prongs?
(CAN WE NOT THINK ABOUT THAT?)
No we will think about that! Don't you think it's quite interesting?
(Is it really that interesting when we have a literal monster chasing us?!)
The incoming argument with your conscience is cut short however when you realize that you haven't actually picked which way to go, and are currently about to go straight through the path.
Realizing that your precious adrenaline filled body could not maneuver in a way in order to pick either path, you decide to choose the obvious third option.
(Are we seriously going to ignore the two perfectly clear roads?!)
Ignoring your conscience, you crash straight through the middle of the two-forked path. Obviously there isn't a path in the middle, and you start feeling the consequences of your actions as you feel the branches tear at your already torn clothes and skin.
"What a strange human..." You hear the monster say. It seems that even though your odd choice perplexed the monster, it still gives chase all the same.
"Ow." Your arm hits a stray branch that's a bit too sharp.
(We've only met.)
"Ow." Your foot hits a rock.
(30 minutes ago.)
"Ow." You go through a thorny bush.
(Yet, I think you are the dumbest human I've ever met.)
"Ow." You almost fall, but you save yourself and lightly hit your head on a tree.
(I can't believe we're the same person...)
As you run haphazardly through the old woods you run into a large clearing.
A small, quaint house stands in the middle with old vines running from the ground up and windows showing signs of grime. Although from the outside it seems abandoned, a small fire in you hopes that maybe someone lives out here.
"Hah..." You stagger onto the side of the building. You're out of breath and your legs feel like they're on fire, but you've at least found shelter.
You say that I'm the dumbest human being you've met. But wouldn't you agree that sometimes stupidity and geniusness can go hand in hand sometimes?
(Geniusness isn't even a word...)
Though you could not mentally hear your conscience sigh. You feel as though they make the gesture all the same.
(Let's not argue right now anyhow. We need to hide from that horrid little shit. Even if that cretin is smart enough to know we'll hide in here, we might be able to find some weapon of sorts.)
Looking around the clearing, you realize that thing chasing you has seemingly disappeared. You can't be so sure however, so seeking to hide from your pursuer. You round the house until you come upon it's only door. Grabbing the old door knob, you twist it or at least you try to.
It's locked...
(Well let's break in then.)
What.
(What?)
We can't just do that. What if someone does live here?
(Well I'm sure they'd understand when we tell them we're being chased by a literal monster!)
Or they'd think we're crazy and murder us for a perceived robbery.
(Pray tell what kind of thief would try to steal from someone in the middle of the woods?!)
The kind that knows it would take days or maybe months until someone will discover what happened!
(We don't even know if someone even lives here!)
Then let's knock!
(There's no time! That thing would have half of us devoured in it's stomach by the time they'd answer the door!)
This back and forth with your conscience is giving you a headache. Honestly you're willing to just agree with it and break into the place at this point.
[ ] No! We knock the door like a gentleman.
[ ] Fine Fine Fine let's break in.
I honestly fucked up this thread by not giving myself a tripcode for the story so if anyone has any suggestions on how to fix my fuck up I would greatly appreciate it.
[X] No! We knock the door like a gentleman.
- [X] Pretend to strike up a conversation with the house owner, who is an old friend!
Clearly the sharp-toothed waif is afraid to approach this place, for what reason other than fear of it's occupant? By knocking we make it known that the occupant is perhaps not present or ignoring our plight. So, we pretend to make concersation to trick it that the occupant is present, whether or not they are!
