Phase Q/Showdown
Gunfire blasts through the concrete walls. Rockets explode, killing scores at a time.
You run wildly down the prison corridor, screaming holy rage.
Bullets clash against metal cage rods. Walls crumble. Ceilings collapse.
All around, madness and mayhem.
Futuristas and common criminals clash side by side. Prison guards fire half randomly, often taking out their own.
Foreign scents breeze through the complex. When you catch a whiff of a foul odor, you start coughing uncontrollably.
When you wake up, you are in a garden. A screen in front of you presents questions. You answer by pressing either a red or a green button. Sometimes, after you answer, you feel an electric shock.
As you answer questions, people mill about, seemingly unconcerned. Gentlemen in fine hats, topless waitresses carrying cocktails. You search for meaning.
After what feels like forever, answering hundreds of questions that alternate between piercing inquisitions and mind-numbing banalities, you feel yourself drift off to sleep.
When you wake up again, you feel firm grips holding you down. Your eyes are covered. All you hear is a soft but annoying whir. Every once in a while, harsh footsteps enter the room, then leave.
A group of people enter the room. One injects something into your arm, and you lose consciousness.
The next time you awake, you are completely bound. Your eyes and ears are open. A constant stream of news feeds blare into your senses.
SURPRISE ATTACKS BY OFFSHOOT GROUPS. WE ARE ASSUMING COMMAND. RETURN TO YOUR HOMES. DISOBEY. SAFETY LEVEL NORMAL. NEW ATTACKS. THOUSANDS DEAD. DIFFERENT TAKES.
A trio of people walk into the room. A general’s uniform and an eyepatch on one. A young punk with a mane instead of hair. And a teenager wielding a machine gun.
The teenager points the weapon at your face.
CH-CH-CH-CH-CH-CH!
Your vision seems to click off and on. As you look about, you see what looks like a model battlefield. Army soldiers move about tactically, seizing control of key points. Bombs fall from the sky, raining doom.
“What the fuck?!” A voice emanates from a PA system. Sirens blare. A couple of athletic bodies bolt you free, handing you an assault rifle. The device feels unfamiliar in your hands.
You look around. Calm. Clear. What do you want to do? Who do you want to become?
All around you, a storm rages. The world turns upside down, inside out. Under destruction.
To your left, you see an irregular group of partisans, hurling chemical weapons and beaming messages on streams of light. To your right, you see a cadre of disciplined warriors, firing straight ahead, and charging into the fray. Peripherally, you realize that the battle rages on elsewhere, in different forms.
Taking stock of the situation, you think back to what you heard while bugging the board. You think forward to your plans for after the war. And you take in your present moment in a peaceful moment of zenlike tranquility. Surveying the scene, you bolt in a clip of ammo, say your words of death’s grace, and sally forth.
Phase Q: An interactive adventure.
