Arc II, Chapter 10: The Cut Scene

The time capsule that was buried thirty years too early caused quite a stir. Most who learned of its existence found it amusing. Of course they did. My friends and I knew that it was an omen of what was to come, but everyone else in that part of the square that night were laughing and scratching their heads about it.

The Mayor, however, was some unique combination of angry, embarrassed, confused, and paranoid. He alternated between those emotions with every sentence.

“I demand to know who is behind this!” He whisper-screamed to his entourage as they scrambled to find someone, anyone, who might be able to explain the situation. “Don’t make a scene! We don’t want people walking over here. How…. would there be a time capsule already buried here and why does it say that 1992 was the Centennial? Is this a setup to make me look foolish?”

His people did not know the answer.

The first person who was called in to help was Rhonda Moore, who was the coordinator for the Centennial. She was also a Paragon, which was an NPC that the Atlas defined as “The left and right hands of Carousel. These NPCs play a variety of characters in storylines. They can be protagonists, allies, or villains. The current theory is that each one specializes in either an Aspect or Advanced Archetype (Detective Paragon, Researcher Paragon, etc.), though their exact nature is not understood. They can be more or less powerful depending on what is needed. They pretend not to know anything outside of their scripts, but they are lying. They remember you between stories, I swear.”

I wasn’t sure if that entry was in the version of the Atlas at Camp Dyer like it was in ours. My best guess was that Paragons were on our side. I needed to know more before I could be sure.

The only way I had of recognizing a Paragon was their default level being 50 and the fact that they had numerous small posters on the red wallpaper that should normally have contained tropes, but they were all grayed out. I had originally thought it meant they were secretly enemies, but now I didn’t know what to think.

Rhonda Moore, though, was born to tell people what to do. She had a calming presence that put even the mayor at ease, if only for a few moments. I saw her whispering in his ear the moment she arrived. She immediately started to take command of the situation, directing citizens away from the mysterious time capsule.

“I am so sorry that you had to see this whole mess,” she said as she spotted us watching the situation unfold. “I know you probably just want to get to your hotel and decompress so you will be ready for tomorrow. If you could wait a minute, I’ll find someone to show you to your hotel.”

I felt the subtle strings of a trope pulling over me. It was like the allure of watching videos on the internet when you have homework to do, an ever-present temptation. In this case, the temptation was to do exactly as Rhonda had requested of us.

I looked at my friends. They felt it too. Rhonda had just used a trope on us to keep us in that exact location. It appeared that the Tutorial relied on Paragons like Rhonda to ensure players did as expected. That itself was odd. If Carousel wanted us to stick around for some exposition, why not just make us do it all on its own? Why involve a Paragon?

If I were to guess, I would say Rhonda embodied the Team Leader Aspect of the Final Girl Archetype.

Final Girl: Resilient characters often left standing at the end.

Team Leader Aspect: Inspiring figures adept at guiding others through terrifying situations.

It was pretty clear why we were being asked to stay there. Rhonda and the Mayor had brought in the help of several other people from the town: Constance Barlow the Head Librarian we had met, The Police Chief Curt Willis, and Tar Bellows who owned the Pawn Shop.

In fact, everyone other than the Mayor and his aides were Paragons.

We were about to watch a type of cut scene. We had to stay there and observe.

Tar was asked to bring a pair of bolt cutters to remove an intimidating metal lock on the top of the time capsule they had just dug up. He was a bald, heavily muscled man. We had met him when we visited his pawn shop. He had hinted to us (not so subtly) that there was importance to the extra tickets I had been awarded, which led us to discover the rough message contained within them.

I half expected for him to give us a wink or some acknowledgment, but he didn’t. He was dead-focused on getting the time capsule open. He stood there, awaiting the command from the Mayor.

The Mayor was failing to conceal his unease about the situation. He wasn’t sure whether to open it or not. The debate that ensued was hushed, but it did help introduce some of the new Paragons.

“How would this end up here?” he asked Constance, “You’re the Carousel historian. Tell me I have not gone mad.”

I had known Constance as the Head Librarian, but apparently, she was an expert on Carousel too. I made a note of that.

“You haven’t gone mad yet,” Constance answered. “Unless you’re asking if the people of Carousel somehow lost track of the date for thirty years.”

“Of course not,” the Mayor said. “But I do want some other explanation for the circumstances we find ourselves in.”

The time capsule they had dug up was supposedly buried during the Carousel Centennial thirty years prior in 1992. That was confusing, given that the town was currently celebrating its centennial in 2022. A hundred-year anniversary is typically a once-in-a-lifetime experience for any town. Not for Carousel, apparently.

“Aren’t there procedures and regulations for things like this?” the Mayor asked harshly.

“Fortunately, the procedures are printed on the side,” Constance said dryly. “Open in a hundred years. We’re 70 years shy.”

The Mayor shot her a sharp look.

“Chief,” the Mayor said. “Do you have any ideas?”

“What do you want me to do, Roderick?” Police Chief Willis asked. “Call in the bomb squad? Tell them we have a mysterious object?”

“If that’s the procedure, yes.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“We don’t have a bomb squad,” Rhonda Moore interjected before the Chief could answer. “You defunded it years ago.”

“That’s true we don’t have a bomb squad anymore,” the Chief said, “But I can hand this over to ol’ Tugg Montgomery and he’ll open it for us. He’s got loads of experience with explosives, assuming that’s what this is. We’re always getting calls about it.”

The Chief was clearly amused by the time capsule. It was hard to tell his emotions at first, with the reflective sunglasses he wore despite it being nighttime. He might have been in his mid-fifties but he was fit and held himself confidently.

Someone I had not seen before made her way into the center of the discussion. Her name was Kitty Lincoln. She was a plain woman whose most defining feature at that moment was the neon yellow safety vest she wore that had the words, “Carousel Alliance for Residential Protection” (CARP) written on it.

In fact, according to the red wallpaper, she was the President of CARP. With her level being 50 and her litany of unreadable tropes, she was clearly a Paragon. She had not been one of the people brought in by the Mayor or Rhonda Moore. She had come on her own.

“Do you really think it’s going to explode?” she asked, quivering at the thought.

“It will if we give it to Tugg,” Chief Willis said. He and Tar looked at each other and started laughing.

“You are not striking the appropriate tone here,” the Mayor said. “I want to know what is going on here and I want to know it now.”

Half of them looked exasperated the other half amused. They continued on. Constance Barlow crafted a theory that the time capsule was a prank.

“I assure you, Roderick, this was a practical joke. I find it odd that you would get up in arms about this. It’s not as if we could lose 30 years. Point in fact, the statue here was installed 30 years ago during the anniversary celebration. I suspect that our prankster took that as an opportunity to bury this fake time capsule next to it.”

For a moment that satisfied the Mayor.

Unfortunately, Kitty Lincoln was there to rain on his parade.

“How did they know that you were going to dig right here,” she asked. “The area where we chose to bury the time capsule was the subject of huge debate. The Carousel Alliance for Residential Protection worked with the City Council to decide the location that would be safest to dig and this was the location that we concluded was proper. How could anyone else have known that information, especially 30 years ago?”

As Kitty spoke she got a procession of eye rolls.