Arc II, Chapter 11: The Librarian

Things rapidly started shutting down. It wasn’t as quick as what usually happened between scenes, but as the NPCs cleared out, it was evident that new players were not supposed to stick around.

“Just another day in Carousel,” Rhonda Moore said to us as she saw us standing there. “It’s always something, but that’s why I love the job. The hotel we booked for you is a bit of a walk from here. You should probably ask someone with a flashlight to show you the way. Or you can wait for me and I can do it. We’re friendly around here. Don’t you fret.”

She then walked away toward a booth in the distance.

“Surely Carousel isn’t thirty years older than everyone thinks,” Antoine said.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Did anyone else notice the Mayor’s plot armor just went to 50 when he opened that capsule?” Bobby asked.

We all did.

“I guess that… doesn’t happen a lot?” Isaac asked. He was trying to stay calm.

I shook my head.

“I wish we could at least have seen what was in the capsule,” Antoine said.

I agreed.

“Whatever it was,” I said, “Carousel went out of its way to make sure we were paying attention to that event. It has to be meaningful. It could go in a few different directions. We need to know more.”

In the meantime, we needed to choose a guide to get us to our next destination.

Rhonda had used one of her Team Leader tropes to help ensure we stayed calm. It probably would have worked better on a group of new players who didn’t know Carousel’s true nature yet. For me, I couldn’t fight the potent cocktail of dread and excitement that bubbling up in the pit of my stomach.

Before us, were five people with flashlights, all Paragons, all doing their own thing.

Tar Bellows was examining the lock he had cut off the capsule as if looking for clues.

Rhonda Moore was directing some other NPCs at one of the booths.

Kitty Lincoln was furiously writing notes on a notepad.

Constance Barlow was talking to one of the other librarians.

Police Chief Willis was shining his flashlight down into the hole under the tarp.

We had to choose.

“We get to choose our own Paragon,” I said. “Any favorites?”

“What happens next?” Cassie asked. She was freaking out. I couldn’t blamer her. She twisted the many rings on her fingers nervously.

The answer was a mystery, and yet, my friends and I all agreed. We were about to do a storyline. We had no doubt. The slow, safe Carousel could only last so long.

“Either we’re already in a storyline and can’t tell,” I said, vocalizing a suspicion I had since we were picked up by the carriage, “Or we’re about to be.”

We knew the part of the Throughline, referred to as the Tutorial by previous players, had storylines in it. Confused, unhelpful storylines (at that time), but storylines nonetheless.

“Which one do we choose?” Kimberly asked.

The choices were diverse.

“Tar and the Chief are likely to help with fighting. Maybe even Rhonda, she is a Final Girl, after all,” I said.

“You’re assuming they’re going to help us?” Dina asked.

“He’s probably right,” Bobby said. “Why else give us a choice?”

Dina shrugged.

“Constance is probably Insight or planning. Kitty is definitely a Hysteric of some kind so… she would do whatever a Hysteric does. Rhonda, again, would help with team synergy,” I said.

“Well,” Antoine said, “Normally new players would be making this choice, so it can’t matter too much when it comes to surviving.”

A valid point.

“So,” he continued, “We should go with the person that can tell us the most about Carousel. Like the Carousel Historian.”

No one had better ideas.

Kimberly walked to Constance and asked her to guide the way. I saw her nod. As she did, the other Paragons all dispersed, one by one. They hadn’t been picked.

“She has to shut down the library’s booth and then she can help us,” Kimberly said when she returned.

Constance went to wherever her booth was and within a few minutes, the rest of town square had cleared out.

The anticipation was killing me.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

We waited alone in town square, until suddenly, we weren’t alone at all.

“Strange happenings, wouldn’t you say?” someone behind us said.

We turned to see the Stranger.

“It’s you again,” Antoine said.

“It is,” he said. “I’d give you some cryptic hints about what’s to come, but I suspect you aren’t as clueless as you’re supposed to be. Normally I would try to keep my distance. Avoid scaring players away—”

“Players?” I asked. We had never been referred to as players by Paragons.