Welcome to Gaia! ::

The door swings open, inviting you in to a sudden cacophony. There is a constant mechanical clicking, clacking, and ticking in this chamber, loud enough to require raised voices. The sound reverberates through the room, making the floor vibrate underfoot - though the fact that the floor is carpeted in luxuriously thick white shag somewhat mitigates the effect. A few brightly-colored beanbag chairs are also laying around at random, perfect for a good hard flop.

Still, the source of the noise is clear: a massive array of gears stands before you like a wall, cutting the room in half. The gears seem to fill up every inch of vertical space. Weirdly enough, the gears are painted in violently bright, neon colors. They bear strange sigils on them. Flowers, some kind of weird crows-foot thingie, garish yellow smiling faces... what the hell do they mean, anyway? They're kind of disorienting to look at if you stare too long.

As you approach, a bit of floor clicks under someone's foot. The gears at the center of the wall shift down and reconfigure with a sharp metallic grinding sound - and there is a gap visible between them, one any student could fit through without difficulty. Unfortunately, due to the spinning gears, the gap is only open for a few seconds every cycle...

The teeth of the gears grind together within easy reach. They look unpleasant, and stained at the edges with the blood of the unfortunate. Said blood has also stained the shag carpet nearest the gearwall. Lovely!




The other half of the room contains the same soft, fluffy shag carpet and brightly-colored beanbag chairs. The other wall is dominated by a pair of doors standing side-by-side. At least, you think they might be doors? They're covered by long strands of beads that sway in a faint breeze.

It looks like there's two guys standing by each door. They have long, shaggy hair and are wearing bright tye-dye shirts - but, on second thought, you realize their heads are actually literal clock faces, though there are no numbers on the dials. Underneath the colorful clothing, they seem to have otherwise humanoid bodies constructed of clockwork. The gears of their bodies interlock into still more gears that line the doorways - it seems the statues are part of the door-opening mechanism.

Upon seeing the complete group (as they are far too chill to be bothered by incomplete gatherings), the statues speak in unison, their voices chiming like bells: “We are the guardians of the way onward, dudes.”

They fall silent, and the clock-hands on their faces whir expectantly. Then the one on the left speaks, “Both of these doors lead somewhere.”

“But it all depends on what you’re looking for,” the statue on the right chimes in, “If it is the way forward -”

“Oh! I know that one!” The one on the left interrupts. “It’s behind my door!”

The one on the right twitches one arm in a disapproving gesture. “No, it isn’t. You just want them to go through your door for your own amusement.”

“I am not!” The left statue retorts, “I’m only trying to help! You’re the one who is insisting on confusing them!” The statue turns towards the group. “Whoa, dudes! Why don’t you guys pick?”

“It is your decision, after all,” the right statue adds with a bright, bell-like chime. “Though you may wish to discuss it amongst yourselves; you must agree on one door, and must go through that door and only that door.”

“And we can’t tell you what’s behind the doors, either,” the statue on the left adds. “So don’t get any ideas, dudes! Just let us know which door you pick. And you can’t ask us any questions, either.”

The right statue says nothing, and observes the group expectantly... inasmuch as a thing with a clock for a head can observe, at least.