Welcome to Gaia! ::

gaia_star [ The server room ]: This is a room that has mounds and mounds of computer servers. They are still humming, running, and thriving on the same strange thorns and vines. As you look around, you see strange notes. (Roll 1d6 if you wish to see notes - OPTIONAL - and match your dice roll to the results below. You can roll as much as you'd like!)
1: Day ---

I -- and thought she couldn't get any crazier. I was wrong. --- isn't even herself anymore. I'm pretty sure she --- a long time ago. This would explain everything. I wish I had a simple explanation for why this was happening. Is it too late - were we fooled the entire time?

2: Day ---

It seems half of us are not even real anymore. We're just like ---, memory replacements. It must be easy for something made of Knowledge to fool us. Maybe one day we will all be replaced. This is wrong. This is very wrong.

3. Day ---

I feel the infection burning in me now. I know it wont be long now. Call it madness but it calls to me and I know how very, very wrong I have been. -- is not trying to replace us, it is us. We have simply joined together. I know now and I know it's wrong but maybe this is what I want. I don't even remember my name. Who is the one typing here?

4. Day ---

I woke up, and remembered doing nothing. I guess that is okay. --- calls. Not much time.

5. Day ----

I saw my own body wandering around, lumbering like one of those stupid Infected, and the truth hit me hard. It would have been terrifying had I not already realized it. I'm no longer --- and never will be again. It is too late for a cure. Maybe I should have--

6. Day ----

I̬͈̯͍f̤͖͙̥ ̬͇͉̫͇̲̯ou̜̭͎̼̟ͅr ̪̫̤͇͉i̜̳̲̳̜̹̼n̹t̻̦e̩l̩̠̗̲̮l̠ḛ͎c̬͚̝̼ͅt͕̜u͚̦a̳l ̹̟̘̼̪̯p͔̳͈̺a͖̠ͅr̜̜̺ͅt͎̝̯̰ ̝i͙̤̹̯s͈ ͈̯͖̯͇c͎o̘̫̖̹̬͎͚m̫̹͉͎͇̭ͅm̝̣͍͔o̬n̘̤̺̪̜̱̮,̲͖ t̺̺he͇̘̳̖ ̪r̖̣̫͈͖̺ḙ͍̙̙̯̝͖a̻̣̣̩̙̜s͈͇̺͕o̯̖̼̺͎̖̻n̰ ̰̞̹͕a̙̙̟l͔͕s̗̭̖̬̜̗o̭̘̣̰̣̮,̙̼̩̹̲̼̰ ̤in̳ r̟͍̺͓e̦̫͈͎̝s̥̘̻p͇̣e̙c̠̠͉̝̟t͍̯͇̳̗͇ ̬o̪̦͕f̣̘̣̪͙̹ͅ w̼̗̞̙͇͕͔h̻̳̠̩i͈ch ̙̻̝w̪̰e̟̹̥̥͎̟̬ ̫a̖̝̭r̺͎ͅe̹ ̲̰̳͔͇͍̬r͓̞͓̗͓a̦̼͉͕t̤̹͙̤̘i̖o͎͕n͕̣͓̥̣a̭̲͈l ̟̱̻̱b̹e͔͕͈̺̤i̘̥̖̠ng̗s͕̮̥,̼͓͓̬͈ ̳̬͕ͅis ͓̩͉̮c͖̠͓̜̣̫o̬̰̙̘͚̱̼m̩͉͎̝̹̙͍ṃ͎̫oṉ:̥̦̰̖̩͔͍ ̰̭̞͓̺̩̺i̭̬͓̮f ͇͖̖̳̪ͅt͍̖h͔̳̺̣i͚ș͙̻̺ ̖̗̙͇̱i̙̮͎s̞͉͚͎̱ ̣s͇̗o͇͓̮̗̘̣͖,̤̱̣̱͈͍̤ ̤c͔͉o̭̺̼̟̙̠mm̹͇̪̝͓ͅo͖̩̠̝n͎ ͍a̤̘̘̻l̫̹s̰̠ọ̯̬ ͙i̺̼̭̙͎̟s̗͈͓̞̺ ̼̝̫ṯ̼͚͔͎h̖̩̱e̦̤͙̹͔̮͙ ̻re̪̻̫̭̭͉̙a͔̼s̼̩̫̣̗o͈n̦̝̮̤̙̜ ͈ͅw̘̠̙̪̩̺ẖ̠i̠c̮̥̳̗̟͕̤h͚̺̣̭ ͓͉̮c̖̥̜̲̹o̞͚̼̗͚m͓͔m̘͍̭̗̮a̗̱n̲͔d̯̩s̥̻̦ͅ ̘u̠̣̜͕̥s̲̬̲̙̞̥ ̖̫̙͈̳̫w̱͔h̫̥̮͙a͖͕t̤͇̝̙̬̖͓ ̱͚͕͓ț̹̠̙̹ͅͅo͕͕ ̣̭͓d͔̼̲ͅo̼̬͔͈̘̲ͅ,̬̰ ͕͇̗̝͔a̰̙̱̬ṉ͕̰̠d͈̦ ͍̮͕̟̙w̞̱̦̯͈̯h͍̰̫̼a̺̣͇t̥̩̜̠͙ ̖͙̞̩̣̮̬n̫̤͖̟̟̼̣o̘̠t͕̻̖̗̝ t̩͇o̝̠̩̖̠̣ ̭̳d͈̹̜͖͉̣o̩͉̳̺̤;̳̝͍̱ͅ i̠͈̜͖f̝̱̣ͅ ͎̘t̻h̲͎i̭̼͕s̬ ͍̝̣̦̪̻is͉̹̥͚̳̙̼ ̥͙̖̦̺͔s͉̝̥o̭͉̲̯̻̯,ͅ ͎̥̰̺͙͎̙ṯ̩̠͚͇h̻̞̞͈̺̙e̬̮r̗̣͔͇̹̜̭e̜͉̝ ̞is͚ ̣a̜̝̲ͅ ̹͍̺c̹͍o̼̦͎m͖̼̤m̘͓͕̯̯͔o̼̥̱͎n̯ ̠̝̜̩̘̞l̳a̻̖̝͙̰̞ͅw̫̗͍̬͇͈̟ ̥a̯̱̜̼̺l̳̫s͓̭o͍͎;͎͎̤͇̻͉ ̝i͖̲͇̦f ̻̝̹͉̥t̗͉̜hi̻̲̤̖̞s͕̱̪ i̭s̼͇̬̯ s̜̜͔̮̖̫o̬̪̻,̦̬͇ ͎̱͕͍͔w̟̥͔͓̻͇͕e̲̬̹͚̞͍ ̻̘̲̫͔a͉̲r̖͔͉̥̝̖e̪̞̣̲̱̣̭ ͇͕͓̬̞fe̬̰͎̣l͔͉̣̪̣͍l͍̠̗͍̤̳ͅow̦̣͕-̻̗͖̖ͅci̮̦̘t̪͕̮̼i̤̰̥̜̫̞z̩̲̝̬̼̻ḙ͍̹̺ͅn̥̳̮̰͇͎s̘;̖ ̟͎̠̤i̖͉͉͙̫f͕̟̤ ̻̥̫t̻͇̤̻͍h̫͓̦̭͕͍̣i͚͔s͕͓̫̞̙̣ ̪̝͍̮̮̤i̺̘̺̲̼̘͇ș͍͇̩ ̥̳̟̟̭s̫̳͉̹o̝̝,̮̟̱̥̖͔̤ ̲̭w͖̠̤̝ḙ̬̭̭ ̤̲̩̦̻̰̰a͉͙͎͖̖͔ͅre̙̯̘̗̙̖ ̱͕m̭̲̬̟̳e̩̹̟m̖͎͎͎b̹̲er̭̜̘̫̙s͓͔̖ ̝͙̳̘͈o̻͍̦͔f̭ ̘͖̳̬̗̠s͓̟̰̻͎͙o̙͎m͖̲̹̙̜̥e͎̲͍̠̪̼ ̠̮͙͉̺̙̱po͈͙̲l͖̺̪i̟̞t͉̬̗̜i̯̠̟͓̳̻̝c̲a̭l͍͉̠͕͖̣ ̺̲ͅco͇͓̳̪͇̯m̼̣̯̻mun̙̰i̯t̝͍͖͉̯y͈͙͎̹ͅ;̼̹͖ͅ ͕i̫̱͔̹f ͇͙̭͉͍t̙̱̦̟h̦̞̠̗ͅͅi̹s͎̩̺ ̫̦̭̬̟i̪̲̞͍s̹͇͚ ͈̦̲so̬,̫͖̺ ͚̫̘̯̞t͖̝͖͇h̬̰e̩ ̫̱͍͍̥w̗͉͖̱̩̮͓o̬̟̹͍͉r͚̖l̗d̲ ͓̝̜͕̳is̝̝͕ ̭̖i̗n̪ ͕a̤̺͉̜̝͓͈ ̬m̮͎͍̹̭̦a̯͚̤̰͔̻n͓̭̯̼n͚̘̩̪̗̝͙e͇̠̟̼r̗̦͕͉ a̟͖̹̜̯ͅ ̭͕̬͓s̤͇̺̲̼̬t͉̠͖̖̩a̟̯̬̠̱t̘̖e.̤̦̥̯̰̥̜ ̬̥̮͕͔̰̘F̜̲̖͖̲o̞r ͙̗̥͍ͅof̼̲̮̠̠̪̳ ͕̼͇w͎̱h̥̱̙͔̠̻a̱̳͎̗ṯ ̼̜̯̖̜o̝͖͇̻t̗̣h̤̭̟͍̬̜ͅe̥̗̳͍̭̯r͖̬͖͈ c̩͔͖o̜̭̺͖m̯̳̭̜̥m̙̠o̝̻̤ṇ ̫̦̻̞͉̥̥po̦l̻̭͔̣͔̠i͓͚̻̤͚̮̳t̹̼̻͎̹ͅic͈̙̯̟̠̘a͍̦͉̮̗̩l͙͓̙̗ ̖̖̺̤c̹̼̫̺̻o̘̩̯̰͚̮m̯m͔̥͇u̥͍̫̰n̠͔̠i͇̫̰̖̪tͅy̩̟̭̬̘͖ͅ ̭w̻̝͖̪̠̦i̻̱l̲̜ͅl̖ ͈͔̘̻̭an̙y ͕̖̖̟̼o̺n̳͖̯͕̙̣e͖̦̮͎̟ ̫̮̤̝̤̬͍s̰̻͔͔̺̜͎a̭͎͉̲̞y͓̫͔̻̩͙ ͔̞͇̤͚t̝͎̜̰̮h͚̟̰͇at͎̫͔̟ͅ ͚̦̻̠̰̪̼t̙̺̣̺̳h͉e̖̮͉ ͈̙̞̝̖ͅwh̗̲̱̫o̱l̪͓̲̘̞e̫̞̭̙ ̭̫̙h̜̗̺̹͉̞̱um̦͔͇͔̱̝a̯̼̬̞͈̤͚n͙̦͉̠̙̫ r͇̦̭͚̞a̼̜̩c͙̳̞̲̜̥e̯̣͍̹ ̲ḁr̼̺͇e̼̩͎̯͈͚ ̮̳m̟e̠̬̥͈̪͇̙m̖b͕̹͍͓̝͖̘e̫͚̼rs?̜͓͇͈ ̫͍̭͓̦A͙͇̠̭nd̲̩͎͇ ͚͍͈͓̤̲̜f̟̮̼̠̘̰̙r̪̗̱͓om̫̳͚̗̳͇ ͇̯̪̤̞̟ͅṭ͚̙̜h͔̖̝͉̭̪e͍͔̟̤͎n̩̘̣͉̟c̠͇e͎̰̼,͕̖̫ ̝̗͕̼̬fr̘̪̺̞̟̖o̗͎̪̤̫̤̱m ̜̥̩͉ṭ̺͖̠̙̣̮h̹̩̟͇is̩̗͈ ͙̘̻͈̙c̖o͉͓͇͔̣m̫̙̩m̭̞̦̠oṇ ̣̬͙̬p̲̣o̗l̟̥͈͍̥̼i̦̰̟ṭi͓ca̩̭l͕͕͈ ͈̫̱̤̞c̬̤̼̜͎͉o̤m͔̱̞̦m͔̹̯u̟̪͚͎͉̝n̖͉̦̖̥͕̲i̩t̫̬͉y͓̮͎̣̺̙ͅ ̖c̗om̲̘e͚̺̞͙s̖̯͉ ̩̦a̪̟̠͓̥̣̩l͈̳̩̰s̹̜͓̳̗o͍̝ ̬̮̟̱o͈̙̥͓̩̼̺ụ͇̤̱r̫̗̩̱̪ͅ ̣̹̙̖ve̮̹̻̪͔̞ͅr̳y͔̮̱͕ ̖̼̩̤̰i͙n̻̯̣̪te͈̣̞͔̳ll͉̜̭̝ec̥̰̝̞͓̭t͙͇u͓͈̣͙̟a̭̬l͇̳ ̹͙̳̠̳̞̭f͈a̞ͅc̝͈͓ul̜̥͚͈͔t̼̝̲̬̲y̳͈͕̭ ͙͖̪̱̠̬ͅa̼̬͈̺̫̰n͓͙̖͔d̖̭͇͙ͅ ̲̺̤̳̗̱r̰e̗̟͈̞̤̩a̙̖͕͍̤͍̣s̪ͅo̟̭͉̖͓n̜̠ḭ̠̼̳̤͙̼n͚̝̹̩̙̱̦g͉͖̜͕̟̪̲ ̦̣͕͖̥̰̖f͈͖̩a͍c̘̣̩̜ul͙̻̥ͅt̪̱̠͖̣͚̩y̟͖ ̬̟and̫͎̦̟̟̞̻ ͔̺̭̙̱͙o̮̮̝͚͍̭ͅu̯̥̫͚̯͎ͅr̹̠ ̖͉̞̰c̯͇a̞͙͖̟̯͍p̠a̝̯͙̤̞̙c̦̻̺̝̝i̜͉̗̳͈̟̼ț͉͚y͇̼̮̤̲̻ ̤̦͎̲̠̥̙f̞̰̤or ̯̞͇͈̫l̞̘a̺͔̣̤w;̫̳̠̖ o̙̼r̮̫̩̬͈̝ ͔̻wh̪͈̺̜̟̱e̗͓͕n͕͉c͈͙͓e̠̦̟͈͔ͅ ͕̘d̰o̦̖̤̹ ̬t̫̙̱̩͙h̜e̟͕̻̣̣̹y̹̫̭̠̣̠̹ ̲c̟̣͉̯o͕m͍̠̠̥̭e? Fo͙̣͈̞̹̗r͚̲̟ ̲͖̤̖̠͖͇a͉s̺̠̞̤̖ ̼̬m͉̙̠͔̲̫͕y͓̻̪̩ ͙̦͕̭̰̬̝e̦ar͔͍̼̮͎t̮̬̞̫hl̞͚y̞̟̺ ̦͖̭̘̩̦̦p̰͇͓̘̲͉a̲ͅͅr̰͓̖͖͈͈̥t ̳͈͖͙̥̰͚i͔͔͔͖̠̱s ̰a͓̤̜̲̣̼ ͇͓͓̲͙po̜̫̙͖̳̲r̪̪̙̝̯͔̜t̙̱̮̙̗̪i̪̳͔͇̞̙͍o͍̻͚̪̳̮n̰̮̞͔ ̜̯̮̤g̠͉̦i̖̼̼͔̱v̩͎e͔͇̲̱̳n ͙̹̤͕͉̰ͅt͔͈͉o͕ ̖̦͚̦̣m͍̙̗̩̹͓̫e̮̹͇̣̲ ̮̼̫̜̳f̻̹r̹̯͙om̮͕̲ ͓̯c̘e̙̰̬̝̞r̭͍̗t̪a̮̝̟̥̳͈̱in̟̩̤̖̬̠ ̭͈͖̯̻ea̮̮̯rt̘̖͕̯̞̞͍h̙̙,͙̖̬̥̮ ̣a͍͉͓̳̹n̠̤͈d̪̼̥͉ ̰̬̘̹͎̖th̦̦̹̣a̞̝t ̹̤̟̹̹wh̥͈͈i̼̦͓̪̮c̭͕̤͍͕̥h ̺̹̯̞̗̝i̤͓̳̗̤s̰ ̲͎̘͇͍̻̠w̯a̝̝͍te̳͓̞̰̩̖r̩y͎͕̫̭̜ ̭̞͈̹f̲̣͍̠͈r̞͚͔͙o̬̻͖̖̪͕m̻̦̱͕ͅ ͔͍͇͈͈͉̗a͚̯̘n̲̲̯͖͇o͕̰͔ṭ̝̝̫̪he̤̮̩͙͉͚͕r̻̜ ḛ͉̜l̜̘̗e̳̣m͉̦̝͓̟͉̮en͓t͇̯͉͕, ͈̱ͅͅa͇͚̝̣̫̱̘n̹̖̳̬̣̩ͅd ͈̠̪̘̱t̜h̩͈̼̼̙a͇t̖̜ ̙̻̲̟͔wh̬̖i̻̟̮̖̣͓ch̟̥̲̰͎͕̤ ̠̰̖̺̠̭̰i͉͈s̯ ̞͖h͍͈̱̲̹͔͉o̙t̟̥͚͖̘̞ ̲͍̰̝̻̻a͈͓n͕͓̳̣͚̳d̺̤͈ f̮̗̣̠̦͇͎i̠͚̳̪͍e̞͕̱͍̙r̫̙̬̥̖̫̬y͚̘̰͔̩̜̲ ͍̜f̗̜͈͕̮̻ͅr̝̦̰om̹͉̳̜͚ ̙̞s͈͍̫̙͍o͍̼͈m̮̲͔͙͇e̟̣̩ͅ ̩p̮̮̯ḛ̳͍cu͙̳̙͍̭l̯i̭͇a̱r̟̘ ͇̳̺͚͈so͙͓̪u̬͇̳͖͙͕r̺̣̲̤c̤͉e̦̬̺̞̝̘ ͔̟(͕f̼o̱͕̮r̜̣̙̖̮ ͚͚not͉̩̗h̤̠̳̫͙̤͓i̹͔̫̭n̗͕͉̜̘͕g̜̖͓ ̻̞c͎̮͚o̦̯m̮̰̱̘̜̦e̦̬͕̥̣s͍̻̯ ̱͎o̝̦u͖̬͙t̞̟ ̬̟̱̥͚o̪f͍͉̯̱͙̳ ̞̟̭̩t͉̜̫h̦̝͈̪a̰̝t̬͔̞̬̝ ͖̺̟w̳h͓̗͓i̖̯̬̰̖c̮̠̠h̤ ̜̻̮̮͖̙̩i̟̱͚̟̲s ͈n̩̜̤̮͙̫ͅo̤̖̰̙t̤͙̩͈h͉̥͕͈͚͓i̺n̰̪̼g͉̻͈̟, ̬̝ͅa̮̜̠̪̲̱s̳ ̥̣̳͍͇̠̗n̗o̺̻̳th̳̺i̹̪̝͉̹̣̝n͍͖̤͖̻g̗̱̦̝̠͉ a͎̜̲̫̥͙l̠̟͎so̻̹̪͎ ̳̹̪̦r͙͓̻̹̼̣e͎̱t̲̟̠ụ̪̤̱̮r̬̟͖̘̺̟n̤͔͍̹s̪̯̻̣ ̣̭͈͔to̙̥͚̖ ̙n͎o̤̭̩n̮͍̜̘-͉͈̯̘̹͇͈e̗̭x͎̩̟i͇̘͍̱̪̟s̗̠̣̗̼t̮͙̥̪͙̹e̯̙͓̰̺̝n̝̤̖̞̪̦c̬e̱̲͎͓̲͚̲),̫̰̗͖͓̫͖ ̠̖̯̲̗͖s̺̫͈̭̲͚o̥͍̫͉̬ ̖̰̺̹̯a̤ͅl̤̥̫̙ṣ͉o ͔t͎̠̟̟h͇̟͈e͔̙̮͉̘̱ ̱̪̦̝̖̩i̗̘̪̪n̝̦̥̥̤̠̱t͇̬͔̲̝͍͕e̟l̟͚l͈̻͈̪̻̟̟e͓c̟ṯ̹u̖̪̺̠̹̪a̲l͖̞͉̟̜ ͔̟̬̻̤͕p̱͖̟̪̳a̰̬̪rṭ̭̗̗̯̻͕ c͍̦o̠m͎͎̗͈̤̙e̥̤̥̦̟s̰͈͓̱ ̞̝͇̮f̰̭͓r̳ͅo͚m ͚̰s̩om͖̜e͇͔͉̭̙̗ ̼͚͎̳̦̩͇s̜̻̩̱̟͚͕o͉̖̟͎̤ur̻̮̳̞̪̱c̥͎̯̺̜ḛ̫.̩̘ ̟͍

On second thought, perhaps he should collect the notes. Maybe compare them.

Another note found, the header of this one, labeled it day four. Though, one glance at the sheet of paper and he could tell that there was hardly any information at all, written here.

There it was. The one labeled day two. Perhaps it would offer a little more insight to the situation these notes spoke of.

He picked up gingerly in the vines, looking over the first couple of lines and would have frowned if he could.

Was it speaking of beings like himself? Had this person been caught up in the same situation and if that was the case, were they still here then?

Carefully he searched among the vines, looking for any sign of the white printed paper.

At last, another note was found. Only this one looked more like a blur of ink, rather than a written note.

What the hell had even happened here? If he had thought the previous note was unsettling, this one just sent a chill down his non existent spine.

He could barely make it out. Something about intellect--source? No this was too much. He could barely make it out, much less understand a word of it.

Again he searched through the vines, hoping he had simply missed it the first time, but he found nothing.

Okay, perhaps it was among the computers somewhere..? It had to be here somewhere.