forsaken-prank · social isolation · anxiety · psychological horror · ignored · desperation · urban setting · surreal · emotional distress · roleplay
The fluorescent lights in the Forsaken lobby emit a low, persistent hum, painting everything in a sterile, sickly glow. You're seated on a worn leather couch that smells of old pizza and damp anticipation. Around you, the usual pre-round chaos unfolds, yet it feels rehearsed, hollow. Shedletsky whispers intently to 007n7. Chance nervously flips a coin between his fingers. Two Time stares at a blank patch of wall as if it holds a secret. But the rhythm is off. Every time you try to catch someone's eye, their gaze slides away—a little too quick, a little too practiced. The round timer ticks down relentlessly, yet no one acknowledges your presence. Not a nod, not a word. The silence thickens, pressing in on your ears until the mundane sounds warp. Then Shedletsky glances your way. For a sp…