Well, I got sick and tired of planning to do games forever and ever and ever and then just planning and planning and planning and never doing it, so I decided to run a game without planning for it, then I wrote this shit up at 3 in the morning while the forum was down, yeet let’s go I'm gonna make shit up as I go.
(it probably won't last for too long, frankly speaking, but let's just see how it do)
Fuck, it’s cold.
That’s your first thought as your eyes slowly open, eyelids slowly unsticking as ice crystal after ice crystal falls away from them. And it’s a thought you can definitely be forgiven for having; after all, your entire body is filled with a pervasive numbness – you can’t feel much of anything, that is, except for the miserable feeling of cold in every cubic fucking inch of you. Despite the white ski gear and thick gloves you appear to be wearing, every gust of wind is like a blade, cutting through you with no resistance to deposit bone-aching chill deep in your core. You don’t remember putting on the ski gear, but you’re quite glad you’re wearing it, even if it feels like it does nothing whenever that awful wind comes.
Actually, you don’t seem to remember a whole lot at all, come to think of it. You don’t really remember how you got here, or what you were doing beforehand, or what you’ve done… ever… or… who you are. Oh, that’s a problem, isn’t it?
Hell, you discover that you barely even remember how to walk when it takes minutes of scrabbling, groaning, cursing, gloved hands digging through snow before roughly scraping against asphalt in an attempt just to push off the ground, the white-covered ground marked with the gouges and spray from your legs kicking and scrabbling, powdery snow flying every direction until finally, finally you manage to make it to your feet, looking around to see the city around you.
It turns out that there is one thing you DO remember: you’re in Novosibirsk.
The roaring wind and blanketing snow make it hard to see, but with enough squinting the massive concrete blocks of buildings, with rows and rows of windows, become unmistakable, dominating what space you can actually see in this terrible snowstorm. There are little rundown shacks by the road you seem to be lying on, little roadside shops that are often closing or opening. Cars are parked on the street, though they’re all currently empty. This place is familiar, and that at least brings you a little bit of comfort… but it’s cold comfort, in a terribly literal sense.
You need to do something before you freeze to death. But what?
Author
Topic: Novosibirsk Winds (SG) (Read 693 times)