(Highly recommend playing the music while reading) https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/945361293/ first entry /!\ tw mentioned death /!\ You are not dead. You refuse think otherwise. You spend long hours gazing at the Ocean of Death through the rickety window of the shack, watching it swish and swirl dangerously. It roars and whispers, overlapping itself and crawling up the beach. what is my name? who am i? The annoying, echoey voice responds. You are model 037-OU. You are an uncommon working class model. That is your barcode number. It’s plastered upside down onto your shoulder. It’s not your name, but it’s something. Your are model 037-OU. You are not dead. Your brain hurts. The cheap energy from the shack probably wasn’t the best. You’ve figured out how to turn the scrappy radio on. You can hear morphed voices that you can’t quite understand, but feel very familiar. You have come to the conclusion that the mass of vintage structures facing the ocean are a city. A very underdeveloped one, at that, but no less a city. You decide to explore it. On the edge of the dead city, there’s a structure that’s in a similar state to your shack. It has floorboards that are molding on the edges and an overwhelming smell of,, muskyness. There are swirly paintings of death ocean on the wall. Big scribbles are twisted above it. Something very deep stirs in your mind,, 2$9#8@;+: tHE Be$’skd sushmxndmejshnx in in the shgjfjg39$’ error error Translator has been dismantled via protocol 2293. Weird. You continue looking through the shack. There’s a strange energy in the air, an aura of a higher form. The first real sound you can understand suddenly vibrates through the building. I AM XINEA. YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY QUEEN HERE. what? I’m not a queen. There is a glowing thing around the corner. It’s not talking to you. Something pink and blue and white is looking at it. FLASH You are gone. Back outside. Weird. You explore the next building. It’s bigger than the last one. It has soggy floors and long shadows from the approaching darkness. The roof if a black tarp, that doesn’t keep out the wet rain. Bags full of slippery rocks and wet dirt tower high above you. Department Store. As you walk through the long, dark halls, something catches your eye. It’s two eyes, both a watery green. Who are you? The morphed sound comes from you before you can stop it. Eyes blink. I am 008. I am wet and cold. You wonder what a 008 is. 008 steps out from under a bag of dirt, and you watch it step into the watery light of the weak moon. It is hideous. It’s face is distorted and smushed, and it looks like it can barely walk, with drenched, stubby legs. I was an experiment. I failed, says the thing. What was this 008 creature? My barcode is 037-OU. I do not have a name, You tell 008. Everything has a name, 008 says. Not me. You are not sad you don’t have a name. Why is 008? Then we’ll have to find your name, 008 squints it’s morphed eyes. What’s that on your shoulder? You look at it. There. Noleo. Your name is,, noleo? Your name is not noleo. But it is now. Your name is noleo. Then, as quick as 008 was there, it disappears. You stand there, in the wet department store. Your name is Noleo. You are not dead. hint: read 037OU upside down B)
