The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG

Chapter Ninety-Two: Young Love

The party was in full swing, and I don't just mean the party phase of the plot cycle. People were dancing and laughing. They shared wine, champagne, and conversation.

Everyone I could see was wearing a mask, and because of that, I couldn't tell the enemies from the NPCs; unless I tried hard enough, I sometimes lost track of my team.

When we entered, Antoine, Kimberly, and I stayed, hovering near Grace. It was strange. We were getting used to entering into dangerous situations, but social situations could be the most confusing and intimidating.

One misspoken word could out us as imposters. Would that mean that we just lost? Was it possible to lose before First Blood?

Mary Lee Parrish didn't take long to catch sight of Grace. I thought that was strange, given the fact that Grace was wearing a mask. I wasn't sure what the rules were for the masks, but I had assumed that they would prevent us from being identified.

“Ms. Emerald? Ms. Emerald, is that you?” Mary Lee asked. “These damned masks make it so difficult to recognize anyone. I understand the need for secrecy, but this is just impractical. Come here, darling, it’s been so long since I’ve been up and walking around.”

Mary Lee came forward and gave Grace a hug and a quick peck on both cheeks.

When I looked at her on the red wallpaper, all I saw was the name, Ms. Opaline. Grace could see through that, perhaps because of her high stats, perhaps because Mary Lee Parrish was only brought to into the story because of the effects of Grace's trope.

Still, the fact that Mary Lee had mentioned the obfuscating nature of the masks (despite the masks not really covering anyone's face all that much) suggested that their power was not meta--that it was not the product of a trope. That would explain why I had not seen anything about the masks’ power on the red wallpaper with Trope Master.

It was magic. In-universe magic. How else would an NPC be mentioning it On-Screen?

That meant one thing: we were dealing with some kind of sorcery.

“Emerald, do you remember Mr. Chromatic?” Mary Lee asked in a tone that was both hushed, but somehow very loud.

“I apologize. Memory doesn’t serve. Care to remind me?” Grace asked.

“Mr. Chromatic! You remember him. You hit it off with him at the last society function. Tall man. Dreamy eyes. Wore the mask that looked like a mirror?”

“Mr. Chromatic!” Grace exclaimed. “How could I forget?”

“Well,” Mary Lee said, “He got in an accident skiing last month. His body was wrecked. What a waste. He should be around here somewhere. He isn’t quite as... captivating… in his current state.”

She started to laugh.

Grace joined in. Apparently, what Mary Lee said was some kind of joke.

Mary Lee and Grace continued to talk. The conversation revolved around things that had happened at previous parties.

Grace (Ms. Emerald) had gotten tipsy and eaten over a dozen shrimp cocktails. (“I had to carry you back to your limousine!”). Mary Lee (Ms. Opaline) had a wardrobe malfunction. (“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? That waiter fell in love though, didn't he?”).

And so on and so forth.

I moved away from the conversation and whispered to Antoine and Kimberly, “You notice none of their old stories take place outside of this building?”

“She hasn’t said Grace’s name even once,” Kimberly added.

“The masks,” I said. “Mary Lee knows the person who usually wears that mask. She can’t tell that Grace isn’t her.”

“Magic?” Antoine asked.

I nodded. “That or a head injury.”

“Why can we recognize each other?” Kimberly asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

There were a few possibilities. We would have to work through them.

As we spoke, Chris came over and said, “My Gut Instinct ability is all over the place. Stay on your toes.”

As if we were relaxing.

“You two need to go exploring while we still have time in the Party Phase,” Chris said to Antoine and Kimberly. “I’m not sure what Film Buffs do, but go do that. If you find important information, get it back to Grace.”

He had a point. Kimberly’s Get A Room trope was exceedingly useful, but they couldn’t exactly use it with me around. I was a bit of a third wheel.

~~~

Chris found his way across the party, soon chatting up a beautiful woman who showed up on the red wallpaper as Miss Forget-Me-Not. Her mask looked just like the flower.

Deciding to try and be useful, I looked at what Location Scout was telling me about the mansion. The answer was: not much. Location Scout was Savvy based, which meant that our enemy in this storyline must have a high Savvy and was all but canceling out my ability. I could see the ballroom as a filming location. There was an aquarium room, apparently. There were a myriad of rooms in the basement that were filming locations, but I couldn't see their proper names. I could also tell that over a dozen rooms were simply labeled guest bedrooms, but they were grouped together on the list, so they must not have been that important.

That was it.

I was going to feel pretty stupid when the only piece of information I could bring back to Grace to help her solve whatever mystery was afoot was that there was an aquarium. Unless a fish was the killer, that probably wasn't going to be very useful.

As I stood there pretending to sip on a glass of champagne, someone across the room called out, “Mr. Gray Amber!”

It was a portly fellow wearing a yellow mask going by the name of Mr. Buttercup. He made a poor choice when he chose his mask.

I waved back, and Mr. Buttercup didn't bother coming to talk to me. I breathed a sigh of relief.

As I walked around the party, listening to the classical music played live by a group of masked musicians, more people waved to me, and some greeted me with my fake name.

“Mr. Gray Amber, nice seeing you!” One gentleman said, “I was beginning to think that you had forgotten about us in the hustle and bustle of that merger you're going through.”

“Never,” I said.

“Mr. Gray Amber,” a woman named Ms. Iris said, as I passed by. I greeted her in kind.

After I had made another round around the room, I started to regret that I had not received any tropes that were useful in social situations. I didn’t have any tropes that could help gain information from the NPCs, but I did have some Moxie, meaning I could just talk to them. The thought of it made my head swirl.

Note to self: get an exploration trope so that you don’t have to talk to people.

I was much more useful exploring with Oblivious Bystander. I couldn't use my sunglasses and put up my hood because I was wearing a tux, but the mask was bulky, so it might prevent someone to the side from catching my eye line.

I did have my cassette player. I would need to look around and see if it was the right era for that technology to exist. So far, the most technologically advanced thing I had seen since starting the storyline had been the limousine itself, but that wasn't useful. I needed to look in the rooms around the ballroom for a television or a computer or some sign that using my Walkman wouldn't be breaking character.

I eyed the exits. As I did, I saw Kimberly and Antoine sneaking off. I silently wished them luck on their exploration. And then I realized how funny it was out of context to wish them luck as they snuck out of the party for some alone time.

On-Screen.

“What has you smiling?” A woman's voice sounded from beside me.

I was not happy to go On-Screen. I was counting on being out of sight for most of the movie.

I turned to see a woman called Mrs. Cloudburst. She was an attractive woman with long brown hair. She wore a dark gray and dark blue mask with an array of raindrop-shaped beads hanging from it.

“Young love,” I said honestly.

“It is the best, isn't it?”

“That's what I've heard.”

“You know it's not too late now,” Mrs. Cloudburst said. “We are as young as the night. Call me Ms. Cloudburst.”

“Hello, Mrs. Cloudburst. They call me Mr. Gray Amber.”

“It’s Ms., not Mrs.,” Mrs. Cloudburst said with a coy smile. “Have you ever been to the western tower?”

Western tower? She must have been referring to the spires on top of the mansion.

“Can’t say I have,” I said. “I was thinking of taking a walk to try and get acquainted with the place. I always like to do a little exploring in places like this.”

“Exploring by yourself is no fun,” she said with a smile.

I shrugged. “But it’s easier to not get caught.”

Mrs. Cloudburst let out a hardy laugh. “We’ll just have to risk it,” she said as she grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward an exit.

At that moment, I realized she had a very different idea of what we were talking about than I did. I noticed another pair of party guests—neither that I recognized—were leaving the ballroom together. That was what kind of place this was. No wonder there were so many guest rooms.

Still, with Kimberly using Looks Don’t Last, I was unlikely to be in danger. That was another benefit of having a trope like that in play. It freed players up to take risks. I didn’t need Oblivious Bystander if I had an NPC with me as a cover story. Once I got my bearings, I could sneak away and do some real investigating.

~~~

Mrs. Cloudburst gave me quite the tour of the mansion. The place looked like a clue board come to life. I was surprised that we needed to take a detective into this story to make it a mystery. There was a conservatory and a gentlemen’s parlor, a library with a study, and much much more. There were trinkets and curios covering every square inch of available space. If we were to loot this place after we finished the storyline, we would make a fortune selling our haul at shops around town.

“Look,” Mrs. Cloudburst said, pointing to an open door we passed on the third floor, “They have an old-fashioned sleeping porch. I love houses with sleeping porches.”

As we walked, my Location Scout ability started to fill up with new locations. Maybe talking to people wasn't so bad.

Eventually, she took me over to a large bookcase on the first floor and pulled on one of the books, and the cabinet swung open to reveal a winding staircase. As it opened, Mrs. Cloudburst ushered me forward toward the stairs. I started to get nervous. Being out in the open with her was one thing, but in a secluded area, things could get rough.

“Hurry,” she said. She pointed to a large wooden door that was reinforced with large strips of iron. “We aren’t supposed to use this, and the entrance to the wine cellar is right there. Do you want us to get caught?”

“No,” I said. The wine cellar must have been pretty high-traffic.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me up the staircase, giggling like a schoolgirl. The bookcase closed behind us. We made it to the top to find a small door. She looked over at me and opened it.

Inside, I saw a room with a few implements of furniture, a small bathroom, and a large bed. There were windows on all four sides of the room, one labeled with each of the cardinal directions.

She pulled me into the room with a smile and shut the door.

Off-Screen.

Suddenly, her behavior changed. She let go of my arm and walked over to the window labeled with a large, “S.”

She gestured for me to follow.

As I did, I saw what she was looking at. The storm.

In the distance, a large, black storm hovered over the area that must have contained Carousel.

The storyline had just managed to make me forget about Anna and Camden.

Mrs. Cloudburst looked concerned. That puzzled me. I thought NPCs knew everything that was going on.

I was Off-Screen. No way I could break character.

“The Apocalypse?” I asked.

She looked at me and paused, thinking of the right words.

“Don’t worry, it won’t make it past the mountains.” She said the line like she was telling me, but her facial expressions made it look like she was asking.

“No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

She nodded her head.

“You’ve never seen this one before?”

She shook her head and looked back out the window. The expression of worry never left her face.

Some of the veterans insisted that NPCs were not real. I wasn't sure. Here I was in a room with a woman who had, to the best of my understanding, pretended to seduce me so that she could ask me whether she was safe or not. Just like all the NPCs who had been forced by the script to stand and watch as the black snow approached, she was afraid of what the apocalypse would mean for her.

The funny thing was, I didn't actually know if she was a standard NPC or an enemy. She might try to kill me in a few hours.

There appeared to be limits to what different NPCs were told in their scripts.

"Some people close to me got trapped in it," I said. The words caught in my throat, and I had to keep myself from crying.

Mrs. Cloudburst reached out and gave me a hug.

She started to mess with her hair, and she unbuttoned one of the buttons on her dress. She went back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to hastily apply a new layer of lipstick.

Afterward, she returned to me and loosened my bow tie just a bit so that it wasn't perfectly straight, and she pulled up on my undershirt so it wasn't tucked in just right. Then she ruffled my hair.

She was getting us ready for the next scene. We needed to come out of the tower looking like we had just fooled around.

“Cristobal’s speech should be soon. You know he would hate for us to miss it, don’t you, Mr. Gray Amber?”

I didn’t know anything, but the character my character was pretending to be would.

“Of course,” I said.

“We had better not miss it,” she said, as she kissed the collar of my white undershirt, decorating it with a red lip-shaped stain.