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Our site takes places in an original universe set within the realm of Shin Megami Tensei's "Persona" video game series. We are an English-literate roleplay that emphasizes detailed, story-driven character development with a pseudo-statistical format that seeks to emulate the experience of playing the games. Form bonds with characters and roleplayers alike in an interactive Persona experience unlike any other.
Events
PROLOGUE: The site is now open under beta circumstances. What
you are viewing is a fully playable version of the site that will
evolve and release more content as you role-play. Please, enjoy
this project as much as we have had making it.
- The Velvet Room Staff
A PLACE BETWEEN DREAMS AND REALITY, MIND AND MATTER
Deep within the furthest reaches of the unconscious mind, a faint blue light glimmers like crystal before a candle. To gaze at this point is an instinctive reflex, a yearning to drive away the cold embrace of nothingness. Reaching for this twinkle in the void, however, produces a sensation comparable to falling through the air without a working parachute. It takes less than an instant for the azure speck to transmogrify into a whirling tunnel of blue and white, the 'falling' now closer to 'dragging', until every possible sense that could be imagined falls awash with numbing warmth.
The soft melody of a piano creeps its way into earshot. Following this is a return of vision, which is greeted by an abundance of stunning blues in varying shades and hues. Smell is the next to return, and it is greeted by the distinctive odor of poppy flowers. The exquisite choice in decorum suggested this place to be a smoking lounge, perhaps even a private drawing room, and the presence of a minibar stocked to its brim with a collection of reserves seemed to betray its inescapably surreal atmosphere.
Of course, this was not the true elephant in the room. Rather fittingly, and not without a hint of irony, that privilege belonged to the mysterious fellow with the long and pointy nose, who just so happened to be sitting squarely across the person that now existed as an occupant of this strange blue space. Sitting next to the bug-eyed gentleman in the black suit was a tall and handsome man with dull cobalt hair and pale xanthous eyes, wearing what appeared to be a stylish Inverness cape, whose stoic porcelain features painted a sharp contrast to the other person's seemingly crazed smirk and fixed stare.
"Welcome—" Speaks the old man at last, addressing his new visitor in a prolonged manner, "—to the Velvet Room."
A crude mechanic with a bad attitude, seeking to triumph at life. Un-charismatic and rude, he rubs people the wrong way no matter his actual intentions. A hardworker with a lot of passions, most of them of the nerd kind.
Post by Theodore Connelly on Oct 18, 2018 21:40:40 GMT -6
[attr=class,topreading]Was that... Classic Music? Urgh. Was the old lady playing her cassettes? The young man's eyes snapped open wide, jumping from slumbering to fully awake immediately. Never one to let himself remain in bed once awake, he found himself in very... unfamiliar circumstances.
For one, he was not awakening on the old lady's couch- hell, he wasn't even laying on it as he usually would- he was sitting in a slump on a surprisingly comfy seat. For another, there was a god awfully ugly man standing straight across from him, staring him in the eye with nightmarish bug eyes.
Theodore was the kind of person who could never remember with any semblance of clarity what his dreams were all about. Rarely would he have moments of lucidity while asleep, and he hardly had any care for what went on in his subconscious when he was resting.
So you've got to understand- as his senses settled into his surroundings and began to become aware of the details around him, he was perfectly lucid- and thus, clearly not dreaming, right? So... had he been kidnapped?
"... The hell is going on here?" He uttered in a none too friendly fashion as he looked around, before narrowing his eyes at the bug eyed man, who had just addressed him. The velvet room...?
Oh hey- he still had his sunglasses on. Not just that, he had all of his regular street clothes on. Weird- he remembered going to sleep in his underwear. What kind of kidnapper bothered to dress up their kidnapee...?
"No, really, what the hell is this?" He addressed the bug eyed man, giving another look to the place and getting rather distressed at the very noticeable lack of doors and otherwise known exits in place. "The hell is 'the velvet room'? Why did you dress me back up?" No really, why? That was weird- and sorta creepy.
A PLACE BETWEEN DREAMS AND REALITY, MIND AND MATTER
"This is a place between dreams and reality, mind and matter." The creepy old man's response to the glowering young man that sat parallel to him is both fluid and timely, as if this single line of dialogue was intentionally scripted to occur in the event such a question be posed to the former. He then giggles softly, feeling humored by the visitor's confusion.
"Your suspicion is certainly understandable, but it is not necessary here. Rest assured, you are safely asleep right now, drifting aimlessly in the Sea of Unconsciousness." His answer, while rather vague in and of itself, did seem to confirm the exact opposite of what the other fellow had been speculating all the while: no kidnapping had actually occurred.
But it certainly was rather fascinating to see this particular guest in what his kind would call 'street apparel', since the Velvet Room was a direct reflection of its vistor's soul, and each person assumed a different 'look'. In his case, it seemed to indicate a semblance of modesty or humbleness, the type of person that doesn't embellish appearances. One could even see his tastes in fashion as 'vulgar' — but the bug-eyed troll in the black suit was anything but that. After all, he was required to carry himself with some manner of professionalism.
"Please, allow me to introduce ourselves," he continues onward in that strange, hypnotic tone of voice as his face tips forward into a mild bow, the full length of his beak-like nose now visible for the glasses-wearing gentleman to see. "My name is Igor, and this is my Assistant, Virgil. It is truly a wonderful delight to make your acquaintance." Igor leers at the brusque fellow with that unblinking million-yard stare, grinning madly like the skeletal-looking figure he was.
A crude mechanic with a bad attitude, seeking to triumph at life. Un-charismatic and rude, he rubs people the wrong way no matter his actual intentions. A hardworker with a lot of passions, most of them of the nerd kind.
Post by Theodore Connelly on Oct 23, 2018 16:41:39 GMT -6
[attr=class,topreading]A place... between dreams and reality? The place did seem a tad strange and otherworldly. And it wouldn't have made sense for anyone to kidnap him- he didn't have anything worth taking, was not important to anyone important, and he didn't think he had pissed off anyone who mattered either. Still, this was too weird. The creepy old man's words seemed to imply this wasn't a dream, but something close to it. Which seemed even more unrealistic than just getting kidnapped, worthless a kidnapee as he might have been.
The youth slowly settled into his seat, still somewhat uncomfortable with the whole situation. Even if it were a dream, it was all too strange for him to just accept how things were going on.
Whatever. Might as well get this all over with quick- Theodore's line of thought was abruptly interrupted as the man introduced himself and his assistant before bowing, showing the impressively disturbing length of his nose to go with his bug eyed, terrifying features.
"Uh." He uttered eloquently, before regaining his voice. "Ahem! Theodore." He responded after a cough, blunt as always, leaning back onto the seat as far as he could. "So, uh..." The creepy man thrown a wrench into the youth's brain, the mechanic trying to quickly gather up his thoughts once more.
"You say this ain't a dream. Or a kidnapping. So what do you want with me, then?" There had to be a dozen more interesting people in New York to psychic chat to or whatever the heck this was supposed to be.
A PLACE BETWEEN DREAMS AND REALITY, MIND AND MATTER
Theodore. How fascinating for this young man to share a name with one of his other Attendants, Igor pondered to himself with an almost childlike sense of wonder, mulling over the sheer contrast this fellow portrayed in comparison to his bookish blue bellhop.
"I am here to deliver you a message, young Theodore," Igor announces to him with nothing short of pure candid certitude. "In the coming days, you will be called upon to embark on a journey of profound significance. Will it reveal the depths of your soul and lay it bare for all to see? Or is this a quest meant for your eyes only?" He chortles airily, a stark return to his usual cadence of whimsicality and mystique.
With a sudden click of his slender gloved fingers, a single blue rose manifests from a hole in space that Igor almost deliberately wanted to imply was his sleeve, but a detail he opts to omit in favor of theatrical flair with a twist of his hand, causing the petals to burst forth as though the flower itself had been seeded with a cherry bomb.
Then, right before Theodore's very eyes, each individual petal from the once-whole rose blossom flitted and danced their way back to the circular table, not as rose petals, but as a series of Tarot cards embossed with gold leaf and metallic blue foil, all of which happened to fall to the table's surface face-down—all save one: a human figure triumphantly astride a single chariot drawn by two sphinxes, one black and one white, each representing clashing forces made to impel the driver forward; an assertion of hard control for the sake of conquest and victory.
"Tell me something, my boy. Do you believe in fate?" Igor asks, genuinely interested in Theodore's response, even though it was entirely redundant in the grand scheme of things. Concepts such as destiny and chance were subjective experiences for all parties involved, at far as the human race was concerned.
A crude mechanic with a bad attitude, seeking to triumph at life. Un-charismatic and rude, he rubs people the wrong way no matter his actual intentions. A hardworker with a lot of passions, most of them of the nerd kind.
Post by Theodore Connelly on Oct 27, 2018 13:22:14 GMT -6
[attr=class,topreading]A message. "Ominous." Replied the youth with a flat look on his face. That sounded like something out of an organized crime movie. Was the bug eyed man trying to make him think of the whole kidnapping situation again?
The message had nothing to do with such things however- no, it had to do with grade A cryptic bullshit. Theodore groaned, his head slapping against the cushion behind him.
"The heck does that even mean?" Theodore had no intentions of leaving New York anytime soon. Was he being Metaphorical? He didn't have time for any self-discovery, he had work to do, cash to make, comic books to buy...
"Uh... Probably only my eyes." He said flatly, well aware of his less than stellar social life. Not that he cared! As stated before, he had shit to do- there was no time to listen to other people bitch and whine about their problems.
The youth startled as the bug eyed man suddenly produced a blue rose from his sleeve. It was all too smooth for it to have been bunched up under his tailored sleeve... "How the f- Oh right. Dreamscape." Or at least, he assumed that's how it worked. The youth glanced down at the sleeves of his jacket for a moment, squinting at them before flicking his wrist.
Jackshit happened. He stared blankly at his hand for a moment, before growing beet red as his gaze turned back to the bug eyed man. "Uh... just... flexing my wrist a bit." He justified lamely, before flinching as the rose in Igor's hand popped soundly, sending petals flying all over the table across from him.
He had to blink twice to confirm what he was seeing as each and every petal began to settle into the table, now shaped as cards instead of foliage. All save for one.
A moment of awkward silence followed as the youth stared at the card- he didn't know anything about Tarots. The number, the image, the whole thing didn't really mean much to him. He could scarcely even see the supposed chariot, the entire piece looking rather abstract to his uninitiated eyes without at least being told what it was supposed to look like.
Still, he wasn't too dumb. After a few seconds, the youth began to lean forward, reaching over and grasping the card in his hand, assuming the card was meant for him.
"VII- Seven? Tch." He mumbled, frowning a bit. He would have much preferred a one. He glanced up at the long nosed man upon his question, brows furrowing as he huffed.
A PLACE BETWEEN DREAMS AND REALITY, MIND AND MATTER
Like so many others that Igor has had the privilege of hosting for, Theodore expresses bewilderment for the spectacle that unfolds before him, with The Chariot sitting face-up as if it were there to establish a point — one that seemed to affirm the young man's rather broad views of destiny.
"Perhaps you are correct to place your trust in such a belief," Igor speculates aloud, leaving it open to interpretation whether or not he was being rhetorical, before continuing without missing a beat, "We are, after all, the sum total of our actions and the resulting consequences that such decisions bring about. The future must be seized with passion!" Bloodshot pupils zero in on Theodore, sunglasses be damned. "At least, that is what The Chariot wants to suggest..." Igor chuckles, before adjusting his crooked posture to assert more of a relaxed presence.
"Young man, I sense a great potential dwelling within you, waiting to be unleashed," he expresses in his usual feverish delight, continually fiddling his fingers into one another like the evil-looking henchman he seemed to be tasked with representing himself as being. "Will the coming trial awaken you to your true self? Or will the future be forever lost, like dust in the wind?" As Igor says this, the piles of cards scattered about the Velvet Room disperse into a shower of luminescent sapphire flecks, almost as if to punctuate an element of theatricality into his rhetoric.
Virgil, on the other hand, continues to maintain his strangely porcelain visage with truly stunning aplomb, going so far as to prevent even his pencil thin eyebrows from moving too far out of their natural resting alignment.
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The skin was created by TIMELAPSE OF WICKED WONDERLAND and editted by SKYTHE.
