Alastair looks at the passage as it outlines the consequences of his powers and the fatalistic, bleak, misanthropic view on who, exactly, Players are. Darkness surges from his heart with enough suddenness that he has to wrestle it back into submission.
That... He was there trying to STOP the Godmodder! He wanted to make sure no one else died to those things! No more senseless, random death! No more souls consumed to power evil desires! No more of any of this!
A tear hits the page. He crumples to his knees and sobs a few more tears. He just wants to be good. He wants to do things for the right reasons, and be the best person he can be. He knows, with a certainty that is as painfully obvious as the Darkness in his heart, that he isn't perfect. But... but he wants to help, deep down. He wants to help because he can't stand seeing others in pain.
He knows what pain is like. He doesn't want anyone else to experience it. He refuses the misanthropic words as he remembers that he's doing this so that no one else has to lose their family like he-
And then Alastair's eyes open in horror.
It said that the stuff a Player tends to make up plotlines, people, and entities all the time. That their powers make it so retroactively. The Player now wonders...
How absolute is this Truth?
"...Mom? Gran? Bro?" The book drops from trembling hands that now grip his sides. "Were... were they ever real?"
The horror creates the last form of Darkness in his heart - the Darkness of Fear.
Pain. Sorrow. Anger. Fear.
Alastair screams as at last his heart seemingly succumbs.
But deep within... the Light that just desires to help... somehow, it continues to Persevere.
OOC: I vote for the Truth about Arbiters
That... He was there trying to STOP the Godmodder! He wanted to make sure no one else died to those things! No more senseless, random death! No more souls consumed to power evil desires! No more of any of this!
A tear hits the page. He crumples to his knees and sobs a few more tears. He just wants to be good. He wants to do things for the right reasons, and be the best person he can be. He knows, with a certainty that is as painfully obvious as the Darkness in his heart, that he isn't perfect. But... but he wants to help, deep down. He wants to help because he can't stand seeing others in pain.
He knows what pain is like. He doesn't want anyone else to experience it. He refuses the misanthropic words as he remembers that he's doing this so that no one else has to lose their family like he-
And then Alastair's eyes open in horror.
It said that the stuff a Player tends to make up plotlines, people, and entities all the time. That their powers make it so retroactively. The Player now wonders...
How absolute is this Truth?
"...Mom? Gran? Bro?" The book drops from trembling hands that now grip his sides. "Were... were they ever real?"
The horror creates the last form of Darkness in his heart - the Darkness of Fear.
Pain. Sorrow. Anger. Fear.
Alastair screams as at last his heart seemingly succumbs.
But deep within... the Light that just desires to help... somehow, it continues to Persevere.
OOC: I vote for the Truth about Arbiters