THE FINAL ACT

[stagemanagers]

You've all dispersed into a lot of hidden areas, but you'll come together as a group once more. When you do, you'll find that the theatre doors are open.

For once, things are different inside. There are no podiums in the orchestra pit; instead, the curtain is open and the stage is lit. You'll notice there's a small set of stairs at either end, allowing you easy access up. Ten podiums have been moved onto the bare stage, arranged in a loose semi-circle facing a higher wooden platform. Atop it is a single chair, red-cushioned and gilded like a throne. In the vaguely circular space between the platform and the podiums is absolutely nothing: it's a deep, dark pit. The lighting in here is pretty good, but it still doesn't reach the bottom.

The podiums that once belonged to the dead are gone entirely. The bare lightbulbs that stood in their places, however, are clustered on either side of the stage, like a makeshift audience. They're finally turned off.

As the cast enters and begins to find their places, there's a sound like an invisible orchestra tuning up. Strings and woodwinds run scales in a quiet cacophony that eventually shapes itself into a wordless song. A man in jeans and a plain white T-shirt enters from stage right as they play, singing quietly as if to himself as he ascends the stairs onto the platform and turns out to survey the cast.

Velkommen, bienvenue, welcome...

The Balladeer falls quiet, looking thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head and taking his seat. Once there, he turns his attention to flipping through the papers in his hands. "Well. Let's get started, shall we?"

Comments

[tellthestory]

[Amid all the hope speeches and singing going on, the Balladeer has quietly ascended the stairs again. Now, he's standing near the side of the platform, watching the Leading Player. He feels cold, both from the ghosts and his outfit - he misses his flannel, and wishes he'd thought to ask Hans for his jacket back properly.

He doesn't understand everything she said about him, but he's begun to suspect this is the wrong costume.

Still, he takes a few steps forward, looking over everyone's heads and out into the house.]

They've gotten quiet. [You know who he means.] But they're not gone, or this wouldn't be happening. Are you really sure they want what you think they do?

[guardianofsplendor]

Of course they do. [She's still standing straight and carrying herself with confidence but she looks...more tense than before. Hisses of steam are starting to rise from her fire pit and she shoots the stage crew an angry glance.] Every game has golden ended, why wouldn't they want something new, something with consequences?

[tellthestory]

Killing one of them wouldn't be just consequences. They're the survivors, everyone who committed a murder here's dead already. And if past performances are any indicator, they like redemption stories. They almost drove that one game into the ground, they wanted to show mercy so bad. And look at the Pokemon guy.

...you told me this could be a story about people banding together against adversity. I know now you didn't mean it, but...

[He gestures to all of this.]

[guardianofsplendor]

[The steam continues to rise from the pit while she brushes past Balladeer to pace back and forth across the platform.]

Not like this. Not with secret plotting, the trying to steal my crew and the outside interference! [She stops and loudly snaps her fingers, sending fresh flames suddenly shooting up from the pit.

Her frustration might be showing, just a little.]

[tellthestory]

[He's quick to step out of her way, at least.]

...why did you bring me back like this? What did you think this was gonna be?

[guardianofsplendor]

You- [...why is she wet?]

...If those ghosts weren't already dead I'd kill them myself.

[tellthestory]

[For a moment, the Balladeer looks gobsmacked.]

Uh...that's...not helping, exactly, guys?

[Granted, he doubts this conversation is going to go anywhere good, but making her mad just doesn't seem like it's going to help matters. Seems like it could easily end in fire.

He's still holding Hans's winter coat, having not stopped to put it on. He stares at it for a moment, then holds it out at arms' length.]

[guardianofsplendor]

[...B, what is this. What are you doing.

She stares at him for a long few seconds, then at the coat held out to her but doesn't reach out to take it. She is, for at least the moment, a little confused and speechless.]

[tellthestory]

[.........oh god this is the worst mistake he's ever made, and now he can't take it back, may the earth swallow him up.

the balladeer is frozen in place. this is now a politeness stand-off.]

[trettende]

[ Oh, come on, Bal, it's not that bad. But he... kind of realized it the issue here. He's totally a Disney Assassin, I'm so sorry, Bal.

Hans whispers from off-stage. ]

You don't... have to wear it if you don't want to. I get it.

[tellthestory]

[it's not that he tried to be nice to the woman who's destroyed everyone's lives and now she's staring at him]

[trettende]

[ You're cute but you're not the brightest Narrator in the world, are you. ]

I think... what the Balladeer is trying to say here is... we can work together. And we should. To get the best ending for everyone.

[ A Golden Ending, as it were. Does this help, Bal? ]

[guardianofsplendor]

[look

this is legitimate kindness, she was not expecting this this should not be in the script

but finally, after what feels like at least twenty minutes of jumping through other tags, she slowly reaches out and takes hold of the edge of the coat]

[tellthestory]

[Once it feels like she's got hold of it, the Balladeer lets it go.

And then he takes a moment to collect himself. The moment feels like standing on a precipice. His voice starts a little tremulous when he begins singing, but he finds his footing quickly enough. This is just like before.

He told them they could still get their dreams. There's prizes all around. This time, he won't let anyone take over his song.]

Think about your shows, Player?
Think about the acts you do
How they never quite work out
You could try something new

With the audience behind you
Working towards something grand
Player...
Think about your shows

[aflatouttahell]

[Hm... she can't do much more than she has with regards to the "stealing her crew" efforts, but...]

Uh, Leading Player?

[guardianofsplendor]

[LP's attention jerks to Jezebel a little more sharply than she wanted to, a slight edge in her voice.]

What?

[Almost immediately she realizes what she sounds like and forces herself to relax, going back to her confident persona.]

What is it, Hell Princess?

[aflatouttahell]

You really want our story to end badly just... to be different from these other... games?

[guardianofsplendor]

I never said I wanted to end it badly. [What's so bad about a willing human sacrifice???] I kept my word the last time and I'm plannin' on keeping it again.

[aflatouttahell]

No, I just... you said all the other ones had Golden Endings, right? What... does that mean, exactly? Before I get to my point.

[guardianofsplendor]

It's a genre term. The mastermind is defeated and killed in some fitting way, the survivors escape and the dead are resurrected in one way or another, be it by some kind of God, a convenient portal to another dimension or some other dues ex machina.

[aflatouttahell]

The last group here didn't get a Golden Ending. How did the Audience like them?

[guardianofsplendor]

They ate it up. [But she doesn't sound quite as confident in that as she has a lot of other things.]

[aflatouttahell]

[Well that's pretty interesting, isn't it?]

Are you sure? What kind of feedback did you get? You're the Showrunner, you must remember the reviews your show got.

[trettende]

[ btw, you look cold, Bal, so Hans totally walks up to the edge of the stage, offering the Balladeer his winter coat (the one with the capelet). It might be overkill, but it should keep him warm. ]

Psst. Here.

[ Have your moment tho, he'll hold your flower. ]

[tellthestory]

Thanks.

[You know what, it covers up the shirt. Which apparently makes him look like someone who shot a president? He'll take it.]