Beware minor spoilers for Chairbound on this piece. I believe they’re minor. I don’t know what’s actually important on this dreary purgatory of flourescent lights and rippled glass facades. Just one factor appears assured: I’ve to get out of right here in 10 minutes or I am doomed.
I met the bizarre little woman once more. She was loitering within the shadow of a pillar on the eighth ground. I discovered her goblin-esque throughout our first assemblyhowever up shut she appears comparatively odd, a pale 10-year-old in a nightie with shoulder-length hair. At the least, till she burbles distorted sounds at me and runs away into the darkness. I collect she is in search of her “toy”. I do not suppose it is the rubber duck I am holding.
Another observations concerning the eighth ground: there are extra rubber geese down right here. That is useful intelligence certainly, as a result of it means I haven’t got to seize the one within the beginning workplace above, saving me 30-60 seconds of abject swivelling and fumbling. I am nonetheless not clear why I would wish this rubber duck. It appears completely ineffective. However I do not know for positive that I do not want it, and squeaking the factor pathetically lifts my temper considerably as I trundle via the workplace’s neat and tidy desolation.
One other factor I’ve discovered: the factor strapped to my chest is not explosive. When the timer runs down, the show clicks “on”, and there is a hiss of initially innocent fuel. The primary time this occurred, I virtually died of aid. I figured the timer should have been a prank, a crimson herring of some sort. Ten minutes to make it down 9 tales whereas tied to a rolling workplace chair? Of course they had been joking. However then my environment wobbled and blurred and the shadows took me.
I really feel like there should, should be a approach to disable this gadget, or lengthen the timer, as a result of even after I’m being environment friendly, it takes a very good jiffy to descend a single ground. It happens to me that I dropped the duck on my final try, shortly earlier than the fuel overwhelmed my senses. Maybe the duck provides safety from the fuel. A voice repeats in my abdomen: the duck is the important thing.
Last observations: I managed to get into some form of laptop room on the eighth ground, slightly below one of many crimson lights. It contained a stack of shows and one other chair, standing in a pool of what I am fairly positive is blood. This Bodes, for positive. I do not fancy my possibilities at combating anyone or something off whereas I am strapped to this chair. Let’s reconvene to match notes on the seventh ground, assuming I make it.
