SURVIVAL DIFFICULTY:
Class 0
- {$one}
- {$two}
- {$three}
Level 91 is a quaint space that can be found near the edge of collective consciousness. Many have entered it, and all have lived to tell their tales, though none have been there more than once.
A nice place.
Description
The level takes many forms for many people but is always consistent in certain aspects; it takes the appearance of a small island in the middle of the ocean on a clear, cool day. The level is bright and dreamlike — almost unreal — leaving wanderers alone and to their own devices. It is quiet here, peaceful, filled only with the light crashing of waves against the waters’ edge and the call of unseen seabirds.
On one end of the island juts a hill that ends in a cliff edge. Near the top of that hill sits a small house or cabin, one or two stories in height, overlooking the neverending sea. There are no other structures present. The house is unremarkable in most aspects, though all feel compelled to approach it.
There really isn’t anything special about it. A small gravel pathway leading up to its front; a porch or veranda with a bit of furniture; a basic, wooden door. The windows are a little dirty but they work. A breeze may also pass through occasionally. The inside of the house is rather generic; a bit dusty and plain, with mild signs of once habouring life; a main room with a couch or two, maybe a TV. A kitchen and dining area are located to the side, and there are doors leading to bedroom(s) and a bathroom. This is not the wanderer’s home, and yet many feel comfortable here, nostalgic, peaceful, even somber, like a place buried in the recesses of the mind. It feels like someone’s home, whoever that may be.
Sitting down is a common activity for most, so normalized that humans hardly think about it. But there’s little to think about in this place. So little that the only thing to do is sit. To simply sit and experience existence. To sit and drag fingers across the soft, slightly worn arms of the couch. To sit and breathe, just for once, before inevitably falling asleep, only to awaken anywhere else. Anywhere but back there.
It is unknown how this space is entered. It is unknown how to return. It is mythologized, celebrated, loved, and yet it is but an experience; fleeting, fading, and always unreal. It is expected of wanderers who enter Level 91 to cherish their time there, and to share themselves with others. There’s not a lot to be done with a memory, after all.
Please cherish it. While you can. There isn’t much else to hold onto.
