picturesque

However, as soon as you reached out to caress the lifelike face, your action was abruptly stopped by [[an opposing force.]]

More [[at peace.]]

''Picturesque'' is an interactive fiction (loosely based on Emily Short's //Galatea//) that delves into the clash between modern and traditional artistic worlds. With a little over 3000 words in the story itself, the player assumes the role of an artist whose curiosity ignites the start of a mysterious unravelling of events surrounding a mere installation piece.\n\n[[MENU]]

All unanswered questions that will remain [[unanswered.]]

You supposed that, either way, Epsilon would've been faced with the same fate. The [[built-up guilt]] suddenly dissipated, and you felt more at ease knowing that this was the case.

''Warning:'' This interactive narrative contains somewhat graphic depictions of self harm, and possible subtle allusions to physical abuse. Proceed at your own risk.\n\nThere are no particular instructions to follow, though as a hint, it would be useful to click through every branch in order to fully grasp the entire narrative in one sitting. \n\n[[ENTER]]

Something about this peculiar sculpture enthralled you enough to step forward, close enough to where you can reach out a hand and [[touch its face.]]

<<fadeoutsound "meeting.mp3">> <<fadeinsound "asleep.mp3">>\nThe overall ambience emulated a horror movie scenario with the somewhat dimmed lights in this part of the area. The unnamed artist seemed to have a strange affinity for overcast spaces as you struggled to remember the last time you even saw this area lit up with even a miniscule flicker of light, although further comprehending the situation, perhaps the artist's intentions were to hide their project [[from prying eyes and hands.]]

''"These?"'' Epsilon nonchalantly gestured towards the faint outlandish marks etched on their makeshift skin. ''"Made them myself."''\n\nAll you did was stare - in bewilderment? confusion? What did they even mean? How could you even respond to what they had just said? \n\n''"Want to get a closer view?"''\n\nThe question was barely a whisper, but it did garner your attention back towards your newfound acquaintance. You quirked your head to the side, assuming this was some form of practical joke as you anticipated for the punch line that never arrived.\n\nEpsilon merely chuckled at your reaction, the robotic vibration trembling across their incomplete shell, although undoubtedly they meant no ill harm, raising a hand to motion you forward in a come-hither manner. \n\nWith another courageous step, you were able to properly scan the prominent traces of incisions on their somewhat finished skin. Under the fluorescent light, you could clearly point out the detailed lacerations, how almost wolf-like claws grazed and tore at their flesh. \n\n\n[[Touch the cuts.]]\n[[Ask about something else]]

Yet you still couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if you were to continue Epsilon.\n\n[[What purpose]] would it have served.

And there it was. Despite being half-obscured by an opaque ebony veil, the familiar shape of the object was something you immediately recognized from habitually glancing at it every now and then during your almost daily visits to the workshop, curious about how the finished product would appear. The view from your work station unfortunately did not allow a complete visual access to the work-in-progress project since the artist tended to physically circle around their masterpiece, giving you an unwarranted view of their hunched figure instead.\n\nYet you knew their project resembled a humanlike figure. [[With realistic dimensions at that.]]

Or perhaps Epsilon already [[served its purpose.]]\n

The room, once devoid of light, was suddenly illuminated as soon as you had entered.\n\nThough even the brightest of flames were bound to flicker out.\n\n[[MENU]]

As curious as you were about the project for the last semester or so, you never paid much attention to the hands at work and the creative mind that planned and invented such an ambitious design. In fact, [[did you even know their name?]]

<c>''"Y-you're alive?"''</c>\n\nYou were still in awe at what had occurred. The installation piece slowly blinked its profound eyes, the half-finished eyebrows furrowing in confusion and what you perceived to be hurt. The clasp on your wrist loosened as its makeshift hand fell back on its side. Your eyes followed the somewhat troubled collapse of its hand which, now exposed, revealed more bundles of wires and metallic pieces of bronze and silver. \n\n''"Of course I am alive, unknown. If I wasn't alive. I wouldn't be able to talk to you."'' Their voice remained stern as though still upset at your valiant attempt for skin-to-skin (skin-to-metal?) contact and this was what eased you. \n\nFor a mere work of art, they did hold a valid point. It seemed harmless - at least, for now. You decided to hold a conversation with it.\n\n[[Ask about pronouns.]]\n[["What are you?"]] \n[["Friends?"]]\n[["Who created you?"]]\n[["What happened to your face?"]]

Their demeanour seemed more [[relaxed.]]\n

[[Mad.]]

In retrospect, it did seem a bit intrusive to examine the contents of an individual's notebook. Formulating a loophole - say, wanting to find out information regarding the owner to return the item - made it easier to flip through the pages worry-free.\n\nThere was nothing particularly outstanding about the sketches and doodles which, admittedly, were a little disappointing. Their art style most definitely captivated you enough to maintain your attention towards the notebook, however most of the pages were blank. And judging from the leftover bits that hung around the spring coil, the artist made it a habit to rip pages out often. \n\nThe final page was filled with several scrawls of text, and as you skimmed through the messy paragraphs of lead, you noted the highlighted portion at the bottom of the page:\n\n"Unplug installation."\n\nThe request didn't appear to be important at the moment, your hands swiftly closing the notebook before returning it to its previous position, turning towards the final product that piqued your curiosity.\n\n[[Touch its face]]\n\n

Epsilon merely shrugged at that question. ''"I unfortunately cannot give you a response at this given time. I apologize for the inconvenience."''\n\nYou should probably switch subjects before your pseudo-robotic friend is hit with an existential crisis.\n\n[[Ask about something else]]

''"I am the latest result in artificial intelligence, which can reproduce the capabilities of the human brain with greater speed and accuracy, but my friends call me Epsilon."''\n\nAt the end of their straightforward statement, their head shakily turned towards you, eyes blinking at this new subject in sight. \n\n[[Ask about something else]]

<<fadeoutsound "voice.mp3">><<loopsound "meeting.mp3">>\nEpsilon gazed at your mesmerized self as your hand involuntarily moved towards the freshly-healed wounds, leaving behind permanent scars in its wake. Instead of resisting this time, they let you caress the exposed skin.\n\nThey felt unexpectedly warm to the touch. You presumed robotic entities would have a cold, metallic texture - yet the feeling of your hand on the surface of their skin was anything but. It felt familiar. Humanlike almost. \n\n[["Does it hurt?"]]

After all, you've watched Epsilon's [[progressive installation ]]from afar. \n

Was it you who did not want to [[let go?]]

Still drawn to the mysterious shroud encasing this art piece, you slowly approached with caution, carefully treading through pieces of abandoned art work trailed along the paint-splattered concrete floor until you found yourself face-to-face with [[the strangest contraption your eyes have come upon.]]

It was no surprise that you were met with an [[empty room,]] devoid of scattered art projects and unfinished installation pieces.

It seemed rather outlandish to ask a machine, an invention made of synthetic parts, about physical pain. What would they know about pain in the first place?\n\nEpsilon slightly bowed their head, eyeballs whirring towards the side as though deep in thought about the question. \n\n''"I think so. I //don't// remember."''\n\nHow peculiar, you thought. \n\n<c>''"How come you're unable to remember?''"</c> jumped out of your mouth almost unconsciously. There was a momentary surge of panic, of perhaps overstepping their boundaries. Yet you found yourself crossing your arms across your chest as though wanting to uncover the mystery that surrounded Epsilon. \n\nCuriosity took its toll and was now [[in control.]] \n\n\n\n\n

For a moment, your thoughts drifted back to what Epsilon had said - that those marks across their face were self-inflicted, assumedly on purpose. \n\nWas it a valiant attempt at dismantling oneself? \nOr was it a task to continue on from where the artist left off?\n\n//"They were unfinished! They had potential!"// you thought. Though all thoughts unsaid hold no credible value. \n\nBut they've ultimately decided that their time, despite it being short-lived, should come to an end. \n\nAnd the [[final decision]] was up to you. \n

You jolted, tensing under the sudden gripping sensation on your wrist, and it took about five solid seconds for you to realize that [[the machine was in motion.]]

Your thoughts drifted back to the artist whom you've developed a slight admiration for, though you were second-guessing yourself after gathering the pieces together. \n\nUpon remembering the contents of the artist's notebook from earlier, your eyes wandered around the immediate vicinity for a particular wire, the cable that rendered this machine with vitality. \n\n[[UNPLUG?]]\n[[DO NOT UNPLUG]]

What was their reason for not continuing this project? What harm would Epsilon's [[mere existence]] even bring?

You didn't realize it was possible for android-like installation pieces to be capable of retaining companionships - and you also didn't realize your bewilderment was spoken out loud for Epsilon to hear. \n\n''"I like that one. And Star Trek too!"'' A contorted grin formed across their face. \n\nActually, you decided to stand by your initial thoughts.\n\n[[Ask about something else]]

[[Epsilon did not stir.]]\n

And as your raised arms took their place across your chest, the machine processed it as [[a warning.]]\n

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<<fadeoutsound "asleep.mp3">><<loopsound "voice.mp3">>\n''"It's rude to touch someone without their consent."'' Their expression remained neutral, head unmoved, eyes remained its gaze towards the wall behind you, yet there was a pleading tone that laced their pained voice. \n\n[[TALK?]]

You wondered who or what it even was supposed to be. \n\n[[Approach installation]]

But it was also safe to ask what [[purpose]] they had to serve as well. \n

This was the first time you've gained access to the full frontal view of this particular project that garnered your attention throughout the semester. Based on the layer of dust that coated the cloth, the artist seemed to have either completely abandoned the project or had forgotten about it [[- although the former seemed more reasonable.]]

[[A threat.]]

They seemed more [[accepting.]]

Perhaps you did the right thing after all.

Then you found yourself softening your features once more - the tensed shoulders, the furrowed brows, the gritted teeth - upon noticing [[a sudden movement]] that emanated from the confused machine.

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Nonetheless, you seemed to notice their gradual disappearance - constantly being reprimanded for being late to class, retreating from lecture classes earlier than the appointed dismissal time, then suddenly failing to even come in the first place without a note of absence. [[Nothing.]]

After the winter break, you decided to return to the workshop where Epsilon would be - or at least [[assumed where Epsilon would still be.]] Then you remembered that unclaimed projects were to be dismantled or tossed out. \n

The veil did not deter you from the main attraction however as the sight left you astonished - the project was definitely [[a lot different than you had imagined it to be.]]

Despite being partly obscured, anyone could tell at first glance that this project was indeed a cyborg. Half of its face resembled a passable human appearance, flesh and all - except there were darker thin lines hacked in different directions which you assumed were supposed to be imitations of scars that seemed all too realistic. The other half seemed to still be a work in progress with its colourful wires and cogs exposed. \n\nFrom the neck down, you were unsure whether or not the piece itself was completed with perhaps functioning body parts since the humanlike machine was clothed in a sweatshirt (with sleeves long enough to cover where the hands should be resting on its lap), pants, and even has slightly worn shoes - perhaps the artist scoured the local thrift stores for these clothes. \n\nBeside the model was a notebook. You assumed it belonged to the unknown artist. \n\n[[Read the notebook]]

[[Beaten.]]

[[Bruised.]]

<<fadeoutsound "meeting.mp3">><<loopsound "l.mp3">>\nAs though able to comprehend the situation, Epsilon tapped its pseudo-metallic fingers, the sounds of clinking and clacking drawing your attention back towards [[the machine capable of somewhat comprehensive speech.]]

You wonder if the flesh would be in tact and not fall off by doing so, especially at its visual condition. Upon closer inspection, you noticed how rooted the marks were - and you swore the microscopic specks of crimson were the [[same shade of dried blood.]]

[[Forgiving.]]

Without further thought, you heeded the artist's words (albeit disdainfully), and carefully unplugged the cord that was attached to Epsilon without warning. \n\nTheir entire frame shifted forwards slightly, the orbs that glowed from his eye sockets suddenly flickered away into darkness. \n\nYet [[the small neutral expression]] on their face remained. \n

<<fadeinsound "meeting.mp3">>\nThe life of an art student was filled to the brim with unease and turbulence. A creative block for the majority of the term forced you to be at the art studio on an almost, well-deserved winter break, much to your dismay. Deadlines were the main source of this unwarranted stress, you presume - and let it be known, for good measure, that the project you had to complete was due tomorrow at the beginning of class. \n\nYet instead of hurriedly scrambling to your designated work station to start on your project, you caught yourself intently looking around as though giving the desolate place [[a quick scan]]

''"I'm afraid I won't be surviving here for long, unknown.''"\n\nYou peered at the machine, blinking your eyes in confusion. <c>"''What do you mean by that?"''</c>\n\n''"Look around you. Tell me what you see,"'' they instructed, and with a creak, slowly turned their head towards the direction of where you had approached from. \n\nWith a half a second scan, you responded back instantaneously. <c>''"Art. All I see is art."''</c> It was an obvious answer. You recall the art pieces that occupied the floor, the various mediums and materials melding into several colourful splotches. \n\n"//Abandoned// art. No one settles for the beauty of traditional artistic pieces anymore, especially since the rise of the digital age. Everything traditional is fading. [[Just like me.]]" \n

Are you sure you want Epsilon to remain plugged? \n\n[[YES]]\n[[NO]]

All that was left of them, as proof of their short-lived existence, was this untouched installation piece in the eerie, [[seemingly-abandoned corner of the room.]]

You heaved out a sigh of defeat, shaking your head and being more aware with your movements. \n\nThe machine blinked back phantom tears in relief, one of the glowing orbs threatening to fall out of its socket.\n\nYou wondered if this machine was [[truly unfinished.]]

[[Ask about pronouns.]]\n[["What are you?"]] \n[["Friends?"]]\n[["Who created you?"]]\n[["What happened to your face?"]]

A minor stumble, similar to how the human body jerks when consumables fall down the wrong pipe - a hiccup. \n\nThen you soon realize that the machine just flinched at your words, processing your tone as [[authoritative.]]

[[Nor uttered a single word.]]

''"It would be best to put me out of my misery, unknown."''\n\nYou didn't seem to have a choice at this point. How could you argue with a machine, a contraption made of nuts and bolts? A mere machine that you suddenly developed empathy towards? Or who seemed to understand the situation more than you gave them credit for. \n\nMachines weren't capable of producing emotions - or at least that's what you've been told. That's what you've been made to believe. But Epsilon didn't falter when they offered you valid reasons to unplug. They didn't seem [[remorseful or upset.]] \n

It was still for a second. Though even a millisecond of silence can feel like an eternity with such a somber ambience. Words lodged at the back of your throat, but it was hard to choke them out. Did you perhaps want to counter? [[Change their mind?]]\n

[[You can't, can you?]]

Or was in the process of being [[dismantled.]]

<<fadeoutsound "voice.mp3">><<loopsound "meeting.mp3">>\nThe written instructions inscribed in the notebook echoed at the back of your mind. For what purpose would the artist want to dismantle a masterpiece - an outstanding one at that - was a [[complete mystery.]]

Without further thought, you heeded the artist's and Epsilon's (albeit disdainfully), and carefully unplugged the cord that was attached to the machine without warning. \n\nTheir entire frame shifted forwards slightly, the orbs that glowed from their eye sockets suddenly flickered away into darkness. \n\nYet [[the small neutral expression]] on their face remained.

[[Ready.]]

And it was your turn to do your share, your part to restore traditional art.\n\nIn a digital age? Was that still possible?\n\nThe question remained at the back of your head for the rest of the school year.\n\nAnd all the years that followed.\n

SONGS USED:\n* ''L'' - mizukutusitairo\n* ''I Hear A Voice'' - Parasite Eve OST\n* ''Meeting'' - Rain OST\n* ''Asleep Clockmaker'' - Subgardens\n\n[[MENU]]

As soon as you had returned to your work station, zipping up your backpack and gathering needed materials in one arm (you still had [[a project]] to work on, though it would be best to find a different place to start on it).

[[PICTURESQUE.]]\n[[ABOUT]]\n[[CREDITS]]

You [[dimmed the lights]] and left the place in peace.

Frances Guerrero

The cold winter air bit through the cracks of the workshop's door, your hands instinctively finding solace in the warmth of your pockets. Without another glance, you decided to walk away from the machine - the pitter patter trailing echoes of your shoes filling [[the bitter silence]] once more.

Their overall physical appearance was certainly not enough to distinguish a specific gender. The features seemed to be a distinct combination of human and machine, but the art piece possessed both a masculine and feminine aura about them, though more of an interchangeable manner. \n\n<c>''"What pronouns do you go by?"''</c> You thought it would be a safer option to ask instead of assume. \n\n''"Things like he, she, and they."''\n\nA nonbinary or genderfluid cyborg? Interesting. Now //that's// innovative.\n\n\n[[Ask about something else]]

[[No struggle.]]