Welcome to hell. The demons are nice enough to give you a tour before you settle in permanently, but first you have to prove that you're worth their time.

This is my first storygame, so please tear it apart. Criticism and insults are appreciated.

You wake up in an asylum, having very little recollection of how. You know the why, though: they've got the wrong person. You're not crazy, and it's up to you to clear your name or possibly even break out. You don't belong here.

There's only one real ending, but of course I added more to make the story less linear. I'm fairly certain I avoided errors regarding spelling, grammar, and continuity; if I missed something feel free to call me out (just tell me what page it was on please). This isn't the first game I've started, but it's the first I've finished, so be critical!

I think it's called learned helplessness. Or, who knows, maybe that's what the adults grew up with and they somehow thought it was normal. Or of course they were threatened, maybe like "If you try to get help I'll hurt you" or even worse, one of the younger ones instead.

And then the fact that the cops thought at first that they were all minors because of their extreme undernourishment. And they could only shower once a year???

I find it hard to believe that the neighbors legit had no clue.

If I recognized I was in a dream, I could stop it by looking at something black and holding my brwath. Except of course when Sem controlled the dreams

That's interesting, because I used to have dreams where I was talking to a guy strapped to a table, saying random words and phrases because there was a trigger word for... something. Never explained but I knew it was important.

Ooh, ooh, my turn, my turn!

So to give a bit of background, I'm mentally like a thousand years old, and I do a lot of acting, most of which is horror films. I have played a murderer on television before, and I have a naturally dark mind, so of course I have some pretty fucked up dreams.

This one isn't too freaky on its own, but it's interesting because I was six years old when I had it. So at the time, my dad's alarm clock would wake me up, too, at 5:45 every morning. So I hear it, and I "wake up" and wait for him to pass my room on the way to the shower. Nothing happens. So I go into my parents' room and turn on the light. My mom is dismembered on the floor, except her head is missing. My dad's head is hanging from the ceiling, his body on the ground curled up. I go back to my room, but my mom's head is in the middle of my bed. I sigh, pick up the head, and go to the basement, which for some reason already has its lights on. Then I sit on the ground, smear blood on my hands, and make a handprint on the ground. The clock says 6:66 which is impossible obviously. I look at the handprint and say, "Very funny, Semmy. Wake me up now." And then I woke up for real, and yes my parents were fine.

Then, when I was nine, I had a dream where I was in my room playing alone and talking. My mom comes in and goes, "What are you doing, Zephyr?" To which I reply, "Playing with Semmy." Mom goes, "Who's Sammy?" And I say, "No, it's Semmy. And only I can call him that. You can call him Sem, but not anymore, cuz you made him sad." And then this devil creature appears and says, "Yeah. it's Semyaza to you." and we just casually continue playing.

When I turned thirteen, Semmy... uh, never mind.