Saying your sight returns shortly after is a generous description when you find yourself in a pitch black void. You can feel solid, flat - and apparently infinite - ground under your feet, and not much else. At least until bright neon magenta, cyan, and yellow spotlights loudly turn onto you, the other prisoners, and the wardens all of a sudden with loud ker-thunks, following your every move.
Much more subtly, the sound of a creaking pulley creeps in the background for a few minutes before bright white spotlights highlight what’s been brought into the fray. Hung by rope at various points in front of you are two objects in order of distance from you: a bank statement and a photo album. You can also just spot the outline of a door in the distance, seemingly deemed to not need a spotlight.
Simon’s voice sounds so much more omnipresent and hard to place a direction to in this space where you can’t see him, especially when he laughs. “Hosts can’t exactly do their job when the audience is full of hecklers. You want context so badly? Ask Andrew.”
“Go on, everyone, pull down on the bank statement prop in front of you. I know it doesn’t look like one, but I promise it’s a lever! We need total cooperation here~” From the sound of his voice, he clearly doesn’t believe they’ll do what he says in the slightest.
