Hi Locked Tomb Fandom !!

xie lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry

Damn you, anon.

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this is what makes us warriors

rotoscope ☼ ☽

If you follow Selmers to the poetry society meeting in Night In The Woods, this is her poem. I loved it and the themes of the game, and wanted to use it as practice to see if i can control the way readers ‘hear’ the words through images.

Fugitive. A campground-wide game that instills terror and hopelessness into the very souls of campers, but wild, giddy anticipation into the rest of the staff.

The game begins with all the male counselors herding the boys into the indoor amphitheatre. There’s lots of yelling, shoving, and flashlights waving. Because, of course, the whole place is pitch black inside.

Inside are the support staff, sitting with scowls on their faces and arms crossed. We’re the cops and the checkpointers. We aren’t supposed to look happy.

The campers have no idea what’s about to take place, so a majority of them are already on edge. Some are playing it off, being goofy, but we know that they’re nervous. We know.

So once the 300+ boys are in the room, the lights flick on and the ones in charge begin explaining. The jailkeeper comes out, points out who are the ones to watch out for. Suddenly the warden (the one instigating the entire game) jumps out and demands that all staff (counselors included) go outside. The boys are delighted, of course, because this means zero supervision.

How short that delight lasts, though.

Once the staff are out, we go to our designated areas. Most go to the largest field on grounds as the “taggers”, while some wait at one of the three checkpoints the kids have to reach in order to proceed.

The kids, now free, see the hayrack in the parking lot. They were told to board it, should they see it. As soon as it’s full, the tractor pulls out and takes them out to the ranch (a solid 15-20 minute walk away) where they are told to try and run to the first checkpoint, our zipline, without getting tagged.

Here’s where the fun and the dread begin. The campers have to run, from our ranch to the first field, the zipline. If they get tagged, they must go back to the ranch and start again, with the addition of a glow bracelet. The first checkpoint is the easiest to get to, because it lures them into a false sense of security.

The second and third, however, are a completely different story.

Most of the counselors and other staff are located in the second main field where the last two checkpoints are, on either side. The rock tower and the science center. If you could make it past 30 adults (all of which are alarmingly athletic) and were instructed to physically take you down by all means necessary, you definitely deserved the hostess cake prize at the end of the fourth checkpoint.

So by now the kids are drenched in sweat, hope dying as they stumble across the field, getting tagged left and right by overeager counselors. Many arrived to my station crying from exhaustion (it was even worse when I had to turn them away if they didn’t make the first two checkpoints).

I happened to get a glance during the heat of it. The main field was a bloodbath. Kids everywhere were getting drenched in mud, tears, sweat, and blood as they struggled to get past their counselors. I could see the light dying in their eyes with each tackle, every leg sweep, and every dive. Still, they were promised a prize, so they pressed on.

It was hard to watch at times. One twisted his ankle. Many left with scraped knees and elbows, some with poison ivy from hiding in unconventional places. The counselors got the thick of it too, from the ones who decided to fight back. One got a gash down her forehead from sliding and face-planting in a gravel road. All in all, an absolute massacre.

At the end when the final whistle was called, everyone hiked over to our main pavilion to collect their winnings of hostess cakes and share war stories. Rough times all around, but in the end the sweating and exhausted hollering over chocolate twinkies and ho ho’s while desperately trying to rehydrate was worth it in the end.

I think it’s brave. 

- Poem by Lana Rafaela. 

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My heart was just struck by how perfect a poem it was to describe Jiang Cheng, who has lost so much, but still continues to push through each day. He is so brave, and he deserves the best things. 

drew my favorite quote from tgcf