CHAPTER ONE: YOU WAKE UP IN A ROOM
You wake up in a room. Wow. Such originality. Brilliant entry there, if you may say so yourself. Great, you can’t remember anything and you’re already criticising your entrance into conscious reality. Great, no memory too. This is going to be a fun little line of clichés. Ok, enough criticising your reality, time to get up, take a look around the alleged room.
Ok, plain bed, red sheets, nothing special there. You notice that the bed is still made, and still mostly un-creased, meaning you definitely hadn’t been on it for long. You take a look around the rest of the room, no windows, otherwise nothing too special. A desk, a chair for the desk, a bookshelf next to it also for the desk, and not much to do otherwise, not even a wardrobe or anything. Damn shame, because you were hoping to make your first act of known existence looking someone’s wardrobe. Maybe if you find a wardrobe, you can find a magic portal to another land. You also have absolutely no idea what the hell that was supposed to be a reference to. Wonderful memory there, knows enough to make references to things, doesn’t know enough to actually know the reference in question. Hang on, missed something, a mirror in the corner. Better go have a look at yourself.
You have light skin, lightly tanned, and medium length straight black hair. You have light brown eyes, a fairly normally sized nose, and an overall decent face. Congratulations, you have successfully looked yourself in the mirror and not wanted to break it. As for your clothes, you’re wearing a plain, solid light brown t-shirt, slightly loose but fitting you perfectly, and plain pants of the same colour, with boots of a slightly darker brown. Perfectly generic clothes. Which is what makes them special, they’re too generic. Where the hell do you get something so completely plain? You sure as hell wouldn’t have put them on.
And speaking of you, you realise that you don’t appear to have a name. You’d try to come up with one, but you don’t want to end up finding out your name and have gotten used to calling yourself by something else. Maybe you’ll come up with something later. But enough of that, you’re in some random room, with some random desk and random books, and a very inviting door.
What do you do?