#remember you will die

[vapolis]

You smile. It's a brittle one. Cracked around the edges. Plaster peeling and your skin with it. You don't touch it this time around, like you did in the club. Afraid to find it slick again. To find blood coating it and your teeth. The top of your hand.  When you glance down there's nothing. 

chapter three.

expect looots of dante/delilah & royal

more drama and fights

some revelations that could shock you happen

meet the vipers! and immediatly antagonize them!

the warnings at the beginning of the game have been updated so please pay attention to them! sensitive subject matter is alluded to later on in this chapter

general info.

as of this week, echo is a RO and romance options have been added to the previous chapters they have appeared in

that means that you'll most likely be reset to the beginning because I made some bigger changes to the code and added a couple new scenes in chapter 001. & 002.

progress.

74k -> 126k (+ 52k)

play demo. intro post.

#remember you will die #rywd #**mine #choice of games #**update #man this was a headache to code lmaoooo #lmk abt issues pls!! i'm sure there are some i missed #a lot of flavour text towards the end so don't be surprised abt lack of choice pls #i always want to add scenes that flow due to previous choices

[vincentvan-ohno]

My mc Sol and Jax from Remember, You Will Die by @vapolis

They are currently living in my mind rent free.

Sol genuinely believe she can’t be fixed so she will be trying to make Jax worse 😔

I accidentally made her short since 98% of my characters are 5’ like me. She was supposed to be like 5’9”

#my art #if mc #my art 2024 #remember you will die #rywd

[flaggermusli]

very quick placeholder playlist cover for my @vapolis Remember, You Will Die MC 👍

#rywd #remember you will die #once again idk how tagging works #his name's rome and he's a lil bitch #a BIG bitch actually #stops midfight to check for any broken nails #if there are any its so joever for the other party

[ethersic]

new year, new rywd fanart <3 (w/o text below)

royal from remember you will die by @vapolis

can you tell idk how to draw tattoos bc i was winging it����the piercings were v fun to draw though (looking at references helps, who woulda thought)

🖊️drawn on ipad w/ procreate

#remember you will die #rywd #interactive fiction #fanart #my art #digital art

[dazyxi]

;; RYWD WRITING (REMEMBER YOU WILL DIE) — content warnings: very brief mention of sh (digging nails in skin), derealization (slightly), and smoking. other warning: not lore accurate. i wrote it for fun, and it's very short becauseeee... i didn't know how to continue it from that point ibr 😭😭i don't write shit like this sooo it's very fast-paced and sloppy!!

The air is thin in Ivy's lungs. The breaths she's expelling are heavy, heaved, and drawn out. She's struggling to inhale and exhale. To breathe. To function. Her room is too tight, the walls too closed-in. In short, she feels like she's being choked. Strangled. Not just by this apartment room, suffocated by life. And she doesn't know what to do. There's no out. She's stuck. Stuck in this endless loop. Stuck in a role. A rabid dog on a tight chain. A vicious animal waiting to be set loose. A psychotic murderer who shouldn't be trusted. Stuck proving them right.

She's mad. Not at Orla. Not at the people who labeled her. At herself. She put herself in this situation. How could people think differently when all she does is fit into their title? Whenever she's given the choice to do the right thing- be better- she does the opposite. Maybe she got comfortable with the low-held expectations. Got used to being held in poor regard. I mean, you can't disappoint someone who never had hope, right?

Her skin is crawling with discomfort, and her posture is rigid as she sits against a wall. A lazily bandaged hand lays against her exposed collarbones. An attempt to ground herself. Flesh against flesh. Warm flesh. Not cold.

She's disoriented. Alienated. As lines of reality turn fuzzy, and she starts to get distant, she mentally wrangles with herself. Nails start to press carelessly into olive skin while her mind ripples with static. This feeling, the sickening nauseation of being trapped, is clawing through her. Seeping into her bone marrow. Sticking itself to her permanently.

Strands of her black hair are stuck to her face by sweat. The sweat that beads from her hairline and trails down her cheeks, joining tears she was unaware of. She feels pathetic. Helpless. She wants to give in. Let herself melt away. Instead, she lets her hands fall to her side in a clumsy action, leaving crescent-shaped indents at her collarbones. They're laced with a left-over stinging sensation but no blood. She starts to count her fingers. Starting with her index finger. . . then middle finger. . . ring finger. . . pinky finger. Index. . . middle. . . ring. . . pinky. She repeats it over and over and over until she's sick of it. Sick of calloused fingerpads scraping together in a strange anchoring method. Blearily, she mocks herself through the disorderment, This is all so stupid. Get over yourself.

She stares at the ground. Exhausted. Her gaze flits around the rays of neon light cast from the windows and onto the floor. Squints at the cracked wood. Scrutinizes the fractures. She drags her eyes upward to the window, the presence of Vapolis leaking through the glass. It's taunting in a way. Slowly, she regains her thoughts, the repeated buzz being replaced. Her mind scrambles to catch up with her emotions, and a moment later, she's frantically digging into her pockets. Her fingers catch onto the cigarettes and lighter, messily dragging them out of her jacket like she's on borrowed time. She flips the lighter on after she's stuck a cigarette in her chapped lips. Briefly, she watches the flame dance. Observes as it spins and whirls around like a dandelion in the wind, only less innocent.

She places the fire underneath the cig, and soon after, tendrils of smoke billow into the atmosphere. She sighs out clouds of mist while the familiar rush of pleasure pangs through her. Easing slightly, she lets her body slump, head tipping upward and hitting the wall. Her sore eyes flutter shut, her shoulder still tension-filled and clamped up at her sides, but the looming factor of dread has settled. Somewhat. It's still at the forefront, lingering in her mind. She takes another drag, and her mind begins to haze over.

One hand still holding her cigarette to her lips, the other struggles to help herself up on wobbly legs. They feel like jelly underneath her weight. "Fuck," she mutters, her voice strained. Wrecked.

It's whatever, she thinks. She'll adjust. Conform to fit the mold. Easier than trying to break it or reform it. She always does what's easier for her. Less work. At the end of the day, she did this. What's that saying? Nobody to blame but yourself?

#remember you will die #rywd #mc oc #oc: ivy essa #writing #idk if the author would wanna be tagged so I'm not gonnaaaa #im also so sleepy so this even MORE half-assed #please take this from my humble hands #also she was originally gonna be in the jax/orla poly route but i very quickly realized She Cannot Handle That so she's going for delilah!!

[crowfiendnest]

My sketch for the merc sol from the IF remember you will die

#interactive fiction #fanart #remember you will die #rywd

[pissboysthings]

My merc from rywd by @vapolis

Moments after passing Jaxxy off :3

#art #artists on tumblr #digital aritst #fanart #rywd #remember you will die #jax fanart

[bl00dbitch]

recently became obsessed w/ “REMEMBER, YOU WILL DIE”, an if game by @vapolis! it has such a unique cast of characters & i love the cyberpunk theme! playing thru the demo inspired the creation of zero (name subject to change) (they/them or he/him), a batshit crazy merc equally likely to engage in playful banter as they are to shoot you in the head. made three picrews to show off their usual looks (1. “default”, 2. fancy-ish, & 3. saints & sinners attire). a little more about them under the cut:

they refuse to have hair shorter than their shoulders (this does not count the infinite amount of layers that are the result of boredom or near death experiences)

got their canines sharpened pretty early into merc work for both the intimidation factor & also bc they just like to bite people

i rlly like the idea that their golden eyes (also an early mod) glow in the dark for the pure fact that i have this idea in my head of them looking something like those photos of raccoons or dogs in pitch black (also i think it would freak ppl out, would be funny, & also be weirdly sexy which is rlly their three reasons for doing anything at all)

for what they may lack in pure brawn, they make up for in sheer scrappiness (absolutely nothing is off the table in a fight); they are also very clever but not particularly book-smart

yes, they chose the heart shaped glasses; was there ever really any other choice?

literally no one can predict their next move? are they flirting w/ you? are they going to stab you? are they flirting & stabbing you? who knows

#sometimes the most babygirl (gender neutral) coded person in the room is also the one with the highest body count #(& not in the way the average person would think) #oc: zero #interactive fiction #remember you will die

[ashiiplier]

memento mori 🤍🖤

genuinely, i don’t know where i would be right now if not for unus annus. it got me through a dark time, when there was uncertainty in every aspect of my life. unus annus truly changed me as a person, and the way i view life. it’s given me the courage to do things i never even dreamed of doing, like posting fanart. i could ramble on and on in this post, but i’m gonna cut it short before i start crying even harder lmao. i miss this channel dearly, but despite it’s death, it lives on — in the art, edits, quotes, and the people it shaped. to everyone who made it possible, and to everyone who continues to carry on the legacy, thank you 🤍🖤

also, click for better quality (hopefully?)

#unus annus #i miss unus annus #memento mori #remember you will die #markiplier #crankgameplays #ash's art <3 #i am sobbing as i type this #god i miss it so much

[vapolis]

You watch. Wait. Try to hide your boredom as you keep your eyes on your mark.  Unfortunately, this is part of the job too. Long waiting. Endless stakeouts. A million wasted moments, spent crouched low. Out of sight, out of mind. A ghost haunting the living.

chapter two.

this one's for the jax & orla stannies <3

start a poly route if you're into them!

echo is once again snarky

vipers territory is teased

you'll get to flirt with danger in more ways than one

note: unfortunately you'll be most likely reset to the beginning of chapter one bc I had to change some code in that area that becomes relevant in this chapter

progress.

46k → 74k (+28k)

play demo. intro post.

#remember you will die #rywd #**mine #choice of games #**update #lmk about issues pls!! #theres sm flavour text here. it almost ended me

[vincentvan-ohno]

My merc, Sol for Remember, You Will Die by @vapolis

She’s Orla’s rabid dog and she will bite.

Jax and Orla’s poly route is everything to me.

#I miss the rouch #if mc #my art #my art 2024 #remember you will die

[vine-black]

It's been wonderful seeing you back on my dash, and I'm glad to know you're (hopefully) feeling a bit better -hugs- What are you excited about next year? What's giving you hope right now?

Hey you! Thank you for checking in with me. I am feeling a bit better (emotionally and spiritually, physically I currently have the worst flu I've had in like a year but I'll get over that haha). To answer your question though, I think I'm excited for possibility. Like, I'm also terrified of possibility, because everything could go horribly wrong. I'm an anxious person and that's my mind's automatic, rancid mantra. But...I'm hopeful because I'm still here. Life can be really, truly painful. Hard and hurtful and harrowing - but I'm still here. Not only am I still here, but I've learned through this winnowing that lots of other things are also still here. Maybe some of those things have always been there? There are people in my life that care about me in ways I didn't think I deserved. I am capable of doing things I thought I would never be able to do. I'm funny and adaptable and capable and just really embarrassingly human in the exact same ways all the people I love also are which is beautiful to think about sometimes.

I think there's a lot of my life, even well into my adulthood where I felt like a kid in the back seat of their parents car. Along for a ride I had very little say in, keeping myself distracted until...it ends? Who knows. I feel now that I don't really have the luxury of living that way, I've had to be here on purpose a lot more. I've had to ask myself a lot of questions about the kind of person I want to be, and how I want to spend the time I have left. This has made me think a lot about what it means to worship Death and to still, every stupid little day I wake up, I put on my stupid little pants and very politely say to Him: "not yet".

I'm excited to be alive on purpose.

Anyway, I'm really happy you sent this ask! Its nice knowing I'm a pleasant part of someone's day.

#ask #liminalblessings #remember you will die #remember you *must* live #the eternal refrain #you've got me at an extreme disadvantage #I'm on just enough cough syrup to be extremely sappy #jk

[interact-if]

Hi I am looking for an IF I read quite awhile back, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it’s called. Here’s what I do remember: It starts with a character screwing up a job, and their boss, who owns a club is not happy about it. On the way out of the club the MC gets stabbed, and someone bandages them up inside their apartment. The MC is very chaotic and a bit unhinged and you do get the opportunity to gruesomely murder the man who attacked you with a knife. Does any of this rings a bell? Thanks in advance!🎠

Hi Anon!

You might be looking at REMEMBER, YOU WILL DIE by @vapolis. You can play the Demo here!

#name that game #Remember you will die

[ethersic]

finally drew her!! (version w/o text below)

orla from remember you will die by @vapolis

still going strong with the 3/4 views bc they’re the easiest for me to draw

🖊️drawn on ipad w/ procreate

#remember you will die #rywd #interactive fiction #fanart #my art #digital art

[dazyxi]

;; RYWD WRITING (REMEMBER YOU WILL DIE) @vapolis — content warnings: very brief mention of sh (digging nails in skin), derealization (slightly), and smoking. notes: not lore accurate. i wrote it for fun, and it's very short becauseeee... i didn't know how to continue it from that point ibr 😭😭i don't write shit like this sooo it's very fast-paced and sloppy!! — you're not seeing double! this is a post with added content because people started liking it and the author saw it (thank you so much for the sweet words!! it made me so happy to see that you enjoyed it!!💕) and i was like ohmg!!!! so i wanted to tweak it a little. there's an extra 300+ words, but i didn't really edit the content beforehand, so if it's confusing, sorry!!

The air is thin in Ivy's lungs. The breaths she's expelling are heavy, heaved, and drawn out. She's struggling to inhale and exhale. To breathe. To function. Her room is too tight, the walls too closed-in. In short, she feels like she's being choked. Strangled. Not just by this apartment room, suffocated by life. And she doesn't know what to do. There's no out. She's stuck. Stuck in this endless loop. Stuck in a role. A rabid dog on a tight chain. A vicious animal waiting to be set loose. A psychotic murderer who shouldn't be trusted. Stuck proving them right.

She's mad. Not at Orla. Not at the people who labeled her. At herself. She put herself in this situation. How could people think differently when all she does is fit into their title? Whenever she's given the choice to do the right thing- be better- she does the opposite. Maybe she got comfortable with the low-held expectations. Got used to being held in poor regard. I mean, you can't disappoint someone who never had hope, right?

Her skin is crawling with discomfort, and her posture is rigid as she sits against a wall. A lazily bandaged hand lays against her exposed collarbones. An attempt to ground herself. Flesh against flesh. Warm flesh. Not cold.

She's disoriented. Alienated. As lines of reality turn fuzzy, and she starts to get distant, she mentally wrangles with herself. Nails start to press carelessly into olive skin while her mind ripples with static. This feeling, the sickening nauseation of being trapped, is clawing through her. Seeping into her bone marrow. Sticking itself to her permanently.

Strands of her black hair are stuck to her face by sweat. The sweat that beads from her hairline and trails down her cheeks, joining tears she was unaware of. She feels pathetic. Helpless. She wants to give in. Let herself melt away. Instead, she lets her hands fall to her side in a clumsy action, leaving crescent-shaped indents at her collarbones. They're laced with a left-over stinging sensation but no blood. She starts to count her fingers. Starting with her index finger. . . then middle finger. . . ring finger. . . pinky finger. Index. . . middle. . . ring. . . pinky. She repeats it over and over and over until she's sick of it. Sick of calloused fingerpads scraping together in a strange anchoring method. Blearily, she mocks herself through the disorderment, This is all so stupid. Get over yourself.

She stares at the ground. Exhausted. Her gaze flits around the rays of neon light cast from the windows and onto the floor. Squints at the cracked wood. Scrutinizes the fractures. She drags her eyes upward to the window, the presence of Vapolis leaking through the glass. It's taunting in a way. Slowly, she regains her thoughts, the repeated buzz being replaced. Her mind scrambles to catch up with her emotions, and a moment later, she's frantically digging into her pockets. Her fingers catch onto the cigarettes and lighter, messily dragging them out of her jacket like she's on borrowed time. She flips the lighter on after she's stuck a cigarette in her chapped lips. Briefly, she eyes the dancing flame. Observes as it spins and whirls around like a dandelion in the wind, only less innocent.

She places the fire underneath the cig, and soon after, tendrils of smoke billow into the atmosphere. She sighs out clouds of mist while the familiar rush of pleasure pangs through her. Easing slightly, she lets her body slump, head tipping upward and hitting the wall. Her sore eyes flutter shut, her shoulder still tension-filled and clamped up at her sides, but the looming factor of dread has settled. Somewhat. It's still at the forefront, lingering in her mind. She takes another drag, and it begins to haze over.

One hand still holding her cigarette to her lips, the other struggles to help herself up on wobbly legs. They feel like jelly underneath her weight. "Fuck," she mutters, her voice strained. Wrecked. She stumbles toward the bathroom, and on the way, her feet nearly catch on the mass of random objects lazing on her floor. 

She nudges the door open with her arm, blinks as it creaks open to reveal the cluttered state of the room. She mumbles. Something dumb, trying to be funny, like, What’s that about your house being a reflection of your mind? A rasped scoff escapes her mouth, and she doesn’t like how it sounds when it rings in her ears. It’s dull, devoid of the usual mirth. Not that the mirth is ever really real. It’s fine. Pretending is something she’s good at, comfortable with. She enjoys it. She’ll eventually learn how to do the same being a puppet– or maybe hound is a more fitting word.

She staggers in, immediately supporting herself with her hand on the dirtied tile of the sink. Frowning at the reflection in the spotted mirror, she scans it. Black hair sticks up, tangled and mused, with dried blood at the tips. A split lip and a bruised face with swollen eyes. Red-lined scleras, violet irises glowing in the yellow hue of the light. She doesn’t recognize the woman she sees. She's trapped in skin that’s not her own.

She watches the woman pluck the lit cigarette from her mouth. Hold it between her crooked index and middle. Watches her pull the corners of her dry lips upwards. It’s too toothy, the smile. There’s crimson-red itching underneath it. She doesn’t know if it belongs to her or someone else. The unsettling grin fades as quickly as it rose, and smoke leaks from her lungs and into the air. A deadpan settles on her expression, eyes half-lidded, and it looks strange on her features.

Her mind wanders, thoughts messy and daunting, growing anger festering. It wraps around her bones, causing her to shake. She welcomes it, the feeling comforting. More comfortable than whatever she was feeling earlier. It's whatever. She'll adjust. Conform to fit the mold. Easier than trying to break it or reform it. She always does what's easier for her. Less work. At the end of the day, she did this. What's that saying? Nobody to blame but yourself?

#mc oc #rywd #remember you will die #oc: ivy essa #writing

[its-wabby-stuff]

Nothing like self-sabotage to remind you of your existentialism😗✌🏻

#Momento mori #remember you will die #I’m going to die alone #wabbystuffpost #relatable? #funny #stoicism #I’m bad at love #avoidant attachment style #thanks mom