Enough of generic bullshit hells with their cliche lakes of fire and flat landscapes.
We're making a new hell, right here, right now. I think you're all familiar with how these threads work, right? Right.
>A perplexing element about this hell are the great multitude of ancient ruins, crafted not by mortal hands nor by the denizens of hell
>Denizens of this hell cannot lie directly (though they can mislead and lie by omission). They must uphold their ends of bargains. This is not a cultural norm; rather, they're bound by metaphysical laws that affect them the way gravity affects us.
>Hell is in fact a massive multi-layered, multi-dimensional, 'living' force that permeates throughout ever level of existence. A place and an entity in one.
Hell is other people
Those brave few who have probed into the origin of these ruins of hell, be they daring mortals who crossed the barrier of reality, wandering souls who thought to find purpose, or inquisitive devils, could only gather but scattered crumbs of a great and terrible truth.
It is clear to all that visit this benighted realm, that hell's very existence hinges on the ruination of that which was once right and whole - and one could easily thing that the ruins are but a conceptual manifestation of this... But these ruins have particularities. They aren't generic projections of decay, they do not match up to the mortal realm's existing architecture, and what little the devils themselves, create, is unlike them wholly.
Some speculate that the great fiend, the tireless overlord of hell did not create the realm of hell - after all, his ineptitude at creation, his inability to contribute to reality was what drove him to the madness, the spiteful hatred of all that is whole that made him turn into the great despoiler, the lord of hell, and the archenemy of all gods and mortals, for he knows only how to twist and desecrate, not how to create anything.
It is clear then, that what is now hell once must have been something else.
Something that predates creation itself.
>The vast majority of the Fiends inhabiting the blighted abyss, Semmes to venerate and worship Hell itself as a deity in its own right. Referring to it as their "Progenitor", and as "Father and Mother".
>It is clear that the Fiends of Hell have a deeper connection to the realm than previously suspected.
>Everyone is really close to sneezing, but just can't
You are placed in Hell. You forget everything about your previous life or about dying, except for a sense of personalit and identity that remains, and a sense that you deserve it.
You are born and grow up in an illusory world, happy. It's an easy life, never having great worries. The future shines brightly in front of you. You are so full of potential, everyone has such high hopes for you.
And then things start to get wrong. You start to get wrong. Everything that goes wrong is your fault. You underestimated that test, after all it's always been easy, and you failed it. Not your friends who never had your potential.
You went to pick up yoour little broter, but a wheel burst and you were late. And then he wasn't there. Your mom had told you to go there a bit early, just in case, but why should have you, nothing ever happens. And now your brother is lost.
Slowly but inesorably all that you had is taken away from you. And it's always your fault.
Hope becomes despair. Depression and anxiety take hold of you, causing you to waste chances that might have saved you.
If only you had gone to the psychiatrist, like your friend did.
You will become your own worse enemy, hating your life but not thinking yourself deserving of the release of death.
You will be consumed over endless years, it could be instants or millennia, time doesn't feel real.
Until you can't take anmore and your mind breaks.
And you awaken to the reality of your Hell. With your very soul naked, humiliated and cowed.
And then you'll start again, each time a bit worse than the time before.
Even the fleeting happiness will come with uneasiness, a fear that it ma not last.
Each time struggling to not fail, to resist as long as possible because you know somehow, you sense, that next time it will be worse, and each time aware that all your struggles are futile.
You are in Hell and there is no way out.
Of course this may not translate well to game mechanics.
At the gates of Dis is the Bridge of Spite, a structure erected as a testament to the universality of mortal suffering and pettyness. The bridge is itself made of the damned who attempted to cross it on foot, who, once grasped by those who make up the bridge, cannot leave. At its roots are the hundred or so spiteful thieves, rapists, and murderers chosen by The Lord of The Pit, for as long as their spite endures and they do not let go of their quarry, the bridge shall stand as a writhing, moaning testament to the darkness in all men's hearts.
Is this supposed to be scary? Because it's kinda hot
You experience your worst nightmare. Then you wake up. Then you wake up. Then you wake up. Then you wake up. Then you wake up. Then you wake up. Then you wake up...
This has happened to me. Except without the "worst nightmare" part, which is way more horrifying than anything my subconscious could come up with.
But OP, hell isn't a ''place'', it's the absence of God
You're living in it.
Silent.
Fucking.
Hill.
Or, to elaborate, hell is unfinished business created by the feeling (or whatever obsess you) of people. The stronger the feeling, the more shit percolates into reality, so to speak.
And as you know, suffering is more potent than joy.
Hell is actually very cold
A Electrical tree or a endless glacier.
Hell is six rivers, flowing through time and space and emotion to the great well forever betwixt the grinding ice and smoking fire of the void.
The first is the River of Memory, sluggish and muddy, and polluted with the detritus of ended lives- dreams, hopes, loves and hates. Spirits fight desperately to island-rafts of dead gods and civilizations, cutting away their flesh-forms on the ossified beliefs and rusted grave goods,
until being taken by the next wave into the choking darkness, and falling from the anchors of their past life.
Second is the River of Woe, burning bright with the catharsis and purging of traumas and evils and animal needs. Its heat and steam solidify the Memory into banks of instinct, barely livable for the souls that cannot cross- the fear of oblivion keeping them from the roaring flames.
Next is the River of Lies, hot flowing magma, without the burning impurities of Woes. Here the last scrapes of a ghost's flesh-form are melted into the tulpas and myths and stories of the inhuman, fervorous liquid.
Clowns bro.
Endless fields of clowns......
Continued
Often these Lies can escape the raging River to be cast out into the Living World or to other Rivers as demons, fairies, and phantoms.
Then the souls come to the River of Hunger, a whirlwind of thought and spectral impressions as a million million ghosts cool back into individuals, abandoning their needs and hungers to the River or becoming apart of it.
Finally, the souls come to the River of Bone, a dry emptiness of metal and collapsed fellows. Its labyrinthine turns pounded by billowing winds, strange whispers, and increasingly bitter cold. The dead are said to wander for all time, until no two stones of their former monuments and homes are left together.
Beyond this point nothing concrete is known of the Final River, no Lie nor projected mage can cross past the River of Bone and the dead who will not speak of contradict each other but for the certainty that it exists. A binder of spirits once attempted to bring forth an impossibly ancient king of their people whose last folktales had been forgotten and whose last pillar they destroyed themselves. The ritual somehow went drastically wrong, when the creature came into contact with the Living World it reacted almost like matter and antimatter. a tear in the world now resides in the poor binder's life, possessed by the Impossible King.
>Hell is a dimension where human souls go after death.
>Twist is that its not because demonic inhabitants want to torture them or enjoy their suffering.
>Its because human soul is the only thing going into hell, at first it retains form, but after a short time, it loses composition.
>Demons use humans as a material. To build buildings, pavings for roads, means of transportation etc.
>Of course, souls feel everything that happens with them... forever. Mostly pain, because there isnt much fun in being a part of higway 666.
>So imagine a car made of humans. Porsche, one of the unique 17 pieces made by prof. Porsche after being sent to hell.
>Motors filled by blood-vessel turbo chargers.
>Brake wheels made of tooth enamel.
>Vitreous lights. Stabilization of the carriage unit made of sinews. Glass washers made of lacrimal canals. Lung airbags.
>Latch doors carved out of sumo wrestler.
>Red color because of the native american skin used.
>Steering wheel coated with Steve McQueen.
>And suffering of thousands of people with every mile you make with this car.
>Welcome to hell, where people are nothing but a material.
Dream with me Veeky Forums
The so-called gourmets that throw away perfectly good food for not looking absolutely fresh, and reject meals in restaurants because it doesn't look like the edited, professionally staged photos that they saw on their favourite food-blog will be fed a diet of stale white bread vegemite sandwiches with only distilled water to drink...
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH