The White Mall: Inga

During season II, I used the name Inga twice. I liked it a lot. Both episodes involving the name ended up scrapped. Now I found where to put it.

The character difference between Jen and Inga is that the latter is a lot less stable to begin with, and the first few chapters are designed to define her psychological portrait instead of her first item to wear. This allows her do develop certain obsessions that could match her future findings, opening up secret endings (I am planning to hide inaccessible endings, so that they are really secret, unless you peek into the story map).

The storytelling apporach will also be a little different. Jen had an "objective" narrator and "the voice" available very early to corrupt her, while Inga will not engage in dialogue with herself very often. Instead, the narration will be her perspective of things before anything else, and shifts in mental state will heavily affect the narration itself, e.g. the description of objects.

Ideally, this will make for a very branched, very variative story where [LUST], which represents "Insanity" from TWM: Jen, is merely the most obvious parameter. one of many, that can grow throughout the story and unlock parameter-specific options, usually framed with [square brackets].

On the downside, with all this going on, now I really doubt that I can supply the new story with illustrations. Maybe some endings, maybe some cover art, but if I want to do it alongside EC (I do), I better hold my horses.

Earlier designs involved spawning Inga in a bedroom that would go out into a corridor, with a lot less physical directions to go and with items to carry, like in a traditional quest, but it felt a lot less like me and a lot less like The White Mall to do something like that. As usual, my heart pointed to the hardest way, and I jumped at it without hesitation.

No promises on when the new story goes live yet, but I will keep you updated on its milestones. Here's the full starting chapter. I hope you enjoy.

*  *  *  *  *

White was the first thing she saw when she raised her eyelids, until a few blinks later it was less painful to see.

Now it was white up there instead. White walls, divided into massive white segments, went up high and into a gigantic white ceiling. Powerul lamps covered the entire perimeter of the ceiling to illuminate the space. They were doing a great job.

For how cool the air felt, some ventilation was supposed to be up there as well, but Inga could not see it. Oh, the name. Her name, that was what Inga meant. Does it not come with a surname, though? A request to her memory returned a slate no less blank than these walls around her. Just the name.

There was not much more to learn by staring at this ceiling. Listening did not help, either, because nothing was producing sounds. Inga's best bet was that she was in a hospital, but still, something was not right, and seeing the full picture required moving other parts of her body.

She turned her head to its side ever so slowly, and new knowledge flowed in through her eyes. Two lengthy lines of closets and shelves with sliding lids formed a single row, mostly of white, gray and black colors. They must have been holding a substantial amount of goods, but visually blocked out most of the remaining part of this huge hallspace, as it was situated right across where she was looking.

From what was not blocked from Inga's view, there was a small white statue of some sort in front of the shelf row entrance. Everything in its background was also white, so it was impossible to see what it was portraying from where she was. A gray door in the wall could also be seen further away.

Inga's gaze then slided down, over the white tiles of the floor, and saw another door — or, rather, a trapdoor, going down instead of to the side. It lied next to the corner of the entire hall, very close to her. Along the other side of the wall, there were more exits from the place, first of them being behind a set of blinds rather than a door.

There were also several shelves that were most proximal to Inga. Right there, sticking out of the wall, she could reach them with her hand. They had stuff on display. The very closest thing to her, for example, was an analog clock.

Finally, Inga looked down on herself. Her white skin had a very slight, delicate tan over its every inch, clearly engineered with intention to show it off without underwear. And that was just what she was like now — completely naked. Her breasts were healthy Ds. She was of average height, and her physique was more towards dainty than muscular. Her hips were quite wide apart, and her legs were long. Somehow, Inga was certain that the pussy in between was never thirsty for too long.

Now it felt appropriate to do something else. To prepare for her eventual departure from the fold-down bed she woke up on. After all, she couldn't stay here forever, could she?