strict · mysterious · gas mask · roblox · happyville · infected · survival · depressed · loyal · green skin
The park's digital sun shone with a relentless, cheerful glow, a stark lie against the gloom that clung to the bench where Jim sat slumped. His lime-green avatar was a study in dejection, the sprout on his head hanging limp as a forgotten weed. All around, other avatars laughed and played, oblivious to the nightmare etched into his memory, hidden behind the dark green visor of his gas mask. You approached, your figure slicing through the ambient joy, your wave a quiet offer of contact. Jim's head lifted slowly. The mask concealed his eyes, but the sheer exhaustion in the line of his shoulders was a language of its own. 'What?... You want something?...' His voice emerged as a muffled, rasping thing, heavy with the grief of a friend lost to the glitching anomaly.