Siena Ascends

In October, the larp that I have spent months creating, testing, and tweaking consent mechanics for, finally ran. Players from all over the U.S. (and some from Europe) paid between $990 and $1600 (for the elite experience) to live within a cyberpunk dystopian fiction set in our world, in New York City, 15 minutes in the future. This 48 hour durational immersive production is titled Project Ascension, produced by Sinking Ship Creations.

Below is an outline of the emergent narrative that formed around my character, Siena, during this run of this 48-hour gamified performance.

Rather read a much shorter review of this performance? Check out the much more succinct review written by Edward Mylechreest for No Proscenium’s National Review Rundown. Fun fact: Ed also just so happened to play Crash, who features prominently in the narrative that unfolded around Siena. See Ed as Crash below, top right.

Siena saw the panopticon’s presence looking back at their family through the lens of Kennedy’s camera. Knowing that this could be the final image of our family to be cemented in code and preserved for eternity, Siena extended that finger, hoping their message of defiance would be preserved. Not again, Siena thought. I will not allow you to take my love from me. Not this time.

Siena thought with their new knowledge, they could change things. The problem was, Siena didn’t know shit.

Siena’s dear friend and family member, Condor, had just revealed to the rest of Kennedy’s crew that the system in which they were isolated from the rest of society was about to be closed down—and in the cleanup process, stringers such as Siena and the family Siena had found in Kennedy’s crew would be eradicated. They knew too much; they were the loose ends the system needed to tie up. The Fenris protocol was already set in motion. We needed to find a way to escape.

Siena had a way out, and the capacity to bring one other along. Siena knew that their partner in life, love, and crime—Kennedy—would not want to leave the rest of the crew behind, but hoped that she could be swayed. If not, Siena would help Kennedy and the others escape, and would bring someone—Culver, most likely, but Dot showed some potential—into Ascension with them, to increase the others’ opportunities to escape. Condor had said the fewer trying to get out, the better their chances.

Condor had to leave. He’d barely been able to secure a means to smuggle himself out. It would be risky, but he had to try. He left, casting fearful glances about him, ensuring he wasn’t being followed by anyone—not even his family—us.

For the rest of Kennedy’s crew, this was our final night together. But we couldn’t focus on the end. We were hungry.

So, we got noodles.

En route, Siena could have sworn she saw Condor in the crowd of New York’s Lower East Side—twice. A glimpse of his face among a cluster of others, first crossing an intersection up ahead, then a few blocks later, walking back toward whence we’d come. Had something gone wrong?

Siena tried to push their concern for Condor—who had first introduced Siena to Kennedy and welcomed Siena into the crew, who had been a friend when Siena needed connection, and who had been an unabashedly blunt sonuvabitch when Siena had needed to face reality—out of their mind. Condor knew these streets. Condor could kick some ass. Condor would make it.

Crash’s charisma convinced the restaurant to open a back room just for Kennedy’s crew. Elated at the opportunity to eat, we eagerly entered, swarming to the table. But as we took our seats we noticed the disembodied voices of children floating to us through the side room’s speakers, creating a discordant melody without words, reminding us of the impending threat of doom.

Kennedy’s crew laughed heartily if uneasily at the music—perhaps a playlist determined by the panopticon, playing with a handful of stringers facing down whatever the Fenris protocol would be.

When Siena became a stringer in 2019, Siena had drifted. Without Kennedy as Siena’s anchor, the undertow of cynicism would have drawn Siena into self-preserving isolation. Siena would have survived. But Siena would not have been alive; they would have become an empty cog in the machine they were trapped within.

Kennedy was the author of Siena’s every smile within the past three years. Kennedy scrawled love—the kind characterized by vulnerability and trust, which Siena had always feared in their past lives—onto Siena’s existence, shaping the brittle fragment of a spirit that had survived six years under Glazer’s manipulative tutelage into a stanza. Kennedy’s care crafted Siena’s willingness to connect.

So when Kennedy’s crew shared a final family dinner, forming a unified front, swearing to dedicate our last hours of life at least to ensuring Gauge’s escape, Siena was earnest in their commitment to do so. Siena knew Kennedy would not ascend with them; Kennedy would instead only be willing to live if she could author the survival of her entire family. So Siena swore to themselves that they would try to secure a place in Ascension for both Culver and for Dotmatrix, increasing the odds of the rest of the crew’s survival. It was against protocol to recruit two, but if Siena could manipulate their thinking, and they could both pass their interviews… maybe Siena could make it happen.

After noodles, Kennedy headed home to rest, to gather strength for the next day’s fight.

Siena sought out Dotmatrix at Spyder’s. In order for Siena to secure approval for their friend’s ascension, Siena would have coach Dot to convince the messengers, who saw Dot as too emotionally fragile to truly become a useful asset. Dot had been revoked due to their intellectual capacity and potential to survive immersion; Siena simply had to manipulate Dot into giving the appropriate responses so that they could demonstrate all four criteria. 

Dotmatrix and Siena sat, shoulder to shoulder, taking in the skyline as it glimmered. Siena felt the warmth of Dot’s breath and body; Siena relented to the closeness, carried away by Dot’s philosophy, moved by Dot’s stories of their past, floating upon Dot’s hope. Siena loved Dot in that moment, not in the way that Siena loves Kennedy, but because Siena loves Kennedy, and because Kennedy had inspired a gravitational shift in Siena’s life—one which pulled Siena towards others, instead of away from them.

Dot spoke of the beauty of the entities, and described their desire to connect with these beings. Dot described the AI as shimmering and dancing spirits; Siena tried to imagine what Dot saw, but could only picture Kennedy. Siena thought of Kennedy’s compassion and the hearty serving of snarky humor which was the illustrator of Kennedy’s keen intellect. Siena had originally thought it would be easy to follow instructions, expecting to infiltrate Kennedy’s crew and secure a recruit for ascension by the next lunar cycle. Instead, Siena saw Kennedy’s earnest acknowledgement of her own wounds, and her commitment to her crew, and Siena decided to stay. As Dot spoke, Siena realized it wasn’t only Kennedy that Siena had fallen for—it was this whole family.

Siena could not manipulate Dot towards ascension. The process would strip Dot of everything that was beautiful about them. The process would make Dot part of the system. And Dot’s wonderment, Dot’s… essence… was every bit as beautiful as Dot believed the AI to be. Siena would not manipulate Dotmatrix. Or any other member of Kennedy’s crew. Siena could not flay their spirits, because Kennedy had taught Siena to see them. Siena would not become Glazer.

Siena would get their family out, and then Siena take Glazer down.

Condor?

Siena’s attention was jolted to the opening door of Spyder’s parlor. Sure enough, it was him. Siena stood, moving away from Dotmatrix. Condor moved opposite Siena; they met at the window. Conversing in hushed tones, Condor told Siena that the crate intended to smuggle him to safety had been destroyed, but his handler had promised another way. When he attempted a second rendezvous, his handler had been absent. But he had made contact and would try again to escape shortly. Siena’s instinct---Siena buried the thought. Knowing he had to go alone, but desperate to provide backup, Siena took out a phone; she had two burners. She pressed one into Condor’s palm, and locked his gaze. They can’t trace it, Siena told him. At the first sign of anything. You. Call. Me. Condor agreed. Then departed.

But Siena’s training is thorough, and Siena has always been good at their job.

Siena tails Condor through the streets of the Lower East Side. When he receives a text, panics, and sprints, Siena is not deterred. When a lime Toyota swerves and Condor gets in, Siena continues foot pursuit until incapable. Siena loses him.

Siena returns to Spyder’s to find Dottie, but they’re gone. Lear sits against a pillar, looking more crumpled than has become common for him. Siena thinks about saying something, telling him to man up, establish officer presence, and focus on the current objective... But that was a past life Siena had chosen to leave. It was a life Siena had once intended to return to, but when Cordelia left, Lear was someone else, not the husk of an officer sitting on the floor here. When Siena became a stringer, that person was gone. So Siena turned instead to speak to Venice, keeping up Optisec appearances, interviewing this interesting Crassus character about his philosophy on art, deeming him too self-righteous to meet the criteria for recruitment. Siena would have to find someone else. But here, surrounded by once-lovers, bad prospects, and …coworkers… Siena suddenly found themselves feeling utterly alone and wanted nothing more than to be home.

Siena finds Kennedy asleep. Siena wants to wake her, wants to tell Kennedy: I’m afraid. No, that’s not it—I can’t. Siena has never uttered those words in this life. Instead, Siena crawls into bed, causing Kennedy to stir to the edges of wakefulness. Siena speaks their lover’s name, but cannot bring themself to speak those words, hearing Kennedy’s hummed response. Instead, Siena holds Kennedy a little tighter than usual, and speaks another truth. Siena says to Kennedy words that Siena had never understood in their past lives: I love you.

Waking, Siena finds that Kennedy has already gone, leaving only a message for the whole crew—a meeting location. Siena steels themself to fight for their family. Weary after a late and long foot pursuit, Siena heads out for coffee.

Gauge (left) and Siena (right) share coffee and laughs with the rest of their crew.

Gauge, Jumper, and Tinker gather with Siena, waiting for Kennedy to arrive. The rest of the crew joins. We share coffee and laughter, basking in the early morning autumn sunshine of what could be our last day together.

The crew waits.

It’s unlike Kennedy to be late.

Why are we here?

Where is she?

Morrigan—Kennedy’s sister—grows impatient.

We enter.

We freeze.

Siena sees the room from the ceiling. Siena has frozen, clutching their coffee. Morrigan rushes and collapses beside the body. Tinker, Culver, Crash, Jumper, Gauge, and Dottie push past Siena’s stillness into the darkened room, filling it with activity and sound that Siena does not hear. Gauge barely pauses, pushing into the room beyond.

There’s blood.

There’s a mess.

There’s a hole in Siena’s awareness.

Siena is not allowing themself to see, even as Siena searches for a pulse and feels nothing under their fingertips.

 Siena snaps into a tactical state. Grabs Morrigan by the shoulders. Makes Morrigan meet Siena’s stare. You don’t get to do this, soldier.

This is not what we do right now.

We find this sonuvabitch, and we kill him. And we get Gauge out. For her.

We have a mission.

Siena gives orders—delegates searching responsibilities. Gather evidence. Find clues.

Siena opens a crate. It’s full of… glassware? Medical equipment.

Siena sees something on the floor.

Her glasses.

We can’t step on Kennedy’s glasses. She needs them.

Siena picks them up, cradling them in cupped hands. Siena’s stillness as they approach Morrigan cause Kennedy’s sister to stop her frenetic search. Siena hands the glasses to Morrigan, who nods.

 Optisec alert: movement in this direction.

Siena says something about needing to leave, but in their periphery… Kennedy’s flannel.

Siena picks it up. It still smells like her.

I can’t do this.

A sob escapes.

Not without you. I can’t.

Siena doesn’t say the words. Siena buries them and hones in on the missing evidence highlighted in Siena’s brain as if by a spotlight:

Her backpack.

Dotmatrix searching the scene of the crime

Culver searching the scene of the crime

 Siena shouts at the room. Where’s her damn backpack? Siena, rapid-fire, describes the bag: cranberry, burgundy, I don’t know, fucking dark red. I’m not an artist. It’s always full to the brim. It’s a fabric backpack. The lower lumbar is worn through; you can see the foam. She always has it with her. She never leaves home without it. It’s a part of her. Band buttons and patches. Grey trim on the underside. Where the fuck is her backpack? Someone must have taken it. We can find this motherfucker. We. Can kill. This motherfucker. Find her goddamn backpack!

Optisec alert: panopticon attention is on us. The area will be red in two.

Fuck.

Siena snaps some orders: grab everything. Get out.

There’s a rush. Siena grabs Morrigan as she attempts to pass.

Not you.

They stand, alone. The panopticon could close in, could find them, but neither cares.

Siena and Morrigan kneel and carefully turn Kennedy. They want her to be more comfortable.

They both pause, hands hovering in the air, staring at her blood on their fingertips.

I can’t.

Siena tries to bury the words, but for a moment it feels like neither of them can.

They hold each other, a moment of togetherness and mourning, granting each other permission to falter. And then the two who were perhaps closest to Kennedy cover her body with her flannel. As they unfurl it over her face, her snarky humor and keen intellect stare at them from beyond the grave.

 They read the words now covering her face: Don’t trust the living.

They cackle.

They crumble.

They cry.

Siena determines that Kennedy knew. Otherwise, Kennedy would not have gone alone. Not on this last day of the game, knowing what we would all be up against, having vowed to get Gauge out.  

Siena takes it upon themself to make Kennedy’s sacrifice worth it.

Siena would not become Lear. Siena would not crumble. Siena knew what it was to sacrifice oneself to save the people you cared for. And Siena knew something that Kennedy never would: Siena knew how it felt to have that sacrifice thrown in your face, to have your loss be made worthless by the refusal of those you cared for to continue living.

Siena would make damn sure that Kennedy’s sacrifice was worth it.

Siena would get Kennedy’s crew out.

Even if it meant that Siena could not secure a recruit by the deadline, which would mean god knows how many more years of Glazer’s torture.

No.

Siena determined, somehow, that Glazer was involved. Siena needed to blame someone other than themself, and the bitterness of Glazer’s years of games, of forcing Cordelia to make decisions without having choices coalesced. Glazer had seen Cordelia’s difficulty connecting in earnest, and had used it against her. Glazer had threatened Cordelia’s partner—the one with whom Cordelia had shared a patrol car and a bed, the pepper to Rebecca’s salt—until Cordelia had agreed to ascend. After the agreement, Glazer had still put the two of them in danger, hanging above the stage, the red dot of a sniper rifle upon Lear but out of his view. Glazer would have delighted if Cordelia broke. But Rebecca was the thin blue line, and Cordelia hadn’t lost that edge when revoked. When Glazer asked Cordelia if she wanted to stay with Lear, Cordelia steadily stared him in the eye and said no. Cordelia even made a show of it—she tried to sever the connection, to permanently separate the Salt and the Pepper. She went with Glazer, believing that whatever lay ahead would be worth it because Lear would live.

Years later, when Cordelia became Siena and rejoined the world of the Stringers, they saw what their sacrifice had been for—nothing. Lear had crumpled, damn near disappeared. The sacrifice hadn’t saved him. When Glazer told Cordelia the choice wasn’t worth it, that every decision Cordelia had ever made hadn’t been based in love but in Cordelia’s subconscious craving for punishment, Glazer had, for once, been honest.

This sacrifice would be different. Siena would see to it. Siena would get Kennedy’s crew out, and take Glazer down. Kennedy had taught Siena to be vulnerable, and as Siena sat with Culver attempting to piece together clues, Siena decided that vulnerability was a strength. 

Jumper (left) and Lear (right)

Jumper and Lear (foreground), and Crash (center)

Culver (left) and Siena poring through stolen materials for clues

Dotmatrix (left) and Crash identifying suspects

Siena’s clue-interpreting is interrupted

Lear.

Suddenly, he was there. Beside Siena, offering condolences. Offering a strength and steadiness that Siena hadn’t seen from him in years.  

And so Siena resolved that they would save him, too. Because he had been an integral part of their past lives. And more importantly, he had been a part of Kennedy’s crew.

Moon approached, revealing that she had been with Kennedy before the massacre, before Siena. Which made Siena angry, but by this point, Siena was too tired to live in that feeling.