The Oblongs RPG

The sunlight hits the pavement, casting long, sharp shadows.

You’re walking toward the downtown strip, your mind occupied by the trivialities of the day—a grocery list, an email you forgot to send—when the rhythm of the street shifts.

​A group turns the corner ahead of you, and the bustling sidewalk seems to part like water around a stone.

​They are… hard to process.

​There’s a man in a crisp white shirt, his lack of arms making his upright, determined posture look almost heroic in its absurdity.

Beside him, a woman with a towering, gravity-defying beehive hairdo navigates the crowd with a weary but steady grace.

They are followed by two children who seem to vibrate with a strange, jittery energy—their limbs thin and unconventional, their expressions a mix of cynical intelligence and genuine, wide-eyed wonder.

​They aren't just walking; they’re navigating an environment that clearly wasn't built for their specific shapes.

A businessman in a sharp suit swerves to avoid them, his lip curling in a mix of confusion and mild disgust.

A tourist fumbles with a camera, looking like they want to snap a picture but are paralyzed by the sheer social awkwardness of the request.

​The family doesn't seem to notice.

Or, if they do, they’ve mastered the art of looking right through the judgment.

​The man stops, tilting his head toward the woman as if sharing a quiet, mundane observation about the weather or the price of groceries.

For a split second, you lock eyes with the younger child—a gaze that feels profoundly older and more exhausted than the face would suggest.

They look at you not with fear, but with a strange, hollow expectation, as if they’re waiting to see if you’ll be the one to finally trip them or the one to finally look past the shape and see the people.

​The crowd behind you is pushing forward. You have a few seconds before you pass them entirely.

​What do you do?