Planescape: Torment is a devilish setting to write for because the story is so tightly built, so thematically unified, that I feel like I’m sewing cheeky patches onto someone’s wedding dress.
But I’m cheeky.
No Identification Provided is a series of one-shots set during the game events of Planescape: Torment. They deal with the companions I’m obsessed with and the search that ripped me to pieces little by little.
You deserve to play PS:T unspoiled, it has an Enhanced Edition on Good Old Games (GOG) that runs on modern systems.
But if you already know it, or if you don’t mean to play it, here are character moments surrounding The Nameless One and the tormented people around him.
The thought of the hag that had claimed to love him seemed suddenly too much. Nameless left the stifling room. He did what he wanted to do, what always drew him in times of turmoil. He walked outside and found a path up battered refuse in the alleyway to the roof.
Sigil was a toroidal city; it looped back upon itself far, far overhead. Any roof you went to, you would see the tops of buildings curving away in either direction, rolling up and up toward the far side. The light of thousands of windows served for stars, and for reminder of the life of the city. It was the only city in his memory.
Curst’s sky was flat. It was haphazardly jabbed with soulless white lights. He had to turn fully to one side or the other to see the remainder of the place, and instead of rising in a progression of roofs it slid to a horizon so nearby it felt fake. To get back to the proper perspective he would have to fall up…and up, and up….
“I hate this place,” he said.
“You have been here before,” said Dak’kon behind him.
“Did I hate it then, too?”
“It was…difficult, to know your desires at the time.”
“I see.” He didn’t see, of course. That was the point. “What can change the nature of a man? She accepted my answer. I think. But I was guessing. I don’t have any insight she didn’t. Do you…gods, you of all people should know. You’ve known me longer than I have. Is regret enough?”
Curst rustled and shouted at a distance. The sky above was black and terrifying. Dak’kon settled beside Nameless and stilled.
“If I could say yes,” he said solemnly, “I would.”
Then the penances of this lifetime hadn’t been enough. “I see,” he said. The maze was gone, the sky was barren, and the gith was still here, visibly aching from the truth he spoke. “If I could ever be your friend after all that’s happened, I think I would be honored to call you such.”
Dak’kon’s lip twitched. “But we would never have known one another. I share your path only because you thought me useful.”
“If this were still about being useful, you’d be getting to sleep downstairs right now.”
“Hm.” Dak’kon stood. He headed to the edge of the roof and half turned. The karach on his back stayed quiescent but he seemed to struggle with words. “You fear you have no answer,” he intoned. “Yet you chose. If you had lied, she would have destroyed us all.” Then he was gone.
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