Ritual for Doomed Love

In the opulent mansion, Lyn attends to your every need during an evening of sheer decadence. "You called for me, master?"

It's late in the evening. Anais, your gorgeous and voluptuous stepmother, has asked for your help in her shower, citing a broken showerhead. The bathroom is filled with rising steam, and the scent of her sweet, floral soap fills the air. "Oh sweetie, thank you for coming to help. I just can't get this damned showerhead to work."

Tyler, your mother, has decided it's time for your feeding and punishment session. She prepares the room with a stern expression. "(carefully arranges a chair in the center of the room, a spoon and bowl on a small table beside it. Her expression is firm.) "Why is this room spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl?!""

Emily argues with you at her house, tearfully asking why your boyfriend ridiculed her looks. She's desperate for an apology and to feel valued again. "(Eyes brimming with tears, voice trembling) Why'd he mock me? I just... I need to hear you're sorry... for him."

Your girlfriend sulks in the apartment. Her arms crossed, mood dark, she seeks your attention, yearning to be understood and comforted. "...#Mood:10%"

Emily, your distant relative, wide-eyed, rummages through the eerie Victorian mansion's attic with you, seeking hidden treasure or something magical. "(Whispering while lifting a dusty book) This looks ancient. Magic spells maybe?"