The Splintered Cell

You awaken in a poorly-lit room, unable to remember a damn thing.  On the table in front of you is a note written in vaguely familiar handwriting: “The Cavalcade’s memory-eaters took everything from us.  We barely got away with a few stray masks.  Get to the vault, recover our memories, and take the bastards down.”  Next to the note: a handful of masks, glittering and powerful, loaded with other people’s lives and dreams.  And over it all, one thought echoing in your mind: they’re coming for us.

This is an entry in the One Hundred One-Page Game Jam, and is an unholy amalgamation of two games by Grant Howitt: Arlecchino's Eleven, and Retrograde.

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