WEEK ONE: SUNDAY AFTERNOON, ROOM 106

[parodeity]

[ dave dropped violet off a little earlier at the room, then went off to haul dirk back to 106, so when he steps back into the room - knocking and being let in, presumably - it's with. the oldest member of this little power rangers squad in tow.

he goes to sit on the couch next to violet, bumping his elbow into hers as a sort of "hey" and then leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. there's like. that chair or whatever by the end table for dirk, clementine and emily are probably sitting on their respective beds?

anyway dave kind of eyes dirk (again. this will keep happening) before going: ]

Okay. Everyone but me can role reveal if we wanna get that out of the way so we can talk information and make a plan for the week based on, y'know, what we can do. Everyone but Dirk [ nods to ] knows what I am, anyway, and he can't know from my mouth 'till tomorrow so we can test a thing. Y'all can mention whatever, though...

[ LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS, to defeat...the HUNS. there is no particular tag order just do whatever and treat it like a trial you can threadjack i guess. ]

Comments

[splinten]

[No this has to come first: Dirk just kinda staring. Blank. At these people.

Actually Clem he gets, she is very postapocalyptic, so he understands her. Violet and Emily both seemed smart but also.

But also.

He just puts his face in his hands for a full minute.]

I figured it'd people he does laundry with.

[Dirk what is with you and laundry.

LET HIM GET TO HIS ROLE IN A MINUTE JUST. GOD.]

[parodeity]

So, anyway. Last week the Convict [ who shall remain nameless ] broke into the Storage Room, on the grounds it seemed like a safeish bet that might be useful. There were...lots of boxes, and, uh.

[ pause... ] Mannequins. Some kind of tentacle monster tripped the idiot, and hackin' at said tentacle did not do a whole lot. The boxes had some interestin' shit on lower levels, but not so much up top. Clothes and chemicals and stuff up there. The mannequins...moved around on their own, and there was a ghost, but I'm not sure that part matters.

[ the information: ] There were boxes of copies of the Yuggoth Gazette. They were all pretty old. The articles were skimmed as quick as possible, but not all of them were even complete. The basics, though? We were probably brought here by the HP Formula, which was made by a lady called Abigail Phillips. She won the Hopkins Award for science. She was supposed to be awarded the prize on July 1st for..."For her extraordinary leadership, inspiration, and advocacy to studying the dimensional possibilities of our future. Her exceptional contributions to mathematics in the HP Formula is the foundation of quantum physics."

[ continuing: ] The condemned buildings were almost certainly the work of an arsonist. He was caught, and they were supposed to be demolished in the spring, but these papers were old - so they either never were, or somethin' is up. One of them is probably a pet store, for the record.

[ and finally: ] We're in North Yuggoth right now. South Yuggoth has a forest, with a radio tower. The Phillips Foundation gave a grant to build it...so that might be useful, if we can ever get there, if only because Phillips is connected to it somehow.

[ ...oh, and: ] Also there were lots of pictures of like. People bein' happy and content back in whenever the fuck, around here. So that's...cool, I guess, but not immediately useful.

[empireofrats]

[Oh, we're telling roles. Okay, yes good.] Hi. I'm the Medium.

I can talk to someone who has died, but... I will get in trouble if I tell anyone what they say. I asked if it was okay to draw instead. The Innkeeper said I just can't say it.

So I'm going to draw it for everyone. The Innkeeper said finding a killer isn't what's important. Something else is, but he didn't say what.

[splinten]

I was supposed to bring back the rules for a weapon, so here's what they got for the Carpenter.

[He clears his throat and uses the goddamned Craftly impersonation for it because WHY, DIRK.]

Salutations, Carpenter:
1. The following rules are for your eyes only. The ink is invisible to those who surround you.
2. You have been granted a gift. Your weapon is a nail gun.
3. As you read this message, your weapon has been left under your bed. You are free to retrieve it at any time.
4. Do not worry about your roommate catching a glimpse of it. The nail gun is only visible to you and those who you willingly choose to reveal your role to.
5. We hope you are able to enjoy this gift.

[End impersonation.] If the other weapon rules are like that, then we might be dealing with unlimited ammo, but nothing particularly tricky in their functioning.