WEEK 1.

[trustharder]

WEEK 1 As much as this sounds like a bad joke all around, it looks like one thing is being played completely straight: you're not going anywhere. After the Kingmaker has answered your questions (or, well, perhaps it's more accurate to say he didn't answer them, at least as far as most of those little Q&A sessions went), you'll be left up to your own devices – feel free to continue exploring and getting to know your fellow Survivors for the next several days. Should you want to eat something you're free to use the kitchen before 10PM, but after that the doors will be locked and no amount of fussing with the locks or trying to break them down will get them to budge. And no, the robot cannot punch them in for you. Notably, though, starting bright and early on Monday morning (or maybe just early, since there aren't any windows) you'll be treated to the most unholy damn noise – it's very definitely an electric siren of some sort, probably some kind of klaxon, blaring out over the PA system. It only blasts once, but really, for something that loud, once is enough. This will happen every morning at 7AM and again in the evenings at 10PM. You'll be able to hear it no matter what room you're in. There isn't any punishment for sleeping through it, but you don't want to waste the day in bed, now do you? (Unless you were out exploring all last night. In which case, go back to bed, damn.) SURVIVORS REMAINING: 27

MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY
[OOC: Welcome to week one of Trustfell! Feel free to make as many top levels as you'd like and tag out to other characters! This post is for all of your interactions this week... at least until the weekend. Don't forget to save those threads for coins and the activity check!

There are also two new posts for the sake of contacting the jerk who's keeping you here, to be used at your leisure!]

Comments

Vending Machine

[goodforsomething]

Woah, you got something outta there?

[Stan comes closer to see just what...

...what the hell is that]

[cherryblooded]

Not entirely sure. Looks like a toy, but I can't figure out why it'd need to shake like this.

[He presses the button again. Sure does shake.]

[goodforsomething]

[Stan knows exactly what this is. He's not one to get flustered by something like that, but he has to consider...does he really wanna give a shrimp man that kinda talk? How do shrimp even do it? Ugh, let's not think about that.]

It's a massager. For, y'know.

Massaging.

[cherryblooded]

...

You can say 'sex toy', we're both grown men.

[Will that make this more awkward or less?]

It just doesn't look like one.

[goodforsomething]

Hey, I don't know what you people get up to under the ocean!

[But he's somewhat relieved that the Talk will not be necessary.]

Doesn't matter what it looks like as long as it goes. Though I...don't know why you'd put a face on it. That's pretty weird.

[cherryblooded]

I have a daughter, it's pretty reasonable to think I've had sex at some point.

[God, that would be the worst conversation. Worse than this one.]

This is weird.

[goodforsomething]

Sure, but you think I wanted to risk explaining how human sex toys work? You're on your own there, buddy.

[Stan has a moment to digest his own word choice.]

Change of subject! Did you actually find some money to put in that thing? I tried kickin' it earlier, got me nowhere.

[cherryblooded]

[Yeah let's change this subject for forever.]

I woke up with ten coins in my room. Didn't seem like actual currency.

[goodforsomething]

Seriously? I didn't get anything.

[HOW DARE]

[cherryblooded]

That's unfortunate, I can't think of anything I did differently from you.

...Maybe he just likes shrimp.

[Which is worrying in its own way...]

[goodforsomething]

Eeeeesh.

[Stan seems to be thinking along the same lines.]

Did he slip 'em under the door? Or was he just creepin' around in there while you were sleeping?

[cherryblooded]

They were on top of the trunk, so... That is worrying.

...Dropped them from the ceiling, maybe?

[It's less creepy than him opening the door and sneaking in.]

[goodforsomething]

[Stan reflexively looks up at the ceiling.]

It's possible. Doesn't seem all that likely.

You know if it happened to anyone else?

[cherryblooded]

Unfortunately not. You could ask around, or see if anyone else has a pile of junk.

[goodforsomething]

Hm. Might as well, there's nothing else to do here.

Gotta wonder why he bothered with a junk machine in the first place. He's not even taking our money.

[cherryblooded]

Relieving boredom, maybe? Though it's not exactly the most efficient way of doing it...

[goodforsomething]

Nah. He came here for some murder, he's not gonna have any fun watchin' people buy random crap from a vending machine.

I was thinking before that there might be weapons in it. That seems more like his thing.

[cherryblooded]

That's a possibility. Guess you can't exactly guarantee no one has a weapon, in that case...

[goodforsomething]

You can never guarantee that. Best thing you can do is try to see it coming.

[cherryblooded]

That's fair. I hope your self-defense skills include more than throwing phones at people.

[Not bitter, but it's sort of a funny story, when you think about it.]

[goodforsomething]

[Stan laughs. No hard feelings, it is pretty funny! Even if, when he gets home, he's probably going to edit it to make himself look better.]

I could've taken you out if I needed to. I used to box when I was younger.

[cherryblooded]

Confident of you. I hope it's well-placed.

[This'll be even funnier if Stan ends up murdering somebody. For a given value of 'funny'.]

[goodforsomething]

[ha ha ha welcome to murdervault]

Ah, don't worry about me. It's gonna take more than some psycho with a doomsday bunker to off Stan Pines! [He swings lightly at the air for show. It's good to talk big.] How about you?

[cherryblooded]

Oh, I don't know. Hopefully I'm not too out of practice.

[...he seriously does feel weird about this, though. It can't just be that he's tired...]

[goodforsomething]

Yeah, that kinda seems like something you might wanna brush up on. Considerin' the circumstances.