Week 4.

[trustharder]

WEEK 4 And as the third week in the Vault comes to a close and the fourth week begins, the Survivors are once again down by two. Mion Sonozaki died on her own terms, and Yato died fulfilling his duty as God of Fortune in the best way that he knew how; the shrine built in the game room on Saturday stands in their memory. Saturday is given to regrouping and sleep; there aren't any bodies to be found on Sunday morning. But that doesn't mean the night was uneventful - it seems something else may have brought you some newfound clarity. Or perhaps not... Once again, that spiral staircase leads farther than you remember, clear up to a previously inaccessible fourth floor. Go ahead and explore as much as you like; even if the Kingmaker sounded a bit unhappy with you last weekend, the fact remains that you're still doing what you seem to have been brought here to do. SURVIVORS REMAINING: 21 SURVIVORS REMAINING: 20

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY
[OOC: Welcome to week two of Trustfell! Save your threads for coins and the coming week's activity check; don't forget to check in to this week's activity check and submit your memory regains!

The text and calling posts are still active, for the sake of contacting the jerk who's keeping you here, to be used at your leisure!]

Comments

[goodforsomething]

Yeah, but there's no booze in that room. [Look, he's not in this for music appreciation, he's in it for drinking with entertainment.] Maybe we could, uh...we could ask him.

...he's probably got crap taste in music though.

[psychoh]

Probably, but what've we got to lose? I'll, I'll message him something later...

What's your taste? Mine's probably a bit too, um, old-fashioned for everybody around here.

[goodforsomething]

Fuck it, I'll - I'll do it right now!

[Stan goes for his phone. This will go well.]

You're from the sixties, right? I grew up in the sixties, we had great music!

[psychoh]

[ohhh god]

Hm, well, it's more... I do listen to the radio a lot, but my records run more... Beethoven and Mozart. That sort of old-fashioned.

[goodforsomething]

Ha! Yeah, that's total nerrrrrrd music. Guess you prob - prob'ly don't want a jukebox then, huh?

[Type type type this conversation sure is happening.]

[psychoh]

I wouldn't say no, but... This is, um, as jazzy as I'm ever gonna get.

[watches him type, warily]

... Please, try to be polite. [he asks, in vain]

[goodforsomething]

Suuuuuure, sure! I got it, kiddo.

[norman is older than many people here, but he also won't let Stan curse and eats a weird amount of candy, so you know what that apparently evens out. at least to Drunk Stan.

.....also quickly typing out what is definitely not a follow-up to previous rudeness]

Okay, let's go for the records then. It'll be good for everyone.

[psychoh]

[DEFINITELY not stopping playing to lean over and super obviously try to read the screen bc he doesn't fucking trust him]

[goodforsomething]

Woah, hey, privacy! That's a - a private conversation.

[Although Norman may have caught a glimpse of Stan apparently fighting with autocorrect over the word "Beethoven".]

[psychoh]

I-It's sort of from me, too; I can look...

[... oh. he hadn't really thought... he hadn't really expected... nobody usually tries to get him things. it's strange. but nice.]

... Th-Third symphony. If he has it. [so, might as well take advantage.]

[goodforsomething]

Yeah, yeah, okay.

[Type type type. Stan snorts at himself.] I feel like a - a damn teenager on this thing all the time. Hey, uh, he says - we'd better not fall asleep here, he's gonna get pissed.

[Ah, the innocence of pre-Taichi days.]