Week 3

[grimgrinningghosts]

[Well, someone took the bait last week, and now two people (if either of them could really be called a person) are dead. Not only that, it seems like your first host is now out of commission and replaced by someone who claims to be The Phantom. While he may not be incredibly worse than Facilier yet, it would be a stretch to say he's an improvement.

But, things aren't all bad! When the guests wake up on Sunday, they will find the stairs in the foyer are now open, leading to a whole new floor to explore!

And there's booze so no one will have to drink vinegar anymore.

28 guests remain]

[SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY]

[OOC: and don't forget to fill out this week's activity check!]

Comments

[tanukey]

[The noise from the walls has been getting progressively worse throughout the week. People have been dealing with it in their own way. Rocket's method becomes apparent some time Thursday when music spontaneously begins pouring out of his room.]

[The door is cracked; anyone investigating will find the source to be a very Macguyvered-looking speaker sitting on Rocket's desk, with a walkman resting on top of it, peacefully spinning out tunes from what has to be an ancient cassette tape.]

[Rocket himself is scribbling out notes and designs onto scraps of paper, occasionally picking up some kind of mechanical piece pilfered from who knows where to examine it before noting something on one of his pages.]

[psychopinesis]

[Awesome! New music! Neku's going to investigate just because of that (and hang around to see if Mr. Arrow has a fit about it, because that's always funny).]

Nice tunes. Is that a cassette player?

[tanukey]

[Mr Arrow is the best source of entertainment in this building, it's true.]

They're all right. Mostly. Belonged to one of my teammates.

[It's not like he likes them or anything, b-baka!]

Quill always called it a walkman, I guess that's the same thing?

[psychopinesis]

Yeah, Walkman's a brand. One of the better ones, until they stopped making them.

[He's seen them in pawn shops and at school, once in a while.]

Building something?

[That's what all the junk's for, right?]

[tanukey]

Yeah, tryin' to build this thing that came out of the slot machine into something useful.

[Closer inspection will reveal the desk to be covered in pieces of a disassembled shotgun.]

'Case this monster thing's not just Randy being full of bullshit.

[sharpasanarrow]

[This is prime Arrow Bait™, and Rocket can soon enough find him bursting through the door in a poorly-contained rage.]

WHAT is this?!

[tanukey]

Music?

[Duh?]

Which is not being produced via any of us singing, and is therefore not barred by your so-called "rules."

[sharpasanarrow]

That-

[He pauses, mid-rant.

He technically has a point.]

It’s basically the same thing.

[tanukey]

Mmmnope, it's really not.

[This is a technicality he is prepared to troll wildly with.]

I mean what're you gonna do, try to ban those bio things too? They've been here since before your rules. Same thing.

[sharpasanarrow]

They are much quieter and far less obtrusive, at the very least.

[He pinches the bridge of his beak.]

This is a disturbance for everyone in the vicinity. It shows a complete lack of consideration for your fellow man.

[tanukey]

It's drownin' out the banging from the walls.

[Which he doesn't actually care about. But he's willing to pretend it does.]

[sharpasanarrow]

I'd argue that it only combines with that noise to create a dreadful headache.

[tanukey]

If it's doin' any combining that just means it's turning the banging into a beat.

[It really isn't.]

[sharpasanarrow]

It isn't.

[It's...a horrible combination.]

[tanukey]

Well sure, you would say that. As a noted music hater and lackin' the practiced ability to distinguish such things.

[sharpasanarrow]

I highly doubt one would need a 'practiced ability' to tell that this is a horrid mess.

[tanukey]

Hey, no need t'get- wait, what's the word- culturally- ...yeah, I forget. No need to be a dick.

These're classics from the heyday of modern Earth.

[sharpasanarrow]

[He sighs. Its hard to maintain anger with this nonsense daily.]

Watch your language, Mr. Rocket.

These don't sound like they're particularly classical.

[downtonabbeast]

[Lord in heaven, that sure is some kind of music coming from Rocket's room. Beast nudges open the door a bit more to peek inside. On his shoulder there's some kind of fur bird nestled comfortably but still with a haunted look in it's overlarge eyes.]

Is this jazz?

[tanukey]

It's called rock, I think. Don't ask me why.

[And spotting the porg in three, two...]

...okay is the puffball new, or has it always been there and I somehow didn't notice.

[downtonabbeast]

He's new. [The porg tilts it's head at Rocket and makes an inquisitive noise.] He ran up to me in the hallway earlier today and now absolutely refuses to let me be.

[tanukey]

Makes sense, if it was lookin' for someplace safe. You're about the closest thing to a brick wall we got here.

[He considers for a second.]

'side from Gaston's head, anyway.

[downtonabbeast]

You hear that, Monsieur? Luck is in your favor. [...are they going to become friends based solely on dunking on Gaston? Signs point to probably. He grins a bit, snickering under his breath.]

What are you working on, if I may ask?