INTRODUCTION

[vault_tech]

INTRO

Vault 113

You wake feeling groggy. You have the distinct sense of oversleeping, even if you may not recall ever going to bed in the first place. And this bed? Definitely not yours, no matter how comfortable it may be. And you'd probably not go to sleep in your street clothes*, right? Well, maybe it's time to smooth out your bedhead and get exploring!

(*or whatever else you were wearing at the last moment you remember)

The first thing you'll notice is the complete absence of windows - are you underground? Though you'll encounter quite a few closed doors, there are some rooms for you to look through and maybe catch your breath in. Maybe it's time for a slushie in the dining room? Impatience won't get you anywhere!

And what's better than a sweet drink to bring strangers together? After all, you're not the only one who's crawled out of bed a little late today. Mingle and don't worry too hard about your current predicament!

((The Mastermind will introduce themselves at 7pm EST real time.))

NAVIGATION

Vault 113: a short-run murdergame

RULES

GAME INFO

LOCATIONS

PROFILES

IC RULES

MURDER

PCs

CHECK-INS

code credit

Comments

[pottedplant]

[He might, if he noticed Belphegor was even talking about him. As it stands, he is just. Continuing with the door.

Sorry for the meal delay?]

[moodwinks]

[This panda is really getting friendly with the door. Maybe the talking was a fluke? Maybe it's an animatronic panda? Belphegor is pretty comfy on this counter, though, and he's not all that fussed to find out up close just yet. So:]

You. Bear steak. You really want to get into the kitchen that badly?

[I am sorry he is just going to refer to him like that for now, even though he is not Beelzebub and is therefore now mostly doing this to be a shit. The diner robot whirs in confusion beside him, as though trying to decide whether he just placed an order or not......]

[pottedplant]

[Finally he stops, then turns to look at who talked to him.

Stares for a moment.]

Yeah. I need some coffee.

Also-[points to himself]-red panda.

[moodwinks]

[Well, it's a good thing he remembered to use those big fuzzy ears this time, because Belphegor would have probably moved on to throwing things next. No doubt the kitchen has many sturdy projectiles; that said the corner of his mouth quirks up, still, amused. He deigns to finally hop off the counter to come examine the goods.]

Panda, bear, it's all the same in the end if it's a steak, right? But don't worry, I'm less of a carnivore than most. [most what] Is coffee on the menu?

[Did he even get around to looking at the menu? Probably not. There's so many shenanigans happening in this diner.]

[pottedplant]

[A pause to think about that.]

I...guess.

[He is not really a steak person. At least not on his salary.]

I assumed it was here. Seems like a place that would have it.

[What else would you expect from a diner like this.]

[moodwinks]

Coffee would make sense at a normal diner. What would coffee made for a robot taste like...

[Contemplative: is it coffee made by a robot, and therefore not that different from a coffee machine, or just coffee made for robots, and therefore some kind of bizarre motor oil energy drink concoction meant for robots. Kind of like premium gas. Belphegor turns to their intrepid, still blockaded kitchen cavalry.

Reaches out to poke at it a bit, as though he might find some hidden buttons.]

Either we need to order coffee off the menu, or this guy is hiding a coffee machine somewhere.

[What if the coffee comes from the robot's body. Terrible.]

[pottedplant]

[Considering the wording, Resasuke's mind goes to the latter rather than the former.

Motor oil coffee...sounds gross, ngl.

And, well. No reason not to try the robot, he supposes, so he'll just go up to the counter, looking at the robot's...face? Is it a face? Really hard to say anything definitive for a robot.]

Coffee, please.

[moodwinks]

[There are some who would claim all coffee tastes like motor oil.

Not Belphegor, though, he's tasted coffee from two or three worlds and it always tastes at least a little bit like death, but there's sometimes a dash of doom and gloom or inexplicable empathy depending upon the maker. Coffee machines, though, huh...

Belphegor blinks, and the robot is already at the kitchen door now that it's free, as though it might have teleported there? BAM, they're locked out now but the robot seems to have... reached its objective...? He blinks and then snickers a little.]

Ah. Too bad. I didn't think that thing could move so fast, with how old it looked.

[pottedplant]

[A small shrug.]

I'll take it.

[Better it works well than him having to wait on coffee for much longer.]