WEEK 1 MINGLE

[vault_tech]

'cuz it's a sin to tell a lie.

Week 1

As you sleep, you find your mind plagued with strange dreams. You’re still trapped, of course, there’s no way to avoid that, even in the comfort of your own mind, but you’re alone. Utterly alone. The radios and jukeboxes scattered around the place all spring to life, as if they’re speaking to you directly. On the other end, you see people talk about you. From your own perspective, it can’t have been more than… 48 hours since you were taken. From the perspectives of those on the outside, the times don’t match up nearly so well. It might have been days. It might have been weeks. It might have been months.

The voices discuss you. They discuss the way things have changed. They talk about how you just suddenly disappeared without a trace. Maybe they’re glad, glad that you weren’t around to see what happened without you. Or maybe they’re angry. Maybe they know that it was your fault. If only you’d been there, none of this would have happened. If you’d met up with that friend, they wouldn’t have died. If you’d been there to save her, things would have been different. If you had apologized, maybe… or if you hadn’t abandoned your responsibilities…

You don’t get the specifics either way. Your dream - or vision, it leaves your imagination to do all the work. But there’s one thing you can be absolutely sure of.

You are running out of time.

Well, what’s there to be glum about? The vault is your home now, lovingly prepared by Vault-Tec™! Who cares what some ghosts from the past have to say about you, eh? It’s not like you’ll ever see them again.

And no matter how deeply you were sleeping, The Overseer’s voice sounds out on the intercom and seems to wake you immediately.

“Hello, lovelies. We’ve decided to be extra generous to all of you, so we bring some good news for a change. I’m sure in the last few days, you’ve gotten pretty sick of that walled off little cellblock you’re cramped in, so you’ll be positively giddy to learn that we’ve prepared and unlocked the rest of the first level for you all to explore to your heart’s content. If you’ve given up on ever getting out of here, make yourself at home. If you haven’t, well, there’s plenty of fun and interesting tools to integrate into your work whenever you decide to take advantage the former group’s complete lack of initiative or willpower.

Oh, and before I forget… check the common room before you go.”

With that particularly nasty announcement, you will find that the doors that locked the rest of this floor off to you have all been opened up. And in addition to that, the profiles have been made public, joining the rules as framed pictures in the common room.

And if you wish to contact your Overseer or her robotic assistant, you are free to stop for a chat.

NAVIGATION

Vault 113: a short-run murdergame

RULES

GAME INFO

LOCATIONS

PROFILES

IC RULES

MURDER

PCs

CHECK-INS

code credit

Comments

[discodancer]

[ In the afternoon and evening, the bar has a tender. Or, at least, a oman leaning behind it with a bored look on her face and a half-empty glass of clear liquor in front of her. Her Vault jumpsuit is only half-zipped, revealing her narrow sternum and the suggestion of ribs fanning out over her internal organs, and when she leans forward or bends you can catch a glimpse of a utilitarian white brassiere very adequately serving to contain her modest topwards assets - if you happen to be looking that way.

Whenever someone enters the mysteriously named SUZY'S, Klaasje gives them a tiny nod and a slight, ironic smile, not yet stirring from her pose against the shelves behind her. ]

What's your poison, sailor?

[ You know. Because of the decor, and all. ]

[verghese]

[Nick is in the process of exploring the newly accessible rooms when he stumbles across Klaasje in the bar. He's still wearing his normal clothes--though, he knows that sooner or later, he's going to have to use the laundry room and wear that ridiculous jumpsuit.

He slumps against the counter. He looks significantly more exhausted than he was yesterday, though that's not saying much. His gaze flits briefly down towards Klaasje's outfit, then moves upwards to politely avoid staring.]

Anything that'll get me drunk quickly. Maybe it'll help distract from the currently unfolding nightmare.

[He taps his fingers against the bar surface. The edges of his nails seem to be ragged, as if they have been gnawed down.]

[discodancer]

Coming right up, investigator.

[ She doesn't notice his briefly observant gaze, or if she does, she takes it for what it is, neutral and inoffensive. A patient fisher doesn't flinch at the passing over of bait.

She produces a bottle of clear liquor to match what's in her glass and a smaller bottle of some kind of dark syrup. She pours a large measure of one and a short of the other into a chipped glass, then stirs it with a clean straw filched from the diner. She leaves the straw in when she slides it over to him. ]

Vodka and cola. I think.

[verghese]

Thanks.

[He scoops up the glass and takes a sip. It's strong--almost too strong, but he chokes it down, the vodka burning the back of his throat. His typical sensibilities lie within the 'fruity cocktail' category of drinks, but given the circumstances, he feels this is preferable to facing whatever grim reality Ianthe has set forth for them.]

I-- [Nick clears his throat, trying to eliminate the vodka's effects.] --I didn't realize you were a bartender. I'd give you a tip, but I haven't exactly been able to track down my wallet.

[It's meant as a joke, though his delivery doesn't properly convey it.]

[discodancer]

I'm definitely not a bartender.

[ The temptation to say I'm a cafeteria manager is high, but she resists. If you're going to tell jokes only you find funny, you need to make them subtle. ]

I just like to drink, and no one else was here, so. I thought I'd keep myself busy.

I'd still have taken the tip.

[roastmortem]

[ Everything aside, Maddy is undeterred, pulling up a seat with a curve of her lips. ]

You know, usually I'm on the other side of the bar. So I think I'm gonna be one of those and say "surprise me".

[discodancer]

Oh, I think it'll surprise me, too.

[ Klaasje says, amicably. She fishes out a bottle of dark tinted liquor and a bottle of Nuka-Cherry, mixing a healthy quantity of the first with half of the second in a squat, wide-mouthed glass.

This done, she pushes it across the bar. Bone apple tea. ]

I've never done this before, except at parties. How is it?

[roastmortem]

[ She takes the drink, giving it an apprising whiff like this is actually serious business. One sip later— ]

I've had a lot worse. What's this cherry nonsense though? It's sweeter than the stuff kids drink straight from the fountain.

[discodancer]

I don't know. It seems like it was pretty popular around here...or maybe the other way around, since there's so much of it left.

[ She does appreciate the compliment of her bartending 'skills', such as they are. ]

Klaasje. I don't think we've had the pleasure.

[moodwinks]

Sailor...? Mm, should we be calling this place Captain's?

[Belphegor moseys in with half a yawn, though it looks less like he's sleepy and more like he's just woken up (what is a sleep schedule, you're likely to run into him 'just waking up one more time' pretty much throughout the day, though he may be more active nowadays). He looks around the place with slightly raised eyebrows once he's gotten fully inside, shrugs.

Obligingly comes over to perch on a barstool, knocking his knee against the security lockers(?????) and also giving them a confused look. Just as obligingly he peruses the (fake) drinks and the (real) assets on display before pillowing his head on his arms.]

... No Demonus, so... what can you make with wine and blueberries?

[discodancer]

I think it's called Suzy's.

[ There's a sign, but it's not like she's getting on anyone's ass for not reading every usually pointless sign in the world. She eyes his whole...everything he has going on with the same obviousness he looked her and the room over with, then shrugs. ]

I don't know. I don't have blueberries. We do have wine.

If you bring me some, I could put them in a glass for you. Or I guess you could take the wine to the diner.

[moodwinks]

Suzy's doesn't really fit with the decor, does it?

[He totally read the sign, that was just the laziest attempt at a joke, ever.

They can watch each other for a bit; Belphegor's just Belphegor all over, even though he's presently sprawled on the bar more like a half-dozing cat than whatever-he-is. Alcohol will likely not get him particularly wired but he might as well stay awake in a place where there are people about.]

A bar with no extras... They really should stock these places better. Do you think the kitchen robots can hear us from here? [the most rhetorical] I'll take wine. Cordials?

[discodancer]

Maybe they were a sea captain.

[ He might be more intimidating if that poured-over slouch of his wasn't so pronounced. Instead, she almost expects him to nod off in a beam of imaginary ocean sunshine. ]

There's cherry-cola syrup. It's decent.

[ Wine and cordial, huh? Klaasje pours from a bottle of red wine that has the vivid hue of artificial dye, but the miniature syrup-filled bottle she slides over next to the glass of wine. ]

Knock yourself out. [ Beat. ] Not literally.

[bethorns]

Oh, I'll drink anything! But I guess...sweeter things?

[ She cannot hold her alcohol at all, fair warning. ]

[discodancer]

Hey, Yor.

[ Klaasje's smile is a touch warmer for her. ]

Sure. Do you like cola?

[bethorns]

I do! I usually just drink tea, but cola is a nice treat?

[ ...Though she assumes? This may involve alcohol? If not she doesn't mind. ]

[underinworld]

Drinking in a place like this one is a terrible idea and we should be destroying this place.

[Erin says, and sits to the bar because as sour as she sounded there, she's not the one who makes good decisions around here. She's here for drinking]

Is the good juice real or...?

[Or is it fake booze somehow?]

[discodancer]

I don't see why you can't drink and destroy the place.

[ Multi-tasking, you could call it. Klaasje shrugs. ]

The bottles on the wall are fake. The other stuff...it's alcoholic. I couldn't tell you if it had, you know, a providence.

I haven't gone blind yet, though.

[underinworld]

Great, as long as they can be used for molotov cocktails then it's all fine.

[Hah, she doesn't know how to do molotov cocktails]

I didn't think there would be real drinks around here. It seems a little generous.

[idecidethetruth]

Oh, I'm not old enough to drink.

[ Not that that's anywhere near the biggest concern, here, but he can't help but default to trying to keep up appearances – of course the straight-laced celebrity heartthrob would never dream of underage drinking. Even Shido always chides him like a child when he expects to drink with him, like he's not just going to pour him his glass of whisky anyway and hasn't the last few dozen times...

...Of course he's thinking about him when the bar is made to look like a fucking ship. ]

I'm just looking around.

[discodancer]

I don't believe in repressive drug laws.

[ Absolutely deadpan, absolutely true. ]

But it's your call.

There's some cola in here. Same kind they have at the diner.

[jiwoonhak]

[ Ji-Woon trails behind Akechi and slides into a makeshift stool at the bar. His laugh escapes his throat like a fog. ]

We're in a kill-or-rot game of survival, and you're worried about being cited? Come on. [ He pats the seat behind him, and somehow, it doesn't seem optional. ] Sit down. Loosen up, kid. We're at less risk while everyone's awake.

[ His expression settles into something softer when he turns his attention to Klaasje. ] Surprise me. What's your favorite?

[modularized]

[ like everyone else probably now that their enclosure has been expanded, sopmod's been exploring their new rooms— but it looks like someone's beaten her to this one!

undaunted, sopmod, still in her usual black and red hoodie ensemble with the one sleeve missing, zooms on over at the invitation and cheerfully parks herself down at the bar. ]

Something fizzy and fruity, please!

[discodancer]

[ Where are they growing these girls? ]

Coming right up.

[ It's a busy day for Nuka-Cherry. Klaasje fishes one out, pops the top, and pours half of it into a glass, then slides both across the bar. ]

Want it spiked?

[modularized]

[ oh that's a loaded question in the context of her canon. let's elect not to worry about it.

nuka-cherry even matches her color scheme. score. in response to the question sopmod will simply beam merrily and chirrup right back as she stops the drinks in front of her: ]

Go right ahead! Unless you wanna save it for someone else. It doesn't really make much of a difference to me.