( MINGLE - WEEK 3 )

[abhoth]

SURVIVORS: 36 The sun is shining, the air conditioner units hum as they always do, and a gentle morning breeze blows against the windows. The scent of pine cones and evergreen follow you wherever you go in the motel, save for the parking lot and outdoor pool. It seems like someone was very generous with the detergent while moping the floors. The two grandfather clocks (one on each floor) will ring with each passing hour, indicating the time of day without fail. With this knowledge — they'll note the motel will continue to be surrounded by fog until 8:00 AM on the dot. It is at that hour that the fog will begin to recede. Not enough to reveal the whole city, but enough to allow residents to explore some of the buildings surrounding the motel. And speaking of the motel, it doesn't seem like there's anything out of the ordinary on this lovely Monday morning. How quaint. As a reminder, we are now accepting murder proposals for Week 3! If you're interested in having your character commit a murder this week, be sure to send in your proposal before Tuesday, 9:00 PM EST. Without any murders we can't have a murdergame, so go forth and let the bodies hit the floor! As always, feel free to PM us or send us a PP over plurk if you have any questions! ( quick navigation ) ic rulebook | locations | statuses | room assignments private conversations | ic profiles | graveyard | full navigation

Comments

[pinesfortruth]

... Yikes, dude. [just. yikes.]

[splinten]

Yeah. My Bro, the Dave in my universe, fought in the doomed rebellion against her. He died, as he knew he would, but he brought to justice the twin juggalo presidents that had inflicted so much misery on the world.

[pinesfortruth]

[...dipper has a lot of questions, but mostly:]

What's a juggalo?

[he's 12 and from california and i refuse to believe he knows what a juggalo is]

[splinten]

It's a really stupid kind of clown that's into rap and drinking Faygo. They're followers of the Insane Clown Posse, a pair of rappers who became the last Presidents of the United States.

[pinesfortruth]

Wow. There wasn't a single part of that sentence that wasn't terrible. [just? why?] I wonder if that means your dimension's thing is clowns?

[splinten]

Apparently, there are alien clowns who had basically the same role as judges and enforcers for the Condesce—Betty Crocker's title on her home planet—and who were able to kill people for not being 'sufficiently hilarious' so like. I could entirely believe that kind of bullshit idea.

[pinesfortruth]

I'm kind of glad the alien ship I went into had super dead aliens now. [hums] It's from my great uncle's-- [he hesitates for a second because of paranoia and changes his mind] ...studies. His studies. Anyway, apparently all dimensions have a common thing that defines them and what happens in them. So. Yours would be clowns, probably?

[splinten]

[it's ok Dipper, have your slip-up, Dirk in fact does not care]

That sounds sufficiently stupid to be an accurate statement about our universes.