It's a surprisingly quiet ride. The passenger cart is nothing more than wood and a bit of cotton to cushion the seats but for some reason, even as the train hurtles along down the track, the cart remains silent. It only starts filling with noise when the passengers begin to stir.
There isn't any indication on how you got here. No grogginess, no injuries -- in fact, those who arrive with injuries might find them healed up completely (of course there are others who won't be so lucky) -- but in one blink and the next, you are here, on this train. Maybe you're even sitting next to a friend. Maybe a stranger.
Won't be any time to talk either, the train suddenly slowing down with enough of a jerk to throw its passengers back into their seats. A few seconds later, it comes to a complete stop and with a whistle, the doors open and a voice calls from outside. It's male, with a slight mechanical twang behind it and anyone who looks out the window towards the station can just about spot the portly man out on the platform.
"You might as well come on out, folks. You won't be getting any answers on the train."
Once everyone is out on the platform, the man stands before them taking an assessing look at each person. There is something very off about him, though he looks human enough -- but his eyes are too white, his skin too dry, and his hair is doesn't shine quite right. He is dressed in a flannel shirt, suspenders, and jeans, a cowboy hat atop his head and a badge pinned to his shirt that reads "Sheriff". After a moment, he gives a gruff nod and speaks again.
"Howdy. Real happy to see all of you. Explanations will come... Sunday morning, yeah. Give y'all a bit of time to meet each other. Settle in. Keys are on the table over there, hat and pistol in your room. Don't, er... Don't shoot each other right away but if you do, my office is over there. Go get some dinner, sun's about to set. Wouldn't want any coyote trouble."
And that seems to be... it. The Sheriff tips his hat and turns to head to the building with the large "Sheriff" sign on the front. There is a table nearby, keys neatly laid out for everyone with nametags attached to each one. An owl hoots in the distance and a breeze passes through the group. It's quiet again.
Welcome to game start! Characters will find their items in their hotel rooms and anyone who goes to visit the Sheriff after he leaves will find the station empty. On top of that, rulebooks will not be available to find until later. The Sheriff might be forcing it a little but it seems like the intent here really is to get everyone to interact with each other. If there are any questions, PM or hit up the plurk at ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico) robowest! |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sheriffexe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
robowest2017-01-13 05:59 pm
no subject
[Shinnosuke wouldn't be completely surprised if he were, in fact, dead, considering his circumstances before this, but... yeah, cowboy fetish is hard to incorporate??]
Depending on which religion we're talking about here, there's a lot of hell realms, isn't there? I'm sure that if they're keeping up with the times, a cowboy fetish could be inserted into one of them.
no subject
[Join the club, Shinnosuke. Jason still isn't convinced this isn't some fucked up hallucination his brain is feeding him in his death throes??? Yikes.]
Good point. But last time I checked, I'm not a Brokeback Mountain kind of guy. Which makes me wonder — who messed up the paperwork to get us thrown in this particular hell? [A beat, and then he gives Shinnosuke a look over.] ... Assuming you're not into spurs and cowboy hats, anyway. Are you?
[He's taking this way too seriously.]
no subject
Japanese here? American culture doesn't interest me, sorry. [...] Though since the idea of hell is that it's supposed to be suffering, maybe that's the point?
But really, if the idea is that we're supposed to get to know each other until that guy shows up again, I think boredom might be the real torture here.
no subject
[LOOK. YOU GOTTA KEEP AN OPEN MIND WHEN WORKING WITH A GUY WHO DRESSES LIKE A BAT. Better safe than sorry.]
Boredom and dust allergies. I get they're sticking to a theme, but couldn't they have picked something more modern? And with air conditioning, preferably.
[Stop being a filthy millennial, Jason Todd.]
no subject
[Animu, man.]
Right? I was already out camping—I'd like to see some real civilization now, thanks.
no subject
[CLEANSES HIS HANDS OF INSULTING THIS DUDE??? Right.]
I know. But I doubt the man in charge's gonna be accommodating. Assuming we haven't shrugged off the mortal coil, how much money do you think they blew on this place?
no subject
... Great, so we're dealing with some eccentric rich guy? Or rich woman, if we want to be gender-equal. Either way, those are always the most delightful.
no subject
Oh, you have no idea. But I don't think most eccentric types would resort to kidnapping to get their jollies. Whoever nabbed us has got to be a total nutbar.
no subject
no subject
He takes it in stride.]
What can I say, I'm a big fan of cop shows. What's your excuse?
no subject
My excuse for what? Not being an expert on these things?
no subject
Sure. If you want to interpret it that way.
no subject
no subject
no subject