Event Annex - The Senate Room

[pumpkinhollow]

CRY HAVOC, AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR.

W

elcome, esteemed guests, to the Senate Room.

The rules of the game are simple. You have a word over your head that you cannot see, and the same word written on a piece of paper in an envelope that also contains a key. There is a door out of this room. Each key opens the door for only one person. You can see the words above others' heads, but you cannot say them, nor can you say any direct synonyms that might give it away too easily, nor can you spell the word or its synonyms. You must find other ways to describe it to allow the other person to guess. More abstract. Get creative with it.

If you believe you know the word, speak it aloud and open your envelope to retrieve your key. If you are correct, you can leave without incident. If you are wrong, your organs will immediately fail and you will die.

Here are the words each participant has been assigned. Players can use them to refer to other players' characters to help them guess, and you can use them to check your answers when you guess, but you can also OOCly know your answer provided you don't use it to ICly cheat. Good luck.

Agent Connecticut

Fickle

Agni Azimar

Traitor (there is an additional document contained in this envelope)

Aloy

Obstinate

Ancient Fuelweaver

Ruined

Anzu Menelikov

Deceitful

Artemy Burakh

Tainted

Capochin Bastone

Inadequate

Cassandra de Rolo

Cynical

Dahlia Leeds

Insatiable

Daisy Tonner

Merciless

Elias Coldwood

Discarded

Ethan Winters

Insufficient

Felix Gaeta

Imprudent

Hector Monaque

Covetous

Jonathan Sims

Hubristic

Lev/Lyubov Morgenshtern

Weak

Luo Binghe

Alone

Marik Ishtar

Megalomaniacal

Mr. Ant Tenna

Histrionic

Papyrus

Ineffectual

Sasavachi Chunome

Misanthropic

Shen Qingqiu

Pretentious

Simon

Selfish

Violet Vespertine

Cowardly

✦Return to Event ✦

Comments

Rules/Questions

[pumpkinhollow]

- No direct synonyms. Hints must be phrases to describe the word in a full sentence.
- No spelling. You are permitted to give a single letter as a hint but cannot say its place in the word.
- You may not let the other person guess to you and then confirm with a direct yes or no, but you can use body language.
- You can use stories, anecdotes, the names of other people who could be described by the word, etc.
- Not everyone needs to post a toplevel--- you can tag into someone else's and help them, then have them help you
- You can talk to as many other people as you like before making your guess
- If you see an unanswered toplevel, tag in. Don't leave anyone out to dry.
- Time is soup
- Some people have knives and can kill you to steal your key. Knives and stolen keys can be traded.
- Your key only works for you unless it is stolen. You cannot give away your own key, only one you stole.
- You can only use a stolen key if the original owner is dead.
- If someone dies from failing the game, you cannot steal their key.
- Good luck! Any questions?

Re: Rules/Questions

[medekh]

Yo ok I will ask the obvious question.

This is one room, right? As in, everyone can see everything that happens? If character A stabs character B, everyone knows? How difficult is it to pull someone aside and whisper a thing in their ear, would everyone notice that?

[for_i_have_none]

Just to be sure -- is there anything preventing people from solving their own word and then staying in the room?

Agni Azimar | OC (D&D, Curse of Strahd) | OTA

[for_i_have_none]

About thirty seconds into the guessing game, after looking carefully around at the words over everyone else, Azimar stands up at his place and slaps both palms down onto the table.

"It's not my nature that I need to understand here, sir," he announces, addressing the air above the table, "it's yours. The word over my own head is traitor." And without waiting for anyone else's reaction, he snatches up his envelope and rips it open.

Organ failure does not seem to be imminent, as he draws out the slip of paper inside, reads it, and ... notices the second piece of paper inside, much larger, carefully folded. He draws it out as well, unfolds it, and begins reading.

All expression, and all color, slowly drains from his face.

[thethirteenthchild]

Well, that can't be good. Not only does this mean the fellow tiefling is exactly Eligos's type to mess with, but also that there's something new to be worried about.

"...Something wrong?"

[graphomaniac]

Lev approaches Azimar cautiously, and sits down beside him. He's still blanched and visibly trembling, but a shade calmer than before.

"The letter," he murmurs. "The letter's, nu. Worse?"

[mortifer]

On the periphery, Sasavachi watches the dramatic announcement unfold. Another letter? Another round to the games? Judging by the color draining from the man's face, it must be ill tidings indeed.

Carefully, he makes his way towards the horned man.

"No key?"

World's best comforter.

[not_a_traitor]

In an instant, Gaeta's whole attention snaps to Azimar, unnerving in its intensity. He doesn't say anything yet -- not at the outburst, nor the stunned reaction to whatever was in his envelope.

(Sometimes, the best strategy is just to stay quiet and let the other person talk.)

[thethirteenthchild]

Oh, of course. Of course the old man would pull some horsepiss like this. Tossing her head back, Dahlia groans. "Grandfather, please! I am trying to help you! Are you really going to make me do this?"

No answer. And Dahlia knows from her own royal omniscience that he could answer if he wanted to.

She lets out a sigh.

Fine. She'll do this his way. Better start talking to people. Pursing her lips, she looks across the table at someone and smiles tightly. "Want to try and figure this out?"

[not_the_last]

Cassandra gives a similar flat smile back. "We may as well. I can see what's over your head, can you see mine?"

Hector Monaque | Great God Grove | OTA

[carefulinspekshun]

Oh, great, here's some new ordeal to have to go through, and this one features everyone in here seeing the worst parts of each other. Fantastic. As if this isn't one a real, actual stress-nightmare that Hector's bad before.

He almost crumples the envelope in his hands, and smooths it out anxiously, cracking an uneasy smile to one of the people closest to him.

"Ssso, uh, this is a new one, huh? Yew... need a hand with dat?"

[spaghettimonster]

"Floating rude words is a very new one," Papyrus agrees, with an uneasy smile of his own.

He's tried twice now to trick his own word into his line of sight, pretending to focus on the envelope only to rapidly look upwards, as if his word would drag behind and linger in his own line of sight while doing so. That doesn't seem to be working, though, so...

"Yes, I could use a hand. Who knew community service would be so cooperative... Or involve hinting impolite things at each other."

Dr A. T. Menelikov & R' L.V. Morgenshtern | OCs | OTA

[amourtician]

OOC: Those are collapsible text headers! Click them for the actual TL prompts.

1. as frontlets between your eyes

Anzu casts a cold, jaded eye across the room, and snorts, a little too loud to not be a deliberate signal.

"If the demons wish us to break ranks, they have severely underestimated the community," he says, archly. "Suspicion is not a dandelion. It shan't crack paving stones."

But he's got his hand on Lev's wrist, and he does not look at his bridegroom. Whatever Eligos has branded Lev with, he wishes to avoid seeing as long as possible. The rest are deeply nasty and in at least one or two cases, unfair in that they're only technically true. This is a game, he tells himself. This is just an attempt to lure them all into yet another brittle, petty courtly bitchfest.

But he cannot bear to look.

Lev/Lyubov glances around the room, shudders, and moves to take off their glasses. But Anzu's got hold of the wrist of their dominant hand, and when trying to take their hand back, they inadvertently come face to face with their husband. Anzu closes his eyes in time, but Lev/Lyubov's overwhelmed and never the most agile, and so they see the word.

They shriek in dismay, and lurch back, overbalancing. They and the chair both crash to the ground. They cover their face with both hands, throwing their glasses to the floor.

"No," they moan. "No, that— no. No."

If that's true. If it's true. How much is it true? Is it true concerning their relationship? Is it true concerning all the times Anzu has told him he minds not his frailty, his strained nerves, his brittleness?

They're making a scene. They're well aware they're making a scene. They crawl away from the table and the overturned chair, but make little progress.

2. a time to grieve

Later, still shaken, Lev/Lyubov is huddled in an armchair in the corner, anxiously searching the face of anyone who passes by. Their left hand lies limply by their side, the wrist tightly bound with strips of cloth — dislocated. Anzu perches beside them on the arm of the armchair, his arm around their shoulders. He keeps his eyes closed, not wishing to see the brands upon the faces of his friends and neighbours, but his hearing's acute, and on hearing approaching footsteps, he smiles, and addresses the newcomer.

"Darling! Might thou assist us? We're, ah. At something of a marital impasse here."

[not_the_last]

"I'll help if I can." She looks from Lyubov to the man leaning over her. "I don't think we've properly met; I'm Cassandra."

Nyura, she thinks is the name Lyubov had mentioned before, but she'll wait rather than guess.

Capochin | Great God Grove

[staybizzy]

Well isn't this a fine cobbin' how do you do. Capochin glowers at the envelope in front of him, not even remotely wanting to know the answer. He can think of a dozen. Broken, misfit, useless, self-sacrificial, edible. Great. Just perfect.

But he can't just sit here all day, and Hector's here, which--- oh whoof. He's not gonna like his either.

Well, he needs to get himself and Hector out of here. That's the most important thing.

Patting his pocket, he finds his package of cigarettes and lighter still there. Carelessly, he lights up, unintentionally glowering at someone. "Alright, what's da damage."

[amourtician]

Anzu snorts.

"Well, probably not enough to initiate divorce over, darling," he says, darkly. "I'll help thee, but ah. Might thou share some of the cigarettes first? Rather ah. Rather more nervy than I expected, nu?"

He's left Lev in the armchair, exhausted from hysterics and with a wrecked dominant hand. Taking some space now seems like a good idea.

Papyrus | Undertale | OTA

[spaghettimonster]

"'The barrier is not here...'"

Papyrus reads this off the envelope slowly, gripping it in both hands. One finger rubs at the corner like maybe the letter will decide to open itself, without him figuring out this puzzle, if he just wants it enough.

(It doesn't.)

He's not really surprised by it, more surprised to find himself gritting his teeth than that, and he puts his envelope back down on the table before looking at his neighbors.

"Could that be... true? All of us are outside of the barrier, just like that? And... and with that, dying could be..."

[apocryphalarchivist]

"...Permanent, yes. I'm afraid it's true. I've ran the risk once before, and only narrowly escaped it. It makes sense that the King of Treason would have one last hurrah like this, doesn't it?"

Jon doesn't typically foist up that information so willingly, but there's no reason to hide it. Not here and now, when people need to know exactly what they're in for. His own envelope remains in his hand, his thumb worrying at the edge of it.

"We've got to be careful if we want to make it home. Even if we get out of this room, there's no telling what awaits us afterwards."

Jonathan Sims | The Magnus Archives | OTA

[apocryphalarchivist]

Heart hammering in his chest, it's hard not to feel suffocated by this room, Jon thinks to himself. All of these vicious words bearing down on everyone, with god only knows what above his own head. Too much potential in his hands to hurt someone— himself, any of these people he cares about, any of these beloved town figures, or even those who just got a new chance at life. It's enough to make him feel sick.

What else is there to do besides try to help, though, and fight off the desperation as best as he can?

(The Eye bids him to look, but he cannot See here. The potential of bloodshed feels closer than ever before. He keeps his back away from anyone he can.)

"Best to try to get this over with, then," he offers to someone looking as directionless as himself. "Would you like me to try to start?"

[medekh]

"Go ahead." Artemy says. He hasn't met this man yet, seen him around town though, surely, "We're all here to help each other out, I'm glad to oblige."

In comparison to Jonathan he seems distant, impassive, stoic. Like none of this matters to him in the slightest.

Simon | Iron Lung

[hemonaut]

Simon can think of a few things that his might be. Butcher, traitor, convict. But there's a part of him that hopes, after everything he did, that even the god(?) running this bullshit has judged him More than those.

Either way, his best guess isn't worth dying for. And there's plenty of people in this room, so it's not too hard to find someone else.

"Hey, you wanna give me a hand? You help me, I help you?"

[spaghettimonster]

There's a lot of things to this game that Papyrus isn't enthusiastic about. The idea that people are made to do any given thing, instead of choosing for themselves and encouraging others to choose in turn, is definitely among those things. And the words themselves...

He shoots an assessing look at the word floating above Simon's head, before offering a smile.

"If you'd be willing, I would love that! I realize these words aren't very complimentary, but I understand you won't mean anything by it. Just saying--" His jaw snaps shut, and he blinks his eye sockets in confusion. Teeth grind a moment, before he manages to say, "that's... weird..."

Aloy || Horizon Zero Dawn

[ihadthewilds]

At first, the words floating above everyone's head could almost be mistaken for text from her Focus, were the words not so unnecessarily cruel. It is indeed still on her head when she reaches up to check, hmm.

Glowing lights around her, visible only to Aloy, fill the room, and she carefully scans the envelope in front of her, hoping it will register the text inside the way it does for other written things. Instead, it only helpfully informs her what she is holding. Envelope. Fantastic.

Aloy huffs impatiently, looking around. No sign of Rost. She needs to get out of here. He could be in danger, or Alex could. But she can't risk dying.

Instead of speaking up, all Aloy does is glower at her envelope. Someone else might need to initiate.

[liesdontfindyou]

"I don't suppose you're getting any more of a hint than I am?" CT asks, nodding loosely to Aloy's Focus and waving her own envelope in indication. Of course she's tried to tap on the Eye, but, no, it's not going to help her out here, if it's even allowed.

Sasavachi Chunome | FFXIV OC

[mortifer]

one.

Hands in the night. From clothed blackness to the brutal glint of oak and marble. In the first few minutes of the 'game,' Sasavachi withdraws into himself. He immediately leaves his seat at the table after reading the contents of his envelope and retreats to the sides of the room, as far away as he can get from the others. There's a blankness to his expression, as if he were carved from stone. Every now and then, his eyes dart from one person to the next - to the space above their heads where their words hang, to flick over their faces.

He says nothing as he rubs the coins on his bracelets, over and over again. If you pass by him or approach him in this state, you'll catch him straightening up his posture. He'll look long and hard at the word above your head before coming to some form of decision. Sasavachi speaks, firmer than he normally would.

"How many have you spoken to?"

two.

Through the proceedings, Sasavachi skirts upon other people's conversations. He'll be using his small stature to his advantage, taking care to keep his steps quiet as he eavesdrops. He appears to be gathering information - for what? Call him out in the act, if you'd like.

[xiaoxiuya]

Shen Qingqiu pauses for a moment before speaking, taken aback by the youthful but clearly adult voice that comes out of Sasavachi's mouth. He'd thought he was coming over to comfort a child, not...whatever this is. "Not many," he finally says, coughing diffidently into one hand. "How, ah...how are you holding up?"

Misanthropy? From such a cute little person? Well, if everyone he meets assumes he's a small child, that would make a certain amount of sense...

Artemy Burakh | Pathologic

[medekh]

Artemy's word seems obvious to him. Butcher, Murderer, Killer. Man who will spill a river of blood. It's nothing he hasn't heard before and is expecting to hear again today. Still, the guess seems like it has to be very specific- he doesn't want to end up being slaughtered himself over the difference between the words Murderer and Killers.

So he's binding his time. Acting cautiously but impassive, as if none of this is affecting him at all. He'll gladly help you out with your word, and perhaps ask a few questions about his own word, they're all here to help each other out, after all! He just won't be guessing his own word quite yet.

The Haruspex is also taking a careful inventory of everyone here. Faces he knows and both doesn't know, people he knows intimately while others he's only seen in passing. He's glad most of the people here are adults, at least, save for one it looks like.

[thethirteenthchild]

Finding him on the far side of the room after what seems like several hours has already passed, Dahlia takes a seat beside him, a light smile twitching at the corners of her lips. Anxiety and exhaustion bleed into her every motion, despite how composed she would otherwise seem. This sort of thing wears on a person.

"It's been going a long time, hasn't it? It's hard to tell how long, but it feels like it's been all day."

mr. tenna! || deltarune (ota!)

[montyhall]

"Ahh... Aha! H-How about that, folks! Looks like we got a real GAME on our hands, huh!! H-Haha!!"

It's Tenna's first impulse, as ever, to search for the familiar — to grasp for the slightest handhold in wildly unfamiliar territory, to pretend as though he has the slightest bit of power in this hopelessly powerless situation.

But it's nearly impossible for him to even pretend, here, isn't it? That he's the host of this particular gameshow, and not just one of its unlucky contestants.

So, he dispenses with the showmanship almost immediately...at least until he forgets himself and the impulse comes over him again, as it inevitably will. It's just his nature. In the meantime, though, he's quick to offer a lending hand wheresoever it might (or might not) be needed; after all, working together is the name of this game, isn't it? Sure it is!

(And if anyone might catch him trying to be very inconspicuous about the additional envelope he's surreptitiously tucked into his waistcoat... Well, that probably isn't anything to worry about. Right?)

Luo Binghe | SVSSS

[bingmeiification]

OTA

Certainly, thinks Luo Binghe, his eyes tracking the words hovering around the table, none of these descriptions are flattering. He would assume that his word is “demon”, of course — but this fiendish trap is crafted by a demon. Perhaps that would be a compliment. In which case, his word might be “abomination”? Or “greedy”?

“This one feels remiss,” he remarks offhandedly to a table neighbor. “If I had met more people already, perhaps I would be better able to contribute.”

FOR SHEN QINGQIU/RELATED

However, on reading the word hovering over Shen Qingqiu’s head, Luo Binghe swells with righteous indignation. “Why, this is no ‘truth’!” he says hotly. “This is mere ignorance. Jealousy, even! A judgment such as that could only come from someone utterly lacking in refinement and importance themselves. What nonsense!”

mr. vespertine! || ffxiv oc (ota!)

[e3ccfb]

"Are you fucking KIDDING ME right now!?"

As soon as the situation makes itself clear, Vespertine explodes with rage, bursting up from his chair and slamming both hands on the table with all his might — which, admittedly, is not very much, but he's certainly loud about it. It's a stark contrast from the image he's endeavored to cultivate on this island during his time here so far: cordial; calculated; careful to never leave a single hair out of place, and quick to chase even the most mildly uncouth of statements with a playful laugh.

Now, though... Now, his ears are lying back, almost flat against his head; his teeth are bared, his eyes are wide; and his face is twisted into a look of such furious anger that it might actually serve to mask his fear.

"This is BULLSHIT!" He punctuates his shout by slamming his hand on the table again. "I just fucking GOT here, what the fuck did I fucking do to deserve this!? Fuck this, FUCK!!"

His hands curl into fists as he carries on, as though he means to slam them on the table for a third time — but he turns, instead, his back facing the others as his fingers uncurl and wind into his hair where they pull tight, and a wordless cry of frustration looses from his throat.

"What did I ever fucking do... This isn't fucking FAIR!!"

[staybizzy]

"Yeahhh, you better get used to dat, bub." Capochin is sitting down the way a few spots, flicking cigarette ash directly onto the bare table top. "Ain't about desoivin'. Dis sorta thing happens once every month or so. Plus, one of da charges is 'conspiracy with da holy mothers.' Dat'd be da lady you talked to to get here."

ethan winters / resident evil (ota).

[mycotic]

the first,

Here he is, amidst the glitz and glamor of a kidnapping unlike any other. Deja vu strikes Ethan like a match so his skin burns with the recollection of coming to in the Baker farm, at the opposite end of a family dinner table. There, he'd rejected their plates of mystery meat, and paid the price. Sweat beads down his forehead. His brain is throwing shit at the wall like run or why don't you have a gun, moron, but these assertions are largely useless when you're dealing with a table of other people, who seem to be as innocent as you.

As if his heart isn't pounding, as if the information isn't plain for him to read, Ethan speaks up. "Is anyone going to tell me exactly what the hell is goin' on?" There surely must be more than just the writing on the wall.

second,

After receiving his answer to his question, Ethan sits quietly in his chair for a long moment, considering the individuals before him. They barely recognize him, he barely recognizes them. It's an even relationship, he imagines.

Then, eventually, he clears his throat, adjusts his atrocious posture, and looks out into the crowd again. "Did anyone do the stuff they were accused of doing? Anyone here at all? Because I didn't."

And he's always had a slight inclination to veer away from authority, really.

and third.

[ if none of these appeal to you, please contact me through PM or on discord— i'm in the server. :) i'm happy to plot something specific with you! ]

second.

[for_i_have_none]

"Well," says the stranger with the horns, who hasn't left yet despite having been the first to open his envelope, "that depends on how one looks at things, I suppose. Our most gracious host," said with venom, "may choose to interpret our very presence as conspiracy with the Mothers, since that's the entire reason they brought us here, and we did agree to join."

He tips his head back and forth in a gesture of theatrical uncertainty. "As to the others ... I find that when a lord has taken it into his head to hold people collectively responsible, it generally doesn't do any good to argue. If he were of a mind to be swayed by such petty concerns as making sure that those punished are the same as those who actually did the deed, the matter wouldn't arise in the first place."

Agent Connecticut / CT | RvB

[liesdontfindyou]

In hindsight, she should've seen this coming. Or, something like this, she's not sure any forewarning could ever have given her the full shape of it.

The bag comes off. She's sat there in her nightgown, of all things—a strappy thing with lace and a string bow under the bust, in her signature dark brown. No weapons. No charmed bracelet. Just an envelope. And the Eye looms heavy at the back of her mind, but says nothing. So, no help there (not that it'll stop her trying).

She reads the envelope. She reads the words over everyone's heads. And with a weary sigh she groans: "...son of a bitch."

[thethirteenthchild]

"You can say that again," Dahlia says with a sigh. "Seems as though we may have been busted for trying to derail the plan. I don't get it--- why would he rather die than skip a generation, if he already lined things up for me to inherit anyway."

Felix Gaeta | Battlestar Galactica | OTA

[not_a_traitor]

Well, this isn't the first time Gaeta's been dragged to his potential death with a bag over his head, and it probably won't be the last.

He takes quick stock as soon as he can see. Still in his sleep clothes: a basic shirt and shorts, no prosthetic leg. Other people, most of them familiar, dressed similarly. No sign of Francis. He skims the unfavorable words above everyone's heads, then looks down to his own envelope to read the rules of whatever stupid game they've been pulled into this time -- only for his whole face to go cold.

The barrier is not here to protect you.

His eyes dart around the room, but there's nothing he can see that would indicate a lie. The Web glitters like it's been covered with a rime of frost. Oh, he can still use it to pull, guide, manipulate like always, but it's not about to give him any hints about his "true nature." He'll just have to play the game well enough to win.

That should be easy though, right, Felix? Any spider can do it. Should do it. Because unless he gets out of here alive, he'll never find where Francis has gone. Would have been nice, though, if the bastards brought his leg along while they were yanking everybody out of --

"OW!"

Yeah, that's the sound of a demon chucking Gaeta's prosthesis right at him. It hits his shoulder and thumps to the floor. Exasperated, Gaeta spins around in his chair to demand, "What the frak!"

All that gets in reply is a low, amused laugh from whatever member of Eligos's court was on kidnapping duty. Gaeta rubs his shoulder with a scowl, scoops up his leg, and gets to work strapping it on as he mutters a few more curses under his breath.

[liesdontfindyou]

"Okay now that was just unnecessary," CT says, already moving to come and join him, check on him, whichever you want to call it. "...I'm not going to ask if you're okay because that's a patently stupid question right now."

She does, however, come very close to apologising for possibly getting him into this mess thanks to the whole Eligos plan.

Shen Qingqiu (Yuan) | SVSSS

[xiaoxiuya]

Once he's made his best attempt at calming Lev down, Shen Qingqiu drifts back towards the great table at the center of the room, toying with his ubiquitous fan in a state of growing agitation.

"This is a cowardly, brutish game," he mutters to himself, before raising his voice to directly address those who stand or sit nearest to him. "And I for one simply refuse to believe it. What reason has the self-declared Lord of Treason have to speak honestly of our natures? More likely these labels were made to make us doubt ourselves and each other, and I refuse to fall for it. We may be in his power but that is certainly no reason to trust him."

[for_i_have_none]

"Exactly," says Azimar, standing with one shoulder leaning against the wall near the door, raising his voice slightly to carry. "It's not our natures those words illustrate, it's our host's. Approaching the truth just closely enough to stick in the edge of it, as you say, to sow doubt."