Week 2.

[trustmods]

WEEK 2 Two people are dead. Ken Kaneki has been murdered, Reaver has been executed - and perhaps most uncomfortably, the Conductor is proud of you all for adhering to due process. (As always, by which he means that there is a process, and you all are certainly doing it.) Saturday is given to regrouping and sleep; come Sunday morning, the clock chimes the hour at seven o'clock and there are no dead bodies to be found, so it can be assumed that all of you are safe for the time being. That said, you'll be feeling a little groggy when you wake up; it seems you've regained something that you didn't realize you'd lost... However, once you've shaken that off, there are new things to be looked at; the previously closed-off area near the kitchen has been unlocked, and there's a new floor to be explored - consider it your reward for a job well done. PARTICIPANTS REMAINING: 27

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[OOC: Welcome to week two of Trustfell! Save your threads for coins and the coming week's activity check; don't forget to check in to this week's activity check and submit your memory regains as well!

The Letters and Switchboard posts are still active, for the sake of contacting the jerk who's keeping you here, to be used at your leisure!]

Comments

[forcegalactic]

[He nods. Better to answer everyone's question in one sitting than have to go through the same question over and over again.

The Barkeep sighs.] No...it's all a one-way thing, detectin' somethin'. If they found me, I haven't realized it yet.

[There's the soccer photo again.] You know, funny as it is, this fake picture's the best thing I got to remind me of home.

[heymcfly]

[ Marty listens to the Barkeep silently, nodding along when the moment calls for it. It's...sad, kind of. There's a bunch of shit probably that could remind everyone of home, but they're not allowed to have it.

A daily reminder that the Conductor is an asshole.

He looks a little crestfallen, nodding along in agreement with the Barkeep. ] ...Are you sure it's fake?

[forcegalactic]

[He looks over the photo again. There's the familiar red plains of Mars, his own face, but apart from that, nothing else can be real. He never met those teenagers, he never liked being near a sports ball, much less wear a coach's jersey.

He shakes his head.] It has to be. I don't remember this happenin', ain't that enough?

[There's nothing wrong with his memories, he's sure of it. Like many others, he woke up with inexplicable injuries, though it's nothing as bad as Cabanela's. That's all there is to it.]