Survival Horror - Gameplay

[Crafty_Pat]

The man pouts just a little when you don't answer his question.

I privately take a half-moment of satisfaction at that. 

"You can, Alabaster, call me Arcade."

"Well, Arcade, you got some medical supplies handy? Toys are a whole lot less fun when they're broken."

[Mister Andersen]

Arcade tuts disapprovingly, waggling his finger. "Your friends didn't play by the rules, Alabaster. What makes you think they should get anything?"

[Antilles]

Without supplies, there is nothing more Andrew can do for the reckless moron, so he decides to move up and see what's caught the reverend's attention, and maybe see if there's something he can scavenge in case he needs to improvise medical tools.

[Crafty_Pat]

"I didn't see any big signs or stone tablets tellin' us to sit back and enjoy the ride. Fact is, with this bunch those guns said just the opposite."

Noticing at least one of the others approaching, I continue. "The mindfuck aside, you got any other 'rules'? We need to take off our shoes before we kick in your teeth?"

[Mister Andersen]

"You're such a pip, Alabaster," Arcade chuckles, twirling his cane effortlessly. "I think I'd enjoy playing with you, even if I wasn't being paid for it. But to answer your question, yes there are rules. Every game has them. And mine are particularly good. The first is that I believe everyone should have a sporting chance."

[Crafty_Pat]

Result.

"Paid, huh? What's the going rate on a busload of lifers these days?"

[Valentina]

Tok tok tok.
Footsteps that sound like impeccably towering power heels, even in prison issue flats.
"In a second, everything."
And promise horrible things.

****

Veronica has rolled out. She's ditched the failed wall and started her death walk.  She's past where Sam The Bitcher is manipulating the remains of the kill-bots, she's ignoring how the puddles of Dirk the Daring splash onto her calves, and she's into the reception room, steps steady and loud, each enunciating a growing hunger to make her tormentor's throne into an abattoir.

[Mister Andersen]

Arcade ignores the question and ticks off the 2nd point on his fingers, delivering as he does so the infamous British 'salute'.

"Second is that the odds are very much in the House's favour. Every challenge you face in my little game has many solutions; Dirk and Christopher are both testimony that many of them are the wrong ones. Between you and me, I suspect your chaotic angel Veronica may be tempted to add to the curriculum."

[Crafty_Pat]

I pause, listening for the sound of a bloody heel clattering against the back wall behind me.

[Gatac]

Seems like everybody faded...ah, screw it, I still gotta get to the water under the truck's hood somehow.

"Yo!" I shout up to the cockpit, "you guys find water? We still gotta wet some fools, remember?"

[NezMaster]

Still sits breathing heavily against the wall. He looks up and tries to figure out if he can stand. "well, as far as why you should give us some medical supplies, I'd say it's becuase you still want us to play your little game, and you know as well as I do, that the crazy unpredictable ones are the most fun. So, why don't you help us, and especially him" Dirk says pointing to the unconcious figure on the floor.  "I think it will make your game better for everyone."

"Believe it or not, I sort of like the idea, I'd hate to miss out now."

[Mister Andersen]

Arcade taps his fingers against his lips thoughtfully as he considers the pleas for aid. "Well, Alabaster, if you have any success in stopping your pet Amazon from doing what I believe she's about to do," he nods towards the door into the hold, "then yes, I think I can see to taking your injured collegues off the bubble for now." He taps one of the screens. "You're still a little ways out from your destination and a good ten thousand feet up."

[Valentina]

Tok tok tok...tok...tok...
Tok.

Veronica has stopped.
And is openly gaping, all her furious cool draining away, the "your pet" reference going apparently unnoticed.

"I...I know you."
"You are Arcade.
"You're an assassin...a killer...but a threat on the scale of a natural disaster."
"You don't have the name a person could ever have, no.... you have a reputation for misery and death God can't match."

"And ....someone really, really wants me dead."
"I'm....flattered."
She recovers somewhat, and folds her arms.

"I'm listening, what are your terms?"

[Crafty_Pat]

Cross my arms and wait for the fireworks.

[Mister Andersen]

The red headed maestro of murder places a mockingly innocent hand to his chest. "Moi?" He chuckles. "Take notice, Alabaster, you've got a contender there. It's not me, but yes, Veronika, there is a Santa Claus, and you're all on his very very very naughty list. Yet even now, you all have a chance. "When this plane lands, you will all disembark and take your place as the inaugral contestants of Murder Island. Every challenge the game throws at you has its solutions and any number of them may be right or wrong just as you've learnt here. The more entertaining you are, the better your ratings, and the better your chance of surviving to reach the prize, which is, of course, your freedom. Give me any trouble before the game starts, and I will cheerfully drop this plane out of the sky and usher in your understudies." He smiles. There is no humanity in the expression.