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Food Supplies
I would counter that particularly with a coastal danger zone (the three beaches, the two cliffs, the coastal woods, the swamp, the warehouses, the swamp, and the dock all seem to qualify at the least), it would not be hard to insert supplies without kids even being within shooting range of the chopper in question. If you wanted to push the kids further back, shutting down several adjacent zones at once would be easy enough.

Granted, there's the problem of Liz Polanski, but that's...neither here nor there right now, and she's one loose kid. Food caches would be easy enough to put in from v5 forward, but at least in v4...would it be too hard for the terrorists to realize that things were running a bit longer than planned and scramble something ersatz together? They've adapted to innumerable crashed cameras, rogue students, and a breakout plot. A food shortage causing trouble would be pretty mundane, all things considered.

Also, the food could be literally dropped from a couple hundred feet...the odds of a chopper being shot down from that height seem pretty slim, particularly if the chopper keeps moving. Really, a chopper never has to get within 1000 feet of a student.

Food Supplies
Though it's come up once or twice in the course of RP, I think that something needs to be done with respect to a certain necessity of life, namely food supplies on the island. The daypack contents as listed give two loaves of bread, two tins of crackers, and four bottles of water. Though the size of the tin of crackers is not clear, a loaf of bread is going to run about 1400 calories per an estimate that Rattlesnake found for me. Assuming that the two cracker tins roughly equal the bread, you're looking at 4200 calories plus whatever junk food the kids packed (or perhaps if they're really lucky, they skipped lunch at school and have a spare sandwich to toss in).

For a game that runs 3-5 days, this wouldn't be an issue, and even getting into the 8-9 day range you probably wouldn't have a problem with realism. However, seeing as we're on day six and not even to the halfway mark student-wise (we're set to hit it on day 7), v4 seems set to run somewhere in the range of 14-15 days at least (v3 ran 14 days), and possibly a bit longer if the pace of deaths thins out towards the end (which does tend to happen...there was a big bulge in v3, but that was due to the escape plot scrambling numbers (that was...20-odd students who went "off the radar" more than anything, and the halfway mark in deaths came close to halfway in terms of time partly because of that). Assuming no massive plot twists like that, we're probably on pace for about 16 days, give or take a few.

Do not fear, this isn't a complaint post...it's more a proposed solution to preempt this problem from getting out there. I would like to suggest that, starting in a day or two, at least some caches of food (or something in this vein) be inserted on the island in ex-danger zones. The bad guys can get in easily enough while the DZ is operational, after all. The last thing Danya is going to want to see is half of the "cast" of his show immobilized by hunger. This is...more in the vein of providing first aid packs so that minor cuts don't cause people to bleed out on a hangnail: It's lousy TV if nobody is fighting (or if while they're fighting, they're sufficiently debilitated that it's more "staggering and throwing weak punches" than anything).

The Fifth Announcement
Bill Davis has now joined the pile of bodies in the Hall of Mirrors.

Laisse tomber les filles
((All GMing approved by karsk))

Bill had no sooner finished giving his spiel to the camera when he heard a scream come from behind him and felt a sudden, painful pressure in the side of his neck. His eyes went wide by surprise as Rhory suddenly forced the shard of broken glass into him, and he let out an involuntary shout of pain.

...where did she come from?

Tumbling over as Rhory jammed the glass into his jugular, pinning the side of his hoodie to his neck, Bill nearly dropped his gun. Nearly...but not quite. Though it was empty, Bill didn't dare let it drop, and in spite of a half-dozen shards on the ground embedding themselves in his clothes or, in at least one case, planting itself firmly in his back as he went down. As soon as he hit the ground, Bill's hand was in his pocket, fumbling for the remaining bullets...

C'mon, c'mon, where are you?

The pain was extreme, but somehow not blinding as Bill's body surged with adrenaline. He finally got hold of two of the bullets in spite of the distraction of blood running down his neck, of one side of his body being on fire, and of the girl slamming into him. Moving quickly to jam them in the gun and fire, Bill looked up at Rhory with an angry, wicked grin.

Yeah, I got the wrong person. Again. Whoops. But I'm still going to get you.

As Bill fumbled with the bullets, he felt a sharp kick to his head as Rhory opted to kick him rather than using her hands, which had been scarred as she first drove the glass into his neck. The kick knocked his head to one side and drove the glass shard all the way into his neck. In spite of the fact that the hood of his sweatshirt was pinned to the side of the neck, he felt it slip part of the way off as the glass cut into it on the other side of his neck, and at the point where the glass met his neck, he felt something come undone.

The resulting spray of blood from Bill's carotid went all over the hall they were in, actually blocking the view of at least one camera with a coating of fresh, warm O-. Bill finally dropped the gun, both hands going to try and hold his sweatshirt onto the wound and at least slow the bleeding, but doing so only drove the glass around within his neck, cutting it worse, while absorbing cuts of their own. His hands recoiled at the pain, and more screaming followed, somewhat muffled as the glass partly blocked his windpipe.

That Rhory had nailed both his carotid and his jugular was perhaps the cruelest part of his death: His heart kept beating, trying to keep up the flow of blood to his brain, and once the blood had deposited the oxygen and nutrients it carried with that particular organ, and the cut to his carotid was not so devasating to divert all of the blood from his brain to the gap. Enough of it continued on to his brain before flowing out the rip in the side of his neck that he remained fully conscious throughout the whole process. Trying instinctively to stanch the bleeding, Bill flailed about, spraying a fair amount of the resulting blood flow around, while the rest of it poured onto his clothes in a warm, sticky, and eventually oddly firm reddish flow.

I'm dead. How did this happen? How did I let this happen?

As he ran out of blood to release onto the floor, Bill's movements slowed as his heartbeat eventually did. His eyes glazed over as his breaths slowed down, turning into desperate gasps as his strength left his body.

I was supposed to stop all of those killers running around the island.

Slowly, Bill's field of view narrowed as the supply of blood to his brain finally ran out, so much of it spread all over the floor, walls, and Bill's clothes.


With that, Bill lost consciousness. His body was still twitching slightly in the pool of blood and broken glass on the floor from random synapses firing in his slowly dying brain, but his pulse finally stopped registering on his collar.


Laisse tomber les filles
Bill had stormed up the stairs, not knowing who (or what) he was going to run into. All in all, this was not going well. A few minutes earlier, he'd accidentally put three blasts of shot into his partner-in-stopping-crime. On the bright side, by the time he'd gotten over to Logan, Logan was already so far gone that there was nothing he could have done. Checking Logan's pulse was entirely irrelevant: He had so many holes in his chest that if he wasn't dead, he would be soon.

Sorry, bud. I didn't plan on this.

Storming up the stairs, he'd discharged two more rounds at what he thought was his nemesis...only to run into someone who started blathering about someone else being in the building...

...and, to make things worse, telling him he was out of ammo.

Are math classes really that bad these days?

“No, there were only two shots in the second volley,” Bill said. “So that makes the count seven. Three plus two plus two.”

“No, you’re wrong it was definitely eight. Three and three and then two.”


“See,” Bill said smugly. "I told you it was only seven. Three plus TWO plus two...plus one.”

As Marion collapsed, Bill shook his head as he looked down at the killer he'd caught.

"Nice try, but I'm not stupid."

Bill had the foresight to check Marion's pulse, and finding none, he took a step back, looking at a camera for a moment.

"Nobody take me for an idiot. If you're "playing" this game..." Bill put finger quotes up as he said playing, just for emphasis. He had the room to himself, and was feeling rather triumphant, even if his words were outpacing his thoughts. "...then I will track you down and...stop you." A smug grin grew on his face as he said this, feeling useful for once on the island.

The Fifth Announcement
I'm going to go ahead and withdraw Bill's death from consideration for BDA. I can tell we're not going to make the deadline, which is a shame, but...meh. We're having fun, and I would rather have it end as we envisioned than cut it short in the interests of making a deadline. Besides, I don't see it rising to the level of Tyler Franklin's death earlier this week, though we do aim for a good show all the same.

Laisse tomber les filles
One of the problems with SOTF is that good reason doesn't always take over, and it is instead exchanged with rash judgments and incompetent actions. More than a few students had died as a result of these sorts of incidents in each round, and V4 was not likely to be a bit different...

Bill caught sight of Rhory's form in the hall, and fixed his gaze on her. "Stop or I'll sho...ah, hell..."




The three volleys of shot aren't aimed at anyone in particular; a lack of invocation is the only thing separating Bill's approach from being called "spray and pray": The body Rhory was hiding behind gets positively littered with hot pellets, and a few tear into Rhory's jacket on the floor, turning said jacket into a see-through model with stunning speed.



Two more volleys are aimed higher once Bill realizes that his aim was too low, and the shots go down the hall, shattering the few intact mirrors on the hall into numerous pieces and sending a number of flying pieces of glass into whomever happens to be in their way before Bill realizes that Logan Reynolds was already in the hall when he'd unleashed his waves of destruction down the already ruined hall.



And before he recognizes any of what he sees down the hall, Bill Davis is tearing off towards his erstwhile ally.

I did not mean to shoot at you...

SOTF Alignment
I'd put Simon on Lawful Neutral. I say this because while I can engage in a bit of armchair morality on the one hand, Simon's thrashing of Tyler was quite justified under the circumstances. Now, I know his justification was anger at Tyler pushing his leg out of its mount, but how much less furious would the beating have been had the leg not been pushed out? At the very least, he needed to immobilize Tyler for a couple of minutes, and let's not forget that Tyler fired the first shot (well, figuratively) in this engagement.

Looking through this through my own moral lens (I'm Catholic), that final whack runs into a bit of trouble. There were several options at that point (namely, leaving him on the beach as he was and walking away, killing him slowly, killing him quickly, or staying with him and trying to make the end as comfortable as possible). #4 was a bit of a non-starter because there was no way to do that short of bunching up some clothes as a pillow or, if available, giving him a shot of whiskey or something to take the edge off the pain. #1 and #2 as conscious options are flatly immoral given the presence of #3 or #4.

While I don't accept the presence of an alternative morality, I do accept that in Simon's view (and frankly, Tyler's as well), he did the best he could under the circumstances. Even a lesser beating that left him badly crippled (namely, a useless leg or a badly broken arm, or a couple of broken ribs), absent the presence of a roll pushing the narrative, would have probably had Tyler asking Simon to get it over with given the situation on the island. Staggering on in the face of starvation with nasty injuries and no hope of rescue...it's not something I've actually had to reflect on in an RP before, and really not something that comes up all that much in the world today.

...and actually, I think the SOTF/Battle Royale situation would make for excellent analysis in a philosophy department somewhere (with varying "givens" such as "no chance of escape", "negligible chance of escape", etc.), not to mention making for a somewhat dizzying game theory exercise.

SOTF Alignment
Tyler Franklin: Lawful Evil. Per my earlier discussion, he was quite willing to beat people up, but he drew the line at willful killing. He also only did so in order to get food, but he was still quite willing to knock others out of the running in his own self-interest.

Bill Davis: Surprisingly, my Cancer Man knockoff seems to have wound up as a form of Lawful Good: In spite of being prone to waving his gun around a bit too much, the only person he's legitimately attempted to harm is someone he honestly believes to be a multiple murderer who he's trying to stop.

David Anderson: Intended as Lawful Neutral, but I didn't play him enough to really get an alignment out of him.

Lawful or Chaotic? Good or Evil?
I would say that the Joker is more or less the embodiment of Chaotic Evil...

As to the Law/Chaos line, I think that's harder to define, but I'd base it on following some overarching morality versus just doing what one feels like as well. I think it comes down to "What do I do when my rules aren't convenient for me?" A lawful character will most likely stick by them if possible, a neutral character may or may not, depending on their judgment of any number of factors, and a chaotic character...didn't even have the rules to begin with.

To point out an article done on the movie, Gordon Gekko was very much lawful evil: The man wrecked companies to make a fortune, and an ironic analysis of the law at the time the movie was set suggests that (through lousy research on the part of Oliver Stone) he actually didn't violate a single law and probably maintained plausible deniability on most of his skirting insofar as he could say "I never told Budd Fox to do that. 'Get information' does not mean 'commit felonies'." And yes, I do think he enjoys the corporate raiding.

A lot of senior mobsters will fall into this category...I think one senior figure got killed for having people uninvolved with the mob killed off without a good reason.

By the way, I played a lawful neutral character. Nice guy, not actively antagonistic on any points for the most part, but he had a chip on his shoulder with other races (explained in his background)...basically, a "benign" speciesist committed to upholding the existing social order. The rest of the group had trouble figuring out how to deal with the character.

Lawful or Chaotic? Good or Evil?
Without intending to cause a shouting match, I've always understood the "evil" alignment as more of a case of self vs. others than that of a sadist. This is largely because, outside of a relatively small subset of the population, very few people actually seek to cause harm...in a lot of cases, it's more a case of "I am causing harm in the name of my own self-serving cause and I don't care who I run over in the process".

To put it another way, you don't have to want to pull the wings off of flies to qualify for the evil alignment, and I don't think that someone who is just totally disinterested in collateral damage counts as neutral.

Edit: Ok, I think I know how to verbalize what I'm thinking a bit better: Someone whose intended actions are completely amoral (that is, lacking any morality or having no regard for morality), but not necessarily immoral (that is, purposefully hostile to morality), can qualify as evil in my book. A purely Machiavellian villain might well never cause one iota of what they see as unnecessary harm to anybody, and indeed might generally do what would be perceived as "good works" for intended self-gain.

Laisse tomber les filles
"Logan Reynolds, I... uh... yeah. I'm not going to help you kill someone, if that's what you mean... err, I mean, not actively at least, but if you're going to do it anyway, and they deserve it, I can help, I suppose?"

"I'll just..."

"Go that way." Bill pointed down the hall in one direction. "It'll cut her off. Don't worry...I'm the one with the gun, so I'll deal with her."

And please don't turn on me. I'd hate to have to kill someone who isn't playing.

With that, as soon as Logan starts on his way, Bill begins making his way down the hall in the direction he last saw the mystery woman go.

The Fifth Announcement
Alright. I'm putting in for an extension on the whole Bill Davis/Marion Summers/Logan Reynolds death show bit. The thread is slightly complicated, and it's going to probably take a day or two longer than we expected no matter how we rush it since...four people in one thread will invariably result in crossed wires. Apologies in advance, and I will try to keep the pedal to the metal on this one.

Laisse tomber les filles
Bill waited for a moment, looking down the halls for the murder of...whomever the dead body happened to belong to, or at least for someone to emerge without (literal) blood on their hands.

Unsurprisingly, the person was not forthcoming, when he caught movement in one of the mirrors at almost the same time as he heard glass crunching behind him. Spinning around, Bill found his loaded gun in Logan Reynolds' face, while Logan was holding some sort of club in his hand. An irritated frown appeared on Bill's face, and he shook his head, coming to a slightly less dramatic conclusion than Logan might have expected.

"Don't worry, I didn't kill anybody, but someone in here did."

The same someone he assumed that Logan was skulking around, looking for.

"If you want to help me, go the other way and we can corner them. I've got no problem with you."

And from the look on Bill's face and the tone of his voice, that is not a request, and a refusal will not be met with anything resembling approval.

Though Bill is going to turn once Logan is well underway to try and chase down the mystery killer, he keeps an eye on her until she does turn.

"By the way, what's your name?"

The Fifth Announcement
According to the ancient Greeks, Tyler Franklin can now safely be considered fortunate

And I Need You To Recover ...
"Then, I guess we make it quick. If it means anything, you gave me a run for my money ... and ... I'm sorry it came to this."


Tyler turned his head slowly to give Simon the cleanest shot he could. Even so, he felt a bit of fear creep in as Simon drew the hood of his sweatshirt up to cover the point of impact, even as he lifted his head a centimeter or two to let the hood slip around cleanly before resting his head on the inside of the fabric once Simon was done moving it.

Would I RATHER he left me here? Of course not.

Tyler Franklin had seen every season of SOTF. He might not have known all of the deaths by heart, but he knew how bad they could get: He knew he could have been left to die on the beach, possibly waiting for hours for the end, or he could have found himself helpless at the hands of a true lunatic. He knew how bad the possibilities were. An opponent willing to kill him quickly, and without malace, though?

Having a good death? I guess that's all I could have hoped for once I got here. I could do a lot worse than this. A LOT worse.

The last few seconds seemed to drag on for an eternity as he waited for the tire iron to come down. Tyler didn't mind: Even with the pain he was in, he knew that the other option, of Simon botching the shot and having to try again, was infinitely worse. Instead, he kept his head as still as he could when he saw Simon start to swing down...

Good luck, Si...


Tyler felt a blinding pain for only a fraction of a fraction of a second, his vision going white with that pain. Then the blow did its work, and he lost all consciousness without a sound. Anything else he felt would not be in the physical world.

Of course, the human body is a lot more complex, and isn't wont to shut down immediately. When the tire iron connected, his body twitched; a number of fragments of bone went into his brain, scrambling all of the signals that would have normally gone out.

Because of this, after the blow landed, his lungs kept up a few more ragged breaths before his brain signalled to the rest of his body that he was dead. His heart also kept beating, and a red spot appeared where Simon's blow had landed, the pumping blood partly leaking out onto the hood of his sweatshirt. There was no movement in his eyes, though, which stared out motionlessly into the distance, and only a very light sound of air entering and leaving his lungs automatically.

And though it took a few minutes, Tyler's body soon shut down as well, as his heart stopped beating and his lungs gave in with a final sigh.


And I Need You To Recover ...
"You just wanted something to eat? Well, that didn't turn out as well as ... okay, it's become a pretty shitty situation." Simon sighed. "So what happens now?"

Tyler turns his head to focus better on Simon, wincing and groaning as he does so. Simon's seated form comes clearly into view.

What happens now? What do you think?

"I...die. You...go on."

His first instinct was to throw some nasty line at Simon, between the pain and the fact that Simon had killed him. He decided against it, though...

I can't blame you for this, can I? How would I have reacted to you doing that to me? None of this makes sense, but we're here. Besides, this is how he'll remember me. This is how I'll be remembered.

Tyler instead forced a smile onto his face; it looked more like a wince, but that was the best that Tyler could manage.


And I Need You To Recover ...
"I'm Simon. Who are you? And why did you attack me?"

"Tyler." Breath. "Food."

Pain was visible on his face as he answers the words; prepositions, articles...and, in this case, anything other than essential nouns are dropped so he can actually answer the questions. Tyler could feel his breathing getting harder with each breath, and each breath getting slightly smaller, so saving his breath had taken on an entirely new meaning. A three-paragraph speech on how he was out of food and hoping to get something to eat, if by morally questionable means, was simply impossible. Hopefully, though, the word would get at least some of that across in the face of the situation that everyone was facing.

SOTF Characters (Taking Requests!)
Since I've never bothered posting a request, could I put one in for Bill Davis as of his final thread?

Laisse tomber les filles
((Continued from Castles in the Sand))

Bill made his way across the island over the course of the morning, his black hoodie slipped on for warmth somewhere in the middle of his monologue and never taken off. His gun was slung over his shoulder as well, both because he didn't know when he'd need it and because it had never fit well in his bag. Bill was hungry and exhausted from talking the camera to death for somewhere in the ballpark of fifteen hours. He had at least managed to get some (presumably vaguely clean) water from the stream he crossed on his way south, and eventually he found himself passing through the "Fun Fair" (which looked about as fun as a hole in the head right now) and approaching the Hall of Mirrors from the south

It was as he approached the Hall of Mirrors that Bill noticed a large splotch of blood on the ground. Looking further up, he noticed a trail of blood leading away into the Hall, and an empty, raided bag by the door, with another bag by it. Oh, and a body or two thrown in for atmosphere, as if he needed to be further convinced of the situation or had somehow missed the other hints.

The math was not hard for him to do. Pulling his gun off his shoulder, Bill checked to make sure that it was loaded. Confirming that it was fully loaded, and that the rest of the shells were in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. Cocking the gun and flipping the safety off, Bill grumbled a bit under his breath.

Great. A player. Who knows who it is...ok, you want to play? I'll play.

Bill put a cigarette in his mouth, lit it up, and walked through the door of the Hall of Mirrors. Glancing around, he shouted at anyone inside. "Whoever's in here, come out with your hands up!"

And why did I just decide to handle this like some TV cop?