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Fallout Mafia: Sign up thread
I'll play.

The Mad and Hungry Dogs
Just like that, Hansel saw his chance. The bag Tyler threw landed with a muffled fwump in front of him as the bigger boy raced past, heading for the tunnel while firing wildly back towards Hansel. Grabbing at it, Hansel rolled sideways, dragging the bag with his bad arm and feeling a twinge of pain for his efforts as he managed to get to one knee, leaning forwards and rolling again as more bullets streaked by his ear.

He lurched to his feet, FAMAS thumping against his thigh as he hauled the bag over his bad shoulder, ignoring the scream of pain, pushing away the sick feeling that the wound brought. All that mattered now was that Tyler had given him an out, and there was more than one way to end a rabid dog.

Cut out its food supply. Starve it out. Steal whatever resources it could've gleaned.

Scooping up the discarded Winchester, Hansel tore across the Overpass, a rifle in each hand, two bags strapped to his back, and a grim expression on his face.

He didn't look back to see who was screaming. He didn't turn to see who had died.

He ran.

((Hansel Williams, Lucena Position))

Takeshi Yoshikawa
I'll toss in a bid!

General Video Game Discussion Thread
About the same, actually!

General Video Game Discussion Thread
Boy, do I hate Uplay with a passion.

Offended?
Baxter chuffed out a laugh, turned on his heel, and started walking for the exit.

"Baby, if I weren't gay before, I sure as fuck am now that I saw your mug."

Wasn't worth his time. Wasn't worth his anger.

Go find someone else.

((Brandon Baxter, continued elsewhere))

The Mad and Hungry Dogs
It was akin to being in the eye of a hurricane, the way that the bullets slammed into and ricocheted off of the wall behind Hansel as he remained on one knee, tracking Tyler as he ran. The bigger boy let out some kind of war challenge - something about not holding back - that was barely audible over the booming of gunfire on the bridge, the rat-a-tat of Tyler’s machine gun, the bursting staccato of the FAMAS in Hansel’s hands.

There was no sympathy for Tyler - no remorse as Hansel pumped the trigger and narrowed his eyes against the sun’s glare. Tyler wasn’t a Chris or a Joe - he hadn’t been warped or changed or distorted by the island and the events that had twisted them all into funhouse mirror reflections of their former selves.

Tyler had arrived on the island damaged, he suspected, as his trigger finger pumped again, shrapnel from a bullet streaking across his right cheek and leaving a stinging, sudden pain that had him jolting, rolling to the side, sliding into a prone position. Tyler had been charging at people who were armed and armored since the very first day.

At this point, it was less about fighting against a pitiable shadow or a haunted spectre.

At this point, it was putting down a rabid dog.

The Place
A war-whoop echoed from the side.

"Caaaat-fiiiight!"

Unexpected Visitation
“You can’t really say you wouldn’t, is the thing.”

“Pretty sure I just did, though.”

“Nah, you’re not right in the head if you’d just turn it down right off the bat.”

“That’s-”

“Seriously, like… Just, okay - picture the hottest person you’ve ever seen - television, movies, whatever.”

“My wife?”

“God, Patillo,” Ramsey said, whipping off his sunglasses in mock horror, “that’s - you’re sick. That’s sick. That’s a sick thing to say to a question like that.”

“What? It’s valid!”

“Man, you can’t have your fantasy dream girl be the girl you married. That’s just fucked up.”

“Okay. Then… I don’t know, Olivia Wilde.”

“Okay, cool, awesome. Picture Olivia Wilde, right? Same figure, same hair, same eyes - all the same features.”

“Just with scales.”

“Yeah, man. Scaly Olivia Wilde. Dragon Wilde. You’re saying you wouldn’t hit that?”

Patillo shook his head as the elevator door opened, his right hand patting down his suit jacket to ensure his weapon was still there. Beside him, Ramsey re-adjusted his aviators, toyed with the nametag on his breast pocket.

“Yep.”

Ramsey shook his head. “You’re insane. This is the floor?”

“Yeah - the Withers woman pointed us here. One of the ex-winners lives around these parts.”

“Ah.”

A beat of silence.

“Why do scales put you off?”

“Well, they’re slimy looking. It’d change the entire experience of it.”

“Have you ever had sex with a scaly person before?”

Patillo scratched at his beard as the duo moved through the halls of the hotel, his eyes scanning the numbers on each door. “Obviously not.”

“So how the fuck do you know you don’t like it?”

“I just know.”

“Bullshit, dude. You have no idea.” Ramsey stopped at room 713, rapped on it with the side of his fist.

“Mr. Yi? We’re your four o’clock!” In a quieter voice, “It could be the coolest experience you’ve ever had.”

“Do you mind not talking about scaly sex when we’re about to break and enter into a suspect’s room?”

“Mister Yi! We’re Agents Patillo and Ramsey, here to ask you a few questions! You’re no fun, man.”

“Shut up.”

The door opened to a small, asian woman, peering up at them. Patillo smiled at her; Ramsey didn’t.

“Help you?”

“Yes, hi, ma’am - we’re from the federal government, looking for a Mr. Kim Yi?”

“Kim no here - left hurry hour ago.”

“Do you have any idea where we could find Mr. Yi?”

“No,” the woman said, pausing as if to think, before shaking her head hard.

“No, no here. Left hour ago. You go catch.”

“I see. If he returns, ma’am,” Patillo said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, white card, “please give me a call.”

“Okay, okay. You go now.”

The door closed.

“Withers’ man did a runner?” Ramsey said, turning from the door with a frown, “Why am I not completely shocked and awed by this?”

Patillo shook his head.

“Not like him to bolt. I spoke to him yesterday morning; he knew we were coming down here.”

“Fucking gamblers, man,” Ramsey said, his sneer audible, “can’t trust any of ‘em. How the hell did Withers track this guy down anyway? I thought people who use the hub were ghosts.”

“They’re tricky,” Patillo confirmed, “and Haywood knows a little more about it than I do. They apparently use only monosyllable names when talking to each other - Jack, Dave, Ty, Jane.”

“Monosyllabic.”

“Whatever the fuck.”

“Okay, so what - our guy won one year, then jet?”

“Yeah - apparently he picked the last survivor last time around. Back when security was less tight, I guess. Withers got to him so the other gamblers ousted him or whatever.”

“What’s the name he went by?”

“Nanahey or something.”

“Nanahuro?”

“Yeah, sounds right.”

“Huh,” Ramsey said, sliding his hands into his pockets, “I think we’re wasting our time with this, my friend.”

“Pretty much. Not a lot a winner of some glorified weird pool game can give us on last time beyond ‘I got lucky and picked Nguyen’, let alone this time. If he’s truly been out of the game as long as Withers says he is.”

Ramsey shrugged again. “I get paid either way. C’mon - let’s go get a hot dog.”

“Sure thing.”

The two stepped back onto the elevator, watched the doors slide shut, removed their sunglasses. Ramsey pressed the ground floor button, glanced at Patillo, smiled.

“Okay, what about fur?”

Wild Childs
PART TWO

Unexpected Visitation
“Okay, so like, you’re on the ski lift, right? And it stops moving - everyone’s gone home, nobody can save you. It starts to get dark, you’re freezing your fuckin’ ass off, and wolves start to circle in and shit. So you’re sitting there, right? It’s cold as balls, dark as balls, basically the worst shit you could ever possibly be in, and you can only take one person with you. Who do you take?”

Haywood leaned back in his chair, swivelling it to face Free with a look of incredulity. She leaned forwards from her perch on his desk, grinning at him, shorn-off red hair swinging wildly around her ears.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Come on, Haywood. Don’t be a pussy. Answer the question!”

Haywood ran both hands over his dark, bald head. “Did I bring any food or anything?”

“Nope. No food. You just got your winter gear.”

“Got skis, though, right?”

“No skis.”

“What the fuck am I doing on a ski lift if I have no skis?”

“You were touring.”

“I was touring? What - the inside of a fucking ski lift?”

“Maybe the missus dragged you there,” Free said, poking one short nail into Haywood's stomach with a grin, “and left your ass there.”

“So in this alternate universe you’ve created, where I go to ski lodges without skis with a wife I don’t have to go on a ski lift I don’t need to go on for reasons that make absolutely no sense, I need to choose someone - anyone - to be stuck with me?”

“Yup!” Free said, crossing one leg over her knee.

Haywood thought for a minute, shrugged.

“Robert Pattinson.”

Free’s grin turned to a puzzled smile as she cocked her head at him.

“Because that way, at least I’d take someone I hate with me.”

Free laughed, her head flopping backwards with the motion as she pointed at him. “Okay, good answer. What are you working on, anyway?”

Haywood shrugged. “Diaz has me working on this write-up since it started again. He wants me to record what the kids have done so that when the inevitable press conference comes up when one of them get out, we have some defence in regard to charges.”

“Woah,” Free said, leaning closer to Haywood's monitor, “you mean we may have to arrest the kid?”

“Nah,” came the man’s response, as he tabbed through an Excel Spreadsheet labelled murdergame05, “we never do. Or, at least, that’s not how the cities in the past handled it. Even Highland Beach didn’t do much to the psycho that got out. But there’s always some form of uproar, always some nonsense from a parent or a great aunt with connections or a senator who’s looking to slam the bars on whoever ‘wins.’”

He did air quotes around the last word. Free shook her head.

“I mean, okay, some of the shit they do is pretty fucked,” she began, “but aren’t they victims of terrorism?”

“Yeah, that’s our go-to line. But there’s always a press conference addressing it, and the new Diaz likes to be prepared, so…”

Free nodded, tapped a nail against his white collar shirt. “Mexican for lunch?”

“You know where to find me.”

She smiled, stood up, and walked away, her heels clicking on the buffed and polished floor.

The Mad and Hungry Dogs
Were it another time and another place, Hansel might have laughed. Tyler and Virgil made an... interesting twosome, and the way they spoke about him as if he wasn't directly in front of them, standing and holding two weapons could have coaxed a chuckle. It was almost like Aurora again.

Hansel didn't respond to Tyler's query, just held the FAMAS in his direction, keeping his gaze on the bigger threat while Virgil moved away. Not too long ago, he had sworn that he was going to kill Tyler, had felt a crazed, pent up rage to end him.

Seeing him here, now, armed and with an ally, brought back some of the anger. Shadows of rage, helplessness, hopelessness came to the forefront of his mind. Panic as Tyler charged at him, wild shooting, losing his medkit, losing his sense of security.

Mildly losing his mind.

Much had changed in eight days. Like Joe, like Chris and Maddie, Hansel had adapted to the island.

So he stood, watched Tyler, and was completely... apathetic. He didn't feel anything for the big boy and his gun, his mean expression or the way he talked like he was out of some TV movie. He didn't feel a continuation of the rage and fear that he'd once struck, the panic he'd triggered.

He watched Tyler, and knew that he could - and would - kill him on the spot without hesitation.

He watched Tyler, and understood that this was who he was now.

Suddenly, noise. Explosive gunfire from above. Hansel reacted, dropping to one knee, kept Tyler sighted, and squeezed the trigger reflexively.

Murder Critique Theater 2K14
Brandon Baxter!

Unexpected Visitation
PART ONE

The Mad and Hungry Dogs
((Hansel Williams, Tomorrow is the most important thing in life))

It seemed like whatever Hansel did now didn't really matter, in the long run. Each day, the game grew closer to its conclusion, the players circling and tightening around each other, crawling closer and closer to the big finale. The inevitability weighed heavy on him, made him drag his feet and constantly roll his shoulders due to tension that crept into his muscles whenever he found himself thinking about it. His shoulder was adorned with fresh bandages, his back to the wall of the tunnel entrance as he stared out over the hill, meaning he was as prepared as he was going to be if someone would arrive.

He was aware that people were killing, building their arsenal until the big finish. He was aware that things were becoming desperate - the Maddies and Chris' of the world were pointing guns more easily, yelling louder, threatening quickly.

And here he was, making reeds out of grass.

The Winchester was sitting across his lap, fully loaded - he'd at least checked that much of it - but otherwise nearly untouched. It was too much like his dad's rifle - all old wood and varnish and bolt action. The FAMAS was against his shoulder, and he unconsciously kept touching it, fondling it - making sure it was still with him.

It had seen him through so much of the past eight days, where the Winchester was nothing but a dead boy's gun.

He plucked another blade of grass, folded it in his hands, blew into it - making a long, shrill note that echoed in the tunnel. He smiled a little at the sound, remembering when he used to do this all the time during a lull.a

The smile died when he saw two boys approach.

He slid his back up the wall, rising with one hand grabbing the FAMAS, letting the Winchester clatter to the floor as he rose to full height.

Quietly, his finger slipped the safety to burst - a quiet, decisive snick.

"'Lo, there," he called.

Tomorrow is the most important thing in life.
Hansel shook his head, rising from his seated position with a small grunt and a bit of rocking, his knees protesting slightly. He still had bruises from Garrett's assault along his thigh, and the scuffle with Theo had left his legs sore and protesting. Shaking one leg to get the feeling back in it, he met Joe's eyes, slid his hands into his pockets, wincing slightly at the shooting pain in his left arm.

"That's an antique," he said, nodding towards the gun as he bent to pick up his bag, his sketchbook. He looped the FAMAS over one shoulder, the Winchester 88 - Cody's weapon - he kept at his side, fingers curled around it.

He ripped the page he was working on with two free fingers that weren't clutching the older model of gun, nodding towards one of the two daypacks.

"I kuh-cleaned them out of food and w-water, but left the ammo for that in Puh-hatton's bag. Might be a manual, I don't know. Figure it out."

He turned to leave, made it a few steps before stopping. He felt compelled to speak, to warn Joe that if he saw him again, he'd have to kill him. To tell him that if it could be anyone other than Hansel winning this whole thing, he might be open to Joe being the alternative.

"Joe..." he began, turning to look at him, half over his shoulder. After a moment, he let the ripped out sketchbook paper flutter to the ground, lifting a shoulder.

"Kuh-heep your head up."

Hansel walked away, leaving a half-formed sketch of a long wooden fence surrounding a pasture, with animals and people dotting it in the distance. Clouds were wispy in the sky, a half drawn stable stood proudly.

On one of the fence posts sat a stetson.

((Hansel Williams, The Mad And Hungry Dogs))

Wild Childs
Day Eight

8:02:34 into broadcast


hi, sweetie!
jack is very bitter about you stealing all of his money! four picks in the top fifty - big news!


Haha, hey!
Tell him thanks for giving me his money. It certainly didn’t hurt.


do you think you’ll win it all?

I’m not so sure right now.
I’m going to say probably not?


that’s the hubub on the hub! that you’re gonna win it with the eye candy!

She’s done well for herself.
I just got lucky.


much luckier than last time, i’d say!

I guess.
None of these guys are anything close to Her, you know?


that is a good thing, william
i was really worried about you last time
you weren’t in a good place, you know?


Yeah.
I guess, in a way - you kinda feel like they’re your kids, you know?
Like, you’re rooting for them.


we talked about this, babe - they aren’t
they’re someone else’s kids
we just get a glance into their lives


Yeah but… you’re the one person that’s behind them for their entire time during it.
And you want them to succeed, inequivocally.
How can you help but love them a little from all of that?


that isn’t love, sweetie.
that’s encouragement, and hope, and the will to win
but love is different than that.


Yeah.
Can we change the subject?


of course!
so, you know how i do the cooking usually?


Yeah?

i was surprised as hell when i came home to see Jack in an apron

Is that a reason to be terrified?

lol
usually, yes, but it’s just pasta
it’s our five year!


Cool! I’ll probably just order room service again

yeah! it’s going to be fun.
steak again?


Nah, easier on my wallet.
Oh, hey - they just knocked.


you ordered already?

brb

without discussing options with me? gasp! i’m hurt!
okay!






bill, you there?






bill?





bill, ray’s in chat
he’s saying some really weird stuff…







if this is a joke, bill, it isn’t funny





please answer me





honey?






bill, call jack or chuck when you get back from wherever you are, okay?





bill, seriously, this is not funny to us





WildBill is offline.

Wild Childs
Day Five

5:17:34 into broadcast


Chaos reigned. The chat on the side of the hub exploded in anger and anguish, emotions ranging from shocked acceptance to tired understanding. Nobody liked it when the terrorists blew collars - less room for gloating and posturing, more room for frustrated annoyance.

And B051 had single handedly taken another two people out of the race.

The television was on in the background, filling the hotel room with noise about some arrest of a privately funded therapist, a shooting down in a mall plaza of New Mexico, some sort of escalating situation between Iran and Palistan. Most of it was absorbed and discarded with ease as he kept his focus on the chat, on the blame games and grumblings, arguments getting heated and devolving into base insults and furious curses. He waited, watched, for the right moment.

challgall101: fucker isnt showing hsi face is he ?
morlen: can’t even believe it, man, what the fuck
challgall101: he fuckign sho t my girlsc ollar what
challgall101: but he ruin ed thegame for it
morlen: what a piece of shit. where is he
uuur: Who fucking knows, probably hiding in a hole XD
shallamon: what a punk, fucking punk, are they going to kil lall of them now
challgall101: BETT ERNOT OR XRAY WILL BEFA CING A SHITSTORM


Almost on schedule, his AIM opened.

you fucking played me

Hello, Ray.

youve gone too far this time cunt
i know where you are now

Not sure what you’re talking about, Ray.
Sorry to hear about B051. That must’ve sucked! :(
I have some experience into what you’re going through, if you want?


dont you fucking dare patronize me
shouldve just ended you when polanski fucking happened
you piece of shit


You started believing it, didn’t you?
You started having hope in his plan the second you knew he wasn’t going to kill anyone. And part of you started rooting for him.
Then more and more time passed, and it wasn’t just rooting for him anymore.


you knew id get him from jess
because you told her not to give him to me


You realized that he’s a person, not an easy way to make money.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.


knew id find out about it so you set a fucking trap

I just gave a friend some advice, is all.

you dont know shit you fucking fuckbag
THE FUCK YOU DID
YOU SET ME UP YOU PIECE OF SHIT DONT GIVE ME THAT BULLSHIT
YOU FUCKING KNEW ID TAKE HIM FROM HER AND YOU LET THIS SHIT HAPPEN


I wanted to show you what it was like, Ray.
It isn’t nice, is it? Believing in their cause?


i want you to hear what i’m about to say, bill
you crossed a fucking line
and youre gonna pay for it


How do you expect I’ll do that?
xray is offline. When this contact goes back online, they will recieve your offline messages.


The Mulligan Thread
As a very new handler without a lot of distance from my only version, I cant say I regret anything too vividly - at least, not enough to change it. I'd potentially remove any indication of Jordan from Baxter's profile, and definitely write more about ranch life in Hansel's, but the profiles work well for their intended purposes as-is.

Oh, and I'd also write a facial description for Hansel. That's pretty important.

Why You Read: Character Recommendations
So hey, SOTF!

Since we're closing in on the end of V5, I'd like to kinda prod us to a spot where we can think critically about our reading process, and analyze why we like to read certain characters. While I can't speak for other versions especially, I know that I've felt that as a whole, V5's community has had very strong opinions for kids that they like, and the reasons for that.

Hopefully, this thread can be used for that sort of discussion. Why do you like reading characters? What about certain kids makes you sit up straight and click to the next link, or burst into chat with a breathless thread recommendation?

Few ground rules! First, only other people's characters, not your own.

Secondly, I want to see only positive recommendations. There's a critiques forum for people who are looking for why their stuff doesn't work - I want to focus on what does here.

Thirdly, try to refrain from "but I'm biased" type comments, as they're pretty redundant in a thread like this.

Fourthly, we are not limited to V5! V1-4 are totally open for play, too.

So! Who do you like reading? Why?

Go!