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CHARACTER BIOS

Now that you’ve met two characters besides yourself, it’s time to introduce a spiffy function of The Narration!

Namely, a dedicated record of characters you’ve met! And some minor hints as to characters you’ll meet in the future! Let’s begin!

Mary: “Yourself. The protagonist. Number One, at least for now...”

Kroth: “Your bestest buddy. One of the few people who tolerate you, Kroth comes from a Zone where the dominant form of life is sentient gasses, housed in suits of easily-mutated flesh. Considered a master diplomat amongst the current Agents.”

B’Glorble: “2000 years is the new 17! A teenager (in Deep One terms) that works the counter at Sea Empire. Can fillet pretty much any sea creature on command.”

Blackclaw: “Tracker. Fighter. Total Frickin’ Nerd. Anthropomorphic Wolf from a now-destroyed Zone, Blackclaw considers you his only friend. Communicates through a combination of ASL and Pheremones, because seriously, wolf heads aren’t exactly made for... well, any language, really.”

???: “Technology sure is weird...”

???: “The revolution will not be televised...”

???: “They say that Heaven is like TV...”

#the watchtower #information

Alright, let's talk to Blackclaw.

You approach Blackclaw, and as you approach him The Narration decides to try something new without even beginning to consult you.

BLACKCLAW

“TRACKER. FIGHTER. TOTAL FRICKIN’ NERD.”

Did... Did the narration just give Blackclaw boss subtitles???

Anyways, you sit down across from him, and he looks up at you. When he sees its you, he grins and his tail begins wagging behind him.

Blackclaw is, simply put, an anthropomorphic wolf. He’s a refugee from his home Zone, which at this point doesn’t exist anymore thanks tob some manner of horrific cataclysm.

Nobody originally wanted to take him in, even though he turned out to be one of the best trackers around. You and a few others raised a case for it, though, and a few discussions and broken limbs later, he was in.

He raises his hands and begins signing rapidly, The Narration helpfully translating the movements for you.

“Mary! Hey, what’s going on, you doing okay? Listen, I wanted to let you know that Drone’s been looking for you, okay? They wanted to talk about redoing your training, since it’s been a while since your last session! And I see you picked up the cake! Is it good? It didn’t smell very good to me, but that’s just me... So, uh, yeah, what’s up?”

Sneakily taste the cake. You gotta know what that frosting is before you eat the whole thing, man. You gotta.

You place a finger into the frosting, and lick the pasty substance from your finger.

Huh. Artifical nightshade berries. The fact that it’s a greyzone flavor, even if it’s poisonous, means the cake was intended for you.

Judging from the fact that you haven’t died yet, the cake is probably safe to eat. You pick up the rest of the cake and stash it in your inventory.

YOU GOT: 1X SLICE OF “BIRFDAY” CAKE!!!

Kroth watches the cake disappear into your inventory.

Kroth: “Oh! That must be that pastry stuff I saw Drone working on! Never was too fond of it, but it looks like he gave you a slice!”

You still see...

One (1) Arcade Machine

Blackclaw, Your Coworker

One (1) Card Labelled “To Mary”

Note About Socialization

Obviously, as a Gray-Zoner, you have your own unique customs, language, and understandings. Thankfully, The Watchtower kept that in mind! Every Agent of The Watchtower has been provided with rudimentary Babel Surgery, providing them a basic understanding of all languages, pheremones, and other forms of communication.

So don’t worry! You can talk to pretty much anyone you want!*

*Some restrictions may apply.

#the watchtower #tutorial

>Where do you even keep your food? Is it in the bathroom? Whatever. Shovel matter into thyself.

Background Music: http://youtu.be/QIKQbdWVyDg

Nah, your snack stash is in the bedside table. But yes, food, that’d be good.

You open the doors of the cafeteria, and are immediately greeted with the bloopy music they play over the speakers. You could almost swear you’ve heard it before…

The young man behind the counter greets you with his usual greeting.

Deep One Teenager: “LAND MAMMAL! You return for your morn#+[ water sustenance!”

Mary: “Hey, B'glorble. The usual, thanks.”

B'glorble: “Right away, land mammal!”

B'glorble pulls some wriggling sea-creature from under the counter, and begins slashing it into pieces with terrifying precision.

While you wait for your meal to be ready, you look around the Cafeteria and see what else is going on.

Inside the Cafeteria, you see…

One (1) Arcade Machine“Fang Of God” Blackclaw, your coworkerOne (1) Slice of Cake with HAPP BIRFDAY written in what you hope is raspberry frosting.One (1) Card next to the cake labelled “To Mary”

#the watchtower #B'glorble #Mary Schwartz

>Reminisce about past jobs while Kroth leads the way

Kroth wriggles through the myriad rooms of the Watchtower, you close behind. He seems to be excited about your upcoming Watch, but you don’t really feel the same way.

You think about your past as you walk through the winding rooms of the building. You weren’t always a Watchtower Guardian, though you have been for a long, long time at this point.

At first, you were a police officer. Most people’d assumed you weren’t fit for it. A near-perfect run of the training course later and better skill with a firearm than most would care to admit later, nobody really questioned you anymore.

Of course, that was until The Incident.

You shove those thoughts out of your mind just as you reach the Cafeteria. Of course, befitting such a “diverse” place, this is only one of five, and the only one someone with your physiology can eat at without getting poisoned, injured or worse.

A single neon sign, letters blinking cheerily, rests above the door.

“SEA EMPIRE”

God, you hate Burgrr competitors.

#The Watchtower #Kroth #Mary Schwartz

either >Attempt to eat Kroth, >Attempt to shoot Narration, or >Do both.

W-what?!? No! Your face goes red as you consider attempting to eat Kroth. Y-you guess he’s a pretty great friend (and based on the Advent’s Eve Party, an excellent kisser), but you don’t think your relationship’s close enough to even consider that!

The Narrative is a little shocked by your suggestion of murder, but thanks to existing in your mind considers this threat remarkably empty.

Kroth: Uh, Mary? Your face is filling up with blood…

#The Watchtower #Kroth #Mary Schwartz

>Answer truthfully to what may or may not be your good friend!

Mary: Keep your suit on, Kroth, I’ll be out in a second.

Kroth: No. I’ll take off the only thing keeping me alive in this environment just to spite you, Mary.

Yeah, that’s definitely Kroth, AKA High King Diplomat. Coming from a Zone where the majority of its inhabitants are some form or another of sentient gas, he’s required to keep on a special environmental suit in order to keep himself together.

Of course, this suit is made entirely of easily-mutated flesh, which means when someone needs to interact with a scared, mostly-biological creature, you usually send him in.

You slide on your uniform, relishing in the safe feeling the bullet, blade, acid, flame, ice, electricity, force, nanobot, fang and much more-resistant fabric provides you, then open the door and-

You pause as the Narration provides one of its pauses in the face of a creature that would normally terrify you into submission. Kroth waggles sympathetically.

Kroth: The ol’ audiobook’s buffering, huh?

The Narration feels offended by that nickname, but describes Kroth regardless. Resembling nothing more than a fractal pattern of flesh, your best friend in the Watchtower writhes and undulates in front of you. Occasionally a small pore opens and excess gas filters through it, filling the air with the scent of rotten strawberries and chocolate.

Kroth: Cmon! We’ve got second watch of the #*]+%!!! You need to shovel matter into yourself and then we’ll get going!

You pause, then remember that’s how Kroth describes eating.

#The Watchtower #Kroth #Mary Schwartz

Is the gun loaded? If not, find some ammo. If it is, have expository rant about job.

Of course it’s loaded! You’d be pretty bad at your job if it weren’t! Of course, there’s a reason your uniform includes a multi-compartment ammo-holster of holding, but still.

You hop into the shower, and as you clean yourself off you reflect on your job for the benefit of the voice in your head.

Basically, you’re a Watchtower Guardian, a sort of inter-zonal police officer. You deal with situations bad enough that zones either need to call in backup, or situations that would threaten multiple zones.

The thing is, you’re not allowed to interfere unless the situation is multi-zone, or you get permission. This is a better idea than it sounds, because sometimes an issue is natural, or an Agent’s biases might inflate a common issue for that Zone into a Problem.

And nobody wants a Problem on their hands.

You finish drying off just as your alarm starts up again, and when you go to slam it off you hear a knock at your door.

???: Hey! Mary, you awake? And not exposing those weird human chest things you don’t like us staring at?

The voice is muffled heavily, more than just the door would muffle them.

#The Watchtower #Mary Schwartz

What's in your closet? >Open closet

You open up your closet, figuring you might as well take inventory and grab a new uniform.

Your closet contains the usual for members of The Watchtower, uniforms, helmet, replacement helmet, organ coolers, but the first thing that draws your eye is your weapon of choice.

Namely, the big honkin’ revolver you keep in a heavily fortified lockbox. Which, rather than being locked, requires a blood sample, fingerprint, and gel-core scan.

After that unpleasant business is out of the way, you grab your weapon and equip it!

YOU GOT: ONE (1) STANDARD-ISSUE MAGNUM!

You also grab a new uniform, and your helmet.

Also in your room, currently, are…BEDSIDE TABLEALARM SPEAKER

Directions:West: BathroomSouth: Hallway

#The Watchtower #Mary Schwartz

Prologue: Rise And Shine

???: “You can’t do this! It’s suicide!”

You: “Do you see that thing?!? We can’t just let it run wild!”

???: “It’s taller than a house! What’re you going to do with that peashooter, stub its toe?!?”

You: “Maybe I can distract it. Bring it somewhere where it can’t hurt anyone until help shows up...”

???: “What am I gonna tell your husband?!? That you just charged headfirst at goddamn Cthulhu’s younger brother?!?”

You: “I have to do it. Tell them I’m sorry...”

--------------------------------------

You awaken right as your alarm goes off. Your tiny room blares with sound as the speaker next to your bed starts playing the song you requested for your wake-up call.

“Cause only an expert can deal with the problem and, only an expert can deal with the problem...”

You hop out of bed and walk across the room, forcibly slamming your fist into the alarm deactivation button. It’ll just turn on again until you actually leave your room, but the momentary peace is nice...

Your name is Mary Schwartz. You are a Guardian of The Watchtower, designated “GIANT KILLER”, and you are about to have a very eventful day, though you don’t realize it just yet.

You’re currently in your bedroom. In your room is a CLOSET, a BEDSIDE TABLE, your BED, your ALARM SPEAKER, and to the WEST is the BATHROOM. To the SOUTH is the door into the DORM HALLWAYS

#The Watchtower #Giant Killer

Welcome!

Ladies And Gentlemen, what you see before you is a brand new text-based adventure, in the style of such webcomic extravaganzas as Transverse and Awful Hospital (in fact, the main concept for this comic was derived from Awful Hospital!)! In case you’re new to this whole rodeo, the idea behind this is that I’ll post the story, your surroundings, etc, and you send me commands for our erstwhile protagonist to do!

I hope you enjoy your stay, and the story!

#Mod Post #Not Story #Welcome

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