((Dammit. Too late. Suppose I'll sit back and watch, then.))

Clicks and clanks could be heard all around them, filling their ears. It was incessant, never stopping. Aside from the clatter, however there was a faint light... a monitor depicting a small arena, the seats adorned with scattered spectators. The light from the screen showed only a small section of the room. Torn was the only word able to describe the scene. Assorted books and cans were strewn about the marble floor. One could not step in any direction without running into trash. The space behind the screen was only darkness, obviously foreshadowing the journey ahead. Four people were cast into this desolate, barren waste.

Dennis Bauler, famous architect. He was responsible for the structural integrity and design of the War Chief Monument. But design is not his only strong suit. He is an experienced engineer and can build almost anything out of everything.

Kevin, a detective who's alias has served much purpose. His name could be found on any newspaper, front page. He is able to solve anything: puzzles, riddles, plexers, even guess the punchline to your joke.

John Smiff, a specialist press agent. His articles could make you believe anything, even question your own morals. He has a photographic memory, able to memorize anything once he has seen it.

And Jacob Smasher, senior night watchmen for the States Hotel in Los Sandria. His experience with criminals and hand to hand combat could make any man cry with a single punch.


These are the victims, this is the game. Welcome to House of Despair.


Announcer: "Is everyone ready!?"

The crowd cheers.

Announcer: "All right, perfect! We have a very special show for you tonight. My people have rounded up a list of specialists! What sort of specialists, you ask? A tinker, fighter, thinker, and writer! How's that sound?"

Popcorn is thrown about.

Announcer: "Hahaha, calm down. We'll see blood soon enough. But we have to wake the lamb before we slaughter it, eh? We don't want to miss the cries of agony! Sound the alarm!!!"

Miss Valent's horns twitched as her smooth purple hands slid over a red lever. She pulled hard.

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A deafening tone rang inside the room housing the four contestants.

"Wake up!! We need to start! I think everyone's getting quite impatient."

Jake resists the urge to cup his hands over his ears, but soon it gets too loud and he does.

"What!?" was all Dennis managed to get out of his mouth before he began to shudder at the deafening noise. He couldn't even bring he hands up to his ears, his arms met resistance. He was always rather sensitive to loud noises. He shut his eyes quickly, and tried to drown out the sound with his own thoughts.

"Son of a-" was the only think John managed before being drowned out. Quickly tuning out the noise as it went past the threshold of comfort he tried to collect his thoughts. It felt like a techno-club starting up its main events, of which he has been to several. If it continued for long, he would probably be even more deafened than he already was. The sound of a siren, John kept thinking, looking around for the source as the tone started to overcome his ability to ignore it.

"Well, well. That one seems to be quite the heavy sleeper..."

The siren slowly dulled and quieted as a metallic hand extended from the back of the monitor. It's shabby craftsmanship was offending, scraps barely seeming to hold to the arm as it stretched. It jabbed Kevin in the ribs several times before withdrawing.

"Eh, we'll start anyway. Welcome, welcome!! You have all been randomly selected to test out my new course. The game will draw out into a whole one round! Gahaa! You have each been chosen because of your specific skills. Heaven forbid if one of you were a doctor. We don't want your wounds sewn up, now do we? Ah... but don't fret. I'll help you out. I now bestow upon each of you a chance to ask me one question! Aren't I generous? You can ask me now or you can save it for later. Well, what's it going to be?"

Jake takes a few seconds to think about it. "I'm saving mine for later, if and when I need it."

Dennis took the time after his thoughts cleared to look about his surroundings. Three other people, he noted. Randomly selected, as he was, if he was to believe whomever was speaking. All his ears could make out was gibberish at first, but he comprehended soon enough. The man was being told he could ask a question, it seemed. The voice paused, then Dennis realized that it was awaiting an answer. "I'll save mine for later, I suppose." he stated, trying to remain in a state of calm. Panic drives you crazy, and it seemed that if he would only live if he stayed sane.

"Well, that's disappointing. What about the journalist? Eh? Wanna ask me something? None of you want to know where you are? What enemies you'll be facing? Perhaps which way the exit is..."

The monitor's screen flickered. Menacing gasps and growls rose and fell from the shadows.

"I would perfectly love to ask you a question, but only face to face, so I shall be saving this for now. I'll be sure to note down any level design flaws I find too, after all, life is a game, and I'd be damn if I'm not playing one right now," John replied as his hearing came back.

John sat up and finally stood up after the rise and fall of feral sounds.

Kevin merely ignored the stabs, yawning. "Already..?" "What?" "five more minutes.." He mumbled, scratching his head. He tried to sit up, but his efforts weren't enough to accomplish even this small task. He groaned as he tried harder and managed to do it. "I hate work." He mumbled under his breath, now trying to stand. Once stood, he fixed his messy black hair and looked at the rest of the people. "Ermm" He resisted trying to ask what was going on, and just barely catching what the man explained about the questions, he knew better than to waste it.

"Hmph, fine. Well, I guess you guys are on your own. Good luck trying to figure out what to do next! Hahahahaa!!! But I guess you're free to consult me if you ever do feel a tad stumped. I'm sure you'll need to eventually. You won't last long without my help." *cough* ... gas... *cough*

The screen flickered. Looking around the room showed nothing but a single door. Crude words had been scratched into the rotting wood.

When tempest-tossed, embrace chaos.

A book lay at John's feet.

Kevin just stood there, waiting for someone to do something. "Errm." "I think you're supposed to like, work or something." "just get us the hell outta 'ere." He said coldly, waiting for someone to do something, and now sitting down again.

John noticed the book at his feet, instinctively reaching out for it, until he remembered reading the extract of the GM's diary somewhere. Knowing it sure be cursed, he hefted it in his hand, examining the book for any irregularities and features that may indicate such. Then something better came to mind, why not use the others? Pretending to be bored with the book, he tossed it non-chalantly at the one that just sat down.

((Does the gas have any smell?))