Okay, there's a thread in the L & F that has turned total RPG, and it's kind of fun, so after talking with Manu about this, I decided to try out an RPG here, where the posts would actually count.

Please keep all Off-Topic discussion or questions HERE! (http://www.discussanything.com/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=17598)

First off, rules:
1) No player can speak, react, or move for another player
2) No player can kill another player. Players may kill themselves, allow themselves to die, or leave the scene, but that's all. *
3) No user can control more than one character.
4) Your character must react to preceding actions involving them, i.e. if you're shot you must react, even if you regenerate the wound.
5) In a non-fantasy thread, do not introduce fantastic characters. This thread is a reality-based murder-mystery, no magical creatures, powers, et cetera. Play in the world the thread-starter creates. Exceptions for reality-based threads include psychics, clairvoyants, etc., but only because you can find those on Hollywood Blvd.

* The thread starter (in this case me) is the only player in the story who can kill other characters without their consent. It's essentially a "ban" from the thread, and will only happen after warnings, and only if the character detracts from the story instead of adding to it. I don't anticipate ever having to use this.

NOW FOR THE STORY:

The scene opens on an old log cabin in Yosemite. The living room. The walls and floor appear to be made of redwood, well maintained, polished, and still sturdy. On the walls hang several pictures and paintings, all B&W. One wall houses a door leading to the outside, to the left of the door is a glass window with heavy curtains on it, drawn. Beyond the window is a furnace, unlit.

The next wall to the right has one window, center, same as first window. To the left of this window is a refrigerator, a dog bed with a sleeping beagle, nose tucked under front legs to keep it warm, the beagle's name is Sam (not a character that can be assumed by players). To the right of the window is a couch, well-worn, obviously used, with a floor lamp on one side and an endtable on the other, books and magazines piled on top of the table.

The next wall to the right has no windows, and serves as the kitchen area. Cabinets, sink, stove, oven, microwave, dishwasher, counters, the whole shabang. The kitchen area is the only thing out of place with the room, for it is meticulously clean. Not a dirty plate or fork in sight, no dust on the counters, the sink has no water spots, nothing. Perfectly clean. The kitchen area extends 2/3 of the length of the wall, terminating in a fireplace, surrounded by four armchairs that look comfortable despite looking very used. There are burnt logs in the fireplace, but no evidence of it being used recently.

The last wall has two doorways, one doorway on each end of the wall. The doors are closed. The space in between the doorways is predominated by a large print of "Nighthawks" by Hopper Edward. It is the only painting in color in the entire room, and seems incredibly out of place.

The room is lit by a ceiling fan/light, the floor lamp, and by natural sunlight, although the latter is fading fast in the afternoon shadows of the trees.

Other than the "Nighthaws" print, there is one other thing that stands out in the room. A dead body (also not a character that can be assumed by a player, so don't try). It lays face down on the floor, on top of an area rug that appears to be of Native American origin, or at least style. The body is that of a blonde woman, mid 30s, hair down to her mid-back, still tied in a pony tail. She wears blue jeans, hiking boots, and a sweater, as though she had either just come in from or was going out on a hike.

As of right now, nobody other than the sleeping dog and the dead woman in the room.

GO!

A man enters the room, he is in his mid tweenty's and wears a brown duster, black pants, and boots. He sees the dead woman issues a long streams of profanity, as he cloeses the door. He quickly checks a gun in his houlster and heads streight for the "Nighthawks" he kneels and pushes in a knot in the wood, that makes up the wall, a click is heard, and he removes the picture from the wall, one of the bourds that makes up the wall sids out 8 inches revealing a small safe, he presses his thumb up to the reader and it opens, he takes the contents out, and places them in his pocket, closes the safe, pushes the wall section back into place, and repalces "Nighthawks". As he's heading to the door to leave he hears a knock, Thinking quick and making a plan. he quickly pulls the door open. with a frantic look on his face.

As soon as he knocks on the front door, the man picks up the bags of groceries to deliver and waits for her to open the door. He hears the familiar *click* of the door and puts on his best good-morning smile. The man who opens the door, however, is not who he is expecting. He has a frantic look on his face, and looks about ready to rush out of the house.

"Um....hi," says the grocery man, unsure of how to proceed. He quickly looks the man over, sees the bulge that can only be a holstered gun underneath the brown duster and quickly snaps his eyes back to this unfamiliar man's. "I'm Joe," he says, looking the man in the eye with the best unemtional gaze he can muster. "I'm supposed to deliver these to--" he looks beyond this strange man and sees the corpse on the ground. "Oh. . . my. . . God." He looks back at the man, sets the grocery bags down, and rises again to look the man in the eye. "Who are you?"

Ignoring Joes question, he pulls him inside the cabin leaving the door open "you've got to get somebody, my girlfriend's been killed!" he yells in under the guise of complete panic.

An old beaten up car pulled up the long driveway to the cabin. The engine of the car growled in complaint at the steep incline. Parking it, a girl in her mid-twentys gets out carrying a duffle bag full of wrinkled clothes in one hand and a shoe box sized cardboard box in the other. She looked up at the cabin in dismay. The young woman had shoulder length straight brown hair, brown bright eyes and wore a baggy sweater with torn up jeans. "My father has been absent from my life for 20 years. He thinks he can suddenly show up and be my best friend by inviting me on a ski trip for a weekend? please..." she mumbled kicking at the ground. Walking up to the door she rang the doorbell. After a brief moment she yelled, "Hey dad, ya in there?"

*chainsaw sputters off
in the distance feverent shouting can be heard,
"Eh?" the Forest Ranger strains his eyes to focus, staring in the direction the shouting came from. He reaches for his radio, its gone. He runs towards the cabin.

Originally posted by NoDoz
*chainsaw sputters off
in the distance feverent shouting can be heard,
"Eh?" the Forest Ranger strains his eyes to focus, staring in the direction the shouting came from. He reaches for his radio, its gone. He runs towards the cabin.


*the radio on the cabin*

Bzzzzzzz...Bzzzzzzzzzz...Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz.Bzzzzzzzzz zzzzzz

(nothing but static...must be a radio relay down....)

An old Hermit (Æ) is seen near the cabin.. a ragged old man, looking as if he has been out in the weather for months. He's hacking away at an old stump with a beat up chainsaw... screaming at the top of his lungs... cursing the squirrels that have made home in his stump.

"Dang Squirrels... infest my stump! I'll getcha varmits"

Coughing on sawdust he tosses the chainsaw aside and falls to his knees gasping for air. *cough* Dang squirrels...

This guy is obviosly a few cards short of a full deck.

As Joe was pulled through the door, he just barely remembered to land in the way he was taught, not exposing his weapon and not landing on the small of his back.

He rolled onto his side and came up crouching, looking up at this mystery man and thinking, who is this guy???

He heard the sound of footsteps running toward the house, and instinctively ran for cover behind one of the chairs.

Old man Æ (The Hermit) brushes himself off, and begins to stand up, when a squirrel dashes out of the stump and into the cabin. Æ Sees this.. and chases the squirrel, knocks over some girl on the front porch and comes crashing through the front door... Falling flat on his face eye to eye with a dead women and being glared upon by two other men. His face goes pale... and he just lays there... silent...

He hears the footsteps of another stranger, and thinks to himself, Not another one, how the hell am I suposed to get out of here. He quickly desides to let the newcomer approuch the cabin, His cover was firmly in place, there was no evidance to disprove it, he was in no danger from these people, and if one of these people did become a theat, well his car wasn't blocked and he was a decent shot.

Joe rises just as the new guy crashes through the door and lands flat on his face next to the corpse and stares down, too startled to react. He recovers quickly, however, and uses this moment to quickly survey the room. He takes in all the b & w artwork and photography, and notices the color print. He assumes there is something important about the piece, possibly a safe behind it, but there's no time to check. Only then does he notice the beagle standing by the body, wagging its tail and sniffing the body. He kneels down by the dog and sees its tag. It's named Sam. He knows the dog by bark only, for it has still not taken a liking to Joe, despite the months of delivering groceries. Now, however, Sam appears to be completely docile as he sniffs at the body. Joe bends over, picks Sam up and holds him in his arms. Sam is not yet an old dog, and is still a very lean beagle, so is not at all difficult to pick up.
"Hey there, bud," Joe says to the dog. "How 'bout we go see if we can get you something to eat." Holding the dog, he wanders off into the kitchen. "So who are you, anyway? I've been delivering groceries here for about four months, never seen you before. You say she's your girlfriend..." he says over his shoulder to this mystery man. His face. turned away from the occupants of the room, is suspcious, and his eyes are scanning for possible weapons so that he would not have to use his gun.

"the names Mike" He allows himself to calm. He gently prodes the man on the floor and offers him a hand up. "We've been dating for two years now, she moved up here about 6 months ago, I had to finish up some business in L.A. before I could move up here with her, I just got here a few nights ago"

"Mm-hmm," says Joe, not fully believing the story. Looking down at the beagle, he remembers the bags of groceries still by the front door. He walks around the commotion in the center of the room, ignoring the fallen man who he believes to be in a drunken stupor, picks up the bags with one hand, while still holding the dog in the other, and walks over to the refrigerator. He begins unloading some of the perishables and putting them in the refrigerator, while keeping a hunk of salami out to feed to Sam.

"So," says Joe to the fallen man, "what's your story?"

A battered old tuck, some color between gray and tan, spins up the drive, flinging small rocks into the ditch at the edge of the road. A small cloud of dust rises, then settles again. In the car, the driver adjusts her dark glasses, then opens the door, slamming it shut behind her. She is tall and thin, with masses of dark curly hair, dressed in dark boots and jeans, and a blue , long-sleeved shirt. She lights a cigarrette as she checks out the scenery – in the driveway, there’s a gray car with groceries in the back. The sign on the door reads “We Deliver!” That car’s a little too nice, she thinks. There’s a green car, very beaten up, with the usual collection of college junk in the back. To complete the gathering, there’s a worn blue station wagon, parked at an angle and a very sleek looking red sportscar with old tires facing back up the driveway – ready for an escape, no doubt. A girl is standing by the cabin door, ringing the bell. She looks upset.

“****,” the woman mutters. She grabs a wrench through the open window of her truck and saunters over to the red car. She looks over to make sure that the cabin door hasn’t opened yet, then loosens the bolts on the right front tire – this wheel will crash at any speed over twenty. She throws the wrench back in the truck as she passes, and makes her way to the cabin door.

“Hi,” she says. “The doorbell’s broken.” She bangs on the door with her fist, grinding the cigarette but under a booted heel. She looks over at the girl's startled expression. “I’m Karen.” She hears voices inside the cabin, and the sound of a dog barking. That’s him, alright. What’s he doing here? The door rattles, and begins to open…

Joe hears another car pull up and thinks to himself Great, just great. More kernels for this guy to pop. Pretty soon it'll be like a blasted parade in here.

He looks down at Sam the Beagle and watches as he downs the hunk of salami in about five seconds, maybe six, and looks expectantly up at Joe for more. He reaches down and scratches the dog's chin. "What happened here, little fella?"

The Hermit starts to gnaw on the beagles leg...

Ha

Ha

Ha


grrrrrr.... Wooof Wooof wooof

Joe pulls Sam away from the crazy old coot on the floor, accidentally dropping another hunk of salami on the floor in the process.

"Hey, guys, I hate to state the obvious here, but what the hell is that body doing on the floor?"

"She was like that when I got here about ten minutes ago" Mike Sayes playing the part of a boyfriend in shock.

"Well, she must've been that way for a good long time, then. This is the only road leading up to this place, and I didn't pass a single car coming up here," Joe said, casting a suspicious glance at the boyfriend.

"Possibly, I'm going to call the authorities". Mike walkes over to the phone, and tries to dial 911, but there is no dial tone. "Theres no dial tone, I'm going to have to drive down there", he says starting to walk to his car.

No one seems to notice that the crazy old coot is on the floor chewing on the phone wires.

Grrrr rrrr rrrr Zip Zap eeeeow Grr

As i pull up to the normally quiet cabin i notice alot of vehicles in the driveway. Thinking to myself usually when i deliver mail here once or twice aweek their is only one car here. I gather the mail to be delivered and head toward the door wondering what the heck all of the cars are doing here?

"Hey, wait a sec," says Joe, hoping to keep everybody in the room. "Nobody should go out. We need to keep this place under control so nobody leaves. That way we can all eliminate ourselves as her killer. If someone leaves, then there'll be a hole in the story."

He looks around the room, eyes settling once more on the boyfriend, "I've been delivering groceries here to Linda for a few months, she never mentioned a boyfriend coming up to visit. So how did you and Linda meet?"

**** Mike thinks to himslef, I wish I memorized that file already.

"It was your typical bar situation, bad pickup lines and all. Strangely enough we ended up talking the entire night, and have been together ever since."

"Really?" Joe says, walking towards Mike and walking around to face him eye-to-eye. "Her name's not Linda. This woman went by Rose McKennah. Now take a seat, son. You're gonna be here awhile."

Meeting Joes Gaze. "Fine I wasn't dating her. It doesn't matter now, shes dead. The phones are out leaving us with no way of getting in touch with the proper authorities, So I'm going to go get them, your welcome to come with me, but I'm going and theres nothing you can do to stop me" Mike said, turning and leaving. As he opens the door he is faced by two wemon...