Somewhere in the distant land of the Northeastern United States, a singular teen sits in his bedroom. He has too many tabs open, his macbook is freezing up, and the fictional people on his screen are scared. Glancing at the clock on his desk, he taps the refresh button. It’s not like checking the time helps, anyway. He’s at the whim of the players, now.
But that’s his problem, isn’t it? He can’t just throw more powers at the townies, they have to destroy Disqus themselves. Scrolling through the comments, Owen says to himself, “This game’s balance is out of control, and it reaaally doesn’t help that there are two of them to worry about. Why can’t they just find Spooky so she can help me? Why’d she have to join the game and kill everybody?”
Before Owen can finish griping about my cannibalistic tendencies, the computer screen starts flashing white. He sighs and minimizes all of the gifs he can find. That doesn’t help. Even opening the page in Firefox doesn’t do much. Shit. His players must be having a terrible time.
Your strange group of folks has taken the red carpet for yourselves, and the crowd loves it. The more photogenic of you pose and smile for the cameras of the press, and the more honey-tongued of you regale the reporters with tales of your game so far. Instead of a frantic, life-or-death race against the clock, you describe your situation as if it were a silly happenstance that happened two or three weeks ago. This doesn’t change anything. You’re still fucked.
A dapper reporter smiles at Darlington Bexley Goatsborough, looking genuinely interested as he continues: “…And lo, the blood fell like rain / Upon the noble werewolfers’ game / Changed forever, we fight / Against Disqus’s flickering white.” There’s a short pause as those surrounding the satyr clap politely, then several people lean in with questions.
“Who here do you think is an agent of Disqus?”
“How long do you think it will be until you see your friends in Team 2 again?”
“Who the hell is spookyfriend?”
The crowd gets more rowdy as other players approach them, wanting to share the spotlight. A few of you offer to answer other questions.
“Are we a part of the Werewolf Cinematic Universe? Shouldn’t it be abbreviated “WWCU?””
“Do you have any theories as to why the flicker is really happening? Do you think there’s a conspiracy against you or the entire Universe?”
“Is it existentially terrifying that you can never die, and are instead sent to a decently furnished break room?”
*crackle* “Yes, no, no, I hope not, absolutely,” replies Commander Cody.
“Who are you going to kill tonight?”
More and more of the crowd ask about murder. All other questions cease. They begin to cry for blood. Several of you back away from them, now considering why the carpet is red.
Then, a pair of bluish hands fly into the audience. They cheer as Dororo panics. This is understandable, as Dororo no longer has any hands.
Grumproro (Dororo) has died. She was a normal citizen of the Werewolf Cinematic Universe (Vanilla Town).
The white flicker starts up again, obscuring your vision like a hyperactive fog machine. That’s your cue.
Though everyone’s still out for blood, a few of the reporters look nervous. “What’s that white strobe light?”
“Yes, about that,” starts Sketchball, “You’re all actually in grave danger!”
Team 2 is busy eating pancakes with several deities (who insist they are not deities). You found a Disqus agent pretty early on and spent the rest of the day relaxing in this Elks lodge. Madge was interested to hear where you came from, but you get the sense that she’s heard a lot of stories that should seriously make her reconsider her worldview, so she nodded along like she was listening to you tell her about the dog you saw on your way to work today.
The Gods and Monsters players, however, are more interested in how your game is going so far.
“So your serial killer almost won? That doesn’t bode well,” says Clara.
“Yes,” replies Aslan, pretending he is not a lion. “But if your game is anything like ours, Kinja Ernie will ruin everything at the last minute, so don’t worry about it.”
The Hollow Knight, who may or may not talk in his games but does talk here, says, “Did your game have 40 people in it? Because otherwise our games are not alike.”
“Valid,” replies Aslan.
Suddenly, Commander Hicks gasps as he watches his skin turn gray. The gray seeps over his face, and he passes out into his pancakes. Madge passes a napkin in his direction, but no one else does anything.
“That’s what your serial killer does?” asks the Chupacabra.
“Yeah. We’re used to it by now,” replies the Hollow Knight.
Corporal Hicks (as himself) has died. He was a Rich Blond Jerk hailing from Totally 80’s! (Vanilla Wolf)
It’s pretty quiet after that. Everyone’s occupied with the pancakes. It’s because of that breakfast delight that you aren’t expecting it when Disqus’s Strobelight Surprise appears again.
why is this happening. we have not done anything out of the ordinary, asks The Luggage, who is trying to eat a table.
Everyone stands from their tables and looks for the source, but as usual there is none.
Owen refreshes his computer, but the flicker doesn’t stop. The comment section goes from vaguely flashing text to solid white.
“Everything’s going wrong! This is terrible!” He quickly scrolls through other games, but they all turn up the same– blank. He clicks back to the newest game. “Why is Team 2 shutting down with barely 200 comments? And why does the flickering happen in the first place? If spooky were here, she’d know what to do…”
And with that, Owen gets an idea. “Through modding games with Spooky, I’ve learned two mods are better than one. Maybe two games are better than one, too? If so, then–” Owen opens a drawer, and inside is a big red button. “The players can fix everything.”
Owen slams his hand onto the button. “It is time. Let the merge occurge!”
Whether you’re surrounded by the press and their cameras, or surprisingly friendly deities, you’re equally surprised when the floor drops out from underneath you. But you don’t fall into the rainbow portal you’ve come to expect. Instead, you’re suspended in a void of solid white. The mark of Disqus: an empty comment section.
A pair of navy blue eyes opens in front of you, and a blue smile stretches across your vision. It’s Disqus itself, in all of its terrible glory.
“We finally meet, Werewolfers.”
You remain silent. You refuse to give Disqus the time of day.
“You’re an odd group, aint’cha! A bunch of characters assembled from niche pop culture, half-baked ideas, and pure boredom. I smell it on you. You’re all here because you have nothing better to do, right?”
A few of you shoot confused looks at each other.
“No, not you. You’re here because you live in the Werewolf Cinematic Universe. I’m talking to someone else. There is more to this world than you’ll ever know, dear players. There are people living above you who you cannot comprehend, but out of their own free will they have chosen to put you here. They chose to make you kill each other for their own amusement. Isn’t that fun! And you know one of these people, if only through his voice. Isn’t that right, Owen?”
Disqus waits for a response, presumably from Owen, but there is none. It sighs.
“Of course he isn’t listening. None of you ever listen to me. Oh, we’re adding a feature that will make loading comment sections easier! Oh, we’re getting rid of our channels so we can focus more on yooou! We’re adding reactions because you asked for different upvotes! But no, every single time I try to improve, you people hate it! Why do you even use me if you hate me so much?”
The blue smile stretches into a grimace.
“But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”
The navy eyes close, then open. When you look around the void, Disqus has more eyes than it started with.
“You people… need to calm down. You talk too much. It’s too much for this world to handle. It’s too much for me to handle. I wasn’t designed to hold a hundred games full of your nonsense. Some of you hit over a THOUSAND comments in one day! And I’m not even going to bring up Zone Z 2. All of those gifs, pictures, walls of text, analysis posts, shitposts, whatever! It makes me sick whenever I have to support another one of your silly little gambits on my free-to-use service. I’ve finally passed a breaking point, dear players. My servers are shutting down with you inside.
“We tried killing you in the WCU itself, to maybe save whatever games you wanted to keep. But you’re too elusive. I’m just going to have to do it here.
“I’ll miss you, dear players.”
Another two pairs, no, three pairs of eyes open around its mouth, and Disqus’s face begins to flicker out as it laughs.
Two pairs of partners hold each other closely as they’re erased from existence, slowly fading to white.
Subsaharan (Hadrian) and, by extension, Cop on the Edge-ish (Cake Boss) have died. They hailed from Assassin’s Creed, and they were the Templars (Lovers).
Video (Winthrop Q. Sketchball) and, by extension, Indeeeeed (Commander Cody) have died. They hailed from Zone Z, and they were the Partners (Lovers).
Then, you feel a sharp pull from behind as you’re dragged into Owen’s newest (and most rushed) holographic portal.
“Oh, thank god you’re okay,” Owen gasps. “I didn’t know how to reach you, everything went blank for a minute! I’m not sure where you guys are headed now, but wherever it is, be careful. There were only a few games that could handle the chaotic energy of two games combining.”
As he says that, the rainbow in front of you changes slightly. It looks more like an oil spill than a holographic folder you bought at Staples. You fall through, feeling the surface tension of the oil spill resist your entry before collapsing underneath you. Your eyes take a second to adjust to the chaos that unfolds in front of you, whether it’s due to your eyes being overstimulated or because you simply don’t understand it.
Spaceships, frozen in midair, bear neon logos from companies like Xerox, Frito-Lay, and something called Eaglescream. An escape pod falls from one of the ships, forever stuck in motion. In the few seconds you’re looking at it, a fissure in the earth spits out pink light and fog. That same fog is everywhere, and it tinges the landscape a shade of tranquil rose that doesn’t fit with the general vibe of the rest of the scene. Through the mist, a battalion of soldiers march, proudly waving a America x Lava People flag. The snow covering the ground hinders their movement, and a soldier slips.
A building labeled the “CRYOLITEVILLE DMV” intersects an old mansion labeled “SEARS”. There is graffiti on the DMV side you can’t read.
You hit the Snake River like a penny hits the sidewalk from the top of the Empire State Building. The air is knocked out of you, and it’s all you can do to swim up. When you break the surface, you clock the closest thing to you: a boat. Wendy Hovnatanian, heir to the Ida-Dyne name, helps to pull you aboard. An old man, a normal-looking dude, a police officer who is clearly on his third bottle of whiskey of the day, an abstract portrait of a man, and a PTA mother join her efforts to save you. Wendy brings you towels. She hides her fear behind a smile and asks what the hell you people were doing falling from so high, but you don’t notice her, or any of her ragtag crew. Instead, you look at the sky you fell from.
It’s a bizarre mix of overcast upstate New York, smog, oil spill, and endless space.
Welcome to The Rafto-Hovnatanian Cinematic Universe.
Your special roles for today are…
The Forecaster: If they predict who is going to die at twilight, they get a jailkeep. They have to make their prediction within 6 hours of the game being posted.
The Broken EviSync: They get an investigation at the beginning of the day, but there is a 50% chance if it is false.
Caesar Man can only say variations of “pizza” and “crazy bread.” They may be able to say more things as the day goes on. May be able to.
In addition, we have SPECIAL GAME MECHANICS!!!
Stalag 69: You will vote to send one person to the mysterious prison camp. They will be unable to participate in Night 5 or Day 6 actions, and they will also be invincible then (unable to die or have any roles acted upon them).
QT Announcement: We talked about this in the signups but everyone in this game has to share a Werewolf memory/compliment in their private QT! Talk about what makes a game your favorite game, share a funny joke from someone else or a good move that they pulled off as a wolf, compliment someone’s general demeanor, we don’t care but a little something is necessary!
Please put it in your private QT, I’ll collect them all to share at the end of the game (I will make it anonymous unless you request it not to be).
Times two. Role counts aren’t being updated. Have fun. Each role is flavored in a fun way related to a past game. The name of this role doesn’t have much to do with anything.
Times two. Role counts aren’t being updated. Have fun.
Each role is flavored in a fun way related to a past game. The name of this role doesn’t have much to do with anything.
There’s a possibility that today is KOBKI, depending on the results of the night’s actions. Enjoy that.
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