What. The. Fuck. What the god damn fucking fuck. Holy fuck. What the hell is going on around here?

"Guys, fuck this. I'm going to sleep. I have a feeling our lives are going to blow from here on out."

I proceed to my room and attempt to fall asleep.

Go to my room and play Starcraft.

I wake up in the middle of the night.

Holy shit, it's still nighttime? I thought the sun would've risen by now. Shit, how am I going to fall back asleep...

ATWasfkjaWTasgfa s120398 asfa9389asf9x9!! 190as8f 31! saf891? asf9!


I'm having a nice dream.

I'll be honest, this is going to be a really hard rpg to do with only three players. :\ I thought maybe I could do it with five or so, but there is a good chance you will all die before we get too far in.

If you want to take your chances I can post the next day things. Sorry this took so long, I was kinda hoping certain people would come out of their coma and post!

SHIT JUST GOT REAL

But seriously, go on.

this is a really fucked up school

yo man, i didn't sulk in my shit for nothing. I put time in that first post. Keep going; I'm determined to live. ;o

???????

Apparently, we all died in our sleep of unknown causes.

I, Inigo Montoya, have awoken from my slumber and demand to know where my classmates are! I am on a vengeful quest, and I believe that surviving here will aid me in ultimately finding the six-fingered man, my father's murderer.

Go to the Dean's office. Find his desk, crawl up on top and take a shit on it. Take a picture of it and post it online.

The next morning greets you deceivingly cheery. For a moment you think that you imagined the trip with Bryan, Louis and Harry, and that the body was just a dream. You stumble awake, barely mumbling to your roommate a good morning before starting your routine. You are out the door without too much delay, and you begin walking towards class.

You notice clusters of upperclassmen gathered in different area of the commons as you walk to Payton Hall. They are whispering quietly, some with horrified looks or pail complexions. Did they see the body too?

You walk into room 215 and take a seat in the middle back, next to a window. You see almost everyone filing towards the gym that you had orientation in just the day before. Before you start to wonder whether or not you are in the right place, more classmates begin filing in. Quiet whispers break out as each student recounts roughly the same thing, this strange activity by the upperclassmen. It was 7:33, and your teacher was no where to be seen.

A soft spoken girl piped up suddenly, "you know what I heard? They're going to an assembly. I heard that an upperclassmen committed suicide last night, so all the upperclassmen are required to go listen to the dean and one of the campus councilors talk about suicide, depression and prevention." More whispers broke out, causing the entire class to break into a dull roar.

"What a second," another student said, commanding attention from your classmates, "how do you know this? That seems strange," he looked around to others for reassurance, "I mean, suicide? On the first day?" A couple of your classmates nodded, but you are not so sure, remembering the scene in the woods suddenly. But that certainly didn't look like suicide.

"My older sister is attending the school too," she said defiantly, "she told me."

"How did he do it?" One of the other girls asked. Before she could respond, the door popped open. Some of your classmates jumped. Your teacher bustles in, papers practically bursting out of his hands. His hair was peppered with gray and a little frazzled, desperately tamed with greasy hair gel. He was wearing a well worn tan suit and a bright yellow button up shirt, with well polished brown shoes.

"Good morning students, I'm sorry for the delay but it just so happens that the teacher lounge copier is broken. Its fine, I found a working one in the library," he waves around a packet energetically, and receiving no comment from the class clears his throat and proceeds to pass out the packets. "My name is Mr. Freugonson. I have taught at this schoolf or close to ten years as a math teacher. This is your 'Guide to Hushcreek,' sort of an unofficial document I put together for new students to really immerse themselves in the full experience, and for some of you, receive the help and guidance you need. There are contact numbers and emails, hours of operation for student gathering places and for any stores located on campus. At the end of it is a calendar of events for the remainder of the school year. Now, does anyone have any questions?"

"What is the point of this class?" A particularly difficult looking student asked.

"What is your name?"

"Marcus."

"Marcus...Marcus..." the teacher said, running through his roster, "Ah, Marcus Boar, sent here due to 'displays of excessive contempt.' They put such...rosy terms on intricate problems, don't they? Now no need to sugarcoat it in front of me. I can already tell what you're problem is." The class shuffled uncomfortably at his attitude. "This class is here for your benefit. Everyone in this class is at the same point as you, even if you are not all in the same grade. You were all admitted at the same time, and so to properly facilitate your learning you are here with me. Should you miss classes, assignments or tests, it is my duty to see to it that you fulfill these obligations in a timely manner. You will notice that the school goes to great lengths to ensure you always have someone you can approach, and we suggest you do so if any problems arise." He smiled warmly. "Any other questions?"

The girl from before rose her hand. "The upperclassmen going to the gym..." she started carefully.

"Ah yes, and what's your name?"

"Cheri Parks."

"Another Parks student I see!" He said brightly, running through his roster. He paused at her name, mumbled something, and then addressed the classroom again, "ah yes. This is a very difficult time for us all, as faculty and as students," he started carefully. He sat on the edge of the desk at the front of the classroom. "You see.." you are suddenly interrupted by loud talking in the hall. "Ah, excuse me just one moment." The teacher steps out of the classroom for a second to address the yelling.

"My class! Where is it?! I must know!" you here softly.

"How convenient," Marcus says snidely, "fifty bucks says he never comes back with a direct answer."

"I'll take that bet," another classmate says a scrawny guy with short runaway hair, "he can't pussy out of this one. We'll have to see him every. day."

"Yea what's up with that? All we get by coming here is getting up at 7:30 every damn morning. It isn't fair," Marcus whined, stretching dramatically in his chair.

"If you don't learn to play their game, how do you ever hope to beat it?"

"Hey I like you," he says, "What's your name?"

"Hillary." The classroom falls into a hush, "What?" she asks threateningly. "My voice? My androgynous voice? Next person to say a word gets my fist so far up their a-"

"Sorry for the interuption," the teacher says interrupting their conversation upon return, "but we had a student looking for his classroom," He stepped aside, and behind him was a young man, his eyes darting wildly and suspiciously around the classroom. "This is Inigo, and as you may have guessed he is here due to excessive tardiness. Now, where was I?" Inigo shuffles to an open chair near you, openly staring at your hands, as if searching for something. You jerk them under the desk, where he starts staring at you instead. "Ah yes, the assembly.

"It is unfortunate for me to tell you this, and this way, but a student committed suicide last night. It is on par with our regulations to hold a school wide assembly to further discuss this event and to help prevent these type of things from happening again. We didn't want to send off the first year students right away, because we felt that your needs would be better met by going through orientation properly."

"Now unless there are more questions, I am going to hand out your class schedules."

Tyrawn goes in to dap up Inigo and says, "Yo dawg In-ig-go da fuq u doin checkin out my hand mahn i kno i got dem nice ass hands mahn u need sum lotion or sum shyt i gotchyu bro here u go mahn dis is da shyt dis makes da ladies go cra mahn kno wut im sayin mahn? dayum dat hilary is hawt lookin mm?"

"Hello, good sir. I do enjoy the look of your supple hands, and wish I could achieve such an incredible feat. Unfortunately my swordplay has left my hands rough, so I doubt any of your fine lotion would help at this point." I pull out my flask and take a swig. "I say, Tyrawn, would you care for some of my delicious mead?" I hand the flask over.

"Yes that Hilary is a fine specimen, indeed. She will surely make a fine mate for anyone so lucky. I dare say I'd love to plant my seed in her if you catch my meaning. I'm talking about sex, of course. Intercourse. The old rough and tumble."

"Dayum boii watchyu doin wit dis booze u tryna fiend hard yo. Sorry mahn but my momma alwa say dat the only thin wurse dan drinkin at nite is drinkin in daytime kno wut im sayin? and lyk i drink so much in the nite time i cant be goin round drinkin in the day time. my momma she alway full of deep adivce and shyt yo.

"Mahn I'd tap dat gurl in a sec man. She got dem cuurves kno wut im sayin its alll bout dem curves. She look like an ice cream cone on a hawt summa day u feel me? Mahn, we livin it up in dis place. dis place is like rack city bitch kno wut im sayin? Old rough and tumble mm? Man I'd tumble all ova dat ruff shyt."

EDIT: 24 hours no new posts! yay! how's everyone doing tonight?!

Post has been edited 1 time(s), last time on Mar 6 2012, 3:14 am by Raccoon.