WEEK 11 - TRIAL

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ONLINE CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (11)

saturday TRIAL DAY ONE (13) survivors At 9 AM, a klaxon alarm begins blaring in every area of the ship. The alarm will continue to go off until everyone has gathered in the conference room. Should anyone be running late or avoiding the trial for whatever reason, a robot guide will appear wherever they are and gently but firmly escort them into the room. Once all the living players are present, the conference room doors will lock shut; anyone who wishes to leave for whatever reason will need to ask AL-2955 or one of the robots. Anyone leaving for non-investigative purposes, such as bathroom breaks, will be accompanied by a robot escort. The large round table in the center of the conference room has been set up to help the trial run as smoothly as possible. Three holographic screens hover above the center hollow of the table, visible from every angle. The first screen displays the pictures and profiles of the suspects and victim; the second displays the autopsy report; the third displays a blank word processor. Each of the chairs comes equipped with a virtual keyboard which can be used to type information directly into the third screen, such as theories and updated information; they can also be set into privacy mode, which will transfer whatever notes someone writes directly into their datapad instead of on screen. There's also a tablet function for those who wish to draw charts or pictures on screen. The keyboards will detect the DNA of whoever's using them and record who's typed what - simply press an area of text and the name of whoever wrote it will pop up. The area to the right of the table has been temporarily sectioned off with a glass partition and sliding door for hygienic issues. Inside, the victim's body has been laid out on a metal autopsy table, covered by a plastic sheet. Above it is a holographic screen that displays a close-up color photograph of the body when it was found. A hand sanitizer dispenser has been considerately attached to the wall nearby for anyone getting up close and personal to the body. To the left of the conference table is a display case. Any evidence found during the investigation will be carefully collected by the robots at some point the previous day and placed here before the trial starts. Beneath each piece of evidence is a small tablet where players can type up information, such as a short description or where it was found. There are also empty areas left over for any evidence that may be found during the trial. The shelf at the very bottom of the case has been reserved for an extra rulebook in case anyone needs it. Food will be served throughout the day by the robots, who will take individual orders whenever you're feeling hungry. The trial will end at 9:00 PM, at which point all players will have been expected to cast their vote.

victim



suspects



Character Statuses
Setting
Rulebook
Voting

Comments

[al2955]

Stragglers? What poor esteem thou hast of those among thee. And 'tis most odd you of all people should find Our presence here strange.

[A loving stroke to Jason's hair, and then -- pain, rage, despair as the Queen hits him with all the anger he's been carrying at once. The never-ending frustration of having to live up to an impossible ideal, the desperation for acknowledgement, look at me I can be just as good I can be better than HIM--

Terror, the stink of pain and approaching death in his mouth, the cessation of existence. A breath of fresh air, a second chance - only for it to come crashing down around him because he's been replaced, he didn't matter, he never mattered he never mattered, if he mattered why is HE still alive--]

After all, what sort of terrible parent dost not wish to wreak the most bloody of vengeances for the sake of their murdered children?

[antagonize]

[Oh. Wow. This is fine. This is okay. This is absolut— no. Never mind. This is as far removed from fine as you can possibly get. There's no way to remain composed after experiencing everything all over again.

He's pressing his hand against his head as it all hits him at once, jaw clenched and fingers digging into his skull. There's a lump stuck in his throat. It's an effort to control his breathing. And for a moment, he feels like he's sitting in that hotel room once again. He can still see the newspaper clippings, the photographic evidence, his death certificate — everything. He remembers smashing his fist against the television, not giving a damn about the shards of glass embedded in his flesh, but that is neither here nor now.

He looks up at the eye, palm of his hand pressed against his eyepatch and expression absolutely livid.]

Get. Out. [Through gritted teeth, but not for long.] Get the fuck out of my head!

[This would be the appropriate time to throw something at the hologram, but, alas. All he has are his weapons, emergency medical supplies and datapad. Not exactly shit he can waste.]