Good Morning, Sunshine

[Premsyl]

You awaken, slowly at first, groggily coming to consciousness. And then the realization hits you that you’re not at home in your bed.

You’re lying on a hard, cold concrete floor in a room with white painted concrete walls. The room is dimly lit by a television showing snowy static, hissing monotonously. There is one solid looking door, and no windows. There is no light coming from beneath the crack of the door. Besides the television, and the wooden cabinet it sits on, the room is empty.

Well, not empty. You’re not alone in the room. There are others there with you, some of them passed out like you were, others slowly waking. Also, on the ceiling in the corner is a video camera looking down at the room.

The last thing you remember is arriving at home, opening the door, and stepping inside. After that – nothing - until now. You’re still wearing the clothes you were wearing then, but your pockets are empty.

The words ‘what the fuck is going on?’ come to mind, followed by ‘where am I?’

[Yawgmoth]

Thomas Steele was cold; he hated being cold. What was worse was that he was cold and uncomfortable. It took a second to come to the realization that there were no blankets over him, and that he was laying on concrete rather than a bed. The realization came faster than he could open his eyes, and when he did so the groggy haze of sleep instantly faded.

What the fuck... where am I? He took notice of the other people in the room. Who are these people?

He knew one other person present, Frank Rizzo, the detective that he had hired after the assault. Was this related to the assault? So many questions. Steele stood, shaky at first, but he managed. He took notice of still being in yesterday's black suit and blue tie -- but clothes didn't matter now anyway.

"Hey, Detective Rizzo, wake up! It's Tom Steele!"

[Fractured]

Franks rouses groggily. He'd been knocked out before. "Yes, Tom, I know who you are." He looks around the room and holds back the rising panic at being abducted, the shame in letting someone get the drop on him. The camera...the camera unsettles him. As does the greyed out television. They were being watched. And it was possible that whoever had done this, wanted them to watch something. "You know these other two?" he asks as he examines the door. He's not optimistic, but tries the handle anyway.

[Writer]

Hector heard Tom's voice, but for a moment, it was merely something in a dream. Then, Hector sat up, abruptly, eyes open. He had woken up in strange places plenty of times, but he usually knew how he arrived there.

He looked at the two others who were awake.

"Hey. I'm Hector. I take it your not the one's handing out the invites to this little party?"

[Premsyl]

In the flickering light of the television set you're able to get an idea of the types of people in the room with you.

There's a woman, no older than twenty-five, with black hair and a good body. She's quickly beginning to become more and more panicked.

There's also a youngish man, unkempt brown hair and a spattering of facial hair. He's just sitting against the wall. Eyes wide. Not saying anything.

Altogether there are five people in the room. Thomas, Frank, Hector, the man with the brown hair and the woman.

[Writer]

Hector approaches the woman, stopping about two yards away, then squats.

"Miss, this may seem scary right now, but try not to panic. My name is Hector. What is your name?"

[Premsyl]

The woman just looks at Hector, fear in her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out but a frightened squeak.

Just then the TV set changes and displays a desk, lit by a dim lamp. As you watch a thin man with short dark hair and round glasses steps into the shot and sits down. He's smiling pleasantly.

"Good evening, everyone. Welcome to The Game. You can call me The Host, and you're all contestants on the most all out, balls to the wall, best game show, ever! You should all be quite thrilled."

In the corner the camera whirs and moves as it takes in the room.

"Well? Say something!" The Host grins and leans forward, the light reflecting from his glasses rendering them opaque. It is then that you realize that this is no recording, this is a live transmission from somewhere.

[Fractured]

"Remain calm, everyone," Frank says to his fellow detainees, looking at each one in turn, and showing how calm he is, like a Hindu cow.

The grizzled old detective walks away from the door and slowly turns to look directly into the camera. "We're not playing any games today," he rasps at the Host through his feed.

OOC Questions

How big is the television? Is the wooden cabinet it sits on sturdy enough to stand upon?

[Premsyl]

The stand the television sits on is small, and doesn't appear to be well constructed as it appears rather rickety. The material appears to be the processed wood material found in many build-at-home furniture placements. The television sitting on top of it is one of those 15" CRT TVs that you can barely find anymore.

The Host chuckles at Frank's comment. "Oh, Mr. Rizzo. I thought one of you might say that. If you don't want to play, of course, I can't make you. If you choose to remain in the room you're in you will be completely safe. No one will come after you, or think anything less of you, I would imagine. However, I do feel obligated to inform you however that in approximately fifteen minutes the locks on the door to this room will activate and the Game will be over." The personal ecstasy he feels in revealing this information to you is clear in The Host's face.

[Writer]

Hector stands and faces the TV.

"What are the rules? What are the goals?"