In the Night Beta Tester Sandbox

[scrapcap]

Hello, beta testers, and thank you again for offering to help vet, proofread, and test run our game! Feel free to use this open post as a sandbox/TDM of sorts to collect tag samples for your example application. We'll also be using this post to voicetest and practice donning our NPC hats before the game officially goes public, so again, we appreciate your help in this.

We do ask that, if you're planning to app your example app character for realsies, you update your real app with thread samples from the official TDM once it goes up on June 15. Thank you!

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Comments

[withsadness]

[Mary hates it here. Not because it's a particularly bad place. In fact, there are a lot of good things about it: like new friends, and new places to see. But there isn't really much that can be seen truly, not with the way that Beacon currently is. That's the problem. It's just so...so dark. It reminds her of emptiness.

What's worse is the only thing that keeps out the darkness is the only thing that could possibly be worse: fire.

For once, however, Mary has emerged to confront the, er, the day with renewed vigor! Because she has...a pile of sticks! These sticks are her grand plan to, to, well, to make improvements on the issue at hand. She starts straightaway, setting about a wide circle around the fire pit. They'll probably slide against the cobblestones but you know what one thing at a time.]

Ben Winters | NPC

[scrapcap]

harbor

[Winters is waiting for you when you step off the ferry and onto the dock. It's the least he can do, greeting the new blood. It's not as if he can count on Will to be a welcoming presence, and Rastus has the bonfire to tend to. It has to be him.]

Welcome to Beacon. You're aware that you're dead, right? Condolences.


network

[It's late, and you're cozy in your room in The Invincible, and maybe you're asleep and maybe you're not, but your tablet buzzes. You've got a text from Winters, who happens to occupy the room next to yours.]

Did you hear that?

[Hm. Ominous.]

Rastus | NPC

[cawdad]

bonfire

[You need something. A specialty item, maybe. Cigarettes, your favorite food, a musical instrument, your weapon of choice... Or maybe you're just looking to nab some torches from the bonfire for some project you're working on. Ultimately, whatever you're looking for, you have to talk to Rastus.

Rastus, the hunched birdman that presides over the bonfire at seemingly all hours... Except this hour, apparently. Hm.

You find him instead in his, uh... Hut? Let's call it a hut, even though it looks like a large pile of kindling tucked between two trees on the outskirts of Bonfire Square. When you get his attention, his head pops out of the curtain that serves as a door.]

Hm? Yes?

[He sounds a bit like a parrot that got ahold of Jigsaw's voice modulator.]


network

[Or maybe instead of coming to see him, you've opted for a modern approach and have instead texted him.]

wH AT, tYOu wannt/?

[donttalktome]

[Will can only watch this display for so many minutes before he has to open his mouth.]

And what exactly is the point of this?

[He gestures to the stick circle with the hand that isn't holding his ever-present tablet.

He definitely knows how to talk to children.]

harbor

[withsadness]

Yes. My friend set me on fire even though I asked her not to.

[Cool cool cool cool great start.]

When you greet people, it's polite to say things like "How do you do?" and introduce yourself!

[...]

Is being dead always so...dark?

[withsadness]

[She gives him a look that, for a second, has a very distinct air of What's the point of you? Instead, Mary just stares at him before answering.]

I'm going to make a line of safety! I'll say Mr. Fire, you can't come over this line! That'll be the new rule.

[donttalktome]

[Wow don't get sassy!]

Right, you're going to give orders to the bonfire. You do know that's not how that works, don't you?

[withsadness]

Why shouldn't it? A lot more things can listen than you'd think. Have you ever tried talking to it?

[She'll be as sassy as she pleases!]

Will Ingram | NPC

[donttalktome]

tavern

[Somewhere in the upper floors of the Invincible, there's a ruckus going on. Someone's moving furniture around and shoving things into the hall. Perhaps you came to investigate, or perhaps you were just unlucky enough to be walking by at the wrong moment, but either way, as you pass by an open door, you hear a voice. A voice giving you a snapped order.]

You. [Will points from inside the room.] I need this moved.

[He indicates a bed that he's managed to scoot a couple feet from the wall. Guess you're being roped into redecorating?]

network

I'm incredibly bored and more than a little drunk.
Pitch me program ideas. Best argument wins.

network

[donttalktome]

[Definitely not asleep, which is why the reply comes just seconds later.]

It had better actually be something.
I'm doing some very important staring into space right now.

[donttalktome]

I haven't needed to.

[He's not even going to dispute the "fire might talk" thing. Who the hell knows in this place.]

The fire never gets bigger. It can't leave that space unless you move it yourself. Although you know, putting wooden sticks close to it might just accomplish that.

tavern!

[evocation]

[Kyna is instantly offended by the command, and she scowls.]

What? Have you seen me?

[She's scrawny. And sure, she could move that in two seconds with a spell, but is she going to volunteer that information? Nope.]

harbor

[evocation]

[Kyna has always considered herself terrible at talking about difficult things or breaking bad new, but this guy might have taken the cake. She wrinkles her nose at him.]

Yeah, I got the memo. Thanks. Haven't you ever heard of like... bedside manner or whatever?

[Is that actually applicable? Oh well.]

Newt Geiszler

[completelycrazy]

the invincible

[Guess who is dead and has only been dead for a day and is real mad about it and is thus getting wasted in the tavern because it's not like he needs his liver anymore. He's pretty sure you can't call it an unhealthy coping mechanism when health is no longer relevant. He's sitting at the bar, idly monkeying with his tablet and sipping a glass of beer and, because he's in a mood, chasing off anyone that tries to talk to him.

Like so:]

What do you want? Go away.

[These things are mutually exclusive, but still. Get outta here!!!

...

Or, hold on. He seems to change his mind after looking up to see who it is.]

Do you wanna play a game?

[It's probably safe.]


network

Hey I got lost in the woods come get me.

[withsadness]

[That nearly-confident air she had fades quickly at the simple mention of the fire potentially growing, and her eyes go wide. All at once she drops her sticks.]

No! Anything but that!

[originallutece]

What kind of game?

[But she’s sitting, long skirt gathering, back ramrod straight and her eyes more tired than severe. He isn’t the only one full of grief about his death.]

[scrapcap]

...Ah.

[He nods. First day playing host and he's already getting schooled by a little girl. A dead little girl. Who... was murdered by way of immolation. He sighs, and offers her a tight smile.]

My apologies, miss. My name's Ben Winters. Winters will do. What might I call you?

[...]

It is here.

[scrapcap]

What, you'd rather a threat to warrant disturbing your laziness?
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.
Can you see anything out your window?

[scrapcap]

Would you prefer I beat around the bush?

[He does feel slightly bad, but also, he can't be everyone's grief counselor.]

My name's Winters.

[completelycrazy]

[Good, they can sulk together. Misery loves company, or something.]

I don't know. A drinking game.

[Fittingly, he takes a swig as he thinks. Did you expect him to have an idea when he suggested this? Not a chance.]

Like Never Have I Ever. Or, uhh, what's that other one... Two truths and a lie? Or something.

[originallutece]

[She has no idea what never have I ever is, but the other one seems simple enough. Rosalind brings her drink to her lips, wrinkles her nose at the smell, and drinks anyway.]

All right.

[Two truths and a lie . . . oh, but every unbelievable fact about her is so embittering right now.]

I'm the most brilliant person here. I was born in 1871. And I'm married.

network

[ghostlocked]

what do i get if i win?

[ghostlocked]

[Harlan has seen Mary around—the town is dinky and she's hard to miss—but he hasn't had much reason to talk to her. Thinking about the fact that she's dead bums him out. She's gotta be, what, like ten? Fuck that.

But now she's got herself a little construction project and, dammit, he's curious. He's got no clue what she's doing, but...]

Want some help?

[It's not like he has anything better going on, anyway.]

[completelycrazy]

[He snorts.]

Easy. There's no way you're the most brilliant person here.

[It will occur to him later that just because it's not objectively true doesn't mean she thinks she's lying, which, ultimately, is the definition of the game, and it's her fault for cheating, as it were, so.]

But technically you can't be married anymore if you're dead.

[originallutece]

[She raises an eyebrow, not so much insulted as unimpressed.]

That's two wrong guesses, technically, as that isn't the reason I'm not married. Do you do two shots?