Little Bill

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

>Attack
Failed. Try as he might, the Musician seems to lack the strength to properly attack his chains and has temporarily Tired himself. If he continues, he may succeed, but he may Exhaust himself. If he continues twice, he may succeed, but he will damage himself either way.

>Explore
Succeeded. The Laborer's chains seem the loosest, allowing him to just barely reach the wall's base and peel through some of the edges of carpeting and grime. He quickly finds that the group is sitting on a layer of firm, wet soil, with no floor but carpeting underneath. He continues digging, gnashing against stones and soil with his fingernails like a rat. With a few minutes of idle fingering through the dirt, he unearths a Rotten Baseball, a Hunk of Knotted Roots, and a Scrap of Rotten Cardboard. His hands are now Raw. If he continues, he may succeed, but his hands may become Cut. If he continues twice, he may succeed, but he will damage himself either way. His four pockets provide him Four Inventory Slots to start with. The Rotten Baseball and Hunk of Knotted Roots will take up 1 Slot each if taken, the Scrap of Rotten Cardboard does not take up item slots.

>Collect
Succeeded. The Typist takes some time to think, feeling around blindly. Where there's a lock, there's a key. More thinking, before it dawns on her. The problem is practically a bad riddle. Where do you hide your spare key? She is only able to wedge her foot underneath the topmost rug, but it is all she needs as she snakes her bare foot through the slimy dampness and to the rug's center. You hide it under a mat. She finds a Rusty Key for her efforts. It does not take up item slots.

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Still room for one more of you lurkers to submit an application while we're all in the starting room. Lil' Bill sees ya.

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

The Musician was the first to awake from his stupor, and so it felt only right that he should be the first to speak.

"I don't mean to die in some house of horrors. I coulda broken these cuffs like nothing back in the day." The musician said, thrashing and twisting his arms in an attempt to break free from the wall. After a few moments of puffing, it became clear that he was making no progress. He felt uncomfortably inadequate in front of the woman in his presence, and began to pull from the wall once more, this time slower and with more of a concerted effort at breaking the hinge on the wall.

>Attack

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

A small group awakens in a small room, no bigger than ten feet wide. Each member is lying on the floor, with both hands shackled to the wall by padlocked chains. They are all wearing their most usual outfits, with nothing missing from their person, though each has a painful headache and varying degrees of amnesia -- The typist is a small, mousy woman in her 30's, the laborer is a skinny, tired-looking man in his 30's, and the musician is a balding, long-haired old man in his 60's. None remember their names. All of them remember what they have done. The Typist has a purse. The Laborer has a small wound on his forehead, which is bleeding slightly. Each member of the group has woken up, expressed shock and fear at their surroundings, and have -- at least slightly -- come to grips with their situation. A few minutes of silence have since passed as each member collects themselves.

The floor is hidden by what must be several dozen filthy carpets and the walls appear to be brick painted a sickly yellow, covered in a thin layer of indistinguishable filth. A single lightbulb hangs from a short wire from the ceiling a few feet above. There are no windows of any kind.

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

The Musician

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: 2
MENTAL STRENGTH: 1
EMOTIONAL STRENGTH: 1
MOTOR SKILLS: 4
PSYCHIC STRENGTH: 8

INVENTORY
x1 "WW" Guitar Pick
x1 Las Vegas Keychain Bottle Opener
x1 Prescription Pill Bottle (Half)

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Closing applications at midnight! Try to answer my riddles three while you still can, you General Roleplayers.

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Thank you all for your kind words! Last time I did this, I had far fewer people impressed with it and far more people threatening me over PMs over the difficulty of my riddles.

For the rest of you, because I can't indefinitely host the password-locked link for the riddle's answer, today will be the last day to apply.
If you can. >:)

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

• Each character will maintain an Inventory, Health, and Sanity, with either of the latter two reaching zero meaning the death of a character. Every character starts out with 7/10 Health and 10/10 Sanity. You will start out with the inventory items I messaged you about, but can collect more through the course of the game. Unless specified, items take up no space, with certain items taking up more of your limited Inventory Slots. Characters can increase their number of Inventory Slots by picking up purses, backpacks, and bags. Health and Sanity can be replenished by eating, drinking, or calming down, with the GM (me) listing how much you've gained back in the following post. Sanity is harder to regain than Health, and there will be fewer opportunities over all to do so. Character's stats affect how easily their stats are diminished and how easily they are replenished.

• Every turn, while bearing in mind that you can write whatever you want, you can have me roll for you to perform one of 7 Special Actions; Explore, Collect, Attack, Escape, Examine, Assist, and Recollect. Sometimes, different Special Actions will perform the same function, while in other times, they may not work at all. There is sometimes nowhere to explore, nothing to collect, etc. You can perform a Special Action every post/turn, but only one at a time. Never assume a Special Action would be entirely pointless, except for Attack when there's nothing to fight/run away from. That one would be pointless. All other players (including the GM) must post between one turn and the next. To specify a Special Action, include one of the four after a > at the end of your post

>like this.

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Don't post character sheets here till we get everyone. Post placeholders with your job title in a color of your choice.

𝙴𝚇𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

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_{I left these notes just for you. Not "you, the clever reader who might find this". YOU you. The one touching the keys.}
Your eyes open for a moment, and then shut again. You draw in a deep, sour breath, and stretch out on a surface far too hard and wide to be your bed. Somewhere in the deepest, basest, reptilian part of your brain, you're made instantly aware that the place you're waking up in is totally unfamiliar. The air is too hot to be your bedroom, the lights are too cold to be yours, and the bags under your eyes too stinging and heavy for you to have been sleeping in your own bed. Instinctively, you pull your head back and furrow your brow, trying to recall last night's events as your eyes come into the focus of wakefulness. You feel faintly hungover, and the itchy surface you begin to writhe around on is almost certainly the cushion of a couch, though you don't remember the last time you went to any sort of party. As your eyes remain open for more than a full second, an unfamiliar panic grips you. An all-consuming, instinctive panic, somewhere in the back of that same lizard brain of yours. Four sets of eyes look back at you.
_{I left these for you because I know you. Actual you. Everybody deflects their discomfort when they hear that by demanding to hear their name like a street magician's trick.}
Each is attached to a person who seems just as terrified as you, in a room you now realize has a floor padded with dozens of layers of rugs and carpets, each dirtier than the last. Each person is all covered, just as you realize you are, in a layer of soil and grime. Each is chained to the wall by the wrist. You instinctively pull your hands up defensively, but you cannot -- yours seem to be chained the tightest. You scream for a moment, and as a wail of horror rings out in the room for what you realize must be the fifth time, you begin to cry, causing one of the women in your small company to begin crying as well. You immediately begin to imagine all sorts of horrible scenarios and begin to feel sorry for yourself, before recalling the reason. The other people in the room feel miles away at this point of your panic, as you delve further into the memory you have tried countless times to bury, alter, or forget entirely. You know exactly what you did, and why some depraved vigilante would want to torture you. The people in the room suddenly feel much, much closer as you look back up.
_{But I know you better than an ID card ever could. I know the real you. What you've done, where you've been, who you are. It doesn't paint a pretty picture.}

What had they done to deserve such a fate?

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_{Check his bio.}
If you can find the application, you can apply. RP will include mature themes, puzzle solving, and minor use of stats/dice rolling. Good luck!