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Station of Despair. Final Chapter
Seeing the entire chase play out nearby, the cyborg gets an idea.

"Ya know what, I've got it.  Something else I can tell ya right off the bat.  It's good.  You're gonna love it."

"So, without further waiting, how about we talk about this killing's motive!"

It pulls down a display screen...somehow.  It's displaying an incredibly crude picture.  "Let's review the facts, shall we?"

[Image: tumblr_ozokdzJxIY1rpf6nso1_1280.png]

"Now, some terrible person is holding everyone here for a game in which they kill each other, right?  Three people have already fallen victim to this game (even if one of them only died because of their own retardation).  However, I ask you, what if the mastermind was killed?"

[Image: tumblr_ozokdzJxIY1rpf6nso2_1280.png]

"Well, I don't think I'd know what to do.  Without "someone" giving a few basic ideas, I'm just a lowly cyborg who can't hope to keep such a plan together.  So, let's make a deal.  Right now.  If you successfully kill the mastermind this time..."

[Image: tumblr_ozokdzJxIY1rpf6nso3_1280.png]

"No investigation!  No trial!  You're allowed to go home, right on the spot.  And nobody gets executed!  And the others...well, I suppose you can coax some poor bastard into bringing them down."

The sheer quality of the pictures are truly something to behold in their own way.

"It's a win win if you think about it, isn't it?  You remove a truly terrible person from existence AND you go home, no strings attached.  I can't think of a better deal than that."
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Dan Kelly seizes up and falls limp, her eyes dead and lifeless...
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ooc:Hey, so uh...quick announcement.

I may have made a slight boo boo.  Not something to screw the game, but something I feel needs to be addressed anyways.

So.  Everyone I could contact at the beginning of the game got a PM saying they were either a citizen or the mastermind.  Of those that haven't been replaced in the game, these include:

NateTheSquid
Wraithcraft
NesMettaur
brojob
cgrn10
Hydrofloric
John Warcrimes
Superlagg

So, I became aware of the feature of sending the PM to multiple people, which saved me some time as I could only send a PM every so often.  There's...uh...just one issue about it.

Your PM probably also said up to two other people who got the same message as you.

Which is kinda more information than I was hoping to give out...uh...

I would appreciate it if this information was disregarded and, if you still have the PMs, to delete them.

This message is for the station citizen players only.  If you're the mastermind, you're the only one to receive your message and thus this doesn't apply to you.
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"Uhhh.... Dan? "
Large gives the fresh corpse a small kick.
".... fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck"
He stuffs the revolver back into his pocket and darts back to the bar.
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Dan waits until she could no longer hear the big dumb bar doofus' swearing, then picks herself off the floor.

"Drat," she swears, "he took the gun back."

So much for monkey slaying. Speaking of...

Dan struts down to Security and requests some information.

"Where's all the monkeys? Did you dumb shit eat them already?"
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"Hm...uh...no one was aware of the vending machine that dispenses the monkies near the kitchen?"

The robot looks at the projector, as if implying that a new picture will take its place on the subject. After about ten seconds...

"I don't really feel like explaining that one. But it's quite the cruel machine, isn't it? Forcing those poor little things into such a small space, only to be let out and brutally slaughtered or messed with."

"At least give them some hope. It's so much better when you can grow hope out of something and then crush it with the boot of despair. He he he..."

"But yeah. Most of the monkeys in the kitchen vendor are dead anyways, so I guess you can't really do anything with that..."

"Did you know that monkey based killing games are hard to run? They don't really understand what they're supposed to do, and it only ends with me cleaning shit off the walls...and that's not even going into their lack of language skills. Geez."
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Cleaning shit off the walls...

"Just how old are you? Nothing's pooped since the NT Evacuation of '69."
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Hey so uh how do I put this one uh

So I think I bit off a might more than I should have with this.

So with general interest dropping and the fact that I haven't gotten a PM about the chapter murder since I asked GOD DAMN IT WHY'D YOU SEND IT MID DRAFT NOW I LOOK DUMB AAAAAHHHHH-

Anywho, I would much rather end on a positive (negative?) note than keep something dragging on much longer than it needs to.

I think I should get public opinion on it first though.  Should we keep trying or should we end it here?

Quick note on this, I've thought up an ending but it'll mean we can't resume this if we feel like it.

We could put it on hold instead I guess?  Anywho, what does everyone think?
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1 chapter per calendar year
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Keep trying
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sadly this lost interest and slowed a lot. kill it like we killed the station idiot
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Whelp, the good news is that most of us that said something want this to keep going.

The bad news is that 3 out of 15 is...uh...not a good turnout.

So I'm pretty inclined to put ol yeller out of er misery.

I've got an ending prepared so that the game can at least have some closure. I'll put it up within the next few days.

To everyone that participated, thanks for trying this out and helping me learn new things.

On a side note, expect "Get Dat Fukkin Disk 2" within the near future. It'll be good shit.
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A few days had passed since the last motive had been issued to the crew.  Activity had slowly came to a near standstill.  The cyborg got impatient and, taking one of his bodies, wandered out the halls to the nearest people it could.  They were sitting around the table, not doing anything in particular...what were their names?  Marcy, Barry, and Large was it?

"Hey, you guys talkin about anything interesting?  Best way to eviscerate a guy in his sleep maybe?  He he...he?"

No response.

"Ya know, I'm getting kinda tired of the silent treatment from you people.  Is it so much to ask you to do SOMETHING that keeps me entertained?"  It moved closer, analyzing the situation as he got closer.  "I mean, maybe baby proofing security took away too many fun tools for you guys to........." The cyborg finished scanning.  Absolutely no response.  No thoughts, no movement.  Only actions are breathing and staring forward.

Brain dead.

The cyborg checked the cameras again, zooming in on every single living participant.  After checking, it suddenly took a screwdriver out and jammed it into Large's eye hard.

No response.

God damn it.  It looked awkwardly off to the side as Large's eye socket started dripping blood onto the really neato screwdriver before activating the intercomms around the station.

"IRENE!  IT HAPPENED AGAIN!"

...

...

...

A gunshot could be heard in the distance before...

"Are you fucking kidding me?  Again?"

---------

The cyborg and the noticeably alive Irene Robinson stood near the cloning machine as it did its work.

"I'm telling you, this is just what happens after the number of times the cloning machine is used reaches a million.  It says right here in the instructions.  And I really need to recommend agains-"

"We're doing it again.  We have to do this."  Irene worked at the computer, spitting the words out.  "Are you working on the knockout drugs?  Instead of standing there like a moron?"

The cloner dings and spits out a naked Adam.  The cyborg immediately injects him with Capulettium.  "Huh?  What the...hell is...Irene?...*yawn*..."*thud*.

"No.  I'm just standing here listening to you speak.  Like a moron."

"Remind me to add a law that prevents you from sassing me in private.  So we're cloning this one last and starting again."

The cyborg let out a sigh...somehow.  "Recording attempt #32678.  All time low of three deaths.  One killer, one victim, one rule breaker.  Recording complete.  So why are we still doing this?"

"Because we need to prove to humanity.  We need to show them the pointlessness of the hope they cling to.  We need t-"

"Okay okay, little miss ego trip.  Let's just get this over with and hope this time everyone doesn't succumb to braindeadness.  Pretty unlikely if you ask me..."

----------

"I am your captain.   Cyborg 3377247.  But you can just call me "Captain".  Now let's get things out of the way quickly."  He points to a table with several tablets.  "These handbooks will be required for your life upon this station.  Just slide your ID to claim it.  After that, your name and ONLY your name will be on it.  Those things will have the rules and a nice little map you can use.  Isn't it so much better than a stupid piece of paper?  All right, you get around to reading that at some point.  I don't care if you do it right now or not.  As long as you all understand where you stand in this.  After all, it will all be necessary for the fifteen of you spending the rest of your lives here."

Irene lets out her line, almost as if on cue.  "Excuse me. I signed up for a year. Did you misspeak?"

"No, I didn't.  Everyone is supposed to be here for a year only.  The cyborg is probably just playing a joke or something.  You clearly made a mistake with some of this.  First off, we're only supposed to be living up here for a year.  Second, Rule 6 seems to be encouraging dangerous actions.  What exactly are you trying to do here?  Do you understand what you're even doing?  Actually, do me a favor and state your laws right now.

The plan in place once again, everyone responding like clockwork at this point.  The beginning is kind of boring.  But I wonder...what motive should I present this time?  Oh, what if I hid that weapon there...or what if...

As boring as the start is, I truely could watch these idiots find new, fun ways to kill each other for a long time.  He he he...

Being built for this station has proven to be interesting.

---Bad End---
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GAME OVER YEAAAAAAH!!
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https://youtu.be/ckMvj1piK58?t=32s
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