R2 TDM - boys in the band order boat memes

[bathymetric]

Hello and welcome to the...



UNKNOWN SEAS R2
TEST DRIVE MEME

Glad to have you aboard! Gone are the musty old dark tones and anxieties of that creepy underwater facility from the first round - welcome to the lap of luxury on your very own Atlantic Cruise. And we mean your very own, too - there's nobody else aboard! Well, except for the Captain, who broke the news to you when you got up about what you have to do here.

The facilities are all top of the line, even if for some reason you just can't seem to get to the other floors of the ship just yet - there's a gym, a pool, a buffet- wait, scratch that, looks like you're on one of our liners lucky enough to have a tie-in deal with Jimmy Buffett himself, which means you get access to all you can eat at the on-board Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville's Jimmy Buffet!

So make the most of your time! Maybe even get a spooky souvenir from somewhere in the B̴͖̈́e̷̟̊̀ṛ̴̩̑̉m̴̺̪̈̈́u̵̧͛̇d̶̗̱̀̔a̸̧̙͗͝ ̶͖̖͑̚T̴̤͝r̷̩͘i̶̟͎͗̈́a̴͍͗̐n̵̥̆͝g̵̮̳͘l̷͔͑ḛ̸̹͒͗ while you're here.

1. Arise from the depths (of sleep)

Hey, you! You're finally awake! Welcome to your modest accommodations aboard... some kind of cruise ship? Look, there aren't exactly a lot of great accommodations offered aboard cruise ships, you get what you get. There's a bed, there's a little desk, there's a vase of flowers... and a beautiful view of the ocean outside your window!

Hope this isn't, like, wildly different and strange compared to where you just were! Oh, also the whole boat is all decked out for New Year's.

2. Room for all kinds of activities!

If you head out to the decks, or just walk around the ship, there's all kinds of things to see here while you wait for the bodies to start dropping! Feel free to make up whatever facilities you like, gyms or shuffleboard courts or even libraries - the Margaritaville buffet is canon, though. That's your canon food option. Hope you like shrimp!

3. Son of a son of a motive

Another Tuesday, another sealed envelope full of fun! Is this finally something worth killing for to get off this boat? Or is it just something stupid and/or embarrassing? Better ask around!

4. A good friend returns

On one of the decks, next to some regular beverage and food vending machines, is... an unmarked one? It only takes these weird coins that sometimes show up in your rooms at night. Sometimes it gives you things from back home! Sometimes it gives you? Little creepy wooden puppets??

5. Wasting away again in... well, a murder

Oh no! Someone is dead! Did you kill them? Are you trying to get the word out? Did you find the body and really need to calm down? Live your dreams, kill who you wanna kill offscreen!

6. Anything else!

There's all kinds of things you might be doing on a boat like this! Don't feel constrained by the options here - live your murderboat dreams!

Comments

john constantine | vertigo/dc comics

[scouserer]

Name: John Constantine | The Magician
Age: 40 | Species: Human | Occupation: Occult Detective
Likes: Cigarettes, punk rock, a good Scotch
Dislikes: Demons, Manchester United, the word "moist"
Traits: Brash, Impulsive, Stubborn, Clever
Trivia: Constantine secretly sold his soul between three Lords of Hell in an attempt to save himself from eternal torment. The Lords realized that if Constantine died, they would have to go to war with each other. Unable to drag him to Hell and too proud to form alliances with each other, they reluctantly let him live.

i. [skyrim voice] hey, you. you're finally awake.

[This isn't the first time that Constantine has woken up in an unfamiliar place without remembering how he got there, although this time, there doesn't seem to be anyone to greet him or hold him hostage or lord over the fact that they've gotten him cornered. He rises from his bed, squinting at the surrounding furniture and trying to figure out what entity had kidnapped him this time.

Immediately, he realizes that something is wrong. A feeling of utter emptiness aches in his very core, and it's only a few moments until he realizes what's missing. He tests a simple spell--lighting a flame with his finger--muttering Latin phrases under his breath and snapping his fingers.

Nothing.

Once you've dabbled in the occult, your body feeds off that energy until it becomes a part of you, as essential as the blood in your veins or the fibers in your muscles. It's not like he can't manage without it--Lord knows that his quick thinking has saved him more than his magic ever has--but having such an innate part of him just gone like that is...harrowing, to say the least. More importantly, it points to an entity powerful enough to fuck with the very nature of magic, itself.]

Bloody hell.

[Constantine's hands wander his trench coat pockets for any sort of weapon or trinket, but his search turns up empty. His eyes dart to the decorations on the walls--gold and silver and black banners and tinsel interspersed with blocky letters that read "HAPPY NEW YEAR". Eventually, his gaze settles on a vase on the nearby desk and picks it up. With little regards for the flowers or the water inside, he dumps its contents onto the ground, cracks the vase against the desk, and carefully selects a shard of porcelain.

Better than nothing. He swings open the cabin door only to come face to face with another stranger in the hallway. His reaction instant, Constantine grips the shard and points it towards them.]

What're you doing, snooping around my cabin? [His voice comes out as a snarl.] Trying to give your boss a status update on ol' John, hm? If you could be as so polite to give me my magic back, I'll do you a favor of not gutting you.

ii. wastin' away again in margaritaville

[If you looked up the word "kitschy" in the dictionary, you'd find a picture of the cruise ship bar. Neon signs depicting palm trees, sunsets, and flamingos bathe the walls in technicolor warmth, wicker chairs and bar stools are scattered throughout the seating area, and several palm trees have been planted between spaces in the floorboards.

It is here that John Constantine finds himself nursing a margarita and a pack of cigarettes he's gotten from one of the vending machines. The soft crackle of acoustic Jimmy Buffett covers can be heard over the speakers. Despite this cheery decor, Constantine seems rather dour.]

Sick to death of stupid margaritas and Jimmy bloody Buffett. [He flicks a bit of ash onto a nearby ashtray.] Almost makes you wish for something to actually happen.

[Despite the harsh delivery, he doesn't seem to...actually mean it. He knows as well as anyone else that something happening means murder.]

iii. murder she wrote (cw: gore)

[It was only a matter of time before someone was killed, and that someone happened to be the unfortunate Ross Geller. The man's skull had been split in two, fragments of bone and clumps of brain and hair scattered across the previously spotless tiles. A shattered glass of what can only be assumed to be alcohol a few inches from his hand. Body right-side up, lying in an ever-growing pool of blood.

Constantine stands at the edge of the pool, his expression unreadable as he stares at the grotesque display. No matter how many times he sees this, it always ends up turning his stomach.]

Safe to say that nobody'll be missing him.

[He grimaces, stepping towards the body and kneeling down to inspect it further. After a moment or two, he glances sidelong at a nearby stranger.]

Well, don't just stand there. See if you can find anything that might've been used to bludgeon this bastard to death.

iv. wildcard

[come at me @ wolfnoir]

i.

[deathmagnetic]

[ Risotto had been taking good care to get more than a simple glance of his newfound surroundings. That included taking in every single detail and moving on when appropriate. He also wasn't keen to be surprised by anyone else, so he did so carefully.

It's a pity it hadn't prevented him from somehow being whisked away to all of...this.

Of course, it didn't mean he was able to avoid any disagreeable situations with any others. As indicated by now when he saw a cabin door swing wide open to reveal a blond-haired man pointing a shard in his direction. His lips pulled into a deeper frown at the words as he calculated whether he should try to disarm him or not.

Even if Risotto was now poised to strike, with things being unusual (such as being unable to activate his Stand) as they are, he wouldn't immediately resort to violence. For now. ]

Unfortunately for you, I can't give you anything.

[ This man seemed to insinuate that he was some kind of Stand user...or at least that's the conclusion Risotto had drawn due to him mentioning not having his 'magic' with him. ]

I believe we're in the same predicament, and so trying to attack me with that would be a fool's errand. [ Pause. ] And I've no idea where we are. I propose we cooperate until we have a better understanding of the situation.

[scouserer]

[Constantine scowls slightly, evaluating the man before him. What's up with this guy's sense of fashion? Or, rather, his lack thereof. If this person really wanted to hurt him, he would've done so already. Not very easily intimidated, by the looks of things.

After a moment or two, he tucks the shard into his coat. May as well start filling up his pockets again, seeing as though everything had been taken from him except the clothes on his back.]

Can't be too sure. You don't want to know the kinds of places I've ended up in.

[In far more compromising positions, at that.]

Seems to be a ship of some sort. Getting above deck would probably be the best to figure out where the hell we are. You coming?

[Besides, you know, being in the middle of the ocean. But Constantine has learned that he can't always trust his senses when he's not completely sure of the tangibility of this reality.]

[deathmagnetic]

When you phrase it like that, it's enough to catch my interest, but only by an insignificant amount.

[ The assassin's words were said idly as some of the tension in his stance dispersed when the other put away the weapon, but not entirely on account of the fact that he didn't think it impossible to be attacked. Letting one's guard down in a situation like this would be foolish for either of them (or anyone else who happened to be trapped in this unfortunate mess as well.)

...Risotto will give the man another once over before finally turning away from him, satisfied. ]

I am. It wouldn't be wise to linger too long in one spot.

You don't remember anything that would happen to have led up to you being in this situation I assume?

[ And it was at this time that he began to move along so they could mosey properly to above deck. ]

[scouserer]

Oh, I can think of at least half a dozen reasons. Angry demon trying to trap me and get at my soul, God's finally decided to come and collect, more angry demons acting on a long-time grudge-- [A pause.] --most of 'em have to do with demons. Anyways, none of them are particularly helpful to us at this moment.

[Constantine continues forward through the hallway, heading towards the stairwell at the far end. He doesn't like the way this guy talks. Too measured. Too careful. Hiding something, maybe? Definitely. Everyone's got something to hide.

God, he could really use a cigarette. He turns his head to eye the stranger, raising an eyebrow.]

The question is, do you?

[deathmagnetic]

[ ...Risotto wasn't really sure what he expected, but it really wasn't that. His brows furrowed as he considered the words said to make sure he's digested the information he's heard from Constantine correctly. However, he was a rather attentive listener, so at the very least, the Capo was sure he hadn't heard him wrong.

Not when he mentioned demons three times. ]

It doesn't sound like it, no. Though, your life seems to be more...interesting than I could've ever imagined. I don't believe I've ever heard anyone speak of demons as something they've encountered, after all.

[ Anyway, he's been asked a question, and so... he'll answer. ]

Like a job gone wrong, or perhaps angering one of the many gangs. There are many who are far too hotheaded for their own good, after all. It could even be something as simple as a powerful, yet irresponsible Stand user who decided they wanted to abuse their power for their own personal enjoyment. The possibilities are endless.

iii

[pitofriendship]

[Scorpia pokes at the body a little bit, confirming that yup, he's definitely dead.]

Aw, I thought he was kind of funny.

[scouserer]

Well, clearly, someone thought otherwise.

[He scratches his chin, staring down at the body. The tiles are clean, so unless someone spent a lot of time scrubbing down the floor, the body couldn't have been moved. Attacked from the front, then?]

Those claws of yours--you ever use them to smack anyone upside the head?

[Scorpia seems too nice to have done this, but, y'know. Covering his bases.]

[pitofriendship]

Oh yeah, all the time.

[That is the tone of someone who entirely missed the actual point of the question.]

You know how it is, you're in the middle of a fight, princesses are swarming all over, angry plant monsters are trying to tie you up in vines, Bow's firing trick arrows all over, you can only sting so many people-

[scouserer]

[...Well, that kind of tells him that she really didn't do it. He half suspects that if she'd even so much as fought anyone, she wouldn't notice the blood on her claws until days later. His eyebrows furrow as he stares at Scorpia.]

I'm sorry, what? Princesses?

[Because that's clearly the most important part of her statement.]

ii

[wrestleman]

I dun' know, man. This place is like a freakin floatin Plaza Hotel, minus a buncha bumblin Tim Curries scootin all about. Sure, I don't got no emails to answer, but it's also a free vacation with a free pool and free Cold Ones and a free no Homestar.

[There is a very short wrestleman sitting not too far from John, clutching a Cold One in his boxing gloves. He's as kitsch as his surroundings, an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt paired with both sunglasses and a dab of suntan lotion on an unseen nose.

The proportion difference between them, if you put any thought into it at all together, is horrifying.]

Gotta 'mit, though. I'm kinda feelin the same way. Methinks it might be time to get up to some random acts of petty mischief.

hi lepo

[scouserer]

[At the very least, Constantine doesn't blink an eye at Strong Bad's unusual attire and cartoonishly short stature. Why should he? He's met all sorts of characters off the ship, so it should only follow that in an unusual place like this, there would be equally unusual people.

He lets out a snort, poking at the umbrella toothpick sticking out of his drink.]

True. But in the absence of all that, there's the idea that there's something going on behind the scenes that we're not privy to. I don't like not knowing, 'specially if people try to hide things.

[He takes a sip of his margarita. A small grin tugs on the corner of his mouth.]

Still--has anyone really found out what might happen if the rules were broken? Maybe some petty acts of mischief are what we need.

hello darkness my old friend

[wrestleman]

You just gotta outplot the man, man. That's what it all comes down to. Figure out their scheme, then bring it down on them tenfold. Show them who's the real Boss of Sauce.

[Same for him, even if the characters Strong Bad encounters tend to be much more on the "cartoony eldritch" side of things. In the end, at least one of them is normal-looking, and also tremendously attractive.

It's him, by the way. He takes a swig of his Cold One.]

Ooh, whatcha thinkin? 'Cuz I'm thinkin-ba-binkin we get a bunch of that unlimited shramp and glue it under the Captain's door. You know, for safekeeping.

[scouserer]

Exactly. You're speakin' my language.

[Constantine places his drink down on the counter, scratching his chin in thought. His gaze settles on Strong Bad's glove hands and an idle question comes to mind on how he's even gripping his drink in the first place, but he decides against questioning it.]

We could do that, yes. I was thinking about something a little more...destructive. They say we can't break the windows, but a little healthy vandalism never hurt anyone, did it?

[His grin grows broader as he clasps a hand on Strong Bad's pitifully small shoulder.]

And you could put even more shrimp on the walls.

iii.

[simulacres]

You really didn't like the guy, do you?

[ flat doesn't seem to be too shaken up by the sight of the body, but he's not too sure where to start. ]

I mean, do you think that the killer just left the weapon here? Wouldn't it be better to take it back with them or something?

[scouserer]

Eh. I could take him or leave him. He was a proper bastard, and I don't mean it in the endearing way.

[He doesn't even look towards Flat. Constantine inspects Ross's jacket, tilting his head this way and that as he does so.]

Well, taking it back with them would incriminate them if we found the weapon in their room. Unless they flung it into the ocean--which they can't, since we're trapped here--it's still somewhere on this boat. Best to at least start looking somewhere, right?

[After a few moments, he rolls up his sleeves and gingerly lifts the bloodstained jacket. Nothing in his pockets.]

Must've been to the bar if he had the drink. Unless our culprit decided to make a pit stop before killing someone.

sorry for the delay!

[simulacres]

Sometimes murderers like taking souvenirs, right? I've seen it in the documentaries, that it helps them remember the crime that they did!

[ though logically constantine is right...too bad flat doesn't really work with normal logic. ]

Hmm... so you're saying that they went to get a drink after killing? Jeez, that's not very smart of them. But then again, if they were smart they wouldn't have killed in the first place.

[ he shrugs. ]

Want to check it out with me?

[scouserer]

Eh. Any bastard can kill for any reason. Maybe it just so happens that this week was what pushed 'em to the edge.

[What with the weekly 'motives' that the host seems to so generously give....

Constantine straightens up, frowning at Flat.]

I meant that either good ol' Ross probably here grabbed a drink before coming here, but if that was the case, he might've left something at the bar.... [He shrugs.] Worth checking out, I guess. Lead the way.

[puppetlooselystrung]

So that's what those drinks are called...

[ Hello, the long haired man in the old timey suit has come to drink with you. ]

Doesn't this ship have anything better? I could go for a glass of wine... Or absinthe, even.

[scouserer]

[Constantine lets out a groan, rubbing his face.]

Oh, God, anything is better than this. But, no, no absinthe. The bloody bartender won't serve anything except margaritas.

[Despite his words, he still takes a sip from his glass.]

Listen, if I find a single bottle of wine on this blasted ship, I'm rationing that shit like it's goddamn war.

[puppetlooselystrung]

[ He pouts at that. ] Well, at least be generous with it! There are only so many of us that do drink, anyway...

[ Hmph! Luxury cruise, they said. Nothing but empty lies to him... ]

In the meantime, I may as well have whatever you're drinking.

[scouserer]

If you ask nicely, maybe I'll consider it.

[He grins a little, swirling the drink in his hand. As soon as Salieri expresses his desire to drink, a small compartment opens in the wall and a perfect-looking margarita is pushed onto the bar surface. A tinny parrot can be heard squawking from a low-quality speaker.]

Instant service, at the cost of shitty alcohol.

ii

[guffawsungraciously]

I rather enjoy the margaritas, but I have to admit, when something is the only thing on the menu, one tends to grow tired of it.

[He's still getting another one anyway.]

What I would like to happen... is for someone to stop that infernal music. Does someone need to die for that?

[scouserer]

[Constantine takes another sip of his drink, grimaces, and glances upwards. A cheap-looking speaker can be seen mounted between the wall and the ceiling.]

I don't think so. The only complaints you'll get is from the person in charge, I wager.

[He scratches his chin, thinking.]

You got scissors to snip the wires?

[guffawsungraciously]

[Electricity is pretty new to Jasper as, like, something outside of lightning, but hey. He’s a pretty quick learner, so it’s not too hard to put two and two together.]

No, but I am certain there should be a knife somewhere that is sharp enough to deal with it, should there not?

[ssssip.]

Of course, it does beg the question of whether or not we want to see what the punishment is for breaking their “rules.”