A Game Of Chance

A train. Heading to Washington D.C. from New York. This would be an ordinary train in ordinary circumstances, but these were by no means ordinary circumstances. However, it is not the train that isn't ordinary. It's the occupants. Twelve people, all chosen to partake in this little experiment. A game, if you will. A Game... of Chance.

The occupants begin to awake. In one hand, they hold a trinket of some sort. In the other, a phone and a Tarot card. The phone begins to ring. As each of the eleven people answer the phone, they are greeted with a mystreious message:

''Hello. I gather you're all well enough awake to listen to this message, so let me get right to the point: You are all contestants of sorts in a game you will each play with the other eleven passengers on the train.

There is a collar on your neck. If you disobey the rules, your collar will explode. If you try to run, your collar will explode. And if you fail to complete your objective in time, your collar will explode.

The rules are quite simple: You have a tarot card in your hand. This tarot card is the key to your survival. Each card has a specific power alloted with it that you can use at will.

You are branded by that card. One of the other eleven passengers is going to be hunting for the person with your card. You will be hunting for a person with another card as well. Your objective once you find this person? Kill them. Then you must kill the person hunting you.

A few key rules to remember: You can take the tarot cards of the other passengers after they are dead, but only if that person was the one you were hunting or being hunted by. Your odds of living are also much better if you seek aid from the other passengers, so alliances will be key.

And now for the final piece of information: What is your name? Go ahead, think about it... Exactly. You can't remember. You have no recollection of anything before waking up here. No memories at all. The trinket in your hand will serve as your namesake to yourself and others. If you survive until the end of the game, you will get your memories back.

You have twenty two days until your collars explode. Good luck.''

With that, the doors to the train were opened and the occupants stepped outside.

TIME: 12:00 P.M. "The Game has Begun."

edited 2nd Apr '11 9:29:20 PM by InfiniteParagon

"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill

"Hmm... so... kill or be killed..." he shook his head. "I've got to find a weapon... and I've got to find out who's hunting me... And come to think of it... who am I hunting?"

It's kind of funny. Sufficiently advanced stupidity is like sufficiently advanced science; eventually, you find something you can't solve.

Meant to put this in original post.

A text message was recieved by the twelve players, detailing their card, powers and target card. The Game could truly begin now.

"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill

A gothic man sighs. "Well this is just insulting. Kill or be killed? Why does everyone assume that I'm a nutcase?"

To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy

A blonde, caucasian man in his mid-twenties stepped off the train, looking more annoyed at his predicament than terrified. "Great; as if this situation wasn't already bad enough, the guy that now controls my life uses hyperbole. Seriously, no recollection? Because I seem to be able to read this thing without any problems, and I didn't just crawl out of that thing...oh, and I need to eat things to live; that's something important that I suppose I could've forgotten."

After stuffing the phone and card into his pocket, the blonde examined his supposed namesake; a combination lock set at 7-7-7, which seemed to be stuck. "Guess I better come up with something good...Locke? Nah; picking the first thing that comes to mind sounds foolish. Maybe something to do with the numbers...they've got something to do with luck, I think. So...Lucky? Not too much better, I suppose, but I'll accept it."

A small strawberry-blonde girl exits the train. She doesn't say anything, but the first thing she does, besides putting away her card, is look to see if anyone else left this train.

edited 24th Mar '11 8:04:30 PM by EvilChildren

The Demon walks to the blonde. "Hello. I'm... I'm... The Demon."

What led to that?

To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy

"Well, this is... different," a Frenchman muttered to himself. He took a look at the text message again, as if to re-assure himself of his current situation. No, this wasn't some horribly messed-up dream. This was reality, as implausible as it was. Just the whole setup... What logical purpose did any of this have other than getting people senselessly killed? It was... perplexing, to say the least.

And as he was lost in thought over this, another sensation hit him: Fear. Here he was - no memories, this foutu time bomb rigged on his neck, and eleven other people that may or may not all be out for his blood. He felt himself begin to panic a bit.

No, that won't do. Non, pas du tout. He had to stay calm and think about what he was going to do from here. He took a few deep breaths and sat down on a nearby bench, occasionally glancing at any attractive women that happened to catch his eye. Hey, it helped to calm him down.

"Mon Dieu... What did I get myself into?"

He then noticed the child and the man who introduced himself as Demon. Should he try talking to them? Well, worth a shot. He got up and started heading their direction.

edited 15th Apr '11 5:00:33 PM by Motree

“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."

A thin, long haired man played with the end of his ponytail. He hastily put the Tarot card into his pocket, committed the text message to memory and deleted it. Only then did he really look at the trinket in his hand. A gear? I guess Gear'll have to do.

As he stepped out, he quickly altered his posture, going from standing straight and confidently to hunching over and looking timid.

That's when he began to look at the other passengers. My potential enemies and allies. Or maybe not. Maybe I should try to fight directly against whoever's running this. Well, I have to start with getting some of them on my side, either way.

He caught himself. What have I gotten into here? This is seriously dangerous. I have a more than 50-50 chance of dying, here!

"Canada Day is over, and now begins the endless dark of the Canada Night."

The Demon waves. "Hello."

He suddenly feels his neck. He feels something. That wasn't there earlier.

He puts it to his eyes and sees a skull. Really?

To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy

' The Demon? ' She thought, ' Interesting. ' She raises her hand to shake when she notices a frenchman approach and waves him over with a smile.

edited 24th Mar '11 8:12:09 PM by EvilChildren

"Excusez-moi, but unless I'm mistaken, it seems like you two are in the same situation as I. The collars are a bit of a giveaway..."

---

edited 15th Apr '11 5:02:16 PM by Motree

“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."

He feels his neck. "Oh hey I have a collar. Thanks for telling. So... what's your thoughts on... that text?"

To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy

Prosecution, as he decided he would call himself, deleted the text message and exited the train. Very well, then. Time to meet the hunters and the prey.

It's kind of funny. Sufficiently advanced stupidity is like sufficiently advanced science; eventually, you find something you can't solve.

"Well, I'd say we're all in a very difficult situation if there ever was one," he smirked a bit and added, "And whoever thought of this must be some deranged bâtard. But joking aside, this is very serious."

edited 24th Mar '11 8:14:53 PM by Motree

“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."

"Huh? Excuse me sir but I don't speak French or whatever it is."

He just keeps staring sadly. "So... what are we going to do..."

edited 24th Mar '11 8:17:08 PM by Fusionman

To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy

Gear's gaze focused on the three people standing together. He noted the collars calmly. Ah, good. Three others right away, and I'm the least conspicuous out of them. Just perfect.

He caught himself again. He couldn't let himself seem confident. He let the fear he genuinely felt wash over his face, and walked towards the other three.

Kill or be killed, huh? Well, I refuse to myself fall into that second category, whatever else happens.

"Canada Day is over, and now begins the endless dark of the Canada Night."

"... Then how about we help each other?" The little girl quietly chimes in.

---

((Sorry, I was thinking of someone else's character, I changed it.))

"I was about to suggest the same thing," he said, "That's why I came over."

edited 24th Mar '11 8:19:58 PM by Motree

“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."

The Demon sighs. "I hate to be the glum one of us but what about when we are the last survivors?"

To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy

"Um… excuse me, I'm afraid I've kind of overheard your conversation, and- Uh-" Gear sheepishly gestured to his collar. "… I think I might have a bit of a stake in this."

"Canada Day is over, and now begins the endless dark of the Canada Night."

"... Is it possible for all three of us to survive if only kill our hunters and targets?"

edited 24th Mar '11 8:29:40 PM by EvilChildren

Now, even without a single clue about his identity, Lucky felt like he wasn't the kind of guy who would just go through with something like this without thinking things over first. So, he took a seat on the same bench as some Frenchman that was apparently in the same mess, and began to do some calculations in his head.

Let's see...twelve people. Good number to start with; divisible by six, three, four, and two, not counting fractions. Six...one half. If six people kill a person each, and it just so happens that each person killed would've killed one of those six, does that mean half of us are doomed to die? And I certainly don't remember any weapon skills, so...wait. One rule was 'kill the guy hunting you after you've killed the guy you're hunting'. If someone else kills 'im before you, say the guy hunting him, does it mean that you've failed the objective and will die anyways? So...that's four survivors. Ach, dies ist schlecht...was that German? The heck do I know German?! The heck IS German?!

Snapping out of his thoughts, Lucky jumped up from the bench, and decided to find someone to ally with. Sure, he'd probably be the first of the eight-or-more to suffer a gruesome demise at the hands of another, but moping until his soul was taken by the grim reaper seemed both lonely and boring.

Spotting Prosecutor nearby, Lucky decided to make contact. "Good morning, fellow member of the more-than-likely damned. Pardon my negative attitude, but I believe one must be sensible in a situation such as this, and realise the ultimate consequences of this game well in advance. And if your appearance is any indication, you can probably agree with that line of thought. Now, I hope you don't mind if I cut to the chase, but I was thinking that the odds that one of us is meant to kill the other isn't rather likely, and thus an alliance would probably benefit us both for now. Oh, and call me Lucky."

"Yes? But we won't know."

edited 24th Mar '11 8:31:57 PM by Motree

“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."

"Let's double check the text. Maybe it defines that."

To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy