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[personal profile] vicedirector
You awaken to blackness. Frightening, although familiar--this is the same terrible thing you narrowly avoided during your first trip into Lebensbaum. The pain of your death is still real, echoes of the wounds you suffered appearing on your skin. Inspecting your surroundings will tell you that you've woken up inside of the cooled, empty bonfire pit....and the town as it was is nowhere to be seen.

The sky is a whirlwind of blank, dark void. What previously acted as roadblocks on either side of the town seems to have moved upward, blocking out most of the sun's light. The street is barren, filled with piles of broken concrete, shattered glass, and smoking craters where many of the buildings used to be. Old bloodstains dot the pavement, mixing in with overturned cars and crumbling brick walls. Lebensbaum is a dead town, in more ways than one.

Except for the hotel. It stands, as dusty and abandoned as it ever was, but no worse for the wear. Scorch marks can be seen on the ground around it in a clear border, as though it had a barrier protecting it from whatever destroyed the village. If you venture inside, everything is in its place, as though the outside wasn't completely obliterated.

The living can be seen walking around, going about their daily lives, and if you concentrate, you can even see the buildings as they once were--in working order, clean, and in one piece.

As of Monday on Week 10, however, there is a door, seemingly pasted into the middle of the street. As the days tick by, the doors will increase in number, one for each victim.
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[personal profile] vicedirector
As dead characters are now effectively ghosts, they have the ability to walk through solid objects--this includes all of the town's locked doors.

Aside from the always-accessible kitchen and laundry room, the staff hall contains the manager's office and a stairwell leading down to the basement door.

Hotel - Basement
The basement is absolutely huge, taking up the entirety of the upstairs floor plan and then some. Concrete floors and walls mixed with fluorescent lighting give it a very warehouse-like feel. Various items are stockpiled wall-to-wall in the western end of the basement--racks of rifles and pistols with ammunition, grenades, and what appear to be bulletproof vests are probably the most noticeable. Next to them are boxes upon boxes of canned and preserved food, cartons of bottled water, and a very small fridge/stove combo.

Miscellaneous boxes and objects lay near the entrance. Clothes that fit in with the style of everyone's wardrobes are tossed in a heap, most of them ripped or bloodstained. There are ladders, ropes, and spare blankets, and flashlights and candles, mixed with more out-of-place things like numerous cans of red paint, a block of wood with multiple chunks missing, and buckets of salt.

On the east end of the basement, however, is a very normal-looking couch, table, and chairs. A wheeled chalkboard rests to the side of it, overlooking a chalk pattern on the floor.

Hotel - Manager's Office
The manager's office is much smaller, but incredibly cramped. Directly in front of the door is the same sigil on the basement floor, instead made with red paint. Two twin beds lay on either end of the room, underneath two metal poles that have been drilled into the walls. Clothing hangs on the racks, one wardrobe very dark and formal, the other with lighter colors and much more casual. The manager's desk has been moved to a corner, a computer having been set up on top of it, along with a landline phone. Stacks of notebooks lay near one of the beds, and examining them will reveal that they're full of "magic symbols" and other occult-like notions. Footnotes are scattered across them, in a yet-indiscernible Western language.

In another corner is a bathroom. It is an exact replica of the ones in the guest rooms, looking as though it was directly copy-and-pasted into the room...a little eerily so, in how it clashes with the rest of the room.

All other free space in the room is taken up by filing cabinets--stacked on top of each other, crammed in inch by inch. Each drawer is nearly packed full to bursting. Some contain papers and folders, written in the same mystery language, but others have objects not normally put in filing cabinets. Photo albums, jewelry, a few stuffed animals, a little girl's dress, a broken pair of glasses, Christmas ornaments, a few dog toys, a ceramic coffee mug with a heart on it, and other such miscellaneous objects fill them from top to bottom, all in varying physical condition. Some are extremely charred and nigh-unrecognizable, or have many cracks and tears, while others only have a little soot on them.
vicedirector: (???)
[personal profile] vicedirector
You awaken to blackness. Frightening, although familiar--this is the same terrible thing you narrowly avoided during your first trip into Lebensbaum. The pain of your death is still real, echoes of the wounds you suffered appearing on your skin. Inspecting your surroundings will tell you that you've woken up inside of the cooled, empty bonfire pit....and the town as it was is nowhere to be seen.

The sky is a whirlwind of blank, dark void. What previously acted as roadblocks on either side of the town seems to have moved upward, blocking out most of the sun's light. The street is barren, filled with piles of broken concrete, shattered glass, and smoking craters where many of the buildings used to be. Old bloodstains dot the pavement, mixing in with overturned cars and crumbling brick walls. Lebensbaum is a dead town, in more ways than one.

Except for the hotel. It stands, as dusty and abandoned as it ever was, but no worse for the wear. Scorch marks can be seen on the ground around it in a clear border, as though it had a barrier protecting it from whatever destroyed the village. If you venture inside, everything is in its place, as though the outside wasn't completely obliterated.

Concentrating will let you be able to see the living as they move around the hotel, going about their days--or perhaps doing something more sinister. It's only when they cross the scorched border that their already-flickering images fade from view entirely.

You're welcome to roam about. Doing so may even be beneficial, as you'll quickly discover that you aren't quite alone here.

Some additional points of reference, as asked:
• References for the locked rooms
• No one will be wearing their talismans
• No one will feel hunger or thirst, though they can sleep if they wish
vicedirector: (miata)
[personal profile] vicedirector
[ The sky is dark, the pitch black of 2am in the countryside. Perhaps it was once a bustling village, but now, it's only rubble and bloodstained pavement. What were once buildings are now smoking craters and collapsed piles of bricks and wood. Pieces of signs can be made out. Library. Clinic. Theater. But they're of no use to anyone anymore.

The only structure left standing is the hotel. Miraculously unscathed and in perfect condition, albeit dusty, it lies in what used to be the center of town. A bonfire pit sits in the street before it, cobbled together with stones and scorched planks from the ruins.

Two sets of feet patter across the ground. The first to reach the bonfire is a short girl with meticulously-kept black hair, made even more diminutive and shadowed by the dark cloak draped around her. The second is almost her exact opposite--large and imposing, her blonde hair swept up into a bun, and dressed in only a hoodie and sweatpants.

She reaches out to the dark-haired girl as she skids to a stop in front of the bonfire. ]


What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? We need to go back!

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