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Betrayal 3: BARiTONES
[ You spill out of the elevator into the Bar—the elevator is gone when you look back.
It’s surprisingly quiet, here, with muted, upbeat jazz playing from speakers tucked away somewhere, and a bar long enough to give you some space. Curtained booths are set against the back wall for quiet dining or clandestine meetings. The specials menu gives a full array of… poison-themed cocktails?
At the other end of the room, a single spotlight shines on a raised stage, with a microphone, almost as if waiting for a show to begin.
What poor soul's going to perform? Not you—you do enough of that all day, every day, after all. After all, you learned early on that's how the game was played. You watched money change hands—quietly, discreetly—and despite how many late nights you'd pulled working on your case, it meant nothing in the face of whose wallet was biggest and who knew who in the circles of the rich and powerful. So to get what you wanted, you'd make yourself one of them, as long as you need to for it to serve your purpose—
It's in the script someone's written for you, in your hand. Now, you have your own history, your own words and you can give those to the audience instead. But enough pain, enough destabilization, and you don't know if you'll want to keep sharing. They've set the stage for someone else, given you a prop, and you feel that. Reality isn't wanted here—no, you need to be larger than life, in this place, to not be devoured by the narrative, reduced to an extra. The script whispers for you to lock that troublesome self away, and try on this new role for size, and you'll be a star.
...but there's no point in casting a top-tier idol like you if you can't put your own spin on it, of course. At the bottom of the script, there's a note someone's written with a smiley-face: "just ad-lib, you're gonna be great :)"
A polished, round pocket watch on a long, dangling chain, ticking rhythmically, rests on the bar.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the basic goal (explore the rooms of the casino) as well as the item that you've been given (Hypnotist's Watch). Only once you leave your starting room does your phone update to display your role's traitor goal (kill someone after helping them). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is an exit to the West. ]
It’s surprisingly quiet, here, with muted, upbeat jazz playing from speakers tucked away somewhere, and a bar long enough to give you some space. Curtained booths are set against the back wall for quiet dining or clandestine meetings. The specials menu gives a full array of… poison-themed cocktails?
At the other end of the room, a single spotlight shines on a raised stage, with a microphone, almost as if waiting for a show to begin.
What poor soul's going to perform? Not you—you do enough of that all day, every day, after all. After all, you learned early on that's how the game was played. You watched money change hands—quietly, discreetly—and despite how many late nights you'd pulled working on your case, it meant nothing in the face of whose wallet was biggest and who knew who in the circles of the rich and powerful. So to get what you wanted, you'd make yourself one of them, as long as you need to for it to serve your purpose—
It's in the script someone's written for you, in your hand. Now, you have your own history, your own words and you can give those to the audience instead. But enough pain, enough destabilization, and you don't know if you'll want to keep sharing. They've set the stage for someone else, given you a prop, and you feel that. Reality isn't wanted here—no, you need to be larger than life, in this place, to not be devoured by the narrative, reduced to an extra. The script whispers for you to lock that troublesome self away, and try on this new role for size, and you'll be a star.
...but there's no point in casting a top-tier idol like you if you can't put your own spin on it, of course. At the bottom of the script, there's a note someone's written with a smiley-face: "just ad-lib, you're gonna be great :)"
A polished, round pocket watch on a long, dangling chain, ticking rhythmically, rests on the bar.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the basic goal (explore the rooms of the casino) as well as the item that you've been given (Hypnotist's Watch). Only once you leave your starting room does your phone update to display your role's traitor goal (kill someone after helping them). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is an exit to the West. ]
WIFI ITEM LIST NTS
Gossip Rag
When you enter another room that has a character you have not previously met that is a traitor, gain one knowledge.
Discard this item to add 3 dice to your attack roll, but you may only use that attack to steal something.
VIP Pass
A card that’ll get you pretty much anywhere. Except safety.
Gain 1 Might, 1 speed, 1 knowledge, and 1 Sanity now.
Lose 3 might, 3 Speed, 3 Knowledge, and 3 Sanity if you lose the VIP Pass.]
Lucky Scrunchie
Good things come to cute people! Duh!
Once during your turn, you can reroll 1 die. You must keep the second roll.
Chainsaw
WEAPON: Vroom, baby, vroom
If your character makes chainsaw noises while using this, add one die to their Might roll. They can do this even when they defend.
You can't use another weapon while using this one.
Blueprints