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Entry tags:
Capitalism, Hey!: BARiTONES
[ Everything fades to black...and you awaken in a run-down one-room shack, with the distinct feeling that the people around you are your family, if you didn't already have such a bond with them.
You're wearing raggedy versions of your uniform, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME%, in the year %CONTEMPORARY%. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing a recent high-profile murder having been solved: despite confusion on the part of the authorities conducting the initial investigation, it turns out the victim had been tragically murdered via gun in the knife.
What do you do? ]
You're wearing raggedy versions of your uniform, and a newspaper informs you that you are currently in %COUNTRYNAME%, in the year %CONTEMPORARY%. The newspaper is otherwise actually fairly unhelpful, aside from something detailing a recent high-profile murder having been solved: despite confusion on the part of the authorities conducting the initial investigation, it turns out the victim had been tragically murdered via gun in the knife.
What do you do? ]
1/2
[ pats his head ]
Yeah, I know, you're like, scared of dying. We all are. Why do you think I've got the taste of blood in my mouth like this?
...
None of us are good at dealing with this kinda stuff. What's important is we figure it out, we do our best, and we survive by the end. And we're doing that. Okay?