Russ Curtis's page

She was willing to share everything on the idea I keep it to myself. But I only asked about who killed me and the results of my scan on the target I picked the round I died.

So I got to watch my fellow mechanic Tharp, whom I knew to be safe, get lynched, and I had to say nada. :P

One of the things Meows revealed to me after my death was that Clive's choice for assassination had carried through twice in a row 1 out of 3 chances! And each time as we know he killed a geneticist. What luck!

I'll be in town with full internet access...but seeing as I'm dead, you still won't see any posts from me. :P

Good luck, guys! I look forward to watching an Earth overrun with the Thing very soon!

@GM Meows: Dash just said something in gameplay which makes me wonder if he's confused about the way creatures kill. Since I'd rather not misquote you, are you able to clarify that for him?

@Dash: If you do understand clearly, and you're just having Dash be super paranoid and clueless, that's fine of course. ;-)

"Duke is right. I mean, when it comes down to it, at this point the creatures are the only ones winning as we kill each other off in suspicion...unless we guess correctly somehow."

When Jimmy mentions the handshake, Russ gives a wry twist of his lips.

"You know how it is, Jimmy. You got to give the boss their little idiosyncrasies without complaining to keep 'em happy. A happy boss don't ride you too much if you slack a bit."

Russ rubs his eyes tiredly. "You guys want to vote and don't want to vote, but it feels like the people who vote are suspicious if no one votes. And those who don't, they assume everyone voting must be a baddie to want to create a death."

Russ finds some other expensive thing to sit on and puts one booted foot up on a protrusion on the same machine. Russ raises a hand.

"So let's consider this. The creatures are three of us, right? We know that for sure? Then we have to imagine they would be the ones who want to push a vote...if they've discovered who each other are. Once they know, there isn't any downside to keep us lynching each other, until only they are left. But if they don't know each other yet, there are still more of us for now, so it would be better for us, if we can ferret them out."

Now the opposite hand is lifted. "On the other hand, if we don't lynch anyone, they just keep picking us off since if they can do it even as we're watching if they take their time (and let's hope it's only one of us at a time if at all) then they have pretty good odds not to take out one of their own."

Russ chuckles over the two photos Tharp located in Elora's notes.

"You've never looked better, boss."

Then he gives a puzzled look over some of the papers.

"The lady sweets maker was writing a paper on how bad cheese is for you. Huh, what a funny thing. You and her got along, didn't you Clive?"

Russ begins rifling through Elora's recipes and other documents for any potential clues.

Secret back room deals, betrayals, sowing distrust while gathering support...ahhhhh. Good times. ;D

Man, this no PMing thing hurts! :-/

Russ wipes his mouth and quickly uses a sink to rinse as well to remove the acrid flavor. As he towels down, he looks much more sober as well as somber.

As Sven wails, Russ cocks an eyebrow. "And how, pray tell, would we have stopped you? By voting for another just to create deadlock? Perhaps for some that would seem a logical path...but, man, I can't imagine my own guilt right now if I had voted for somebody on a lark but then suddenly others agree and see that person, that human, taken down like that." Russ mouth twists as he points to Doctor Wilkens, but he doesn't retch. He's done getting sick.

"I...I almost voted for Alexander..." Russ avoids Maxerson's eyes. "I didn't think anyone would actually..." The stubbly mechanic gestures lamely at the doctor's body. He closes his eyes and swallows.

"But before you all think I'm getting soft. Let me say that," Russ now points directly at the covered remains of Elora, no Dr. Elora. "That right there disturbs me a helluva lot more. What happened to Doc Wilkens, that's on us. When this is over, I expect any of us who might still be around and not creaturfied to tell the authorities that's our doing, and we'll face the music on it. But that," Russ moves to stand over Elora's sheet, "but this just proves what we feared. What we can't ignore."

Russ stands tall with a sickly look on his face but fire in eyes.

"I say good the comms are down. Good, we're basically trapped here. We can't let this happen to anyone back home. If we could reach anyone, they'd come trying to help. And this—this thing...it might get back home. Hell no! We need to burn 'em all out, or all of us better die trying to a man. Trying to narrow it down somehow...some people here got to trust each other, right? Start with who you trust and worth with 'em. Yeah we may not get every vote right, we just need to be honest about that now. But if we starts with what we know about each other...this nunnlif it can't be everything we knew in our friends, can it? I know enough about stuff that says our memories and our muscle memory, it ain't the same thing."

Russ looks around the room at the survivors.

"Just cuz this nunnlif can look and talk and act like us, doesn't mean it remembers. Maybe it just has enough to get by, just enough to fool you if you ain't got yer guard up. Then it attacks, and you gets assimilated, too. We gotta remember the other things, the things this nunnlif couldn't possibly know. We gotta...we gotta...find something..."

Russ' impassioned speech trails off. He's at a loss on what to suggest. He turns to face Elora and kneels down a hand hovering just over the sheet.

"I'm...sorry, Ellie...I never thought it would all go down like this. That there was really a thing...I...I wanted to believe somehow it was just a sicko...not some nunnlif that could get you even as we were standing here."

Russ might be crying a little.

Russ' poor stomach is once again severely disturbed. He rushes over to the corner where the recently used mop bucket was just cleaned after the previous victims disposal. Russ uses his incredible superpower to make it...not clean.

Tried to get this posted before the deadline, but Paizo took its sweet time, and I was twenty-two seconds too late. :-/

Russ waves his hand and shuts down the log.

"This ain't helping. All I see is a lot of paranoia. We're all stuck here together, ain't we? Maybe if we just don't sleep then we all don't have nothing to worry about. But aside from the that, maybe we should all have one vote on our heads just to have a show of not being completely blameless."

Russ votes Alexander...for no reason really.

Server lag fail! D:<

Russ nods to Doctor Wilkens.

"You're right. Good thing we don't have any professed xenosexuals in this group. It sure would be weird if someone pretending to be somebody's bunkmate turned out to be all lovey-gooey-dovey with, like, the top dog alien, right? Talk about a weird ending where these things could be reasoned with because of love."

Russ gives the doc a super meta-wink.

"That said...I'm pretty on the fence here about somebody getting offed. I feel like there's not really enough information to go on. But if we're sticking to the script, the Doc is sure be one, but he has to make it until the end, so the hero can face off with him but then leave the audience hanging on who's who while everything burns down before the big freeze (presumably) finishes off one and all."

Russ looks at the log again squinting. "Hey, we got a flamethrower around this joint? There's something about a way to test everyone's blood in the script here..."

Avistan then sticks his hand out to perform the super secret Mechanics only fist bump with his partner Russ Curtis.

"Hey, hey. Sorry I'm late on this, Boss. Just read the log that says you wanted this."

Super Secret Mechanics Fist Bump activated!

Russ walks over to a lab computer and pulls up the logs of all the conversation he's missed while asleep and proceeds to try and catch up on everything.

"Eh? Ruse?" Russ says confused.

Then his eyes go wide.

He bursts out, "No way! So that Marco dream! It was real! This is just awful."

He shakes his head.

"And now you're saying you think I did it because I was too drunk. Amazing logic there, Dash."

Russ finally awakens from where he's been passed out.

"Wha-? Was it a dream?" His groan proves the hangover is still real.

Russ looks around and sees all the sideways glances. "Er...what's going on?"

"Er...wait," Russ fumbles dumbfounded. "Does that mean...one of you guys...Marco...Li'l Meowsie...?"

All of this coupled with last night's booze is just too much for Russ. Some kind of funnel is sticking out of the expensive machinery he's on, and it becomes the container of convenience for...maybe it was pizza?

There can be more than one! I was actually going to have Russ start calling Tharp "boss."

The mechanically minded Russ emerges from his bunk holding his head.

"Ugh, guys c'mon," he implores. "You know it's supposed to be my day off, and I had a lot of whiskey last night. My head—" he groans.

"You guys are making a racket, and—OHMYGOSHWHATHAPPENED?!"

Russ stares in disbelief at the mess that was Marco. After hearing that it is indeed Marco and he is indeed dead, Russ sits heavily onto some expensive and delicate equipment he probably shouldn't be sitting on and puts a hand to his head.

"Damn. Another black mark on the personnel file, I bet."

pinvendor checking in with character. Going to read the thread and jump in shortly.