Thread by @GailSimone

Okay, you requested it ever since the fabled D&D game a while back...I am running the world’s worst Call Of Cthulhu game ever right now, and all 118k of you are invited. Adherence to the rules is not required. Put on some spooky music, or N’Sync, and take the apple skittles out.

Everyone ready?

Hey, you in the back, sit up straight, slouchy!

Apologies to @Chaosium_Inc in advance, and we BEGIN.

Okay, all 118,000 of you are private investigators. You used to be an actor during the silent era, but your career ended suddenly.

Now you’re a down and out investigator of the seedy and macabre.

You still go by your stage name. What was it?

If you get behind, don’t worry, you can add to previous tweets and catch up!

Okay, though you are not well-remembered much any more, some film fans still recognize you from your biggest role, the romantic lead in a film by the ‘Mad German,’ Hans Schmidt. What was the title?

The year is 1932, America is still feeling the effects of the Great Depression. Almost a third of American adults are out of work. The film business is booming.

Unfortunately, your career hit this skids after a scandal at Rumpus Studios, involving you. What was the scandal?

Sadly, your sudden disgrace and scandal in the cinema gossip columns led to you to abuse a certain substance. What is it that you can’t seem to kick?

You awaken at the desk in your dreary office, a mostly empty jar of bathtub gin in your hand. You’ve taken it hard since the death of your partner, Reedy Samosa.

He was found with all the skin on his face burned off, and an arcane book in one hand. What was the book’s title?

As you awaken, you knock the ancient tome to the floor. An open page reveals a bookmark for a discredited curiosity shop in the seediest part of town.

Whatis the shop called?

You decide to follow this, your only lead. As you exit your building, avoiding your angry French landlord (you’re in arrears), you spot a taxi waiting outside, very rare for this slum area.

All 118,000 of you get in the dilapidated cab. What does the cab smell like?

You notice that the cabbie’s name is Smentus Sackwell. He seems pleasant enough, but the cab is filthy. There’s still a placard extolling the virtues of FDR in the recent election.

You give the address to Smentus, he asks why you want to go to that evil place.

What do you say?

As you are creating the top of a hill, Smentus begins muttering, as if angry. At the top of the hill, you can see the smutty, sooty manufacturing district far below.

Smentus turns to you, brandishing a serpentine sword. He attacks all 118,000 of you. How do you fight back?

Your defense foils the cabbie, who shouts, “Rh’lyoth GHAST,” and turns the sword on HIMSELF, stabbing his own midsection. As his guts spill out on the front seats, he slumps over, blocking access to the steering wheel. You’re in the backseat of a runaway cab. What do you do?

Your impossible plan works, and not for the first time, you wonder if someone is pulling you towards a worse fate, something that doesn’t want you to die.

Yet.

You take a trolley the rest of the way. You nap briefly, and dream a horrific sight. What is it?

You wake screaming from your nightmare on the trolly. You can’t stop shivering, and you feel the hand of your dead partner on your shoulder.

“Go. Home,” he says, through burnt, bloody lips. Empty black eye sockets stare at you.

You fail a sanity role, how does it manifest?

As you run from the trolley, no one seems to notice the faceless corpse of your partner, beckoning you home.

“They want you. They want you in the deep,” he says.

You walk to the store.

You say a little prayer. What is it?

You sense for good or ill, the end is near. You look back on a life in ruin, how you lost everyone, even your last friend, Reedy. You step inside the disreputable store, feeling very tired.

A man in a hooded cloak says, ‘we have been waiting for you.’ What do you say to him?

The man pulls his hood down, and you see the burned, tortured face of your dead friend, Reedy Samosa.

‘They promised me power. They lied. But I can have my life back...if I trade them you. I’m sorry.’

He steps towards you, empty eyes blacker than shadow.

You hear the door behind you open, and the sound of something wet being dragged along the floor, but you can’t take your eyes away from Reedy, who produces a torch from nowhere, holding it near your face.

“This will hurt. It will hurt a great deal.” The wet sound clones closer.

You force your head to turn, to see the pale, eviscerated walking corpse that was Smentus Sackwell, the fatal cab driver who got you halfway to this hell.

He clamps your arms closed, unnaturally strong, his loop of entrails dragging behind.

Reedy holds the torch to your face.

You scream as you hear your flesh melt.

You have one saving roll attempt, it’s a 100 sided dice.

What do you roll?

You watch in horror as the die you rolled, that you thought would save you, shimmers, the numbers change to a skull. Catastrophic failure.

Reedy‘ s face fills, the flesh knits, but you can’t see, as your own eyes melt out of your head and run down your face like tears.

Reedy’s hand touches your shoulder, perhaps regretfully.

He traded you in, his last friend.

And you realize, you’ll be here forever. You HAVE no friends to barter with.

You almost laugh.

But you can’t quite manage to stop screaming.

The end.

Goodnight, everyone!