Hotel room

Rolled 10 (1d100)

Craft weapon.

Whoever set you up here might be coming back.

You search the room for some kind of weapon. You aren't holding out hope for something conventional, but maybe an implement that, given the element of surprise, could catch someone off guard.

You unhook a brown leather belt from your slacks. The metal buckle, swung with enough force, might be able to do some damage, but you aren't expecting much against a knife or firearm.

> Exit room, look for lobby
> Explore room, check drawers
> Relieve yourself in bathroom
> [Write in]

>>215827
Look for a phone, attempt to call hotel service

>>215899
Explore room!

There's an old, corded hotel phone on the nightstand. You bring the receiver to your ear and don't hear anything—no dial tone, no operator voice. You spend a few minutes looking for some kind of hotel directory book, but can't find anything.

Maybe the line is dead? It looks like the room's lights are working properly, but whatever stalled the clock could have also effected the phone.

You get up and examine the room, looking for some kind of clue, or even an object that would jog your memory.

The nightstand desk drawer has an old, hardback copy of the King James Bible. You set it aside. Your older sister used to drag you to church on Sundays back when you lived together.

It doesn't look like the windows open from the inside.

You walk over to the closet. An empty laundry bag and shoe-shine kit rests on a shelf. On the very bottom is a small, black hotel lockbox safe. Its door is closed.

> Exit room, look for lobby
> Investigate further
> Relieve yourself in bathroom
> [Write in]

>>215975
>Relieve self
So we don't get embarrassed later/

You open the bathroom door and nearly trip over the step. You fumble for the light switch, take a long piss, and go wash your hands in the sink

You freeze upon seeing your reflection. Slowly, you raise your right hand to your face, and the man the mirror does the same.

You've never really taken the best care of your body, but you weren't exactly a slouch either. Part-time work always had you on your feet, traveling from place to place. And you even quit cigarettes and drinking some time ago. You might have been thirty, but you've always looked thirty, too.

So when did you get so old?

Your closely cropped black hair was streaked with grey. A thin stubble covered your chin and lower jaw. Your eyes, surrounded by thin wrinkles and a curve of dark blue ring, looked deeply, deeply tired.

You turn off the lights, fill a glass with cold water, and drink it in two gulps.

How long have I been here?

> Investigate further
> Examine closet
> Exit room, look for anyone
> [Write in]

>>215983
2nded

>>216006
Examine closet

The closet has one of those sliding-door mechanisms. It's jammed a little bit, but you manage to force it back open.

You take the shoe-shine kit out and dump the contents on your bed. There's a wire brush, a square of cloth, and two containers of polish: black and brown. You spend a few moments looking for your shoes and find your white tennis shoes under the bed. Looks like the kit won't be of much use for now.

You kneel down and examine the hotel lockbox. Its one of those standard models in every hotel room. You try lifting it for a second, but its extremely heavy, and probably bolted to the floor, too.

The instructions say to close the door and punch in a 4-digit passcode to set the combination. The only problem is you never remember setting the lock to begin with. You try pulling the door open and a few random combinations: 1234, 0000, and so on. No luck.

> What do you do?

>>216040
Try your birthday?
xx/x/xx
x/xx/xx

You try a few more 4-digit combinations using numbers from your birthdate: month and day, day and month, year, month and year. After, you do the same with your older sister's birthdate. You even punch in the last four digits of your social security number, but the safe remains locked.

>>216055
Exit room

>>216058
2nded. But can we can take the cloth? Ive also read you can get rid of greay and white streaks by dabbing them with shoe polish on cloth.

You've had enough fun playing with the safe. If you're going to find any answers, it'd be best to visit the hotel lobby. Talk to the front desk, get your bearings, and figure out how long you've been here. There must be a record of when you checked in, and who you were with.

You head to the door, turn the handle, and pull it down.

The door doesn't budge.

You release the handle and try a few more times. The handle is turning, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything, and you can't open the door in or out. You pound the door a few times in frustration, and it makes heavy, muffled sounds. It won't be broken down anytime soon.

You bring your face to the peephole, but you're greeted by complete darkness. You can't make out any figures or shapes. Maybe its been obstructed? You strain your ears against the door, hoping to hear anything: the sound of a housekeeping cart, footsteps, voices. Nothing emerges from the silence.

> What do you do?

>>216075
Toss the kit box out the window

>>216075
And check the bible for any hint or help

You return to the window.

The first blush of sunrise is beginning to emerge from the horizon, shades of purple and navy blue coloring the sky. It must be morning after all.

You try prying open the window, but there isn't a handle or any sort of visible lock mechanism. You pound on the glass a few times and then smash the handle of the wire brush against it.

> Try the lockbox again
> Settle down on the bed with the Bible
> Close your eyes for a moment
> [Write in]

>>216102
> Settle down on the bed with the Bible

The bible. You set the hardcover on your lap and flip through the pages.

You remember parts of Genesis, but your memory, for the most part, is completely hazy, as if you were attempting to peer into muddy stream. You fell asleep every week during service. When you walked home with your sister, hand-in-hand, she'd always ask you to pay more attention, but you never listened quite earnestly to what she was paying.

A torn page from the bible flutters onto the ground. A verse has been circled in it:

ISAIAH 43:25

I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.

> What do you do?

>>216110
Fuck yes. Exactly what I wanted: 4325 into the lock.
>I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.
Dammit, whatd our protagonist do this time?

Your hand is shaking, making it hard to punch in the numbers. You get the code wrong three times hitting the '5' key. With a small mechanical whirr, the door clicks open.

There are two things in the safe.

One is a small notebook and pen. You open it to find that there is nothing but numbers, an endless of repetition of numbers, as if you've simply started at 0 and began counting.

The last number written was 931. You wonder what you were counting up to, or if it even had any significance.

The next item is a photograph. Your breath catches in your throat.

You and your sister are standing in front of a hotel. She must be about 27, working full-time to support the both of you. That would make you around 22, a good-for-nothing 22 year old that's gotten into smoking and a lot of drinking. The two of you lived in an apartment, and shared one car.

Were you on vacation? You don't recognize the hotel's facade. Maybe it was some kind of corporate trip.

> What do you do?

>>216132
Go to sleep.
But our protagonist can start cross-referencing the numbers with the bible. Also, check behind the photo. Check the window again, estimate the time. Brace ourselves when the time progresses into waking-hours. Check the peephole on the door.

The sky was brightening now, but you draw the curtains and fall onto the bed, mentally exhausted. You can't remember the last time you ate anything, but hunger feels like a distant sensation, as if your body could no longer experience it.

You think about the counting notebook: 929, 930, 931. You uncap the pen and think about adding 932 to the series, but decide against it for now. What was the rush?

The back of the photograph has a note scribbled on it. It's in your own handwriting: "happiest i've been."

Ah, so maybe it was vacation. A pleasant warmth settles, for a moment, in your chest, and it leaves behind a hollow.

You remember now: your sister is dead, no longer in this world. Could you be dead, too? Perhaps this was a kind of punishment.

Sleep comes fitfully to you.

-

When you wake up, the sky is grey again. The clock still reads 12:37.

> What do you do?

>>216163
Stare at the clock for 1 minute to see if it's broken, or we slept for 12 hours

(New IP/same person)

You stare at the clock. Your physical body is vaguely aware of the sensation of time passing—an itch on your neck, the functional beat of your heart—but the digital red numbers do not change, do not advance.

You examine the room again. It doesn't look like anything has changed since yesterday. The sheets are in a pile on the floor. The bible, torn page, notebook, and photograph are on the nightstand next to you. You flip through the notebook, hoping to find some sort of message among the counting numbers, but nothing emerges.

What am I counting up to? A limit? The days of my sentence?

The door's handle turns, but it still does not open. A quick examination of the peephole reveals nothing but solid darkness. The bathroom is still functional; the mirror still suggests that you've somehow aged significantly. You debate taking a shower, but the suggestions feels a bit silly, really.

Your sister's death must have something to do with it, but your mind isn't prepared to fill in the details. You vaguely recall the outdoor funeral service, but without specific memories, it could have been anyone's funeral.

How did she die? Why am I here?

> What do you do?

Check under the pillows and mattress.

>>218923
Seconded

Make a rope out of bedsheets, open window, and go to the room beneath you. If the door's locked in the room beneath you, rinse and repeat until you get to the first floor. If you go down a ton of floors only to find that you're still on the tenth floor, begin to cry silently in the corner.

>>220588
The window wont open
See >>216102

File: MV5BMTk1MDg0NTU0OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMTM1NDk0MQ@@_V1_SX640_SY720_.jpg (32KB, 340x503px) Image search: [Google]

32KB, 340x503px

>>221605
Fug

>>215827
Hey OP have you seen pic related?

You decide to conduct a more thorough investigation of the hotel room. You strip the bed of its fitted sheets; they go in a pile on the floor. The bed is a fairly standard double-size mattress, still wrapped in plastic casing. You spend a few moments looking for the mattress tags, but can't find anything.

If only you could find the hotel's name. Or any suggestion of where you were located: city, state, country, anything.

You examine the photograph again. You and your sister are definitely standing in front of some kind of hotel—a washed granite facade, a well-tended garden in the foreground. In a rare gesture, your arm is around her shoulders, and you're both smiling and a little bit tanned.

You remove a pillow from its casing and inspect it for clues. Like the mattress, there's no tag attached, and the pillow itself is a fairly generic, nondescript kind of pillow.

Behind the pillows is a simple wooden bed frame. You run your hands over the headboard—there's some sort of word or symbol etched into the wooden frame: I X O Y E. The letters are obviously from sort of alphabet, but you have no idea what they mean. Maybe it was the name of the hotel?

You try the window a few more times, but its definitely jammed. You consider, briefly, breaking it open, but the tempered glass and well-secured frames suggest that it would be a difficult, if not impossible, task without specialized tools.

Maybe you could try to communicate with other guests? You bang on the side walls and stomp on the floor. There's a muffled sort of echo, but no suggestion that anyone else in this hotel actually exists.

> What do you do?

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>221794

Craft better weapon. Someone's going to come back for us eventually.

>>221794
Move bed, see if there's anything underneath it

An awful suggestion of an explanation crosses your mind: you're still being set up, kidnapped and imprisoned in some kind of warehouse made to look like a hotel. Everything—the photograph, bible, messages—was being secretly planned and ordained. You were being gaslighted? Perhaps a toy for some evil individual, or part of a secret government psychology experiment.

Logically, how else could you survive? You mind filters through the possibilities: a knock-out gas could be piped into the room, and while you're unconscious every night your kidnappers move into the room, force-feeding you and reseting everything.

If that's a case, perhaps you could fake sleeping: hiding until someone emerges, and then taking them by surprise.

You take a daub of shoe polish and smear it between the door and the doorframe: if the door is opened any time, you would definitely know.

You move to the bathroom and, with some effort, break a thin metal rod, used to hang towels, from the wall. You can't imagine it lasting more than a few swings, but perhaps one blow, to the head, would be enough to incapacitate someone.

> What do you do?

The bed doesn't look like its secured to the floor; with a bit of effort, you manage to move it a few inches, and then a foot, pushing it flush against the opposite wall.

In the process, the bed hits the nightstand and knocks everything to the ground. The digital clock unplugs itself. You pick it up and realize that the screen is still flashing 12:37. You shake it a few times—it doesn't look like it has batteries or anything in it. Maybe it's broken for good?

On hands and knees, you examine the carpet and flooring. But you can't find anything under the bed.

>>221883
Try to dismantle clock

>>221883
Examine ventilation ducts, see if there's anything in them or if you could squeeze in them.

>>221883
Feel the floor, ceiling, and walls. Look for any lining that may suggest an exit (and an entrance). Also, start knocking. You want hollow sounds for secret compartments or good places to try and break.
second >>221951

An unusually broken clock is probably one of the least mysterious details concerning your imprisonment, but you spend a few minutes inspecting it, also.

The screen still blinks 12:37. While you've assumed that it means 12:37 AM, there's also the possibility that it had stalled during 12:37 PM, as there's no suggestion otherwise.

The top panel has four buttons: SET DATE/TIME, RDIO, ALRM, and BOOK. You press the RDIO button—it looks like the screen freezes for a second, but nothing happens. The ALRM button similarly does nothing.

You try the BOOK button. The numerals on the screen disappear, replaced by a single word: MATTHEW. Was it referring to another bible verse?

You put the clock down.

There was a single ventilation duct in the room—an envelope-size opening near the top of the ceiling toward the furthest corner away from the door. You balance on a chair and inspect it. You can't seem to loosen or remove the grate. Instead, you take a pillowcase and stuff it through the openings. If anyone's piping gas through it, you'd at least have some extra time.

You spend time inspecting the floor, ceiling, and walls, feeling each surface with fingertips and carefully looking for signs of tampering, or suggestions of an escape route. Nothing emerges.

As you're working, you become acutely aware of a tiredness that settles on your body. It must have been at least five or six hours since you've woken. Your mind feels a bit sluggish now, and your brain's desires slowly turn toward sleep. You have a sudden craving for a stiff drink, or at least a beer. Too bad there's no minibar in this room, either.

> What do you do?

>>222543
Look through the bible again, try to find the Matthew verses and look for anything of interest

>>222543
>>222590
Matthew 12:37 perhaps?

>>222543
Turn on the sink and shower, and clog them both. Take the line that feeds the toilet and unscrew it.
We're getting out of here, even if we have to cause enough water damage to crash through the floor.
Also try to break off a bedpost and smash it into the plaster of the walls.

>>222762
Wouldnt that take a while? And if we do that, we're stuck in a soggy room for a while. What if the construct is reinforced? Its an ireversible move. Start with the bible first and see where we can go from there.

You turn to read Matthew 12:37 in the hotel's bible.

For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned.

Images, maybe the suggestion of memories, appear in your brain. But they are crude, hazy outlines: a moving road, a human figure, a copse of trees. Something, akin to a heavy weight, materializes in your chest; you realize that this feeling is guilt.

Perhaps this is punishment? A particular kind of prison for a particular crime.

Another thought enters: this could be a psychological prison. Your actual body is sleeping somewhere, languishing on a hospital bed. Perhaps you entered a coma? You try harder to remember, but your thoughts are clouded by a deepening tiredness.

Isn't it time for bed?

You tear the particular page from the bible and fold it, along with the previous verse and the photograph, into your notebook. You feel, somehow, that you should continue counting the days in the notebook. But you aren't sure why it's on this particular day that your memory remains coherent. Would you forget everything you've learned if you slept again?

> What do you do?

>>222762
Seconded.

>>223300
Let's do this >>222762

And then go to bed, and see where things stand in the morning.

Come on OP don't ruin our fun.

There has to be a way out; even if the doors and windows and vents are shut, physically destroying the building should do the trick.

You weight the options in your head. What did you—a good for nothing guy with no family and no prospects—really have to lose if the plan failed?

You turn on the sink and shower, clogging the trains with bath towels and sheets. The water level is rising at a fairly brisk pace, and before long the entire bathroom floor is soaked. Then it will seep into the carpet, and the floors, damaging the room's foundation. Perhaps guests on lower levels will notify people of the flood? Or the ground, collapsing under its sodden weight, will lead you to freedom.

With the last bit of your energy, you crawl into bed and fall asleep, arms hugging a pillow as if it was a life preserver.

-

That night, you dream for the first time you remember.

You're on a tiny raft surrounded by endless ocean. The water is smooth, shades of dark grey cut with the white peaks of gently forming and breaking waves. No horizon is visible. You become acutely aware your isolation. It's as if the entire world had flooded, and you were the only survivor.

A silhouette is barely visible. On the water, it's hard to gauge distances, but it's unmistakably human, and you desperately attempt to propel yourself forward. Unable to get any sort of movement, you lower yourself into the water, grasp the edges of the raft, and kick.

The water is unbearably cold. Any longer than a few minutes, and hypothermia would surely kill you.

You realize that the silhouette is an fact a shadow, and that shadow is thrown by a person: your older sisters. Her lips are blue, and her dark hair clings to her forehead and neck like night's mantle.

You pull her arms onto the raft, then the rest of her body.

The raft dips into the water. It's clear that there's no way it would support two people

She shakes her head, making it clear that she wants you to live. Her mouth is trembling violently, and her shaking hands can barely grasp yours. But her expression is gentle and calm, and you can't help but curse the world, curse God, curse the fate that lead you two to this point.

> Help her aboard the raft and jump into the water. She would surely go after you.
> Attempt to hold out as long as you can with two people on the raft.
> Let her go.

I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.

>>223481
You use your awesome vocal skills to call a family of narwhales to your aid.
...sorry
>Say your goodbyes and let her go

>>223481
>>223502
I'd say help her on. If this is some redemption thing and if we let her go before (which then led to us being trapped in the hotel room) then if we help her this time then that should show that we're willing to do the right thing.

See Isaiah 43:25 and Matthew 12:37

>>223519
Huh. Letting her go seems like the wise, logical, but respectful (to her wishes) choice. I mean you cant do anything more. But okay, seconded.

>>223531
>but
and*

You refuse to let her go.

She struggles against you for a moment, but her body is rapidly losing strength, and you hug her closely. The raft is quickly taking on water.

Your sister, after a few moments, falls unconscious. The world is completely silent, save for her quiet, almost imperceptible breathing.

You watch her for a few moments, a warmth blossoming through your chest, a feeling you haven't felt in a very long time.

And wordlessly, you slip into the ocean and drown.

-

You had been drinking that night. Your sister is curled up sleeping in the back seat.

You're on vacation and driving back to the hotel. The two of you, finally able to enjoy each other's company and make family memories after many years of struggle.

This was the happiest you've ever been.

You run one red light, then another. An oncoming car is too fast for your senses to acknowledge, and it slams into you. Your sister is pronounced dead on the scene. You barely survive.
-

This was the happiest you've ever been.

You run one red light, then another. An oncoming car is too fast for your senses to acknowledge.

You twist the steering wheel to the right, taking the brunt of the impact. Shattered glass tears your skin. Your arms and chest are crushed by the car's crumpling body.

Your last thought is of your sister.

There's no guarantee that she survives. And there's no way that she would be happy with the choice you made.

She, in fact, would be heartbroken.
-

But you don't care. This is the ending you've chosen. Maybe there were many different ways to escape the hotel room, and maybe this was the only one.

There's an awful distance, you realize, between respecting the wishes of a loved one, and having to defy them for their sake.

And now you've made your choice.

You wake up in a hotel room next to your sister.

The clock is broken.

You and your sister, hand in hand, open the door and step out of the hotel room.

A neon red EXIT sign illuminates the hallway.

You know that if you leave now, you would never return to the hotel, and never again live the life you once possessed. Your sister squeezes your hand, as if to ask if this ending was okay for you.

You push open the emergency exit and lead her out. You don't remember how small her hand was, how fragile her wrist seems. She was always the one protecting you. Now it was time to return the favor.

Nobody speaks; the only suggestion of her presence is the warmth pressed into your side, and her slow, even breaths.

You descend a single flight of stairs and exit PURGATORY.

You're in a dark hotel lobby.

It looks like the hotel had been shut down many years ago. The receptionist's desk is covered with dust. Broken chairs and tables are scattered throughout the atrium. It's almost completely dark, save for the thin spines of light that emerge through the front door.

Together, you step out into the grey expanse of an unknown street. This could be any city, in any country, in any world. There's a chance you both survived this time, but an even greater chance that neither of you made it.

You realize it doesn't matter.

The first suggestion of sunrise is coloring the city skyline in subtle gradations. Soon it will be morning.

[ Hi everyone—

Thanks so much for reading and playing—this is my first time writing here, and the quest definitely shows it. Most of the narrative markers were written on the fly, probably making it difficult for people to follow. But, anyways, I hope you had a little bit of fun.

Let me know if you have any questions about specific clues, or suggestions for the story. ]

Good thread OP

>>223670
So was there any other ways to escape the hotel? Btw, I enjoyed your writing style.

>>224991

Alternative triggers for the dream sequence: suicide (hanging yourself), setting the date and time with the clock, reciting a prayer, writing things in the notebook. I liked the flooding the room strategy the most, though.

Alternative endings: letting your sister go (forgiving yourself for your actions and moving on), remaining in the hotel room/purgatory until your sister appears (unable to forgive yourself), resetting the timeline (going back to the day in vacation and preventing the accident).