Day 13-14: Claire and Sharona (for By Dawn They All Were Dead)
I'm cheating a bit and posting yesterday's and today's characters together. They're made for By Dawn They All Were Dead, an entirely too rudimentary system I made for SHORT horror games.
Claire and Sharona are college students, and they're on a road trip together.
Sharona the Vet Student
Physical 0
Intellectual 0
Social +1
Knack
“Get me another body bag, the body bag’s full”
If another Character dies, you get their +1. You can’t off them yourself.
You lost Beignet when you were six. She was a mostly white mix of poodle and something else.
She was your best friend, and in a lot of ways your only one. Beignet loved playing fetch, and on
that fatal day her exuberance at fetching a clumsily-thrown frisbee overshadowed anything you
had tried to teach her about the road. The driver of the Subaru was awfully sorry. He never had
a chance to stop or swerve.
Your father was busy with work. Your mother hugged you, and told you that you should have
been more careful. That’s what you got from Mom, affection and reproach in about equal
measure. She was right though. It had been your responsibility.
People treat animals like playthings or nuisances. Animals get to live in the increasingly narrow
spaces people let them have. Standing up for animals over people has given you trouble
several times. You are good at the job, and that has saved you for now.
It’d be sentimental and truly lame to say that you see Beignet in every mistreated pet or foraging raccoon. You see guilt. Personal and collective guilt.
There really should be some kind of reckoning. We deserve to suffer.
Claire the Med Student
Physical 0
Intellectual +1
Social 0
Knack
“Ain't nothin' in my heart but fire for you”
Once per game you can give another character a reroll by declaring your big, knotty, painful love for them.
As a kid, and well into my teen years I had a recurring dream about night doctors.
They appear to my eyes at first as impossibly tall men. Their bodies are draped in long white robes over frames that seem almost skeletal. The hands that hold me are pale with desiccated skin stretched tight over long slender fingers.
There are no features on their colorless faces: no eyes, nose, or even a mouth. There are just folds of wrinkled skin on an elongated head.
Hands reach back inside me to retrieve a pink mass I know is my stomach. It is passed around among my hosts, one of whom slits it open to spill out the putrid contents. My liver is pored over by slender fingers, investigated as one would a book. I sing with pain.
After those dreams I would feel a great calm. Like I was empty inside. Like all the doubt, fear and pettiness of being a child had been exchanged with something pure and grey.
That gave me an interest in medicine. I want to understand myself, and know me as those night doctors know me.
They were just dreams of course.
Claire and Sharona are college students, and they're on a road trip together.
Sharona the Vet Student
Physical 0
Intellectual 0
Social +1
Knack
“Get me another body bag, the body bag’s full”
If another Character dies, you get their +1. You can’t off them yourself.
You lost Beignet when you were six. She was a mostly white mix of poodle and something else.
She was your best friend, and in a lot of ways your only one. Beignet loved playing fetch, and on
that fatal day her exuberance at fetching a clumsily-thrown frisbee overshadowed anything you
had tried to teach her about the road. The driver of the Subaru was awfully sorry. He never had
a chance to stop or swerve.
Your father was busy with work. Your mother hugged you, and told you that you should have
been more careful. That’s what you got from Mom, affection and reproach in about equal
measure. She was right though. It had been your responsibility.
People treat animals like playthings or nuisances. Animals get to live in the increasingly narrow
spaces people let them have. Standing up for animals over people has given you trouble
several times. You are good at the job, and that has saved you for now.
It’d be sentimental and truly lame to say that you see Beignet in every mistreated pet or foraging raccoon. You see guilt. Personal and collective guilt.
There really should be some kind of reckoning. We deserve to suffer.
Claire the Med Student
Physical 0
Intellectual +1
Social 0
Knack
“Ain't nothin' in my heart but fire for you”
Once per game you can give another character a reroll by declaring your big, knotty, painful love for them.
As a kid, and well into my teen years I had a recurring dream about night doctors.
They appear to my eyes at first as impossibly tall men. Their bodies are draped in long white robes over frames that seem almost skeletal. The hands that hold me are pale with desiccated skin stretched tight over long slender fingers.
There are no features on their colorless faces: no eyes, nose, or even a mouth. There are just folds of wrinkled skin on an elongated head.
Hands reach back inside me to retrieve a pink mass I know is my stomach. It is passed around among my hosts, one of whom slits it open to spill out the putrid contents. My liver is pored over by slender fingers, investigated as one would a book. I sing with pain.
After those dreams I would feel a great calm. Like I was empty inside. Like all the doubt, fear and pettiness of being a child had been exchanged with something pure and grey.
That gave me an interest in medicine. I want to understand myself, and know me as those night doctors know me.
They were just dreams of course.
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