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"My name is Mark. I'm a detective, in case you were wondering. And what's my area of expertise? Well… homicide."
A flash of lightning illuminates the room, as Mark sits, drinking a shot of tequila.

"Before I was a detective that somehow became female from male, I was a lunatic. Chasing ghosts and fairy tales was my thing. Even before that… I was locked up tight in the looney bin. But I suppose now I'm not so crazy anymore. Somehow I always solve a cause, as troubling as it is. I turned to the closed window, rain pouring down it. Any moment now and my radio would ring. And with it… another case. I glanced to the book stand beside me, the single book that stood out lined with a platinum border. It was a collection of my cases… as well as the murder spree I survived…"

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OOC: It's time for the new murder thread, everyone! For reference, check either this thread or this thread. Post if you want to sign up! No limits on player space, but if you don’t join in by Saturday-Sunday at midnight (PST), I’m closing off the thread to new entrants. Just post and your all set! As always, feel free to make a character if you wish. I’ll be the narrator, so whoever I choose as the murderer CANNOT choose to kill me, as I only tell the story and am not the murderer. Good luck, and hope you survive!

Again, I’ll take suggestions on where this case happens, and will post the rules as soon as sign ups are over!

BARRY ANDERSON IS BACK, BITCHES!

This seems familiar, I swear I've played on of these, but not on the two you linked. Maybe someone else's game? I've been on and off this site, so not sure who, memory is hazy.

I'll join

name: Ty Memeington III

The Chowz has returned!!!

This sounds like fun times, I'll join in.

As for location, London, England might be cool.

Yeah, sure. I'm in.

I'm in, sounds fun

Take this as my formal attendance. I misread the message, thought you meant no new players can join.

This looks interesting, I'm in.

I'm in
I'm naming myself Jack Rigstan

I'll join

I'm in

I'm in.

Name: Eli McCullen

Count me in. I'm naming myself Jack Sharp.

I'm in
Name: Arch Dickson or just Dickson

I'll jump in

I'm so in. Not sure if I want to still be called Crow or be called John Constantine for this one.

Second on London.

I'll join

I like the name the lil' b gave me for the mafia thread, so call me Lance Johnson

Sign ups are over! Here are our contestants!

Jimmy
Gary
Lil B
Chowz
Crimea
lvl4
Kagura
YORT
Artyom
Starscream
NON
Unused
Stale
Arch
Disty
Crow
Freelance

Once I get everything organised, I'll start off the thread! But for now, here are the rules!

1. BIC denotes when the real post relating to the story begins. OOC denotes me answering or explaining the mechanics of the game.
2. Blue writing will denote Mark’s narration. They will advance onto each murder as they happen.
3. Green writing denotes the murder scenes. They will describe each murder and how it happens. The murders and victims will be denoted in red, in case you don’t want to bother reading the scene. These will cause Mark to search for anything that could point to the killer, so you aren’t totally clueless.
4. There will be one murderer, one investigator, and one executioner. I will inform you of your roles, goals, functions, and such in PM should you be chosen.
5. If I’m forgetting anything else, or you are confused, just post OOC, and then your question or response.
6. Good luck!

For now, just have a little fun in the streets of London!

OCC: For now, do we wait for something to happen, or can we simply begin posting and narrating about ourselves and our characters?

edit: Ok here we go :)

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Gary stepped out of the cab into the grim, puddle riddled, streets of London, the jewel and crown of England. He tipped the driver off, then adjusted his coat. Lighting a cigar, a trial of smoke rose from the shadowed figure, who began to wander around.

A native of Germany, Gary's formal name was Gerhardt Voss, though he kept to his English title. Known as the "fox" between his old war comrades, he preferred to keep those damned days behind.

He was new in the British city, visiting acquaintances, doing business, perhaps settle down and find a job. Gary found himself with little money, but he cared little of tangible luxuries, other than a good drink, he was content in wandering the streets. Perhaps it would be best to make a few friends, and meet up with old ones.

Jack "Valentine" Rigstan, a former police officer, had decided to visit the streets of London after the recent death of his wife. He was impressed by the beauty of the city, as he wandered around he noticed a hotel. Jack, or Valentine, as his friends called him because of the date he was born, was beginning to hear the voice of his dead wife. He was developing schizophrenia, being lost in his new found delusions.

Michael "Chowz" Doeson arrived at London via the airport. He was here to perform with his band at a metalcore concert series. He takes a cab to a hotel and waits for his bandmates to join him in a vice orgy.

C.M. Rivers quietly unpacked her belongings in the dimly lit hotel room. It certainly wasn't the nicest hotel she'd ever stayed in but it was far from the worst. Whoever was in the room above her was making quite a racket, almost as if they were having some sort of vice orgy. That didn't matter though. Between the eight hour time difference and the amount of preparation she had to do before the interview tomorrow, it was going to be a sleepless night anyway. She put on her headphones, pulled out a pen and notepad, and began listening to the ramblings of a seemingly mad man.

Barry Anderson, who had gotten a gig as the bodyguard of Raekwon six months ago, had decided to take a trip to London on his vacation. He had just attended a match between Chelsea and Arsenal, and was on his way back to his hotel.

Arch Dickson was a 44 year old man who went to visit London but he was very paranoid about the people he met.

Jackson Sharp was on a visit to London after his retirement as a detective. He spent the first night at the pub with some new friends. As he was walking back to the hotel, he noticed something odd emanating from a nearby alley. Knowing better he chose to keep walking. He knew he had to hold his suspicions high.

Shane O'Riordan had just arrived in London from Dublin a few hours before. His main goal was to hang out in a few pubs and meet a few people. Perhaps wander around the dark streets of London or even go where streams of whiskey are flowing. For now, he really only cared about grabbing a pint or five at the pub.

Part-time bartender, Disty Blake, is about to finish his shift at the local pub. He takes one last drink of Guinness while his boss isn’t looking and quickly cleans the glass. He takes off his apron, puts on his jacket, says goodbye to his co-workers and leaves through the back door.

John "Crow" Constantine walked through the dark wet streets of London, coming back from his five month trip in the American heart lands. It's always fucking raining in bloody London town his thought bitterly, remembering that it was raining on the day he left the UK and now raining the day he returned. He soon found the old four star apartment that he called him. Being greeted by the old land lady who while anger at him know that most of her anger was coming from the fact that he left with no word and leaving most of his belonging behind, causing many to wonder why he vanished. After paying his over due rent he walked up the stairs, hearing the familiar creaking made by them as the aging wood protest against the sudden weight upon them.

Once he reached the door to his room he placed the key inside the lock and turned it. Once the door was open and turned on the lights he finds that the room was the same as he left it, albeit with dust on some of the furniture. He sit downs on his leather chair and finds that the chair no longer recognize his shape anymore, his been gone to long for it. He takes on last fag from it's box and found that he was all out and that he would have to go out and get more. With a heavy sigh and with one cigarette lit he got up and left the room, off to buy more packs and food considering how long he has been gone.

At this point, it was an unsettling pouring of rain. Gary had made the mistake of not acquiring an umbrella, a mistake in which he cursed openly.

Fick mich, he thought to himself. His eyes wandered the street, where he eyed a man walking into a general store. I could use some new smokes, and at least take some shelter. He strolled towards the store.

It was mostly empty of patrons, save for the man Gary had seen that provoked him to enter the store. He grabbed a loaf of bread that would become dinner, and headed towards the cigarette boxes. The man stood there, examining the various products on sale. The two met eyes briefly, and Gary cared little of the stranger's name, but smiled politely and searched for his German tobacco.

"Nein, nothing!" Gary stated, obviously disappointed. He exclaimed it a little too loudly, and the other man shifted awkwardly.

West… Montana… R1… He turned to the man, "Do you know anyplace that sells H&B? German brand. Or, better question, any tips on what to buy?"

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EDIT: OOC: What time period is this? I envisioned a 19th or 20th century period, based loosely on London, ad well, you know, detectives. Of course it can also be modern era. Just want to know so I can develop my character a bit more.

Yûr "Yart" Regdis had just recently arrived from his homeland on the eastern steppes, wanting to see new sights, and to see if his skills are to be found necessary. The streets of London were alien to him, along with the apparently perpetually stormy and gray sky above him. He lacked an umbrella, so he decided to stay within the concourse of the airport until he could catch a ride. He had sorted out the foreign currency he had brought with him to be compatible with the Londoner's. He adjusted his fur hat, and set down the few things he had brought with him.

I sat in my chair, and just as predicted, my phone rang. I picked it up, and nodded after hearing the person on the other line. It was that time again. I packed my things, and walked out the door.

A few minutes later, I ended up in the dark streets of London. I looked around… sure it was 2015… but being out here at this time made it feel all too much like the Ripper era. But no matter… it was time to get to work…

>walk down the street
>look at map
>need to head down south four avenues
>follow the map
>notice the streets empty and the lamps dimly lit
>arrive at scene
>spot two officers huddled over a corpse
>"What happened?"
>"A Ty Memeington… went by the name Lil B as well… was found dead. Suffocated somehow but no weapon found nearby."
>"Right… you two look around… undercover. Gather everyone nearby, and bring them to the lobby of that inn."
>you'll remember their faces but won't show and tell
>sixteen remain

And so it was that, after the body was found, me and my two colleagues assembled with fourteen other citizens within the lobby. While I know the two of them, especially their faces, I won't say their name. Right now, they could be in danger from the killer.

OOC: This post takes place before the murder of Lil B but quickly moves up to current events.

Old Johnny boy heard the man with the thick German accent ask him about any good brands he can try or if any of them are from his home land. "Sorry mate I can't say there are any German made fags here, though if you want to try some old British variety ones than I would suggest Silk Cut. Those have to be good considering I smoke like twenty of these a day." said John as he finally buys his cigarettes.

What happened after leaving the shop was John walking around in streets that he rarely visited, almost like something was pulling him to those streets and at the end of the walk he found people gathering around the corpse of Lil B. The next thing he knew some detective took him and several others to some near by rotten down inn and have them stuck in the lobby. "Just me bloody luck, also me bloody luck. I come back to bloody London town and not only is it raining like always but now I'm getting roped in to another murder mystery, like the one in Detroit wasn't enough."

Rivers looked around eagerly at the people gathered in the lobby, debating who she should talk to first. Just twenty minutes ago she had been listening to the ramblings of a conspiracy theorist who she had come to interview about which government body was funding a secret mars base. Of course she knew it was total bullshit but she took what work she could nowadays, but that was before the greatest story of her career landed right into her lap. She could see the headlines now, "Grizzly Murder In the Streets of London", or perhaps "Jack the Ripper Returns?". She would figure out the details later, first she had to get the story. She walked over to the man who had herded the rest of the spectators into the lobby and subtly turned on her recorder so no one would notice.

"Excuse me sir, are you a police officer?" she asked timidly.

The man responded in an annoyed tone "Something like that. Do you need something?".

Going back to all her acting classes from college, she managed to work up some very believable fake crying. "It's just, this is my first time in London, and I was here to meet some friends but then this happens and you tell us we aren't allowed to call anyone and you won't even tell us what's going on!" She took a pause to wipe away her fake tears. "I'm sorry, it would just be much appreciated if you could at least tell me what's going on".

And then the man responded.

You left your hotel room as your band mates continued to get drunk and high while banging some hot groupie chicks. You walk by a crowd where you see a dead body.

"Holy shit, that's pretty fucking brutal."

You never seen a dead body before, yet you always write songs about dead bodies. It's time to begin development of your new album. You take out your smartphone and take a picture of the body. Just do some art and animation, and boom, you got a new album cover.

Bloody Hell, Blake thinks to himself. I was just about to go home after a long day’s work, then this bloke gets himself killed and now I’m forced to stay in a room with a bunch of arseholes.

“God, I need a drink. Does this place serve alcohol?”

Gary nodded, and picked up a pack of what the Britishman had taken. He lingered around in the store, looking at various cheeses and refrigerated goods. He cast aside his hunger and stepped to the tools aisle. Finding a Swiss Army Knife, he thought to himself, British laws forbid weapons right? I'm sure these are an exception.

After buying the foodstuffs, knife, and umbrella, Gary walked back out into the rain. Not long after did an officer walk up to Gary, directing him to a close by hotel.

"Arschgesicht!" he howled at the officer. How did he know about the knife? This is perfectly legal! The officer, taken aback, told the German it was just a simple questioning. "Blöde Fotze! Fotze!"

A crowd of various diverse people assembled at the hotel lobby, where the police was conducting their investigation.

Gary noticed the earlier Britishman, and walked up to him. He smiled again, and quickly asked what was going on. The man informed Gary with a series of whispers, who realized he had been caught up in this predicament.

"Himmeldonnerwetter…" Gary muttered again, gaining the stares of numerous people. I need to stop this swearing, best not to act suspicious. A murder, how exciting, first day in London, and now this happens. He lit one of the British fags, coughed at the taste, then began to look around. There was a crying women, what appeared to be an intoxicated man, and another who was wandering about in search of a drink. Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol. These British know how to drink.

Jack was surprised to be crowded in a lobby with complete strangers, seeing something or someone in the distance. "Who's that!" Jack asks, "Who is that man!?" Jack soon realizes he was just imagining this. He is stunned, quickly talking to himself. Realizing he must be going insane, he began to grasp to whatever he believed was real. Jack knew one thing, however, that he couldn't trust anyone but one man in this group.

Mark turns to Rivers.
I'm a woman. And I gathered you all so that nobody here can leave. You're all under suspicion thus far. And among you all lies a killer in wait. So far we only know the killer has suffocated our victim. I ask that you all remain calm… otherwise you'll all fall victim. Me and two others are working to help you, so just follow along and we can all get you back to your homes and rooms.

Thoughts dart around in Gary's head.
Suffocation. Victim. Killer.

He speaks up, "Why was this man killed? Suffocation? When was this murder? Surely there must be some sign of resistance, a trail perhaps that leads back to the killer? And I'm sure we'll find his hands are bruised."

He leans next to the Englishman, whispering into his ear, "You have to tell them we were only buying those smokes…"

I don't want to become a damn victim. Anyone comes close to me, I'll pry their eyes out. Gary thinks to himself, gracing the knife in his pocket.

Why should I stay in this room with a bunch of nobodies? I have a concert in a few hours. I'm headlining with A Day To Remember and Bullet for my Valentine. Besides, where's my bandmates?

Barry walks into the inn and is immediately surprised at the commotion. He recognizes Mark, and walks up to her. "Hey, I remember you from Detroit…" He looks down and sees the corpse. "…fuck. We're doing this again, aren't we?"

Arch was in the corner of the room smoking a cigar
Deaths like these happen everyday.

Yûr arrived at the hotel as all of the commotion had started. He thought about the murder, and was slightly disappointing that this had happened. He entered the lobby with a silver briefcase in hand.

Jesus. A grizzly murder without a weapon, two undercover agents among us, and a killer lying in wait? This was some real Agatha Christie shit going on. Rivers had enough room on her recorder to get at least 4 hours worth of audio so she decided to keep it running. After wiping away her fake tears and calming down, (after all it wasn't every day that a journalist gets a story like this) she surveyed the room to look for a likely interviewee. There was some punk rocker who looked drunk, high or both (quite possibly the one making all the racket above her room), two fellows standing in the corner smoking (one of them looking rather annoyed by the other), a calm man holding one of those silver briefcases you would see in a spy movie, and a man who looked to be in desperate need of a drink. Everyone else seemed to be waiting in uncomfortable silence.

She worked up some more tears and made her way over to the two men smoking cigarettes.

---

OOC: In case it wasn't clear, Rivers is going to talk to Gary and Crow.
Also, are we allowed to write basic dialogue for other characters to make RP easier, instead of having to wait for them to reply to each line of dialogue?

Jack begins to pace around the lobby, he then receives a phone call. As he answers the phone, he hears the distinct voice of his dead wife, causing him to drop his phone in a frightened state. Looking around to make sure no one saw this he goes to his wallet, but feels a surprisingly cold item. As he looks down to his hands he sees that it was just his old sidearm, which was somehow allowed to be carried with him. He checks the cylinder of the sidearm and sees each chamber is empty.

Jack decided it was best to stay near the hotel as the police may obtain suspicion, so he went to a nearby restaurant to go eat. Jack soon realized something, why did he come to London besides the death of his wife?

OCC: You can begin the conversation, just don't make us reveal anything we wouldn't do. Common small-talk like introductions I assume are fine

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Oh nein nein nein… The crazy girl was approaching Gary and the Englishman. What should I do? Pretend I don't speak English? I don't really know this guy, I just want to get out as soon as I can.

It was up to the Englishman, he considered. "Starke deutsche Frauen nicht weinen." He grunted to himself, waiting for the stranger to greet the girl.

With no drinks to be found, Blake reaches in his jacket and pulls out a flask he keeps in case of emergencies. He removes the cap, takes one big gulp, twists the cap back on and puts his liquor away.

John saw River coming to him and Gary. He heard Gary saying something in German, mostly likely trying the old I can't speak your language trick so he wouldn't have to talk with her, lucky bastard. "You know I have to hand it to you love that was a convincing waterworks you pulled back there, could have fooled most people here." he said letting out a wisp of smoke from his mouth. "But sadly that act didn't fool me, it will have to take more than crocodile tears to fool an old con like me." John said putting out the cigarettes he was smoking just so he can lit up a new one. "Since your making it obvious that you want to know all of our little stories your either a journalist or a paparazzi. So which one is it?"