[ ...and the other thing of note in the lobby is the large grandfather clock, upon which Miata is sitting, her head nearly colliding with the ceiling. Her expression is unreadable, and she won't respond to any questions until the motive is done being given.
Next to the clock is a small table bolted to the ground, holding an equally small analog television. Attempting to lift it will reveal that it is also secured to the table.
Once all 36 people have gathered in the lobby....nothing happens. For what seems like an irritatingly long period of time, absolutely nothing goes down. The only noise is the ticking of the clock, and Miata's shoes tapping its case as she swings her legs back and forth. At last the television will turn on much like the ones in everyone's rooms. The soft, monotone voice begins to speak. ]
Congratulations, you've made it through the week. But this is only the beginning. Sometimes, one needs a little push in order to take action, no?
Time is a tricky thing. You've only been living in our lovely town for a little over a week now, but some of you are getting awful cabin fever. And it will keep getting worse. You'll find time is moving very strangely, now. Perhaps maddeningly so? But, of course, all that needs to happen to stop it is for blood to be spilled. Tata, my doves.
[ That's evidently all the voice has to say, as the TV fades out into static and shuts off on its own. The effect is almost obvious despite the vagueness, however, as the clock will only have advanced about 5 minutes since the first person entered the room. ...just how long were you standing there, anyway?
As can be guessed, everyone's sense of time will be incredibly distorted. Minutes will become hours, hours will amplify tenfold. As the days drag on, the effect will become more and more severe. By the time Thursday comes, all you normal humans will feel as though you've been here for a good thirty to forty years, and the resident immortals will get several hundred.
The only bastions of logic in this situation will be the clocks. Both the grandfather clock, and the digital clocks in the everyone's rooms will show time progressing as normal. ]
MOTIVE
Next to the clock is a small table bolted to the ground, holding an equally small analog television. Attempting to lift it will reveal that it is also secured to the table.
Once all 36 people have gathered in the lobby....nothing happens. For what seems like an irritatingly long period of time, absolutely nothing goes down. The only noise is the ticking of the clock, and Miata's shoes tapping its case as she swings her legs back and forth. At last the television will turn on much like the ones in everyone's rooms. The soft, monotone voice begins to speak. ]
Congratulations, you've made it through the week. But this is only the beginning. Sometimes, one needs a little push in order to take action, no?
Time is a tricky thing. You've only been living in our lovely town for a little over a week now, but some of you are getting awful cabin fever. And it will keep getting worse. You'll find time is moving very strangely, now. Perhaps maddeningly so? But, of course, all that needs to happen to stop it is for blood to be spilled. Tata, my doves.
[ That's evidently all the voice has to say, as the TV fades out into static and shuts off on its own. The effect is almost obvious despite the vagueness, however, as the clock will only have advanced about 5 minutes since the first person entered the room. ...just how long were you standing there, anyway?
As can be guessed, everyone's sense of time will be incredibly distorted. Minutes will become hours, hours will amplify tenfold. As the days drag on, the effect will become more and more severe. By the time Thursday comes, all you normal humans will feel as though you've been here for a good thirty to forty years, and the resident immortals will get several hundred.
The only bastions of logic in this situation will be the clocks. Both the grandfather clock, and the digital clocks in the everyone's rooms will show time progressing as normal. ]