Crackplot!
Things have been downright dull in the Mansion since the plothole left--except for that extremely entertaining escapade with the apples, nothing has even remotely interested the gentleman with the thistle-down hair.
On the occasion of Friday the thirteenth, therefore, the Mansion fall under a spell of hideously bad luck. People will find their shoelaces unexpectedly tied together, banana peels lying in their path, and the water in their showers turning ice cold without warning.
If you knew what was good for you, you wouldn't even try to interact with other people; you'd know that the interactions would be doomed to devolve into misunderstandings, the emergence of petty grudges, and sometimes even outright fisticuffs.
But you don't know what's good for you. That's the worst luck of all.
Typist: All characters subject to bad luck of their choice; enjoy! (Or not--)
On the occasion of Friday the thirteenth, therefore, the Mansion fall under a spell of hideously bad luck. People will find their shoelaces unexpectedly tied together, banana peels lying in their path, and the water in their showers turning ice cold without warning.
If you knew what was good for you, you wouldn't even try to interact with other people; you'd know that the interactions would be doomed to devolve into misunderstandings, the emergence of petty grudges, and sometimes even outright fisticuffs.
But you don't know what's good for you. That's the worst luck of all.
Typist: All characters subject to bad luck of their choice; enjoy! (Or not--)