Done.
Kris listens in as Gerald croons into his mobile phone… “Toot Toot Tootsie, don’t cry.
Toot Toot Tootsie, goodbye!”
He slowly fades out on the last few lines, like a parent singing a lullaby to a dozing child.
This is correct! Well done. If you really knew the song (I will accept just “Toot Toot Tootsie Goodbye”) without looking it up, let me know and I’ll add your brownie point.
The phone goes silent; JT looks on, anxiously, as Gerald winces slightly and reaches for the End Call button… click…
Nothing happens. The phantasm is placated, at least for now. But it’s not gone; your PARAPSYCHOLOGY skill isn’t even needed to know that it won’t be that easy!
Meanwhile, Lou makes his way towards the front of the building to explore.
“Well, I’ll be a son of a (nice lady)!” says JT. “Not sure I trust ya with a ghost trap again quite yet, but ya sure do got you a way with words, dontcha son? Think I may just have a spot for y’all on the payroll after all!” he says with a grin.
Lute rolled a 10, no ghost, for his BRAINS to search the receptionists’ desks. A moderate success. Try the other one!
Lou picks one of the two receptionist’s desks out front, and begins to poke around. The ancient desk has many drawers, most of which are empty, and is covered in a layer of old papers, photographs, pens and pencils, and other assorted debris. A dent in the wall indicates that the telephone that was once here has gone on to join the others in the debris pile in the back office. Lou picks up a few papers and discards them as useless, mostly notes and memos to various members of the medical team that once called this building home. Well, work, but you know. Nothing among them seems to be relevant to the situation, with one exception:
Lou finds an old appointment book, dated 1952. It’s filled with names, dates, attending physician’s names, and the reason for their visit; some but not all of the listings include a telephone number. The date of the last appointment is August 21, 1952… a small child had a lima bean up his nose.
Lou scans backwards from the end of the book, looking for the name “Ralph”, and finds three during that last month:
Ralph Walton, 31. Truck driver. Hand hurt on loading dock. Dr. Attitol, attending. Telephone number indicates he lived in the city.
Ralph Caldwell, 55. Banker. Papercut. Dr. Ymouth, attending. Given bandaid and sent home. No telephone number listed.
Ralph Morris, 12. Student. Broken arm from falling from a tree in Central Park. Dr. Agon, attending. Cast applied, sent home with mother Amy. Telephone number indicates a home in a nearby rural area.
“Ah fig’r’d as much… 'less we ken learn ‘er name, Ah don’ see this ‘ere book bein’ much help” ponders Lou, who can’t help but think that he’s still missing something…
Wow, I’m bad at that. From now on I won’t try to do an accent when speaking as a Player Character (which I only do for exposition anyway!
Excellent work so far guys, this one’s almost solved!
A few final clues to gather, true, but you’re so close. Of course, you still have the option of luring the phantom into the open and blasting her, too; doesn’t have to be a happy ending for everyone!
Yup! It’s one of the songs that I’ve been learning from Doctor Ukulele.
Nice! Folks used to tell me I looked like Tiny Tim, and they were right. Considered taking up the Uke myself, but I can’t carry a tune in a bucket of IPods!
I just looked up the hit songs from 1922 (their wedding year) and it was first. Maybe I should make my tests harder!
You’ll get your reward at the end of this phase, like the others. Don’t forget you have Brownie Points, they’re meant to be used!
Time passes uneventfully.
The game is wide open at this point, folks. Just tell me what you wanna do and it’s done!
Gerald will relate to the others in the room the basic gist of the conversation.
“…anyway, I think the best bet right now is to try and find out how she died. If this Ralph fellow is still around, we might bring him in to talk to her. Could result in a lot less damage to the place then trying to trap her again.”
Kris nods.
“I agree. I suggest we head over to the Hall of Records and try to find out more details on this building, especially what happened to shut it down.”
The Hall of Records (Conveniently located near the library and the local newspaper offices) closes in about 15 minutes (7pm, they’re open late these days.) In New York, rush hour is also open until at least 7pm!
It would take someone with serious driving skills to get there in time… who ya gonna call? Taxi Driver? :D;)
The Hall of Records closes at 7:00 pm. This is your best option.
The Library closes at 8:00 pm. This is also a very good option.
The newspaper offices will have somebody around all night. This is still a good option but not the best.
I’ll give it another day to see if Louis is willing to drive.
New expansion for Sims 3 released yesterday and I lost track of time.
Lou decides to head for the Hall of Records.
Lou is currently outside his rented 1979 Impala, waiting for the rest of the group.
“Cool car. Let’s go,” Kris says. It’s hard to tell if he is being sarcastic about the cool car comment.
If they arrive at the Hall of Records in time, Kris will ask for as much info. about the ghosbuster building’s pas, especially including medical incidents involving the ghost and Ralph from that time.
If needed, I rolled an 11 for brains(no ghost). To be honest, I would think all characters would be simultaneously inquiring about the building, including JT. The roll was for gathering the info. that I would like to ask about.
I quite agree.
Lou, please give me a DRIVE VEHICLE roll.
30+ = you get there in time; 20+ you get there too late for the hall, but the library is still open; less than 20: only the newspaper office is still open
I will roll for JT and Gerald tonight, for general information gathering.
Edit: Oh, looks like you already rolled; remember, a 6 on the GHOST DICE = 0 plus something bad happens!
Both Louis and Kris rolled GHOSTS!
Lou says to Kris, “Not much ta look at but she does have da 9C-1 po-leece pack.”
“Ah hope somebody remembahs da equipmen’ if we run inna prob’ems. Da cop trunk got room for a few tings.”
- The Info Dump
I don’t think you’ll need it, but if the situation comes up, you’ll have (partial) access to your equipment. We’ll decide exactly what, when and if needed.
Our heroes pile into Louis’ 1979 Impala, hurriedly stuffing a spare proton pack or two, as well as some other various equipment, into the trunk.
Lou rolled a 33, plus a GHOST DIE, to DRIVE VEHICLE. Terrific success, but… something bad is going to happen!
Almost before the doors are closed, Louis has the Impala in gear, and with a great squeal of tires and a roar from the powerful engine, the crew blast down the short sideroad into traffic, headed for the Hall of Records.
Unfortunately, it’s at this exact moment that an old asian street vendor is slowly pushing his cartload of cabbages along the crosswalk to Wicker Avenue. He turns with a look of shock and horror as the Impala roars closer, and barely manages to dive out of the way as it plows through the vendor’s cart, scattering cabbages and pieces of shattered wood across the road and into the air! The merchant shakes his fist in anger as our heroes continue toward their destination; he jumps up and down and shouts “My cabbages! Darn careless drivers!” as they speed away.
Louis intently grips the wheel as the Impala careens madly through the traffic-clogged streets of New York, his only concern to get to his destination as quickly as possible. Darting into openings almost too small to see, screeching through intersections with mere inches between his bumper and the next, roaring across sidewalks and through empty lots, Louis eventually brings the car to a screeching stop in front of the Hall of Records in… well, in Record time I suppose.
JT pries his fingers from the dashboard and says in a trembling voice “I… think I’ll be taking a cab home when we’re finished here” he says.
Gerald rolls a 32, no ghost, to FAST TALK in the Hall of Records
The group races up the stairs just in time to meet a large, garishly-dressed cow-eyed woman as she turns out the lights and prepares to close the doors to the Hall of Records. “Sorry boys” she says dully around a mouthfull of chewing gum “we’re closed, come back t’morrow.”
Gerald, not to be deterred, flashes a grin and pushes his visor sunglasses up onto his forehead. “I got this one” he says, and throws an arm around the woman’s shoulder. They talk for a moment, and although initially reluctant and dully uninterested, she slowly begins to smile and nod as whatever Gerald is saying to her penetrates her bovine mind. Gerald winks and waves the rest of the group up toward the doorway.
“Guys, meet Ginger. Ginger, the guys. We won’t be a minute, will we guys?” grins Gerald.
“Pleased t’meetcha” says Ginger Gasheart, vacantly, as she blows an enormous bubble then laps it back into her slack-jawed mouth. “Boxes are in da back, files are in da boxes. Don’t take too long, I gotta get home an’ make dinner soon.”
Kristopher rolled a 5, with a GHOST DIE, for his BRAINS roll.
Kristopher begins to methodically search the boxes upon boxes of old folders and files, looking for any scrap of information about the haunted building.
Success! He finds a folder of tax forms, listing the building and information on an attorney and the trust set up to automatically pay the annual tax bill for the building. He takes it to Ginger’s desk and sits down, adjusting the desk lamp for better illumination… and accidentally spills over her lipstick-stained cup of coffee onto the documents! The excessively-sugar-and-creamed liquid quickly smudges the poor quality inks used to print the papers, and in seconds they’re a soggy mess of pulp, ink, and coffee, completely unreadable!
However, at the bottom of the box, Kristopher manages to find two loose pages that had slipped out of the folder. One lists the owners of the property, up to and including J.T. Roth’s recent purchase at auction. The other contains a summary of a lawsuit involving the owners of the building; apparently there was some accusation of medical misconduct, and the building was awarded to the survivor of a deceased patient.
J.T. rolls a 29 for BRAINS, rerolling because I rolled a ghost and didn’t want to. It’s good to be GM! q;}
J.T. Roth, meanwhile, had been across the street at the offices of The Brooklyn Commercial Bugle, a local newspaper. After a brief conversation with the nice elderly lady, he re-unites with the rest of the group.
“Well” says J.T. Roth “it’s not much, but I managed to find a couple of old newspaper articles here. Alice remembered the incident with the clinic, and dug these out of her archives. Nice lady, offered to make me a home-cooked dinner sometime; just might take her up on that, I think! Anyway, here ya go.” J.T. hands you two clippings, one about a vehicle accident, one about some guy protesting the clinic.
These should now be available in your JOURNALS on the Roll20 interface, under “Handouts”. If you can’t find them, I probably set something up wrong; please let me know ASAP.
Phew! Lotta information dumped there. I THINK I’ve covered everything, but I may have missed a piece here or there. If there’s anything else specific you wanna know about, either further reading of these documents will reveal something I forgot to include, or further searches in the Information District here will do so.
Take some time to consider your results, then discuss amongst yourselves the team’s next course of action. I’ll try to answer questions throughout the day(s) as needed, when I get the opportunity.
The Ghostbusters spend a few minutes on the steps of the Hall of Records, comparing notes and discussing their plans.
“C’mon, y’all, I’ll buy ya dinner” says J.T. Roth. “I know this li’l bistro down the street, got good soups. We can talk things over and decide what we can do there.”
Somewhat hesitantly, J.T. gets back in the car with Lou behind the wheel, and the group heads off at a reasonable speed to a local diner.
I’ll post in the OOC thread some information about how I think I see things; we can discuss it there.
“Dinna sounds good,” says Lou. “Ah don’ s’pose dey got Cajun?”
Game placed on hold until we finish eating, whenever that might be.