4DD for UristMcCoder, 3 for renegade. Minus initial bet, obviously.
"Hey Host, looks like your audience has gone comatose! You gonna do somethin about that?"
OI! I be objecting to that! I be thinking, that's all.
Object to that.
I be done thinking.
I vote that Desmond Running feels the heat, because I bet on him before the round started, and he was inconsiderate by not dying.
I also vote that Janeway gets second place for completely arbitrary reasons.
Description: Tall and lean with unusually wide shoulders. Fair skin. Long braided chestnut hair. Clean shaven.
Reason for Signing up: Bored.
Greatest Fear: Small potted plants. No one knows why.
Stats:
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 5
Endurance: 1
Speed: 5
Intelligence: 1
Luck: 1
Will: 1
Perception: 5
((I probably shouldn't post after a pint and a half of cider, but oh well.))
I don't really know how to roll to object. Oh, you got a 1.
Oh, here you go.Frat considers his options for a second.
"DESMOND!" He shouts at the announcer, "I don't like a smart ass! Or smart people!"
Well, looks like Desmond's about about to experience our first punishment game, while Navarro gets a whole 5 points, and the proactive Janeway gets 3! Looks like nobody likes a coward here, eh?" There is no time for a reward ceremony, as the host strides towards a pair of huge identical steel cubiods, each a foot wide and tall, and several feet long, that have arrived through the stage floor. One floats above the other, the lower one having a series of restraints projecting from the top, while the upper has nothing but a giant axe blade suspended below. A whining Desmond is quickly hustled in by burly guards, and strapped securely to lower of the two.
"Well folks, let me introduce you to our wonderful new punishment game, shown here now for the first and only time: Amputation Scrabble!" The audience cheers wildly as a gigantic scrabble board, currently devoid of tiles, is projected onto the arena, while with an almost imperceptible whirring, the blade positions itself just before Desmond's toes. Desmond's height flashes briefly on the makeshift screen: 75 inches.
"Now, as some of you have probably guessed, this won't be your usual game of scrabble. Instead, for every point Desmond gets, we move the blade another inch from his body, and for every point against him, we move the blade another inch closer. After five turns each: chop.
"But if he manages to win the game, for every ten points he scores above his opponent, he gets a point. So who should we pit him against, I wonder? One of our fairly-good house AIs? The audience as a whole? An individual member? I know some of you have bets against his survival... or perhaps we should let the audience play for him, against an AI? Your choice, dearest viewers..." The camera pans in to show the host's wide, twinkling eyes.
"Your... choice..."