Sburb - sunnySidekick [IC]

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

A young woman stands in her room.

Your name is EMILY and today is the 25th, and luckily for you it's a Sunday. The apartment is also yours and yours alone for at least a few hours today, and how are you going to spend that time? That's right! Video games! Your brother WILLIAM has alluded to playing an online game with you, but has not yet mentioned anything about it. Apparently it's for his friend ANDY's 26th birthday, and wanted to get as many people in on it as possible.

Just as you're about to sit down, there's a knock at the door and the sound of something landing on your door mat. This seems like the extremely familiar calling card of the POSTAL WORKER. Mail's here, must be a package.


What do you do?

[Em Blackleaf]

==> Go get blanket.

Good idea. You were considering checking the MAIL, but it can get pretty chilly around your apartment, even in the "warmer" months. And besides, you can be pretty SICKLY and blankets solve that kind of problem, right? You grab your BLANKET.

==> Wrap self in blanket.

You wrap yourself in your BLANKET and you seem to be doing a good job until you wrap it around your legs and fall forward. Fortunately, you land in a big pile of soft, fluffy stuffed animals.

Good going. Even you can't defeat that impeccable thread count. Learn to blankets. I mean seriously.

When you fall, you notice your ROOMATE'S MAILBOX KEY. What it was doing on your bedroom floor, you will never understand, but your precious parcel would be hopelessly trapped behind the thin, aluminum door of your mailbox without it! Or... is it steel? Probably solid gold considering how much you're not allowed to punch it open.

==> Captchalog blanket.

You realize this blanket situation is only going to hold you back from really living it up today, but you know you'll want the emotional security provided by it. Good thing you have your trusty Captchalog! And fortunately, the blanket is lighter than everything else, so it slips gently into the uppermost tier of Captchacards. You are utterly satisfied with this turn of events. Things are finally looking up for you.

==> Grab mailbox key.

Don't screw this up, Ms. Tanglefoot. You just got things to go your way and if you - DEAR GOD, MISTRESS FACEPLANT. You captchalog the KEY, but because it is slightly heavier than the blanket - thanks to your roomate's rhinestone keychain of Paul Rudd's face - the blanket must be removed before putting it away. You always thought that thing was gaudy but now its just downright inconvenient. It's okay, Madamoiselle Dumb-for-Brains, some people are just dumb for brains!

You captchlog the KEY and put the BLANKET back. There is nothing that could possibly go wrong now.

==> Check the mail.

You go down the hall and find your mailbox of mysterious metallic composition and your eyes fall on the small lock for which you are finally prepared! All you must do is...

==> Uh oh. Get the key.

SNASINFRASIN RINGDING SONUVA MAILMAN. You know you don't like that kind of language, but this is a serious situation. The blanket ejects to the floor but the key is in your hands, finally, and you unlock the door.

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

You open the door with a light metal squeak and see a few letters and a plain brown package stuffed inside. There's no return address on it, and your name and address are written in bright red ink. There's a sound from your phone indicating a pester, looks like WILLIAM is trying to talk to you.

IW: what's happening, sister?
IW: it's just super convenient when speaking with you in order to sound like a gutsy gumshoe
IW: anyway, you interested in a new indie multiplayer game?

[Em Blackleaf]

SS: Harr harrrrrrr. I'm never quite sure what's happening, my dear brother. I guess I'm checking the mail, although I had to overcome SUCH obstacles to get there.
SS: But we can talk about that later.
SS: Yeah I saw that I got a weird a package. Did you send it? That's weird, there's no return address. Hahah are you messing with me?! xD

==> Tear package open

You see the game your brother was talking about and you briefly worry whether you'll have the time to commit to a multiplayer game. Oh, well - he already sent it! Of course you can set aside some time for your eldest brother! Now just to Captchalog this...

==> Think ahead.

Aha! Now who's Mademoiselle Dumb-For-Brains? You remove the blanket and keys before Captchalogging the game. You are a genius.

==> Go back to your room.

You successfully put the blanket and keys back in their appropriate Captchalogs and without incident, you return to your room to see about hijacking the roommate's desktop for this fun little diversion.

==> Pester William

SS: Will-yum! It looks like it's the game! Sburb... is that right?
SS: Now what kind of a game is it... ?

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

IW: Uhh no. I didn't send you sburb, I was gonna get you a code
IW: Did you get another copy...?

He says. As your game installs. This mysterious copy of the game. Your computer probably has all the viruses now.

Anyway, as your game installs and wracks your nerves you discover more to the package than just a mere CD. Inside is also what looks like ONE (1) blank postcard from a town in the midwest you've never heard of, ONE (1) silver candle holder, complete with ONE (1) slightly used beeswax candle, FIVE (5) unused candlesticks similar to the one in the candle holder, ONE (1) shredded copy of GameSir magazine from the early 2000's, ONE (1) cutting edge smartphone, although missing a battery and ONE (1) mysterious note, also in bright red ink.


Here's a bunch of stuff for you. We wanted to make sure you stuck around and didn't do something stupid like find some other company.

-GS

This is not William's handwriting. Wait, is GameSir even a real publication?