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Oh wow, good luck. For the record, I let my save run for another day or so without interacting with it, and he was "mauled to death by a guard dog", which I've never seen happen before. Nettle Soup fucked around with this message at 16:05 on Jan 14, 2017 |
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Jan 14, 2017 16:00
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Added Space posted:https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B6hjTESHLzi8bTdReWN3X0F1VjQ?usp=sharing gently caress, the one place I didn't put a sprinkler because electricity
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Jan 14, 2017 16:05
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As much trouble as that guy might be I hope the next architect tries to handle him instead of bricking him up in a cell  How long does it take prisoners to starve anyway? I seem to recall the game offers plenty of leeway on that, he might survive through a couple shifts.
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Jan 14, 2017 16:41
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I can't imagine giving me the keys to the prison again would be a good idea... so of course I'll do it.  Did The Deviations do his turn or am I up?
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Jan 14, 2017 19:04
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^ That's a weird way to spell Pittsburgh Lambic. I hope Eaton is alive when it's my turn. I have plans.
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Jan 14, 2017 19:07
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jerkstoresup posted:I can't imagine giving me the keys to the prison again would be a good idea... so of course I'll do it. Pittsburgh Lambic is up now but he might be waiting for Added Space's trip report before he posts.
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Jan 15, 2017 00:48
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I've run the first day of the new prison and am putting together my writeup, that and waiting for Added Space to post his stuff. THE PIT has just been completed and I trust it will be a stunning success, and not just because of the tasings.
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Jan 15, 2017 03:09
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All I could do was run. I could no longer say what was chasing me, as my tormentors took on a hundred forms. The child who shoved a box of poison at me with a smile. The car that accelerated suddenly as it passed by me. The man with the dog that ran down the same sidewalk every morning. Tonight I just couldn't take it and more and ran and ran, passing through the new developments at the edge of town until I got out into the wilderness. Yellow signs told me to watch out for hitchhikers, as if I needed the warning. I took off a side road, heading deeper into the brush until I found a briefcase. The rough leather had been scuffed where it had tossed aside and the lock had broken open on a rock. Reports spilled out.  The papers told a story of prison, a Bedlam of trouble and madness. Where the wicked were punished in cells, run by the inmates of an asylum. There was a hand-written note near the top of the papers told of a warden had built a resort for a monster and warned that he may walk through the walls. I knew this place was calling out for me, that I had come here for a reason.Walking up to the gate, I flashed a badge from the suitcase at a camera and was allowed through. They were waiting for me. The organization was a disaster. Maximum security held murderers one wall away from protective custody. Four cells were set aside for the worst offenders, while the monster prowled alone amid luxury. Men were crammed indiscriminately into racks of bunks with no respect for danger or deed. My goal here was to sort the sheep from the goats and make sure the very worst were kept away.  The first issue was one of money. All of the money we had was tied up in promises I couldn't possibly fulfill in time. I knew in this place I could make my vision come true, a safe pen for the monsters who tormented me, if only I could convince others to go along. Money was quite convincing.    I met with the lawyer who had been given his own little office far away from the rest of the staff. He told me of the things he was working on. Plans to make the boxes smaller. To cage animals for as long as they lived, and to send the worst of them into the dark. He knew of men who would give money for mere promises, enough to see my vision come true. We two shared a look of understanding, and I knew I had finally found people I could trust.  At the very least I could now satisfy their hunger of their bodies and hope. There had already been murders in this place before I came, and there were three empty cells in that resort building. Two of the men had the same name of White, the same face, and the same crime, and I set them off without hesitation. For the third I found a troubled man who seemed to want to redeem himself.  He told me wild stories from his cell, about family he had lost, the regrets he had, and how he would start anew. The lies were obvious, I could see the murderous intent in his eyes, but it would serve for now. He could stay in the most gracious of accommodations as long as I liked the stories he told.  As the morning grew closer I set down a pattern that had come to me, as if in a dream. A secure box split into two halves, fit to keep degenerates alive and away from any innocents. I told the nearest man dressed in blue to call it Binary Ward. He saluted, but his eyes were glazed. No doubt he thought me as mad as all the others who have tried to manage this place.  Dickleson told me of how he watched the brute Eaton walked past when he left solitary. About how only one man and one dog were in the block. Of how Eaton had pointed into the cell with a sickening smile and how the guard had meekly followed him in.  He was not able to describe all the wet noises that happened afterward, only the smell of blood and the scraping of two bodies being dragged away.  As if in sympathy, tattooed men scrabbled as they awoke in the morning. Throughout all the daylight hours there was a constant air of violence, the electric cackle of tasers and meaty smack of fists. It was the merest flutter of a beast scratching itself and turning in its sleep.   The corruption of this place even extended to the road I had come in on. Even with the floor of the new ward complete a long line of trucks full of concrete waited to be unloaded, far in excess of anything we would ever need, stretching farther then I could see. I told them to dump their loads by the side of the street, up to the fence, anywhere it would fit. Only then did I see another line of trucks with steel, and somewhere behind them a bus with our new prisoners for the day.  Eaton had been returned to solitary for the man; I could not punish him for a mere dog, although that seemed far more heinous. Not long after a nude man went into his cell. I could not say if he was a disappointed lover, or attracted to the smell of sweat and blood. Even here some things are not meant to be known. I was done listening to Dickelson's false tears, of the sick attraction of that cell, of the way Eaton smirked at me from behind locked doors. I had ordered four strapping guards to flank me as I approached his cage. His reign of terror was done, and he could rot in that solitary paradise until he withered away and died.   In a great roaring voice he ordered one of them forward, and they came. I only saw a bright red stream fountain past the cell door before I lost my nerve and ran. One more sacrifice, but surely this would end the nightmare. No more would dare approach him, this must be enough for anyone.    I looked for something to assuage myself. The more ordinary men - the prey - limited themselves to simpler indiscretions. Men tucked drills and bits of metal under the shirts for protection. The central metal detector found a few of them to keep the guards busy. I caught one prisoner who snuck out of his cell for a bit of prayer, and did not have the heart to stop him. God was very far away and needed every reminder he could get of this place. A constant stream of men were left, paroled or released with a smile and a sheen of health. They constantly cycled in and out of Parole hearing, and each time one left more money came into our account. I put it all into my Binary ward, desperate to have it finished soon.  22 cells to each side, with a common room and canteen that could be quickly cut apart with central doors. Yards along either side could be fenced, and no longer could visitors pass along implements of violence. I poured every cent into the design, spending as fast as the accountant would allow me to, and yet the process continued so very slowly. The workmen refused to install lights, going into the dark pit with a smile and the barest glimmer of the sun. I slaved away into the night on this problem, putting my vision into reality, until I was told of another issue. The prisoners I had requested to fill my new ward were long overdue. One truck at the head of the line was ignoring the gate waggling constantly opening in front of him and refused to leave.  I went out to scream at the man, asking if he was aiding an escape and threatening to throw him into the cells with his conspirators. He merely gave me a flat look and told me he had two bags of concrete that no-one had signed for. There was a pile of cigarette butts under his feet, and I could only imagine him laughing as he put in a timesheet for the day. The men behind him were hardly better, happy to sit in their warm cabs and sleep the day away. I tossed the bags myself to the side of the road and told him to get out before I came back with dogs. He gave a sullen shrug and finally climbed into his truck to drive off. This finally opened up the line and our new prisoners arrived.  I had everyone welcome our newcomers by donating their loose possessions. A surprising number volunteered as soon as I asked, and we soon found all sorts of interesting things.  Naughty little monsters, you can't get out of here so easily. We're all stuck here until we can prove we don't belong. The work to fill these in could wait until my project was finished. A man with grey hair ran towards me, screaming something, but a skeletal looking guard pulled me aside first to a phone. The mayor had something to say, quietly enough that I had to press a finger into my ear to hear him.   I had to laugh. A hearse had pulled away with two of our men earlier today, and this was what the world outside with was concerned with. No-one understood what was happening here. I was the only one who could see it. My vision had to be fulfilled. The grey-haired man finally came to me, shouting a dire warning.  God had heard those prayers, and he was angry. The lights and heat instantly failed as vital wires burned away.  The only favor we found was that the roads were now clear for emergency response. Five thousand dollars in precious funds were flushed away to repair the generator, and far more into replacing the fittings and walls that were lost. No matter. No workers would be diverted from building my Binary Ward.  Dickelson told me, after, of how the monster had arisen from his sleep with a great howl the moment the fire broke out, and how he was found at dawn sleeping comfortably nestled between two corpses.    Misery engulfed the prison as near-freezing rain pounded down from a dark sky. The showers and heaters had failed, and deliveries of building supplies had delayed the morning food trucks. Mulish resentment spread throughout the population as sullen-eyed men decided if they had the energy to rebel. Ultimately they did not, sporadic fights never quite bleeding over into full insurrection. More men were fed to the beast as guards died to keep order.  It didn't help that the guard manning the remote door station had left their post, and the security room was only accessible by remote door. Fights started as prisoners piled up against motionless doors in the cold wet. I had to toss even more money into bribing one of the men to break in through the roof.  Into this miasma came the last elements of my plan. The Binary Ward was now half-complete and we had enough men to fill those cells. Thanks to the modular design this meant it was effectively fully functional. Only the last few pipes and fittings had to be run and I could transfer maximum security into there this very night. At last, some little bit of good news in this bleak world. Now I could move forward, and address my biggest problem. The skeletal guard who had helped me the night before brought me the grim files, and I looked into all the things that Eaton had done.  no NO This was wrong, this was all wrong. We weren't here to keep beasts imprisoned, to sort through the hearts of men. We were all here to amuse him, to feed his desires and slake his thirst. Before I could stop myself I ran to his cell, opening the slot to see him again, just to witness with my own eyes the true root of my distress. He did not look at me as he went to the exercise bench, still shackled from some indiscretion, he merely stretched into an unnatural form as if he was not bound by any action of mine and screamed his primal hunger.  I had to leave. I had to finish. This very night I would enact my plan. The very last of our funds were poured into constructing a fence, a fence I would run through before it was finished to keep anyone from chasing me, and one other thing.  I ordered Dickelson to look away and not speak of what he saw. The blind old holy man blithely lit his incense and chanted while the condemned man pressed himself far into the corner, weeping openly.  Guards kept the other prisoners at bay as the door was welded shut and brick after brick was placed in front, as thick as I could afford with the little money left, tossing my own wallet at the accountant and screaming for just a few more. Eaton's lover, if that what he was, tore forward to pound his fists against the rough pile of brickwork in a futile effort. I could still hear Eaton even through all that, breaking anything he could reach in blind rage but clearly not strong or smart enough to tear through a meter-thick wall. Maybe he was flesh after all. Maybe we would finally be rid of him. Maybe.   I assured myself vainly that I had done good here. The prison was improved in every way, the innocents had a look of health about them, and the guilty were well, WELL enclosed. I finally pulled staff away from my project to fix the last of the fire damage, and heat and food were restored throughout the facility. The night fell in relative peace, and at midnight I began my plan.  I once again woke up the facility, ordering both a shakedown and a mass prisoner movement. Max security prisoners would go to the new Binary Ward, and general security was ordered out of the dormitories and into the newly vacant wing. The fence would be complete in the morning, but for now I could use all the confusion to slip away. As I moved past my Binary Ward, still a clanking pile of excess building supplies and slamming cell doors, I couldn't help but take one last look  It was a mess, only a fraction of what imagined and still rough, but for better or worse this was my legacy. I would have to leave it to someone else to make what they would of my grand vision. The moonless night called to me, and I must be gone. But I lingered too long. The skeletal man had found me near the wall of my creation and clasped a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Don't leave so quickly, good sir. You've fed us all so well these past two days. Please, sir, can't you be just a little more generous? You still have so much more to give." 
Added Space fucked around with this message at 10:19 on Jan 15, 2017 |
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Jan 15, 2017 08:24
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Well, that's just lovely. Day 18 I have been watching the development of this little project with interest. So far, I'm not necessarily -- shall we say -- enthused by the approach my fellow managers have taken. I have yet to receive Added Space's report as of this writing, so I must construct a report for myself based on the prison's current condition.  Just look at this. Three fourths of the pittance we receive for housing these reprobates is squandered on trying to educate them. Going into more detail, we can see the following:  The methadone program alone is an atrocity. Doesn't anyone realize that the government charges $200 for every one of these sessions, regardless of the number of attendees? We only receive $150 per day per prisoner we house, for Christ's sake. We're not a charity operating for the benefit of pill peddlers. The methadone program is being shut down immediately, and other reform programs are being massively scaled back. If anyone has an addiction they're having trouble with, they can sweat it the gently caress out. Not like there's anything else for these fucks to do around here. I noticed also that meal quantity and meal variety are both set to High. These idiots have been living like kings on fried eggs and bacon, seven days a week, at our expense. Come morning, they're getting cabbage, and they'd better loving get used to the taste. Finally, let's have a look at the grants. This needs to be reviewed immediately, because my plans require a significant injection of funds if they are to get anywhere.  What is this. Besides the fact that no one has bothered to accept the funds we are being so generously offered for a few temporary adjustments to the meal schedule, other golden opportunities for additional funding are sitting open and unclaimed. This stops immediately. With a few quick little adjustments...  There. The fine for cutting the Reform through Education Initiative, though irritating, was acceptable. We were immediately able to complete the "Cell Block C" program in exchange. Tool Cleanup is forthcoming, and should be quick to resolve after a couple shakedowns, one of which is starting right now. To ensure funding is sufficient for my plans, I've also turned up intake a smidgen.  This will create some measure of disruption, but with as many guards as we have loving around, there should be no issue getting the new meat processed in a hurry. You'll notice that I'm accepting mostly those Minimum Security pencilnecks. There are reasons for this. The Tool Cleanup operation, by the way, completed after one shakedown. We now have $30,000 in the bank, which will hopefully be enough to implement the plans I have for this place.  Who the gently caress is this person and why does he have that polaroid in his cell.  You. I hate you and I'm deciding that picture is contraband. You're going in solitary. 8:00 hits, and the new meat begins to arrive, amid --  What the gently caress even happened here. No wonder the shakedown is taking so long; Deliveries is a mountain of concrete bags and light bulbs. The light bulbs, in particular, I have no use for.  You know what I also have no use for? Trees. Our little national park ends right now. Get the chainsaws, boys -- if we really want a decorative forest on site it can go in a new land tract. I have need of this field.  Like so.         While construction begins, the first busload of prisoners arrive. Most are rather mundane. As minimum security should be. One is identified to be former law enforcement and thrown into protective custody, and also into solitary confinement on account of the trouble of reassigning him, the gently caress.       The second bus arrives, bearing more of the same idiots, including one "Barnard" who managed to get a year for voyeurism. He's almost due for release, and he'll be spending every minute of his time here in solitary confinement because he's a loving voyeur and also a snitch. I hate all of these people. A couple profile screenshots were missed. Oops. By the arrival of the third bus it's getting crowded.        This bus included two "Portrait In Game" prisoners, who were immediately thrown in solitary for being so full of themselves. Once again, missing screenshots.       Whitmore is immediately thrown in solitary for 12 hours for being a Shawshank Redemption reference, which this game has far too many of already. I need to make sure we have enough solitary cells. Can never have too many.  Just look at this place. I can only imagine the stench that Reception has to deal with. I recently saw a documentary in which a woman working prison intake mentioned one particular incident that occurred -- a man in a holding cell became hungry, and rather than ask the guards for food he pulled a hot dog out of his rectum and began to eat it. When he noticed a guard staring at him, he offered to share.  It's around about then that I notice the shouting coming from SuperMax. It appears that someone walled in one of the prisoners, a dashing young chap by the name of James Eaton who managed to destroy his entire cell.  Upon removing the obstructions he charged out of his cell, met four guards, and slew one of them before he was tased into unconsciousness. The dead guard will not be replaced. He was a weakling, and we are short on funds. Two other Supermax prisoners also began to destroy their cells upon witnessing the commotion. This will have to be looked into, though they were thoroughly tased in the meantime.  Yard time in the new Maximum Security wing appears to be quite the barrel of monkeys.  Someone also left this sheet of note paper laying around in the yard, possibly one of those indie video game pirates. I need to see about securing them better.  Dale Clapperton has died, apparently for no reason. Serves him right, given he was sentenced for torture. I also hated his bio.  The new building I had commissioned is complete, and while planning out rooms I noticed that James Eaton has pissed himself while still laying on the floor in a tased stupor.  Paul Keevil has also died.  One of the Walter Whites very nearly died, before the man stomping on him was beaten into submission. Walter White has been thrown into solitary for the damage done to his assailant's boot.  James Eaton has killed a construction worker who came to fix his computer. What a nerd. He then killed three more guards who arrived to subdue him. He will spend some time in solitary, and will hopefully be kept handcuffed until then.  All are ordered to rejoice in the opening of THE PIT. THE PIT is a state of the art detention facility filled with only the best refurbished beds, toilets, and showering facilities we were able to nab on the cheap. Please try not to trip over the heaps of concrete bags and steel beams as you feel around in the dark. THE PIT has no windows, and will instead be supplied with light from a 36" flatscreen television once we get around to putting it in. Heat is supplied by a water boiler positioned just outside the door, which also supplies the sinks with hot water. Those desiring the luxury of a hot bath may make use of the sinks once they nab some time to themselves while working, which is what they will be doing during most of their stay in THE PIT. To that effect, a few changes have been made to the regime.  This schedule will prepare Minimum Security prisoners for life in the real world, assuming they do not stab each other to death in the dark. Guards have been assigned to monitor THE PIT at all times, and metal detectors will be installed at a later date. Stay tuned for Day 20. There might be a bit of a delay, on account of ice storms loving this city to death tomorrow. Pittsburgh Lambic fucked around with this message at 09:05 on Jan 15, 2017 |
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Jan 15, 2017 08:41
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Jan 15, 2017 08:50
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That worked out surprisingly well. I love that you come in, immediately piss on my corpse, and my boondoggle project falls apart within hours.
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Jan 15, 2017 08:53
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Added Space posted:That worked out surprisingly well. I love that you come in, immediately piss on my corpse, and my boondoggle project falls apart within hours. The binary wing boondoggle, the forestry boondoggle, or the 'make Eaton loving haunt the prison for eternity' boondoggle?
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Jan 15, 2017 09:02
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The Deviations posted:The binary wing boondoggle, the forestry boondoggle, or the 'make Eaton loving haunt the prison for eternity' boondoggle? The forestry thing was the guy before me. I think he put in there to supply the workshop, but he put that in way too soon. Otherwise, yes.
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Jan 15, 2017 09:08
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I love this
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Jan 15, 2017 09:40
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Are those minimum security guys never given the chance to shower? No free time, no scheduled shower...
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Jan 15, 2017 09:41
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Assuming they're the ones getting thrown in "the Pitt" dorm, it has showers in it. During Lockup inmates will satisfy whatever needs they can using the stuff in their cell/dorm, including showers. From what I've seen, most people like giving prisoners a shower in their cell and going without dedicated shower rooms. This just doesn't feel "right" to me, I mean shower room brawls/shankings are just part of prison life.
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Jan 15, 2017 09:43
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But forestries still provide a small income, even without supplying a workshop. The tree saplings buy for $50 a piece, and the felled trees sell for $150 a couple days later.
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Jan 15, 2017 10:13
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^ I always wondered about that math. I assumed it broke even unless you had your inmates carpent them into beds. Still, it draws your workers away from other tasks in your prison so while we're still in the MOAR INMATES phase of construction, it seems to be more trouble than it's worth. Or its worth. Oddly enough, that works either way. Also, those trees were too young to get a return on that investment. Womp, womp.
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Jan 15, 2017 10:48
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 these last few updates... I've changed my mind, brick him up, brick him back up..!!!
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Jan 15, 2017 10:51
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Holy poo poo this prison is a loving nightmare. 
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Jan 15, 2017 10:53
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DAY 20 I have recovered a copy of the previous architect's documentation. It is better if I not say where. It appears that the massive structure on the west end of the complex is dubbed "Binary Ward." It is intended as the prison's new maximum security facility, and as such is intended to be self-contained. This may be an opportunity to keep those bastards in one place and quiet, so they do not speak to outsiders of THE PIT. Maximum Security is to be feared and respected, unlike those fucks in minisec.  For the moment, however, measures need to be taken. THE PIT requires work, else its denizens will naught but snooze all day long. For work to take place, however, THE PIT also requires power. Even after it was fully upgraded, our current power station is at its limit. This will be costly.  There. THE PIT has grown. It may grow further with time. Funding for THE PIT was made possible in part by a new influx of prisoners, most of whom were imported in order to fill THE PIT.         Larry McIntosh was immediately sent away to solitary for having such an insufferable bio.         It is a cold day, and the future residents of THE PIT complain of needing some warmth while waiting to be dragged into reception. There will be plenty of warmth pouring from the power station and the boiler. And the kitchen. So much that hopefully we don't even need radiators in there, which is good, because I haven't installed any.         Stephen Lawrence is identified as a snitch and reassigned to protective custody. I would have also thrown him in solitary as a matter of course, but his haircut is ghastly, and I want his fellow prisoners to see it.  Eaton is stewing away in a solitary yard. He seems to be more docile when he has nothing available to destroy.  The first mealtime in THE PIT is a success. There is no light, because all the power in THE PIT has gone out as I reconfigure the electrical system. Also because I have not installed any lights.  Break time in THE PIT. Aside from the puddles of piss, the heaps of 60-pound concrete sacks underfoot, the spatterings of vomit, and the pitch darkness broken only by a guard shining his flashlight in people's eyes, conditions here are genuinely comfortable. As heat builds up in the generator room and seeps through the walls, it should become quite toasty as well. If anyone dislikes the heat, they can cool off by showering in front of everybody else and raising the humidity to the point that everybody's beds cover over in mildew. It should also be noted that none of the hot water taps in the showers work. As money trickles in from the various parolees -- which should soon include various residents of THE PIT -- I am able to expand the workshop. These prisoners are not paid 50 cents an hour to stand around, after all. I am not sure why they are being paid in the first place.  Benjamin Shelley has been identified as the one trailing puke all over the place. He will spend the next 24 hours in solitary confinement, to ensure that his habit does not become contagious. THE PIT values cleanliness. Perhaps Shelley will have even sweat out his addiction by the time he returns.  We receive $10,000 for the completion of our first thirty license plates, thanks to medium security's dedicated work, which takes place outside of THE PIT's shift in the workshop. It is an efficient, beautiful place. Someone continues to vomit everywhere.  A man with a hideous tattoo is found operating a buzz saw in the workshop. Noting that he is almost up for parole and his re-offending chance is below the threshold for release, I reward him by allowing him to spend his last day of incarceration relaxing in a solitary cell. Perhaps he will even get to stay in one of the new solitary cells attached to THE PIT's kitchen; I hear the outdoor solitary yards can get a bit nippy this time of year.  Oh yes, very nippy indeed. I do wonder if James Eaton is doing okay.  Just fine, the ol' chap. He does seem to be a bit better behaved when he's only there for a temporary stay; if told he will never be let out of solitary he instantly flips his lid and has to be subdued. On some level, I can't say I blame him.  Nighttime in THE PIT. It is genuinely peaceful in there; perhaps I could have spent less on beds. However, that would have decreased its capacity per those nonsensical regulations, I suppose.  Concerns remain, however. I only just got metal detectors installed outside THE PIT; there was a good deal of potential for shenanigans today. What does that mean?  Oh yes.  This quickly leads to a mass escape attempt, the ungrateful fucks. Also to the beginnings of a tunnel being discovered, which causes the entirety of THE PIT to be marked as unsuitable for habitation until the tunnel is filled in. Ed Bray is thrown in solitary for his audacity in trying to knock down the workshop door with a hammer.  Shortly after all of this, Dan Moon is found in the yard, dead of an overdose. Residents of THE PIT are confined to THE PIT and to their designated workplaces; I request that my successor look into possible security deficiencies that allowed Moon to slip out.  A few minutes before the end of my time as architect, we receive a payout for the Long-Term Investment program that one of my predecessors instituted. As I head out the door, I note that Chris Sacriel and James Eaton are still in the solitary yards, where it is 23 degrees Fahrenheit. I also note that I had completely forgotten to check the reputations of some of my new arrivals; perhaps my successor can request assistance from one of our confidential informants.  My time is thus over. Praise be to THE PIT. https://www.dropbox.com/s/7w0kg2neko73of3/Goon%20Prison%20Day%2020.zip?dl=0 Pittsburgh Lambic fucked around with this message at 11:07 on Jan 15, 2017 |
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Jan 15, 2017 10:59
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This is getting magical. 
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Jan 15, 2017 11:16
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I love the classic Dwarf Fortress succession game staple of boondoggle megaprojects that last exactly one overseer and then get left to languish. I am torn between trying an escape-mode attempt from the pit on that save or waiting for it to get even worse.
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Jan 15, 2017 11:30
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I downloaded and started playing my part pretty much as soon as the post went up. In-game time so far is seven minutes. This place is a loving shambles. One other important number before I completely dive in: SEVENTY-FIVE. Seventy-loving-five dead people because of him, and that's not counting the murders by IDK how many Walter Whites that he instigated. Brick's too good for him. E: v Oddly enough, his Pringlesesque attitude to murder (once you pop you can't stop!) has spared him from THE PIT. VivaLa Eeveelution fucked around with this message at 13:37 on Jan 15, 2017 |
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Jan 15, 2017 12:15
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 Went in for bribery, then killed 75 people.
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Jan 15, 2017 13:18
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I didn't write that big post about Eaton for nothing. And yet people ignored me and didn't immediately brick him up and leave him that way. You're just lucky he hasn't gotten his hands on a shotgun yet. Extremely lucky.
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Jan 15, 2017 14:42
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Noo, my forestry  It was put there purely to bring in some money. Take off the staff-only zoning, and those working in the workshop will also work in the forestry, so it doesn't tie up your workers as much as you'd think. At least somebody finally assigned people to the workshop!What on earth went wrong to bring in all that steel and concrete? Nettle Soup fucked around with this message at 15:14 on Jan 15, 2017 |
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Jan 15, 2017 15:05
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After seeing the backer bios I'm very happy about all the mayhem.
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Jan 15, 2017 15:25
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Nettle Soup posted:What on earth went wrong to bring in all that steel and concrete? Last time I saw that much building material, I had expanded the building area across the road and designated the entire place as a foundation to remove the trees.
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Jan 15, 2017 15:44
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Spookydonut posted:You're just lucky he hasn't gotten his hands on a shotgun yet. Extremely lucky. I beg to differ. A shotgun would be something soft between Eaton's victims and his murderfists. Besides, he's practically our mascot now. We're stuck with him for at least another E: Things are going well. VivaLa Eeveelution fucked around with this message at 17:14 on Jan 15, 2017 |
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Jan 15, 2017 16:31
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The Deviations posted:E: v Oddly enough, his Pringlesesque attitude to murder (once you pop you can't stop!) has spared him from THE PIT. I'm not sure it'd be a good idea to let him in there, period. THE PIT was essentially an experiment to see how much abuse minisec will endure without kicking off; to that effect I threw them all in a 54-person barracks and let them stew.
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Jan 15, 2017 17:55
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Nettle Soup posted:What on earth went wrong to bring in all that steel and concrete? Someone is going to have to build a new facility just to get rid of it. A genius ploy 
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Jan 15, 2017 18:00
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Holy crap this succession game is going places. I kinda hope Eaton survives to the end only because the continuing adventures of his never ending murder rampage are amazing. Also goddamn, THE PIT. Can't say I can blame that escape attempt but maybe we need a way of deterring any further attempts. Like putting Eatons cell between THE PIT and their path to freedom. That would kill two birds with one stone as I doubt any minsec guy could stand a chance against our favorite murdermachine and it would quench his thirst for blood.
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Jan 15, 2017 19:00
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Okay. I'm done. Write-up(s?) will happen possibly after I've had some sleep, possibly before. I just need some time to process what happened, and I don't just mean literally, through an image editor, but also that. And the cycle begins anew. I do recommend waiting for my report and not going in blind because...holy gently caress. The nightmare is over.
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Jan 15, 2017 22:49
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The Deviations posted:Okay. I'm done. Write-up(s?) will happen possibly after I've had some sleep, possibly before. I just need some time to process what happened, and I don't just mean literally, through an image editor, but also that. And the cycle begins anew. Won't be able to play until at least tomorrow night so take your time. e: Also I think this is important to remind everyone: 
lizardhunt fucked around with this message at 01:22 on Jan 16, 2017 |
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Jan 16, 2017 01:07
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The Deviations posted:I beg to differ. A shotgun would be something soft between Eaton's victims and his murderfists. Do prisoners not die from old age? Is Eaton an immortal monster?
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Jan 16, 2017 01:24
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Dr. Fetus posted:Do prisoners not die from old age? Is Eaton an immortal monster? I vaguely recall prisoners don't age at all? Like someone can arrive age 20, serve a 25-year sentence, and leave age 20. I don't know for sure, though; never paid that much attention to their ages.
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Jan 16, 2017 02:06
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^^ So obviously the in-game calendar works on a different schedule, because we just saw somebody take no less than 1 hour to play through 2 in game days, so I doubt anyone is completing a full 365 day year in this game in "real time". Reading this thread inspired me to download this game, I'm going to make a labyrinth for my prisoners to wander around in, with a battalion of armed guards posted at the only exit. Let's see how this goes. Starsfan fucked around with this message at 03:19 on Jan 16, 2017 |
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Jan 16, 2017 03:12
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Starsfan posted:^^ So obviously the in-game calendar works on a different schedule, because we just saw somebody take no less than 1 hour to play through 2 in game days, so I doubt anyone is completing a full 365 day year in this game in "real time". If there's no door they'll detect that it's escape time, all go into escape mode and path the shortest distance straight to the exit.
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Jan 16, 2017 03:47
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Tenebrais posted:I vaguely recall prisoners don't age at all? Like someone can arrive age 20, serve a 25-year sentence, and leave age 20. I don't know for sure, though; never paid that much attention to their ages. Starsfan posted:^^ So obviously the in-game calendar works on a different schedule, because we just saw somebody take no less than 1 hour to play through 2 in game days, so I doubt anyone is completing a full 365 day year in this game in "real time". There's also a disparity between the "day" that passes and the length of sentences. Prisoners will serve one year for every 2 or 4 game days that pass.
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Jan 16, 2017 07:38
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