You can't really identify exactly what it is from the taste test, but after a bit of waiting you find that your tongue and mouth are uncomfortably numb.

Did anyone touch anything in the infirmary or food lab that might do something like that?

We-We’re being asked to solve murders, too? I haven’t adequately prepared for this part of the challenge. Is this a surprise gimmick to boost ratings? That must be, isn’t it? You’ll reveal at any moment you collected enough candid footage, and then pause the competition so we can study and prepare notes.

…”No”?

Oh… Then I should explain everything I did last night, right? Starting point… Starting point… Where do I begin…?

Oh! I’ll start from when I woke up and explain my night in order!

Tonight’s assignment was to make a meal for Mr. Ramsay and Mr. Galvus, but there were no more specific instructions, so I thought I should start with something simple. Starting with your best when conditions are the easiest leaves you without any room to go up as the conditions get harder. I thought I would make a simple fried cod dish tonight, but I noticed a problem when I was studying the map…

I don’t see anywhere to get large amounts of fresh cod. It’s impossible to serve a meal you haven’t caught yourself, but I couldn’t catch enough cod in the animal pen. It was such a problem that I was sure I’d be eliminated first, but I found a compromise solution, so the first thing I did was leave the Chef’s Dorm to enter the Competition Kitchen so I could check the night’s assignment again before going upstairs to Costuming.

While I was in Costuming, I borrowed the fishing gear that the show provided. One of the staff members… The alchemist, Ms. Eilenberg (wasn’t her first name Annie…?) she was in there, too. At some point. Mr. Galvus came up. I tried not to let him make me nervous, but it’s not possible to look away from a man who’s going to judge your cooking… All I know is that Mr. Galvus stepped into the prop room, and then came back into Costuming.

I couldn’t stand there knowing Mr. Galvus had been there without worrying I might ruin my dish later, so I hurried down to the Store Set so I could cross to the Kitchen Set and go down in the basement. The man selling cabbages was in the Store Set, selling his cabbages, but I didn’t have any use for cabbage. It must take the kind of persistence he has to win a competition like this…

While I was in the basement, I found the frozen cod I needed, and collected enough cod to get me through the night. From the basement, I came up, and went across to the other building, taking the stairs up from the Breakroom so I could go up to the Pool. My fellow chef Mr. Harriott was in there. I thought we could discuss our recipes together, but he only seemed interested in floating in the water, so I threw some cod into the pool and started fishing…

After catching a few cod, I left the Pool and went back the way I came to get all the way back to the Store Set. I knew it was time to start making a meal, but I… I couldn’t bring myself to just yet. Seeing Mr. Galvus and his authority, and Mr. Harriott and his experience, and Ms. Eilenberg and… who she is… I realized there’s no way I could compete if everyone who’s ever been here is like all of them, so I decided I had to see for myself who some of the famous chefs of the past were.

I went upstairs, and went all the way to the Awards Gallery. Could it have been that I wasn’t the only one doubting myself? Is that why Ms. Shirogane was there to look around? While I was looking at the chefs of the past, I happened to notice that the Food Laboratory had been closed, apparently by the health department. Is one of the staff members here a health inspector? It can’t be the case I caused any trouble by fishing in the pool, can it?

Eventually, Miss Shirogane left, and I realized that, whether I win or lose, I can only progress if I face my fears. I had to make a meal for Mr. Ramsay and Mr. Galvus, even if I was eliminated first. So I went up on the roof. I went down to Costuming so I could leave my fishing equipment where I had found out, but Mr. Komeada suddenly entered. He’s… he’s said some very flattering things and seems trustworthy, but I wasn’t prepared to remove my equipment while in front of him. It was startling enough that I decided to leave my equipment elsewhere, so I went back on the roof and crossed over the Skybridge, before descending all the way down to leave my fishing equipment in my room.

With only my cod left, I crossed over to the main building. On my way in. Mr. Vruet shoved a… hot dog…Maybe… I couldn’t tell what it was underneath all the mayonnaise and sprinkles… in my hands. I wasn’t prepared for a distraction, but when I entered the Competition Kitchen and saw Mr. Galvus and Mr. Ramsay, I was able to put it out of my head. Running behind everyone else, I quickly started…

…frying fish! When there’s not a murder to solve, I’ll describe the process I use to improve the flavor of fried cod in detail. I presented it to Mr. Galvus and and Mr. Ramsay, and they both approved of it. It appears that I’m not being sent home yet! Ms. Eilenberg was there, and shook my hand. She must be a diligent worker, continuing to work on the show the whole night.

All that was left was going to bed, so I left and returned to my room, expecting a new assignment today, not a case file.

(Very busy Saturday. Wanted to get account out as soon as I could. I’ll check in and answer questions/respond to requests as needed, but it may be a bit yet before I can catch up with the case and investigate actively).

Bloody goddamn hell. I can't believe I'm in another fucking Killing Game. I'm the biggest goddamn donkey on the planet.

Right. Fine. I know how this works.

I woke up tonight, with some big goals for my show. I've gotta get back on primetime somehow. First thing I did was go to the Competition Kitchen. Komaeda was already managing the cameras for me, and Finweather and Pizza were there too. I started to announce my competition, but Takeshi Kaga decided he needed to make a theme ingredient. You don't interrupt a man while he's doing that. You just don't. Even if you do then start cooking.

Yonaga, that bitch, showed up during the cooking show, as did tonight's unfortunate victim. Spent a bit of time watching, but then I had a couple errands to run. First I went into the Store Set, using the shelves to dodge the pushy salesman. I know that from experience! For some reason, Hurderer was hanging around by the entrance, bruised and battered. Strange man.

I went from there to the offices, and looked through some of the cubicles. Took me a while to find what I needed, but I found it. From there, I took the cargo lift up, and got a few cookbooks I wanted to try out. Went back down and back to my show, just in time to see Tatsu and Takeshi serve their dishes. I might need to ban that cat from the kitchen in the future.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the night hanging around and watching the competition. Good stuff. Still not happy about this being a goddamn Killing Game, but... maybe I'll be able to make it work.

Hm...you know, I never even met Pohatu before he died, but something about him seems familiar, and I can't quite place it. Oh well, I guess it doesn't really matter...

The first thing I did after waking up was run out through the south and scream at the moon. If you wanted to know, I'm afraid you won't get an answer. After that, I headed into the church, passing by ANGIE - another oddly familiar face - and seeing HANNIBAL inside. I didn't have much to do here - I prayed for a bit and left.

I then made my way through the south hallway, passing by THE GOOSE. I planned on taking the stairs in the cafeteria, but it was apparently blocked off from the inside, because the doors wouldn't budge at all. I gave up and went upstairs via the infirmary instead.

I made my way over to the awards gallery because I wanted to see what it was like, and wow, it really was impressive! MAKOTO did indeed join me while I was looking, but I left him alone and headed to the library to read up a little. And then I went to costuming and makeup to grab some stuff for some costumes I wanted to put together, before heading back downstairs, passing by KOMAEDA on the way.

Here I made a quick trip into the competition kitchen, when I grabbed a slice of unfinished pizza...and PIZZA nodded at me? There was also the remains of shrimp bake on the ground. Wondering if the pizza was making me hallucinate, I just went back the way I came, seeing RUBBER DUCK come in from the south on my way out, and headed up to the roof.

And I'll be honest, nothing else special really happened after that. I walked over to the other building from here, and went downstairs to get a drink at the bar, and play darts in the rec room. And after that I just went back down to get some sleep.

This post was last modified: Jan 29, 2022 at 11:55 PM by Solus zos Galvus.

It appears an audience has been requested, and so here I am.

"Killing Games", what a novel concept. Just one of many such calamities in this realm, it seems. Though I admire the theatrics on an intrinsic level, I came here as a special celebrity guest, and I intend to fulfill that role, regardless of the incessant whining from the slightly less miserable of the Lecter brothers. Before anything though, I decided that any meals I would be partaking in would be surely enhanced by the presence of an accompanying beverage, so I stole away to the cellar early on to fetch a bottle of red.

When I was returning to the top floor, I passed by some lunatic peddling cabbages of all things - perhaps he turned the plumbing off? I can't be bothered to look into such things myself, do you not have some sort of maintenance worker about who fix it?

In the prop room, I went searching for a prop gun, something I could fire off at anyone stupid enough to attempt to poison me on tonight's show. I don't have any qualms about using a real one of course, but I'd have to be an absolute blasted idiot to do something like that in the middle of a crowded room with a loaded, functional firearm. There were two people in here, though I didn't deem them worthy of my attention - besides the young girl who prepared a perfectly serviceable plate of cod later.

As I'm making my way to the competition, I'm accosted in the store set by that moronic imbecile with the cabbages, though I assure him that I absolutely, under no circumstances, wish to purchase his wares in a place with free bloody food. I take my seat at the table, only to find that one of my co-judges is... Pohatu of all people. Seven hells, is this really the sort of person that our gracious host deems to be my equal? It's a good thing that my newfound comrade, King Radical shows up and lends me a sampling of tonight's first dish: pepper spray. I unload its contents directly onto Pohatu's face, and send him screaming out of the room. About as good an outcome as anyone could have expected, really.

I give his dish a 10/10, simply excellent work.

Next, the painter girl in yellow serves me some grim example of a cake seemingly formed in the image of some hideous idol of worship from a far-off nation. Red, blue, and simply vomit-inducing. I give this one a 2/10, and even then simply because she seemed to put some semblance of effort in and it tasted... fine.

For some indiscernible reason though, Hurderer musters up the sheer gall to begin cursing at me over eating the food. Quite a bizarre choice of action for someone who allegedly runs a television program by the name of "Eat The Food", but I've given up on expending my sanity on speaking to either of these utter fools. I take a sip of my wine and continue my judging.

I observe "Immortal Tatsu" for a brief while, contemplating his name. Perhaps this might be the only relatable man in this entire game, I shall have to converse with him about... things at a later date. His dish looks surprisingly splendid, but some large, bipedal orange coeurl muscles his way in and begins replacing the tailor-made meal with some infernal pasta dish, they bumble over to serve it to me, and in the process the incompetent orange buffoon knocks over someone else's plate of prawns, sending them into a blind rage as they storm out.

The pasta dish was... better than expected, considering half of was cooking by a rabid beast. Though as I informed this ageless Tatsu, it would have been far better had he stuck to his original vision. He seemed to agree. 6/10.

My final dishes of the evening were from the prop room girl and some bizarre cheerful man who resembled an egg. The aforementioned cod, and some sausage and potatoes. The former was passable, and while the latter reminded me of Garlean cuisine - an appreciated touch - I found the amount of gravy to be overwhelming. A 5/10 for both, for different reasons for each.

Everyone then cleared out, and I was left alone with both of those awful Lecters. Thankfully the more annoying of the two leaves, and I am left to deal with the foul-tempered hypocrite who dared to take a tone with me earlier. Before I can say anything to the effect however, I hear a bang and the security camera above me suddenly seems to shatter into bits. I look around the room, but only see Hurderer himself, therefore I can only assume he did something to that effect, unless some suspicious third party decided to meddle in our affairs.

Just in case Hurderer WAS concealing some sort of magical ability beneath his otherwise unassuming facade however, I left him be and simply retired to my quarters.

You can't really identify exactly what it is from the taste test, but after a bit of waiting you find that your tongue and mouth are uncomfortably numb.

Did anyone touch anything in the infirmary or food lab that might do something like that?

Also, following this surprisingly sharp train of thought (considering the thinker in question), would anything in either of those places match the wound, by chance?

Did anyone touch anything in the infirmary or food lab that might do something like that?

Everything in the Food Laboratory looks completely undisturbed.

As for the infirmary, it doesn't seem like any of the substances that would produce similar symptoms have been touched.

Also, following this surprisingly sharp train of thought (considering the thinker in question), would anything in either of those places match the wound, by chance?

Sorting through those two rooms, the only thing in either one that really seems like what you're looking for is a meat thermometer from the Food Laboratory.

darts in the rec room

honk

........yo can we check a dart against the wound

Well, I know I never took any of them out, so I might as well check the darts in the rec room and see their condition.

........yo can we check a dart against the wound

You check a dart against the wound. It doesn't really fit, the dart's variable width doesn't match the wound being equally fine all the way down.

Well, I know I never took any of them out, so I might as well check the darts in the rec room and see their condition.

You look at the darts in the rec room. A lot of them are missing.

...Are they still on the dartboard or do I still have some and just didn't realize it? If I have any I'll go ahead and show them now.

Granted, they're now confirmed not the weapon, but still. Maybe playing darts drunk WASN'T such a good idea...

Can we test the mysterious numbing goop in the food laboratory to see its... composition I guess would be the word? Where it could have came from? Like fugu or some other poisonous unless prepared correctly food for example?

This post was last modified: Jan 30, 2022 at 1:05 AM by Gordon Ramsay.

...Are they still on the dartboard or do I still have some and just didn't realize it? If I have any I'll go ahead and show them now.

Granted, they're now confirmed not the weapon, but still. Maybe playing darts drunk WASN'T such a good idea...

There's some darts on the dartboard. There's also some darts missing. You have no darts.

Can we test the mysterious numbing goop in the food laboratory to see its... composition I guess would be the word? Where it could have came from? Like fugu or some other poisonous unless prepared correctly food for example?

You would be able to use the Food Laboratory to analyze, but since you're not trained Food Chemists, the most you can do at the moment is see if it's food-based or not food-based.

Upon running this test, the Laboratory confirms that whatever the goop is, it's food-based.

Suffice it to say, I think we can label the Food Chemist - whoever they are - as our killer for now, unless they wish to come forward and plead their case.

That meat thermometer from earlier, is it sharp enough to stab someone with realistically?

I'd like to personally taste all the meals in the Competition Kitchen to see if there's anything amiss. ESPECIALLY the bento lasagna. I'm extra suspicious of that so will just have to eat all of it.

I have obtained a beehive from outdoors and hidden in somewhere on the premises! How's that for spicing up a cooking show?? As a member of staff, it is my duty to keep things interesting, and what's more interesting than a veritable curtain of bees descending upon the stage?
Afterwards, I decide to introduce myself to the participants. Vruet kindly offers me a hotdog near the break room, which I decline. It is the Competition Kitchen where I meet the most, running into the likes of Lasagna Cat, Takeshi, Gordon, Solus, Hannibal, Pizza, The Two Kings, Makoto, and last but not least, Gregg. It seems like we have a fine cast of characters here, it's a shame this has turned out to be yet another game of death.

This post was last modified: Jan 31, 2022 at 2:30 AM by Nemesis.

Hello, I am new advanced T-103-N model made to act more like human.
I have come to practice fitting in human society for possible more mundane uses than being a weapon like my brothers
Today I serve treat the good scientists feed me. It is hotdog dipped in mayonnaise and sprinkles.

I went to Garage to grab food cart. I went into the Kitchen Set where I saw Luthier filming something. I ignored this and headed down into the Basement to gather important ingredients.

As I was grabbing my food, Diona left the wine cellar, followed by Immortal Tatsu a few minutes later. After finishing grabbing my supplies, I walked past Komaeda as I went upstairs.

I passed by the Lasagna Cat in the hallway on my way to the Break Room, where I set my cart up and began to serve delicious treats.

My first customer was the defective Lecter, followed by Sheamus. The King of Town showed up after them and appeared to greatly enjoy my food. King Radical followed the King of Town into the Set Building.
After this, I noticed someone I could not quite identify climbing up the stairs outside the Dining Room

I also noticed our host Gordon Ramsay go into and run out of the Chapel in a hurry.

I was not quite as lucky with my second set of customers. My cart was visited in the following order: Pizza, leaving the dorm, refused my treat. The more accomplished Lecter, left the Chapel and entered the South Hallway without even considering my delicious food. Annie left the breakroom and refused my hotdog. I again saw someone in the distance going up the stairs outside the Dining Room. Draku went into the dorm, not accepting my treat. Ainsley also passed through and refused.

However, not willing to give up the night with a loss, I pushed through. My last customer Makoto Ohno gladly took one!

I then went into the dorm, taking my trusty food cart with me. Pizza, who refused my delicious hotdog earlier also went to their dorm around the same time.

(actual testimony starts on the third paragraph if you're in a rush)

Psychologist’s Log
January 29, 20XX

While it is true that I’m not one to pass up the opportunity to bask in sharing my recipes to others, I must not forget my main priority. Starting today, I will be keeping a written record of my actions and observations in this ritual, as I see no better route for sharing my findings with my colleagues. A Killing Game…truly, a fascinating event. There have been many in the past that broke international headlines, but no matter how many times the authorities try to slice a head off, two more always take its place without fail. Strangely enough, it seems I’m one of the only players who knows this is anything more than a cooking show; I suppose I have my FBI connections to thank for my discovering of its true nature, and soon enough, I was en route to here…or to Austria for a vacation, according to my colleagues. It could be callous to dismiss ethics like this, but there’s no guarantee I’ll be coming back to face the consequences, no? And of course, in the interest of justice, I’ll be providing these statements to my fellow “chefs” as testimony.

Today’s first lost soul is a most peculiar one. I was aware that there’s been an influx of unusual, oftentimes fantastical beings manifesting in our world around the same time these Games reared their head, but this Pohatu character is beyond my knowledge. He seemed to be entirely made of…blocks, would be my best guess? I’m reminded of the golem of Jewish lore, but I have my doubts. What adds to the strangeness is Pohatu wasn’t even in our roster; when we were shown his file, he was revealed to be a hapless studio audience member, stumbling into his fate like a fly into a web. Perhaps our hosts were kind enough to give everyone a chance to participate, bringing in a sacrificial pawn to achieve this goal…how considerate.

After waking, I made my way down to the basement to borrow a bottle of chardonnay and a glass, passing by self-described “house-husband” Tatsu Kuroda on my way out as he enters the Kitchen Set. As for me, I proceeded into the Library to sample a cookbook. My repertoire of dishes is nothing to sniff at, but I wanted to complement my new experience with a new taste, and as I was absorbing the wine, I eventually found something that would satisfy just that. But before I could act on my ideas, I had obligations to commit to, and I headed for the Chapel.

Before the game commenced, I let everyone know that if there was anything they needed to get off their chest, they could meet with me for free counseling. The majority of all Killing Game survivors would go on to be diagnosed with PTSD or some other mood disorder, and if I have the ability to mitigate the damage, well…no use in letting those 6 years of extra schooling go to waste. After a while, I saw a potential first client by the name of Tsumugi Shirogane, who, according to my research, is a Japanese costume designer with rather concerning parasocial habits. Instead, however, she sat down to pray. Soon after, I was approached by a dark-skinned girl dressed in swimwear and a smock. Angie Yonaga had become something of a spokesperson for the Killing Games, making appearances in several as either a player or organizer, but always coming out unscathed, and I would be lying if I said I was expecting to meet her face to face. She was here to persuade me rather persistently to join her in worshiping Atua, who I vaguely recall from a mythology class being a deity of Polynesian origin. I had a hunch she wasn’t promoting the virtues of love and understanding through him, however, so I politely declined, and she went back on her merry way. The Chapel’s last visitor was what I took as our host, Gordon Ramsay himself, but upon closer look, it was actually an imposter using some sort of food-based mask to disguise as him. If his hasty retreat out of the room was any indication, he knew that I caught his bluff. Without any luck, I end my therapy business for the night and leave.

After passing by what was somehow a goose mopping the south hallway, I enter the Competition Kitchen and meet the judges: the actual Gordon Ramsay, as well as an emperor by the name of Solus zos Galvus. On my way down to Food Storage, I see an alchemist named Atelier Annie enter the kitchen, and once I retrieved all of my ingredients, it was time to get to work.

Now, at first, my intentions were quite simple; I had in mind spaghetti carbonara, with slices of cuore di tonno, or cured tuna heart, draped over it to give it a savory touch, and served with a side of roasted artichokes. But sometimes, man can falter all too easily to persuasion. I was approached by this….being simply known as “Pizza” (his shape seemed to flickered between that of a pizza delivery boy and a human-sized, breathing pizza), and he suggested that I make pizza. I tried to brush it off as an annoyance, but it seemed my hands were not on the same page. As if they had a mind of their own, what was to be a pasta dish turned into quite the bewildering pizza, with spaghetti and the cuore di tonno.as toppings. The raw egg did little to mask the unappealing marriage of pizza dough and pasta, but my attention was focused more on what came over me. It seems this Pizza man possesses something akin to hypnotism….it would be wise for me to investigate before any more of my recipes turn into Italian pies.

Somewhat out of shame, I presented my pizza to Solus, and as he was testing it, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and my stomach further churned to see who it was. A man who identified himself as Hurderer Lecter…in public, I laughed him off as an estranged ex-convict brother, but in reality, I don’t have the faintest idea who this living effigy of me is. While my esteem reaches quite far in my psychology community in Baltimore, I certainly wouldn’t think I’ve achieved any sort of notoriety beyond that. Then again, this game is still under the facade of an entertainment show, so I pondered to him if he was perhaps an actor hired by Ramsay, but he responded with nothing but vagueness. Before I could press further, Solus snapped for my attention, declaring my unintentional pizza to be tolerable. In hindsight, it was most likely the best I could have salvaged from that incident. My last action before I would turn in for the night was to retreat to the Greenhouse to practice my horticultural drawing; not my usual style of art, but some meditation was due, regardless. And only after that did I fall asleep.

Only my first night in, and already, I’m being thrown for a loop. I must profess that it is utterly fascinating getting to witness one of these Killing Game rituals, exposing me to abnormal behavior I’ve never seen the likes of before now…but it seems I’ve underestimated how much of a double-edged sword that would be. I was no stranger to helping investigate murder cases in America, though I at least had the full support of the FBI. Here, however, I cannot help but think of myself as Alice, the only level head among Wonderland’s delirious inhabitants. If I am to meet any sort of success, I would require a confidant, someone I could place my unequivocal trust in. I couldn’t possibly be the one sane person in this studio, after all.

Here’s to not expiring before I can find them, no?

Signed,
Dr. Hannibal Lecter

Look for sponges in the Cleaning Room. Is there any sign of a sponge being taken, or the available sponges being disturbed at all?

Do any rags or cleaning supplies in the room appear to be missing or disturbed?

And, finally, for thoroughness, does any sign of a disturbance - something left behind, something out of place, anything strange large enough to notice with a casual look at the room, in other words - immediately stand out in the Cleaning Room?