Gaster, Phelps, and Full Facemasks
rating: 0+x


HallowCon Tale 2018

The piece itself cannot directly acknowledge that it is in fact Halloween, but it must be blindingly obvious based on the setting and storybuilding.

One of the characters has to end up in a costume, against their will, to solve some issue that comes up in the tale.

The piece must start on Halloween and end during All Saints' Day sunrise.



The scientist emptied the magazine into the creature; anything that could take thirteen rounds of 9mm certainly wasn't human. Blood spurted out of the creature's wounds like an overzealous Tarantino flick. The scientist forced himself against the wall, still instinctively pulling the trigger on the handgun. A hand extended out, grabbing the scientist on the shoulder as the creature made a shrill noise…

Joseph Fynegan <pcs.noitadnuof|jnagenyf#pcs.noitadnuof|jnagenyf>
to: Adam G. Gaster <pcs.noitadnuof|tnarga_retsag#pcs.noitadnuof|tnarga_retsag>
date: Wednesday, Oct 31, 2018 at 10:11 AM
subject: Party Attendance


Adam -

I know you were hesitant about attending the party today, especially with rules regarding guests and all. Despite that, I was pretty bummed that I didn't see your name on the signup sheet. Could I possibly persuade you to go to the party? I have a favor - to put it simply - to ask. Can we meet up during lunch break and talk about it? Just send me an email if you can/can't make it. Thanks.

- Joe

P.S.: Director Pilliken has worked out a guest system - you can now bring a +1.



(the actual tale starts below)

— ~ —


It was that time of evening when the last vestiges of the sun dyed the sky orange, and the first twinkles of the half-moon came out to play. It also was pretty damn fucking cold outside. The Mojave Desert wasn't the optimal place to build a Site, but it did its job fairly well, and the desert certainly helped with the isolation factor. There was a nearby town the personnel liked to frequent, so much so that most of the administrative staff considered it a sort of 'extension' to the Site. It was this town where they held a party for the usual annual festivities. Two men, a security guard and a scientist, were located in the storage room of the hall where the party was being held.

"You're sure you want to do this?" asked the security guard, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"To be honest, I'm still hesitant about it." replied the scientist, struggling to fit his legs into the HEV suit's leggings.

"You could have always told him no."

"Well, yeah, but it's not like Joe's asking anything impossible." The torso piece slipped on with a thwick. The scientist adjusted it, polishing the sigma-nine logo in the center as he did so. He grabbed a black-visored helmet off of a nearby desk, lining up the fittings and twisting the helmet into place. The security guard tapped the helmet on both sides of the head. A crackle of static emanated from the front of the suit as the scientist pushed a button on the back of his neck.

"Uhh, testing, testing. One. Two. Three. Toast. TOAST. Can you hear me, Marcus?" The scientist motioned toward his helmet.

"Check. Can you hear me, Adam?" Backman responded.

"Loud and clear."

"You ready, Dr. Freeman?" Backman checked his watch. Gaster awkwardly turned toward him.

"You absolute swine, Backman. You said you wouldn't dress up as Barney." Backman started to walk down the hall as Gaster shuffled right behind him.

"Well, I changed my mind. Why did you change yours?" Backman faced the shuffling scientist, who stopped in his tracks.

"I'm not used to this suit at all. It's clunky and walking is hard." Gaster resumed 'walking' down the hall.

"Aaaaaand you avoided the question. You trying to impress her?"

"No, well, may- no, not- I, uhhh-"

"So you are. You didn't need to do this. There are other ways, after all. You can't back out now, though. Let's get you out there." Backman slapped the top of the helmet. Gaster gave Backman a less-than-playful punch on the shoulder.

"Here goes nothing." Gaster made his way out to a decently-sized veranda that overlooked the main area. A microphone sat on the railing, and below the standard hubbub of crowd and costume shuffled slowly waiting for the official announcement to start the festivities. Spotlights descended upon Gaster as he yanked the microphone from its stand. He tapped the microphone head several times, causing the crowd to look up expectantly.

"Alright, so this is working. Phew. Here goes. Hello fellow personnel! It's that time of year again! And today, as the clock hits six, we at the Foundation invite you… to make THIS PARTY SPOOKY!