Escape from EoFF: Let's Play The Escapists!

[Karifean]

I'm in. I like the Escapist.

[Pumpkin]

Oh yay I'm already in it

I'm the best looking one Attachment 63989

But that's Officer Angus!

Like heck it is

[Freya]

But you've only been a member for 11 years! (I say "only")

I'm actually only 11, weirdos.

[Slothy]

But you've only been a member for 11 years! (I say "only")

I'm actually only 11, weirdos.

You look older in your selfies.

[Aerith's Knight]

I'll apply for arch-nemesis.

[Psychotic]

Right, time to get this a-rollin'. No more sign ups, please! Thanks everyone for wanting to take part, I appreciate it!

[Psychotic]

Day 1

Let's get the most important bit out of the way first, shall we?
1. Bubba
2. ToriJ
3. Jinx
4. Lawr
5. Steve
6. Vivi22
7. Huxley
8. Aerith's Knight
9. Kalevala
10. Dan
11. Mirage
12. Levian
13. Karifean
14. Sir Lancealot
15. Denmark
16. Jowy
17. Del
18. Eugene
19. Old Manus
20. Officer Shauna
21. Officer Scotty
22. Officer Shiny
23. Officer Pike
24. Officer Quin
25. Officer Matt
26. Officer Pumpkin
27. Officer LWL
28. Officer Freya
29. Officer Angus

This place stinks of piss. Or broken dreams. Maybe they're the same thing. I'm in Chocobo Wing. Yes, the warden, BoB, actually named the wings of the prison Chocobo, Moogle, Tonberry and Cactuar. To my left is Del, a suspected mafia capo and to my other side is Jowy, arrested while trying to bust some other guy called Doomgaze out of the big house. I hate them both already.

A buzzer that sounds very much like someone has stuffed a weasel into a blender wakes me up. This is shortly followed by a ferocious dragon of a guard called Shauna dragging me out of the comfort of my dubiously stained and rock hard bed. She seems to be the leader of the guards and as far as sociopaths go, she's especially hateful.

Every day, three times a day, she's going to toss two inmate's cells looking for contraband. If she finds anything, you can bet your ass is going in solitary. What is contraband in this place? smurfing everything apparently. Shiv? Contraband. Screwdriver? Contraband. Duct tape? Contraband. Even dirt is contraband according to Fuhrer Shauna. Questioning this ridiculous policy earns me a slap in the mouth from Officer Angus.

Also apologies to AK and TJ. AK's name is too long so I had to shorten it, and it doesn't allow more than one capital letter per name for whatever reason.

Right. Well. Of course. Of course I would be locked up in a prison with someone who has some sort of sick fascination with spoons. That's just perfect.

One of the prisoners, Steve, nervously approaches me during rollcall and offers me money to get his precious flashlight back. I ask if he uses it to make shadow puppets. He replies it's so he can get off under the covers of his bed at night. I don't ask for more information but he volunteers it anyway. He suggests he can get me a good deal on subscriptions to Women With Insects Magazine and Erotic Armpits Fortnightly.

I decline.

I'm immediately handed a mop, broom and bleach by Officer Pumpkin and ordered to swab the floors. I shudder to think what these fluids I'm cleaning up are. She informs me I can make money from doing this. I inform her I can make money selling my kidneys and it's probably a lot healthier for me. She informs me that I shouldn't headbutt her baton so hard.

I hear a scuffle down the hallway as I'm doing my rounds, and by the time I get there Denmark is laid out on his ass while Huxley is running in the opposite direction. What went down here?

Wasting no time, I rifle through his pockets. Chocolate! I remember a rumour from two screenshots ago that Denmark was an armed robber. Why, he probably stole this chocolate at gunpoint! On the other hand, maybe it's not the best of ideas to tangle with an armed robber as I could end up with a serious case of shankitis.

Then it hit me. I'm the janitor. This is my job. Somebody left this unconscious body on the floor. It is my duty, no, my destiny to clean it up. I pocket the chocolate.

Well that's just smurfing fantastic. It turns out my moral quandary wasted too much time and I didn't do my job to whatever vague standards that jackass sets. I expect a substantial severance package. If nothing else I'm keeping the bleach.

So I'm pretty sure this is prison slang for giving blow jays. Noted. Always good to know someone in prison who can perform such vital services.

In the afternoon I come across Karifean giving Vivi22 a vigorous shanking. I can only assume another flashlight has been nabbed. Sir Lancealot emerged from the gym, confusingly remarked that they were both hipsters, and strolled on by. I just don't get this smurfing place.

Officer Freya follows up with a blow to the back of Karifean's head, sending him sprawling. I guess we can call the fight a tie?

At dinner, I note that the infamous Spoon Bandit has not struck tonight. I've got plans of my own for the cutlery and stuff my pockets with plastic forks. That should confuse and piss off a lot of hungry inmates! #rekt #trollolol There's method to my madness though.

Posted without further comment.

I head to my cell to take a dump when who do I see striding down the halls? lonny bob. I'm half tempted to slug him in the face for firing me from my janitor job but think better of it when I spy a camera. And he seems to be waiti... oh god, he wants to watch my bowel movements now? I mean, I know I shouldn't be surprised at this development but god damn.

I quickly snatch the sheets from Del and Jowy's beds and make myself some makeshift curtains. lonny bob isn't going to rob that dignity from me just yet, damnit.

At the final Rollcall of the day, Eugene tells us all something we've long suspected. His pyromaniacal tendencies play a big part in those therapy sessions one assumes.

Lights Out, and while my fellow inmates (apart from ToriJ apparently) slumber I spring into action. The bed sheets covering the bars of my cell mean the guards can't see the heavy mining equipment I'm operating with. How many plastic forks do you think it'll take to scrape a hole in the wall big enough for me to squeeze through?

[Ayen]

OMG! LOL!

[Jinx]

but wait how can i give a bj with a muzzle on

[Psychotic]

but wait how can i give a bj with a muzzle on

well I never said it was a good bj

[Slothy]

First smurfing day and I get shanked? I do the shanking sirs! I am the shanker, not the shankee!

[Bubba]

How many plastic forks do you think it'll take to scrape a hole in the wall big enough for me to squeeze through?

Ol' Andy did it with less than twenty...

[Psychotic]

Day 2

Aha, I get it Kalevala, cool story bro! It's funny because it's an internet joke! Anyway-

HOLY smurfING trout

I bloody well do have contraband in my desk! A roll of tape and a file! I didn't mention acquiring them on Day 1 because hey they're so inconsequential and will have no bearing on future events whatsoever! I am in some serious smurfing trouble. If they find these items in my desk I'm going to get them confiscated and stuffed in solitary for a while. I quickly scoop them up and shove them into my pockets.

Of course randomly sprinting out of rollcall and trying to slyly sneak back in is going to raise a lot of questions from the guards and I'm getting a lot of heat for not being where I'm supposed to be.

I've managed to get away with it though Officer Shauna delivers one of her customary pep talks and we all file off for some breakfast. I've earned it!

Oh wait no, hold up a second! You see that green flashing light above the door? That's a contraband detector. If I take one step into the canteen with my pockets loaded with such potent relics as duct tape and a file the sirens are going to sound and I'm going to have several cans of mace unloaded into my face.

Panicking, I turn away from breakfast and instead folornly roam the halls, hungry and desperate, doing my best to stay out of sight of any guards. If they see that I'm not where I'm supposed to be I'm going to be in trouble. I'm either going to trout myself or have a heart attack. Maybe both at the same time.

After whimpering and cowering like a child, I somehow make my way back to my sell undetected. Looks like Santa Screw has visited! My makeshift curtains have been torn down and my possessions have been rummaged through, but somehow they haven't noticed my remodeling efforts with the wall. I got lucky this time but another morning like this one is going to end with a nightstick lodged firmly into my rectum.

With all the heat I gained from ducking out of rollcall and skipping breakfast, I try to play it safe and be the model prisoner by reading books. Officer Matt seems impressed by my literacy at least

Let's rewind a second. You may be wondering where I got the duct tape and file from. I have no money or job, after all. I acquire all I need from rummaging through your desks while you're out in the yard or doing your nice cushy licence plate making jobs you suckers!

And you see what my treasure hunting has found in Bubba's room? I need protection. There are too many dangerous thugs out here who take great pleasure in pounding their fellow con's faces into the dirt. A skinny white boy like me is going to get passed around like currency.

And as if on cue, no sooner than I have made my deadly fighting tool that Aerith's Knight absolutely stomps Jowy into the dirt. Judging from the difference in damage he's clearly packing some serious firepower.

Posted without comment.

My crafting skills do not just finish with putting soap into a sock, no sir! I've also cut a page out of a magazine and combining it with duct tape have created... a poster! Kneel in awe. Why am I making posters? Well, the wall to my cell looks rather forked. If I have another cell inspection I'm done for, so I'm going to cover up the damage.

Yet another brawl breaks out, this time interrupting ToriJ's attempts to broaden his scope from being a video game critic to a food critic. Eugene slams Steve's head into a tray, splitting it open.

Officers Shauna and Scotty liberally pummel the two miscreants into the dirt. Which gives me an opportunity to borrow some items from them.

Thanks for the clothes, Steve!

The delightful scarlet drapes are back up and I've been sneaking off to my cell all day for a quick surreptitious scrape at the wall with my plethora of plastic forks, and I'm about to make the breakthrough.

And we're through! The poster is quickly used to cover up the gaping hole in the wall. I guess it must be a load bearing poster. Still, it is too late to do go scampering about in the gap between the walls for now, but I at least have a safe storage space where no guards can find.

Shauna delivers this message at evening rollcall. Does she know about my nocturnal activities...?

It matters not. No guards, no masters, no prison guards. I am a free man. Look at all the forks I've just dumped on the ground. Are those the actions of a person who conforms and obeys the system?

...that or I'm a petulant teenager staying up past bedtime to play CoD in defiance of my parents. Either/or.

[Jinx]

oh smurf you

[Loony BoB]

That must be one really thick, double sided poster.