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?