fandomtownies | Ghost-Con Day 2: Tuesday, December 2nd (Haunted House, Ingvar Islet)

For anyone arriving late, you can still pick up your schedules, convention maps ( 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 ) and room assignments, wave to old acquaintances, and avoid the crabby-looking old bat half bricked into the wall beside the fireplace.

Johnny spent a few minutes taunting the crabby looking old bat.

Because he was classy like that.

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If you don't have your own table, you can still leave your business cards, flyers, and room-party invitations here for others to pick up! Or leave a note on the whiteboard about your missing ghost-dog or that hot headless redhead you saw across the room at opening ceremonies and would love to hook up with.

Jennet did not have business cards, or flyers, or anything else anyone was likely to find of any real interest. But she did leave a photograph or two on the table. A man, a woman, and a boy, in each one.

The eyes of the man and the woman were scratched out. Of course they were.

Milton Dammers (FBI) would just love to talk with you about his pamphlets on how to harness your pain and post-life trauma into greater control over your environment and psychic energy.

[Please wait for your host to ping in!]

Milton's pamphlets were even more rumpled and creased up than they were yesterday, only now with extra ectoplasm stains. It was almost like they'd spent the night crammed into his ghostly coat pocket.

Well, he could have left them on his table or something over night, but then someone might have stolen them. He couldn't have that.

Today he was attempting, extremely unsuccessfully, to construct a card tower out of them. It'd be the perfect demonstration of the power of focused energy!

Why. Wasn't. It. Working?!

Big Boo, comma, The, has information galore about this pleasant, living-free retirement community, as well as related pamphlets on overcoming crippling shyness around the living and how to survive encounters with plumbing professionals.

[Please wait for your host to...you get the drill.]

The Big Boo was back today, with all of his super educational reading materials!

He had, since yesterday, had a bit of time to think about Robot-Ghost's rantings about mechanics and their (apparently terrifying) children, and while he was still a very strong advocate of Monstro Town and the peaceful afterlife it offered for reformed monsters of all sorts, he was starting to reminisce about the good old days, when he and his friends would all happily terrorize the living in ways that didn't involve games of hide and seek.

Ah, the good old days...

Recruiters Asato Tsuzuki and Hisoka Kurosaki can tell you all about your possible career opportunities in the Shinigami business!

[Please wait for your hosts to...you get the drill.]

Hisoka and Tsuzuki had spent the night exploring the house. Or some of it. Hisoka hadn't gotten farther than the Con Suite before he'd fainted from the abundance of spiritual energy and Tsuzuki had carried him back to his room.

At the booth, then, there was mostly a super embarrased Hisoka, slightly hung-over from the empathic rush, and acting every bit his 16 year old self in reaction to the teasing he was getting from Tsuzuki.

Your friendly [modded] barkeep will happily mix you any drink you ever tasted while you were alive.

Well, the memory of any drink you ever tasted while you were alive, which looks a lot like mist in an otherwise empty glass, and tastes just slightly less great than it did when you were alive.

It's pretty much playing this (warning for some finger-damage and bug grossness), 24/7, unless you plug your own tape into the machine by the door. In that case, the well will graciously leave the screen to make way for [the meta version of] whatever ghost-themed movie or tv show you'd like to view.

[If your character is watching something else, make your own sub-threads with the title of in the subject line! If there's no meta title listed for a work of fiction, feel free to make one up; reality tv and non-fiction don't need to be meta'd.]

Maybe Bob was a bit of a romantic; what of it? The convention seemed to have a rather limited selection of videos, but still, there was a certain poignance to this one.

Just what it says on the tin. Across the hall from the bar so your fellow guests and pretend to drink in peace, and open until 4 when the farewell party begins.

It's a big black room full of big black emptiness and a crapload of spiritual energy to munch on. You want free Twizzlers, you're still at the wrong con.

Try not to be distracted by the occasional moans from the fellow still trapped under the fallen bookcase. He'll still be fine.

[Panels are held consecutively, starting in the afternoon and finishing by 4 when the farewell party begins.]

[Please wait for your host to ping in with his presentation!]

"Hey," Tate said, gripping his podium with both hands. He was never gonna love public speaking, but as he went on he warmed to his subject. "So, this is like ... the twelve-step part of the con. Hi, my name is Tate, and I'm an evil ghost."

He paused for effect.

"When I was alive, I was a fucked-up kid. Hurt people. Did drugs. Killed people. I'm not proud of it, it's just what happened. And when I stuck around I didn't have some fabulous moment when I saw Jesus, repented and came into the light. Probably because there is no goddamn light. I kept doing bad crap. I'm not going to get into it -- just use your imaginations."

"Anyhow, a couple months back I met this girl. This sweet, innocent beautiful living girl. And for a while I thought I could do better, you know? And she died and I couldn't save her and ... it all kind of went to shit again. But I'm trying to get over that. I'm trying to take it one day at a time, you know? Just because I got dealt a lousy had doesn't mean I need to take it out on everybody else. I'm taking it day by day, and I'm up to eight months of good behavior."

He glanced around the room. "For me, it's just about willpower. Just not letting myself act on what I want to do. But mayeb you guys have better ideas. Or maybe you just want to share. Anybody ready to talk?"

"Ooo! Ooo!" Johnny waved his hand in the air. "How many people did you kill?"

It was possibly he was not entirely clear what the point of this panel was. Or maybe he just didn't care.

One of those.

"Fifteen while I was alive," Tate revealed, sounding a touch proud for somebody who had supposedly left all this behind. "Couple more since I died. You?"

Finally, someone who wanted to talk proper shop! Johnny grinned. "Got me twelve while I was alive. Woulda been more, but the cops showed. Added 28 to that since they executed me, though. They won't be forgetting me any time soon."

"Nice," Tate complimented. "I shot up my school, back before Columbine made it a cliche. I got home but then the cops took me down."

"That's too bad. There's nothing quite like getting to brag to all the losers in prison while you're waiting for the chair."

"Maybe not, but least I didn't spend half my life shut up like some old sad zoo tiger," Tate shrugged. "The chair, huh? How did that feel?"

"Electrifying."

Yeah, he couldn't resist.

"It kinda sucked," he admitted. "And Hell was a bitch. But I can't complain about after that."

Well, except for the part where that dumbass psychic tricked him and his girl into going back to Hell. That part he could complain about a lot.

"'Evil' is just a label!" Starscream announced. "And 'good' is a weakness!!! Stop worrying about 'good' and 'evil' and just focus on getting what you want, by any means necessary!!!"

Or as it's known to its close friends and associates:

Bow Before Your Robot Master, Fleshlings: Become My Army of Undead Slaves and Together We Will Conquer the Universe!!!!!

[Please wait for your host to ping in with his presentation!]

Starscream stood imperially at the front of the room, surveying his minions as they arrived. "Greetings, Earthling ghosts! I am Starscream, your new leader!!! In life, you were inferior, disgusting creatures, but you have surpassed those limitations! By being here today, you have proven you have the strength of spirit, the dedication, the ambition, the power to be worthy of a place in my army of the undead!!! Yes, that's right -- forget all of this 'moving on' crap!!! Follow me, and I will not only restore you to life, I will make you immortal, and nigh unto gods!!!"

He spread his arms wide, expecting a standing ovation. When it didn't come, he sniffed arrogantly and sighed. "Moving on! Now, you might ask, 'but Starscream, how is this possible?' And to that, I say, DO NOT QUESTION YOUR LEADER!!! But, because it amuses me to do so, I will tell you!" A door in his chest opened up, and a light shone out, creating a hologram of what looked for all the world like a ray gun attached by a long cord to a glass shower stall. "BEHOLD!!! This device, of my own invention, will transfer psychic energy from one spirit to another! With enough energy, I will be able to manifest myself on the physical plane!!!"

There was another pause for a standing ovation written into his notes. Starscream glanced at the crowd, shrugged, and moved on. "Now, some of you will have to sacrifice yourself for the cause, but you can move on to wherever ghosts go when they die secure in the knowledge that you have helped superior beings achieve greatness!!! By my calculations, the energy from only ten to twenty of you will allow me to become corporeal for long enough to complete... PHASE TWO!!!"

The hologram changed to show Phase Two: A giant ray gun on the surface of the moon. "This is a larger version of the same device! Now, there are over eight billion of you vermin crawling on the face of this disgusting rock, not to mention the countless lesser creatures! Clearly, not all of them are strong enough to leave behind ghosts when they die, but by destroying the Earth we can harvest them all at the moment of death!!! With the power of those billions of sparks surging through us, we will be UNSTOPPABLE!!!! No planet will stand in our way!!! And we will CONQUER THE UNIVERSE!!!"

This time, he waited longer, hoping for at least some applause.

"...Any questions?"

Or as he's known to his close friends and associates, Hrothbert of Bainbridge, which is also too long to fit in the subject line.

[Please wait for your host to ping in with his presentation!]

Bob stood at the front of the room, hands clasped behind him, posture perfect, in his best lecturing pose. "Good afternoon. While some of you may be a bit more free, for many of us our condition involves being tied to a particular object or place. This inevitably means that we'll have to deal with those of the living that may also be there. Particularly if you're restricted to a house or other living space, this may mean actually living with them."

He paused for a long-suffering sigh. "A good many of the living seem to believe they are automatically in charge, simply by virtue of being living. Others may simply have...regrettable habits. And we, of course, are often limited in our abilities to protest." He straightened his vest. "So. Whether it means coming to some sort of compromise, doing a few nice things to get them in a more receptive mood, or deliberately distracting them so as to make them misplace things, what are some of the methods you can use to make living with the living more bearable?"

He smiled. "Personally, I'm rather fond of hovering about when he's got a date over. Any other suggestions?"

Not that Samara really had to spend much time directly interacting with the living inside her well, but... "Make them dead."

Duh.

Bob nodded thoughtfully. "That would definitely put things on a more even footing. I take it you can interact with the physical world, then?" He was a bit jealous about that, really. "And that you don't care much for the living where you are?"

It was a long sentence for her, but... "I don't care much for the living."

"Oh, dear. And you have to live with them?" Bob grimaced. "My sympathies. Is there any way you could make your abode less attractive to them? Scare them away before they settle in, that sort of thing?"

Honestly, if everyone that went there ended up dead, you might think that would be enough, but...ah, the living.

Why, why, why did everybody around here think so small?

"Yes. Make them all dead."

All the living. Everywhere.

Bob blinked. "Well, that is ambitious. Not terribly practical, though, I'm afraid, for the topic of this panel. Do you have the means to kill them all at once?"

Samara shook her head a bit sadly. Sorry, anybody in the splash zone of her sodden hair.

"Someday." Like maybe when she realized VHS was not actually the wave of the future anymore, and got herself a YouTube account.

Bob gave her a sympathetic head shake. "So if you kill only some of them, you're stuck with the rest. And they tend to get angry about death; the living are funny that way. You should have some way of dealing with them until you can kill them all, shouldn't you?"

Meeeeh. Not that Samara bothered to vocalise that. She just gave an infinitesimal shrug. "I give them bad dreams."

Bob nodded, considering. "That's very useful. Scary and loses them sleep at the same time. I like it."

It's still not like ghosts need stairs, so the entire stairwell is still filled with balls. All four floors.

That's right. It's balls all the way down.

Tate dove into the balls head-first and came out grinning.

Hey, he'd died at 17. He still had the right to act like a kid once in a while.

One last open get-together (with one last open bar) before the convention is over. A low-key cocktail party, cocktail dress not remotely required. Say goodbye, get your final networking in, wonder exactly what's stopping you from hanging around forever...

Tate got a beer -- thank fuck, the bartender didn't seem remotely interested in carding -- and leaned against the wall as he watched the party.

He liked this place. Nice views, comfy house, people to talk to other than the damned of the Murder House. Idly, he wondered whether he really had to go home.

Qui-Gon was going to enjoy another drink before he headed back home and to bother Obi-Wan on Tatooine. Just thinking about that planet made him thirsty.

Bob was enjoying this last opportunity to meet and mingle. Really, he was! If he looked a bit hangdog, it was just at the thought of it all coming to an end. He'd actually gotten to interact with things for a bit, even if they were ghostly things, and losing even that was going to hurt so much.

Your private rooms, for any private stuff you might like to be privately doing.

Other areas of the house, like the attic, porch, roof-when-there's-no-dance-going-on, and so on, can also go here.

[Much like we do on vacation trips, any coughahemREALLYprivate stuff should go in a personal journal, though you can link it here with appropriate warnings! Ghosts who are staying for the BDE will need to find other places in Fandom to hide/haunt come Wednesday, as the local ghosts would not take well to evil shenanigans going on in their house.]

Ping down here if there's any trouble! Otherwise, get your con on!

Ghost-Con Day 2: Tuesday, December 2nd (Haunted House, Ingvar Islet)

Registration and Mingling - 1st Floor Parlor

Re: Registration and Mingling - 1st Floor Parlor

Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: 1st Floor, Room 4

Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Open Table

Re: Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Open Table

Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Milton Dammers

Re: Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Milton Dammers

Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Monstro Town Booth

Re: Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Monstro Town Booth

Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Judgement Bureau and Summons Department

Re: Dealers' Room / Exhibit Hall: Judgement Bureau and Summons Department

The Bar: 1st Floor, Room 5

Video Screening Room: 1st Floor, Room 9

The Spirit and Mrs. Tree

Ghostly Karaoke With the Graveyard Band: 1st Floor, Room 10

Con Suite: 2nd Floor, Room 13

Tuesday Panels and Workshops - 2nd Floor Parlor

Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Re: Tuesday Panel 1: Getting Over Being Evil -- Tate Langdon

Tuesday Panel 2: This Panel Title Is Too Fracking Long To Fit In The Subject Line -- Starscream

Re: Tuesday Panel 2: This Panel Title Is Too Fracking Long To Fit In The Subject Line -- Starscream

Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

Re: Tuesday Panel 3: Living with the Living: Coping, Compromising, and Petty Revenge -- Bob

The Ball Pit - Stairwell

Re: The Ball Pit - Stairwell

Dead Can Leave Party! 1st Floor Parlor, Tuesday 4 to Dusk

Re: Dead Can Leave Party! 1st Floor Parlor, Tuesday 4 to Dusk

Re: Dead Can Leave Party! 1st Floor Parlor, Tuesday 4 to Dusk

Re: Dead Can Leave Party! 1st Floor Parlor, Tuesday 4 to Dusk

Guest Rooms and Other Areas

OOC [Ghost-Con Day 2]