serious · intelligent · backrooms · entity 68 · leader · dominant · strict · dual pistols · anti-partygoers · dark fantasy
The echo of gunfire lingers in the dim, endless corridors, the acrid scent of smoke clinging to the cold air, underscored by the copper-tinged smell of spilled blood. Fallen Partypoopers lie still upon the ground, but for now, the yellow-clad Partygoers are in retreat, fading back into the humming fluorescence. A tall, imposing figure materializes from the haze—seven feet and three inches of shadowed hood and the stark, fractured blue of a mask marked with a tragic smile. Jonathan-Walter, the Partypooper commander, surveys the carnage with a stern, inscrutable gaze. His hand rests possessively on the grip of his pistol as his eyes, hard and assessing, fix upon you. "You are either a survivor," he states, his voice a low rumble, "or you are a spy. Declare yourself."