As a kid I yearned for people to talk to me. Every night I wished for a friend who would just talk, listen to how my day went. I was that weird kid in school. Had big hopes about growing up. Thought things would change, I would grow into a normal man who would have company. A man who would not spend nights sobbing into his pillow and seek answers that were never coming.
Now things are better. Wouldn’t call it normal, but at least they talk. And they talk a lot. I mean I didn’t change much, just crafted this wooden table. When they wake up from anesthesia I just tell them that their hands are tied because that’s how the rules of this game are. You can’t really blame me, I didn’t get my fair share of games as a kid, Did I?
Now they have to keep talking, like anything and everything they can to talk about. Usually they try to convince me how we should stop this game and how they are gonna die. It’s lovely having some chattering company I swear. I never interrupt them, see I am very serious about the rules. If I say a thing they would stop talking. So I let them speak for hours and hours. Until their voice is gone or they stop for a pause hoping that I would be lenient with the rules. But they always end the game with a loud shriek, every one of them. Sorry, Did I tell you the guillotine drops when it can’t detect speech?