Anybody else leave Gotham because of that Bat dressed guy? He was a pretty big help to me, but would treat it like it was my fault for trying to cure the deaf population. Sure I might’ve had some “mishaps” but it’s not that big a deal, right?… So who else came here?
The Batman
Started by Kirk_Langstrom [3666063] on in Roleplay.
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ngl I left because he comes to my usual starbucks spot every sunday at 8am, really ticks me off how he goes there out of all places in specific, everyone's too intimidated to say a peep
Had enough of Gotham. Batman took my towel thinking it was some high-tech cape. I was like... wtf dude ......
Yeah, no shit I mistakenly took that and threw back in your apartment after realising it ain't a cape..
It was thanks to that bat-prick not wrapping up while he pounded me and The Penguin that we ended up with 4 years of a world-wide lockdown.
Never let a bat rawdog you, no matter how much he promises to let you play with his batarang after, take that as a life lesson.
Batman was crossing the street eith his bat boxers i pick pockrt him and found joker's nudes now i am disturbed
🕯️ Bobby Davito // torn.local.113 // [CONFIDENTIAL MEMORY EXTRACT] 🕯️
Subject: I wasn’t solving riddles—I was the riddle.
Everyone thinks I came to Torn because of the candles. Because of the market. Because of faction drama or some glory-chasing dev grudge. That’s all smoke.
Truth is—I was hacked.
Years ago.
Back when I was still modding builds in the open. Tinkering with abandoned servers. Old puzzle-game alphas. This one client caught my eye—designed to look like it was Riddler-coded. Green glyphs, recursive AI chatter, puzzle locks nested in browser shells.
I thought it was defunct.
I cracked it for fun.
That was my mistake.
It wasn’t a puzzle.
It was a trap.
At 2:44 AM, my terminal blinked.
Desktop wiped. Audio port squealed.
Then it typed:
“YOU THINK YOU’RE PLAYING. YOU’RE PATCHED.”
My cam light turned on.
I didn’t even own a cam.
Whoever it was—whatever it was—had full shell access before I even saw the prompt. They mimicked my IP, posted through my accounts. Pushed commits under my handle. Left breadcrumbs I couldn’t trace backwards.
I went dark. Changed every key.
Still didn’t feel safe.
So I burned it all and ran to Torn.
Torn has walls. Noise.
Places to disappear inside of.
No one questions a ghost with a player tag.
No one audits candle sales.
No one notices when your permissions don’t match your origin.
But lately…
The exorcism logs look familiar.
Some of the candle manifest symbols echo that green glyph style.
And worse—Warehouse Fire #6? Same timestamp as my last breach ping.
So yeah.
I didn’t solve a riddle.
I became one.
And now they’re burning the answers.
🕯️ Torn isn’t the hiding place I thought it was.
Maybe it never was. 🕯️
- BD//exit_sig_broken
Find room 607