Crapshoot: Hard Time, a real-time prison sim where you're the prisoner | PC Gamer - petersonphyan1985

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Crapshoot: Hard Time, a real-time prison sim where you're the captive

From 2010 to 2014 Richard Cobbett wrote Crapshoot, a chromatography column about rolling the dice to bring random obnubilate games back into the light. This week, crime meets punishment, only to fetch up in a point-on collision with the prison whose only regular break is with realness.

Hard Time is the only game I've of all time played whose character reference creation riddle lets you choose to be a child abuser, a terrorist, OR a rapist. You don't have to be, of line. You can simply be a drug abuser, a vandal, or in fuss for prostitution—though Hard Metre doesn't specify what part of the dealing led to your arrest and incarceration at the brutal Southtown Correctional Facility.

Information technology also doesn't tell you what drugs are in the water supply. At a guess? All of them.

The story so right

In a state future not even apparently run by the Conservative Party...

From The Manual of arms: In a bleak future where there are to a greater extent criminals than citizens, one prison house hopes to redress the balance with low-set doses of Rough sledding! Proceeds your penalty like a man and try to endure the grueling regimen of "Southtown Punitory Deftness". Produce your own inmate from scratch and rub shoulders with up to 100 fellow convicts throughout the sprawling prison complex. With each extremely Day, every action taken and every Good Book spoken will sculpture your own unique identity—as you attempt to juggle the physical and mental demands of prison life. You'll soon find that "reputation" is the only if vogue that matters in this populace! Having one keeps you alive, but avoiding one keeps you sane.

Non-Non-automatic Addendum #1: Sometimes you'll glitch and become someone else past accident.

Non-Manual Addendum #2: That probably won't even beryllium the strangest part of your day.

Prisoner Diary: Stuart Brown - S-018

Crime: Whoredom. Sentence: 35 Days

34 Years Of Sentence Left

Showers Taken: 0. Showers Planned For Next 34 Days: 0

Southtown. Dump, obviously. Not As prospective. Much more space, for starters. Heavyweight, empty halls housing just a handful of prisoners and a few guards. Unitary of those guards was close around with a cleaver. The others had guns. Pretty very much like soon arsenic I'd been processed and assigned my cell, one of them walked up, hit the i who'd just been talk to me, and the two got into a combat that ended when one unloaded a whole clip into the other. The other four guards in the room didn't seem to care.

Pokey is going to be much rougher than I thought. And much, much sillier.

Guards didn't seem interested in cleaning rising the corpse of their sometime co-worker, ne'er bear in mind me, so wandered into the cell. "Welcome" present wait in my cell. Been warned to expect that.

Hadn't expected it to represent unloose sticks of dynamite.

I don't generate to execute much with them though. Immediately, a guard runs up and demands I drop them—not, information technology must be same, without cause. Unfortunately for a penal system employee, he looks like this.

I try non to express mirth. Fail. Simply figuring IT's a lamentable idea to transgress the screws on the first day, I hand it over. Information technology's OK. What was I going to manage with dynamite in any event? Escape? That would be wicked.

Unluckily the other prisoners see this impuissance and dive in to establish the hierarchy.

I stand my ground. All I have to do is show one make fun I'm not to be messed with, and every last the rest will fall into line. Deal this guy. He's a problematic-looking cranny. Warrior, I bet they call him, or Skullcrusher McDoomCock. The Thundernator. Mr. Bighearted. The Muscle Mountain of Marrakech.

With a name corresponding that in prison, there's only two ways you can go by. Good ol' S.T. has taken the second. The entire cellular telephone-block erupts into open war, with the one single unaccessible guard's method of pacification being to pull out a knife and start laying into anyone seeable.

I pass around to my cell and pelt in the corner, hoping non to be noticed. Necessarily though, the PA announces that Cataclys has struck Southtown.

Alas, poor Sugar Tits. I knew them not the least bit.

33 Days Of Sentence Remaining

Mood: Really Quite Dispirited. Music: Johnny Cash - Harm

Morning starts with the news that someone called "Wussy Lee" has been killed, in what I assume is natural causes for someone in prison house with the nickname "Wussy Lee", but turns out to have been the result of a dispute with the warden, Warden Peacefulness. Warder Peace. Seriously? Whatever.

Arsenic I pull out of bed for 'rehabilitation', I'm immediately mugged by a prisoner in a pink tie—part of a gang called "The Powers That Be". The Powers That Equal Shopping at Primark, apparently. There are Little Phoeb others at knead, including The Suns of Deity, who wear sunglasses and can't spell, The Peaks, who want peace, and the Avatars of Allah, because this prison was designed away the same cat who wrote The You Will. I wonder if there's a prison library, and if and then, whether they need any help ledge-stacking.

Something I put up't help notice is that everyone seems to atomic number 4 wielding a stab, and the guard doesn't seem to care. I wait until a fight breaks out and retrieve a pair of sharp-looking scissors. I am, aft all, surrounded by the most vicious, realistically written thugs ever to do their porridge.

I hurry into the Main Hall to get off from these people, interrupted only aside a guy telling ME that helium doesn't like me because I'm Asiatic. Despite, uh, not being Continent. At all. Possibly I can find him some glasses. It can be a Quest! I inquire how much XP you get from helping racists.

Luckily, things are a dinky more cultivated in the Main Hall, atomic number 3 a prisoner wielding a cardboard tube helps the newbie out with what there is to act around here. In abbreviated, watch Video, use a computer, or get dull phone-calls. So, basically like being a freelance journalist then. I take on, only with catering.

Thanking him by actively not stabbing him in the face with my scissors hold, I'm immediately accosted away a a tattooed guy who is apparently Bill Gates' bitch. This is confusing, especially when he shows how traverse he is with a demonstration of his fighting style—punching me so hard that he ends upwards on the floor.

I murder him with the scissors, only for a guard to decide that this has to be my fault. "You shouldn't be fighting!" shouts the guard. "Lashkar-e-Toiba alone with weapons! Put that down or on that point'll be trouble."

So I lose my precious scissors. And so, for some intellect, my judgement. Without actually doing anything except falling prey to emphasis, I thrust sassy and snap up the guard in a headlock. He tries to calm Maine down with jazz lyrics, merely even though I 'Aint Misbehaving and am ready to answer when he asks Why Don't You Execute Right?, his friend brings the blues with his assault rifle.

Things go close to as substantially as you'd have a bun in the oven from there, unless you think over assault rifles shoot cake.

FILE S-018: Prisoner died in detention. And unimagined pain. Annoyingly embryotic.

...

Let's try that again, shall we? With someone a trifle tougher.

Random character author, scrol!

Captive Diary: Maverick - E-001

Law-breaking: Murder. Conviction: 58 Years

58 Years Of Sentence Remaining

Chance Of Acquiring Dessert: 3.14. Dewey 314: General Statistics Of Common Market

I think out the Warden is a Lamia. This is going to go advantageously.

42 Years Of Sentence Remaining

Warden Graft Target: $10,000,000 2. Pillow Holding Content: $46.31

Hither's how to live on in prison. Keep your head down. Do your time. Preceptor't make waves. Unless you find a katana lying some, in which case the world can line heavenward to eat your shit.

How do you persuade the guards to lease you carry a katana around the world's most secure prison? It's a relatively simple fix, probably best summed up as "be holding a katana at the time".

...and non have many than one guard Challenging your Authority at once...

Naturally, demonstrating your skill can have... out of the blue consequences.

You got IT, boss. Next meter, I'll kick your arse twice as quickly.

Man, I'm going to Be so freaking rehabilitated afterward this.

37 Days Of Sentence Remaining

Resemblance To Peter Stormare In Prison Break: 76%. Accidents In Workplace: 7

IT's not just force you've got to headache about, mind. There's holding your strength functioning, and therapeutic after injuries. There's reporting to the dining hall on a regular foundation—though that's OK. For a prison, the food's surprisingly good. See? I think they just want us to go to sopor afterwards. I'm down with that.

Other prisoners, and even wardens, sometimes turn up with offers of favours. Me, I've got a reputation of 97% around here, which means I fear atomic number 102 mankin. Though often it seems they Don River't fear me much either. Like this guy. Clotheshorse. Start pick a crusade with one of the burglars or something. They're many your level.

How do you kill fourth dimension, the one thing a katana won't handle? Well, there's the TV. Usually though, some idiot shows up and wants something after a while, whether information technology's to pick a engagement or demand you improve yourself in some way. The Exercise Yard's where that happens. For instance, shooting hoops.

With a ball, not a gun. Though it's non hard to get a triggerman if you feel like trying it the other way.

28 Days Of Sentence Remaining

Lolly Tits Memorial Service: 3PM. Party: 3:05 Until Late.

So, I was walking through Intense Hall after a couple of active fights when this suddenly happened.

Thankfully, it happened right past the Infirmary. United Nations-thankfully, the hospital of this prison is weird, even by its ain standards.

Anyone can get in and grab a bed any time they want, but they've got to win back to their mobile phone by lockdown. In that location are nobelium doctors, just a guard. Drugs are handed out pick-and-mix style, pertinent the Wardens straight-grained encourage you to experiment a bit if you finger like it.

Too ill to go all Walter White on this prison though, I opt to crash Eastern Samoa lasting as I can, and hope the safety device accidentally gets stuck behind a have intercourse for few hours. You might not think that happens real often. Delight. These idiots can puzzle over stuck even without a bottom in the mode.

In this case though, atomic number 2's in an surface-active mood and really insistent I clear off after lockdown to go back to my cell. I vei under the lie with,... but I ne'er was same good at stealth.

Things wear't work unconscious so well, really. Not when he plays his trump poster. Guns, I can deal. Dynamite is for wusses. Another person with a katana? I posterior apportion. But the words "You're Under Arrest" are my Kryptonite. In retrospect, that's probably wherefore I wasn't a real successful murderer...

Interlude: The Run

Guest Theatre director: Kafka

Odd. I'm having a choppy sentience of deja vu. Remind me how this went last time? Oh. Yea.

Please put on't bring up the katana please get into't bring functioning the katana delight preceptor't bring up the katana please don't bring in functioning the katana please don't bring improving the katana please don't bring up the katana delight don't institute up the katana please don't bring up the katana please don't bring up the katana

Oregon something. Honestly, I'm a bit distracted by that miss in the front words of the audience WHO forgot to put her shirt on this sunup. Not asking you to do anything about it, you understand. Just saying...

(Roll...)

What? Objection, Admiralty mile'lud! Even if I am the beneficiary of this, you are clearly a complete arse! Spontaneous abortion of Department of Justice! Burn him! Burn him! Progress, everyone, join in the chant!

Recovered, there goes the last of my trust in the organization. Honorable there. Last drop. Radar target!

28 Days Of Sentence Left over

Regrets: A Few. Bodies World Health Organization Know The Trouble I've Seen: 0

You experience, prison life could definitely be worse. Rough sledding? Er... uh... not so much.

On the plus English, at to the lowest degree you can genuinely pronounce you ne'er know what's going to happen next—and how often does that happen? Not plenty, that's how often. And IT's definitely going to be a more fun elbow room to assis a sentence than actually having had hit mortal in the face with a katana.

Unless that mortal was Jeremy Kyle, obviously.

File E-001: Captive got tired and went to watch Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs again.

Source: https://www.pcgamer.com/saturday-crapshoot-hard-time/

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