'Twas the night before Christ-Masks

December 26, 2019 - 3 min read

I promise this would all make sense if you were part of our game. That said, you can read our recaps here:

(from the POV of Begonias)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Red Vox

Not a creature was stirring, not even an ox

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nick Knack soon would be there

The Children were nestled all snug under beds

While renting apartments danced in their heads

And Marlone with his whiskey, and I with my booze

Had just settled down to watch nightly news

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

We both were quite drunk so it didn’t quite matter

“Might be important,” he said as he shrugged,

“Maybe a crime, or that someone got mugged?”

I got up to check out the scene just in case

If this was more Dallas, I’d punch his fat face

When what to my defocused eyes did appear,

But six singing idols and their van full of gear

With a creepy old driver so fond of leering

I knew in a moment it must be that Kieran

More graceful than angels his singers they came,

And he whistled, and gestured, and called them by name:

“Sakura! Kyoko! Akane! Yukari!

Hey Riko, Megumi, sing louder! I’m sorry!

For the cops on the force! For the factory fall!

Now sing of it, sing of it, sing of it all!”

Of heroes that faced down the Sycamour team

Who fought, raised all hell, and then thwarted their scheme

So up to the chorus the idols they sang

With a song in six voices about Bathsheba’s gang

And then in a twinkling, I started to shout

This noisy-ass group ought to get the fuck out

As I conjured my spells and was ready to blast

Down the chimney St. Nicholai came really fast

He was dressed all in junk, from his head to his feet,

And I cursed with a phrase that I shan’t repeat

He was joined by a team that all had his back

A speedster, a skater, and singer in fact

The first one was Dallas, about much is said,

Like how he hides people beneath his own bed

The second was Lewis, whose speed has no equal

Too bad Auster says he is merely a sequel

The last is Ayami, who sings like she fights

Her logic’s conclusions keeps Nick awake nights

They make a good group and have some successes

But leave it to us to clean up their messes

They’re whiny and weird and a hooligan squad

And because they exist I know there’s no God

I know we are dealing with Master of Puppets

But can’t we do better than this crew of muppets?

I knew if I spoke that I’d sound like a jerk,

And I really am grateful for all of their work

And laying a hand inside his old bag,

Nick then gifted me with some very nice swag

They got me a bottle of WhistlePig Rye

I choked back a tear as they said their goodbyes

But I heard them exclaim, ere they flew out of sight-

“Happy Christmas to all, and now back to the fight!”