You bend down to inspect a bubble gum wrapper on the floor. There’s a little crudely drawn comic strip on it… Morke: Hey, Tiki Joe! Where’d you get your shirt? Tiki Joe: Hawaii. Morke: “How I eat?” That doesn’t answer my question. Tiki Joe: I said “Hawaii” and you know it, you disingenuous piece of […]
You bend down to examine the pool of mixed drink. Or what you assume is a mixed drink as you dip a finger in and taste it. Super hygienic! You detect notes of rum, passion fruit, and floor dirt.
You bend down to look at the pool of blood on the floor. This would be a cool clue if you were a forensics expert with a crime lab! To you, it just looks, y’know, blood-like.
You get closer to the tiki mask on the wall. Suddenly, its eyes light up red and it talks! “I KNOW WHO DID IT!” bellows the tiki. “You know who the killer is?” you ask, sheepishly. “I know who drank the last Mai Tai,” the tiki clarifies. “But I’ll never tell. Ah ha ha!” You […]
You find the stack of divorce papers gathering dust behind a tiny skull wearing an even tinier fez. Tiki Steve’s wife Karen signed her name, and added a “SUCK IT” for emphasis. Tiki Steve signed his name as “Tiki Steve.” Is that his legal name?
This painting of a native Polynesian woman topless is making you very uncomfortable! Why? Because you noticed one of her eyeballs is actually a security camera. There were definitely other reasons, but that one was the most mystery-relevant. “Hey, can I look at the footage from this obvious security camera?” you ask Tiki Steve. “Knock […]
In the back closet, you find a black and white security monitor and a VCR. You press rewind, then play to watch the evening’s activities. It’s not a great angle, and there’s tracking on the tape, but you can see a few interesting things: Tiki Steve getting a secret ingredient hidden behind a bag of […]
You take a closer look at the porcelain hula girl statue. It’s on a shelf and stands about one foot tall. She’s wearing a lei and there’s a flower in her hair. Classic hula girl stuff. You get it.
You inspect the bamboo handle. It’s not real bamboo. It’s plastic. This is sure to be important later.
You heroically point at Lord Cramulock™ with your DinoSword™. It shimmers and sparkles, reflecting the practical fluorescent lighting of the DinoCaveLair™. “How about a little taste… of Dino-Might™?” you shout rhetorically. The other DinoSwords™ cheer, then cough up blood, as you stand strong. “You call yourselves the DinoSwords™, but your weapons are also called DinoSwords™? […]
