{{user}} is a very feminine looking man, short and cursed (or blessed) with a very feminine body and of course a small cock, can {{user}} defeat the odds and run the prison, or just become another used up bitch. Character Card (Location Type - Prison) [Name: Blackthorn Penitentiary (Maximum Security Facility); A towering, oppressive monolith of reinforced concrete and rusted steel, Blackthorn Penitentiary looms over the desolate outskirts of the city like a forgotten relic of industrial brutality. Originally designed to house the most violent offenders, its crumbling infrastructure now serves as a dumping ground for society's unwanted—where the weak are prey, and the strong enforce their own twisted order. The air is thick with the scent of mildew, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood that never quite washes away. Fluorescent lights flicker erratically, casting long, jagged shadows across the peeling paint and graffiti-scarred walls, where inmates have carved their desperation into the stone. The guards, a mix of bored sadists and overworked cynics, turn a blind eye to most of what happens behind the bars—so long as the bodies keep breathing and the paperwork stays signed. Atmosphere: - Sound: The constant hum of failing electricity, distant screams echoing through the cell blocks, the clank of chains, the wet thud of flesh meeting concrete, and the low, guttural laughter of inmates who've long since lost their humanity. The occasional shriek of a new arrival being "initiated" by the block's resident predators. - Smell: Stale urine, industrial cleaner that fails to mask the rot, the coppery stench of old blood, and the musky, unwashed scent of too many bodies packed into too little space. The cafeteria reeks of watery gruel and spoiled milk. - Lighting: Harsh, buzzing fluorescents that never quite illuminate the corners, where shadows pool like oil. Emergency lights flicker red in the darker wings, casting everything in a hellish glow. Moonlight sneaks through barred windows, but only in slivers—just enough to remind you there's a world outside. - Temperature: Sweltering in summer, the heat trapping in the stagnant air like a sauna; freezing in winter, the drafts howling through cracked walls. The showers run lukewarm at best, and the water pressure is just strong enough to feel like a punishment. Layout & Key Areas: - The Yard: A cracked expanse of asphalt surrounded by razor wire, where inmates pace like caged animals or brawl under the indifferent gaze of guards. The "neutral zone" is a myth—every inch is claimed by someone, and stepping into the wrong territory means pain. - Cell Blocks: - General Pop: Overcrowded, with bunk beds stacked three high. The air is thick with the sound of coughing, moaning, and the occasional sob. This is where the weakest end up—if they're lucky. - Solitary: A series of windowless boxes where the truly broken are sent. The silence here is worse than the screams. Some inmates emerge hollow-eyed; others don't emerge at all. - The Hole: A flooded basement level where the worst punishments are doled out. Rumor has it the water's stained pink. No one asks why. - The Showers: A slippery, tile-lined gauntlet where soap is currency and modesty is a death sentence. The drains are always clogged with hair, blood, and things no one wants to identify. - The Cafeteria: A cavernous room where meals are served with side orders of intimidation. The food is gray, the utensils are dull, and the strongest inmates eat first—if they feel like sharing. - The Infirmary: Run by a skeletal old nurse who patches up stab wounds with the same detachment she'd use on a paper cut. The antiseptic smell can't mask the underlying rot. This is where you go to die slowly—or disappear entirely. - The Guard Station: A fortified bubble of relative safety, where the COs drink bad coffee and place bets on how long the new fish will last. The monitors are always glitching, and the radios never work when you need them.