TEXT: Night Floors
  ©2008  Dennis Detwiller
  (With help from Robert Parker)
  “Night Floors” is a Delta Green scenario set in Manhattan, New York. The investigators 
  play Delta Green agents and/or friendlies brought in to catalogue the articles of a missing 
  painter. The bizarre tapestry of items in her apartment hints at something more than the 
  everyday; for those few who can solve the mystery the rewards are reaped . . . elsewhere.
  Background
  Abigail Laura Wright is missing. A successful commercial illustrator and artist, Abigail 
  was last seen four days before she was reported missing by her father, Thomas Wright. 
  Thomas Wright is a Nassau County police officer and he has pulled some strings to get the 
  NYPD more involved than is usually the case.
  Abigail had been living in Manhattan for more than seven years and has only been 
  to the police once, to report a mugging in 1994 (still unsolved). Besides this, she has a 
  distinguished academic record and an impressive list of credentials and former clients. Late 
  last year, her first show was held on Franklin Street downtown at The Mercury, a small but 
  trendy art gallery. She managed to sell fifteen pieces, and with this money took a half-year 
  off to paint.
  Six months later she disappeared. Her father tried reaching her for four days before 
  calling a friend at the NYPD on June 4th. When the police opened her studio on 32nd 
  Street East they found a baffling tableaux. What once was a modest apartment had become 
  an obsessive-compulsive’s dream. Every available surface was covered in junk, glued or 
  taped to the walls. Only the floor remained clear, the rug yanked up to reveal a battered 
  linoleum surface. Among the junk were sets of dentures, partial dentures, a 1940s 
  wheelchair, some modern and antique artificial limbs, dozens of shirts, shoes and 
  briefcases, assorted radios spanning several decades (some operational), all manner of 
  jewelry, earrings, rings, and necklaces, and thousands of papers of all designs and ages, 
  some in Spanish, Mandarin, and even a college economics report in Farsi. Almost all these 
  items were glued to the wall with a fast-setting, cheap, full-bond epoxy. Prior to this, 
  Abigail had been a fastidious young woman not given to accumulating odds and ends. 
  There were no signs of a struggle or any other sort of violence, and the neighbors could 
  offer no useful testimony.
  On August 4th, Abigail’s credit card was used in Patience, Maryland to purchase a 
  pack of Old Gold cigarettes, and the case was given to the New York FBI as a possible 
  interstate kidnapping. The FBI re-examined the tenants of the building and Abigail’s 
  associates and friends, and soon come to the same dead end which stopped the NYPD. The 
  employees at the gas station where Abigail’s credit card was used had no particular 
  recollection of the transaction and did not recognize Abigail from photographs; the 
  
  recollection of the transaction and did not recognize Abigail from photographs; the 
  signature on the receipt was her name, but not her handwriting. The gas station had no 
  surveillance cameras.
  Among the debris found in Abigail’s apartment was a piece of paper with a Yellow 
  Sign hastily scrawled on it in blue ballpoint pen. The occult symbol caught the attention of a 
  Delta Green friendly at the FBI, Sandra Levinson, who reported it to her DG contact.
  The investigators have now been shuffled into the case. They are to examine 
  Abigail’s disappearance, with an eye towards any possible occult connections.
  The Secret
  Abigail Wright and the people of the apartment building have come under the influence of 
  the King in Yellow (see “The Hastur Mythos,” Delta Green: Countdown p. 198). Abigail 
  came upon a copy of the play The King in Yellow in a bookstore on 5th Avenue five 
  months before her disappearance. Being on friendly terms with the other artists in her rent-
  controlled building, she offered to lend it out. Each read it in turn, egged on by the others.
  Soon the apartments began to change. Odd visitors turned up often, entering or 
  exiting broom closets with no explanation. Strange voices could be heard in empty rooms 
  having heated conversations in an unknown language. Some anonymous writer took to 
  leaving typewritten sections of a new play under each tenant’s door, a play about the 
  tenants themselves and their mounting encounters with the strange, sometimes bizarre 
  visitors to their building.
  The other tenants went along with the oddities, relishing the unusual quality of their 
  lives as inspiration for their arts. Soon the changes seemed almost comforting. They found 
  their new world much more beautiful and baroque than any they had known before. The 
  building changed, and the tenants changed with it.
  Abigail was different. She took the changes like punches, reeling into a stupor from 
  which she did not recover. Her art descended into madness, and with madness, 
  enlightenment. Abigail, alone of all the tenants, had the insight necessary to use the change. 
  She went to the basement and from there, other places. She set up her shrine as a last 
  message to those in the building, utilizing every bit of rubbish she could find in the 
  basement and the mysterious Night Floors that appeared in the building each evening. Her 
  room now affects the mind, and those who view it for an extended period of time become 
  open to the advances of the King in Yellow.
  Abigail’s credit card was found by a homeless woman in a garbage pile outside the 
  building. From there, the card was sold for drugs and found its way to Maryland; it has no 
  connection to the case.
  Abigail is lost in the building, and will remain there forever. If the investigators 
  aren’t careful, they will join her.
  Getting Started
  The New York FBI office is pursuing the Abigail Wright case diligently, thanks to her 
  
  father’s law-enforcement connections, but it is not a high-priority case. The investigators 
  are initially assigned to Abigail’s apartment, to thoroughly document through photographs, 
  writing, and other methods the bizarre and exotic contents of the alleged crime scene. The 
  FBI wants chemical analysis of any odd substances recovered, serial numbers found on 
  manufactured items and their ownership tracked down, and every piece of paper accounted 
  for and sent for translation if needed. Their hope is that some piece of evidence in the 
  apartment will lead to Abigail. If the agents work twelve-hour days, it will still take more 
  than ten days to catalog and document all the junk gathered in the apartment.
  Agent Marcus
  Marcus is the leader of Cell M, and serves as Sandra Levinson’s point of contact with the 
  conspiracy. He’s one of the new bred of Delta Green, a whole-hearted zealot for the 
  changes in policy since Fairfield died in 1994. This is mostly due to the fact that he lost 
  four people to a machete-wielding madman on the second mission he led, and evidence 
  pointed to another conspiracy, something called Project CATALYST, as the cause of the 
  disaster. (Marcus also serves as the investigators’ contact in the scenario “A Victim of the 
  Art.” The following information is repeated in that scenario.)
  Although Marcus is Carson’s contact he cannot get away from his day job for this 
  assignment. After consulting with Cell A he decided to bring in another cell altogether to 
  handle this op – the investigators, whom he contacts however the Keeper wishes.
  Marcus’s real name is Dr. Marvin Bloom, a bitter young man in his thirties who 
  chain-smokes Kool cigarettes and often laughs at inappropriate situations. He is a forensic 
  expert in the employ of the FBI office in New York. His specialty is the collection and 
  typing of bodily fluids.
  Since his induction into Delta Green in 1990 Marcus has been involved in fourteen 
  separate operations in the New York area. He first encountered Delta Green during a series 
  of bizarre murders in the Bronx in which the victims’ bodies would disappear from the 
  morgues they were stored in, never to be seen again, and the next murder victim in the 
  series would be covered in the prints of the most recently vanished corpse. This chain 
  continued until Marcus and a medical examiner sat up inside the morgue with one of the 
  bodies. He saw more than enough that evening to be inducted immediately into Delta 
  Green.
  Marcus will only rarely make a personal appearance to the investigators. If possible 
  all contact will be by encrypted email or phone. If they request a face-to-face meeting he 
  will dictate all of the arrangements. He is very paranoid and fears that a “counter-
  conspiracy” is hunting Delta Green members or is preparing to do so. He often asks 
  questions which seem unrelated to the case – are the investigators being followed, can they 
  account for all their waking hours, that sort of thing.
  If asked, he will usher questions up the chain of command or have simple tasks 
  completed for the investigators (such as retrieving a book from the Library of Congress, 
  having a DMV file checked out, etc.). Being an erratic individual, Marcus will only be 
  available for a given phone call if the investigator with the lowest POW score successfully 
  
  available for a given phone call if the investigator with the lowest POW score successfully 
  makes a Luck roll. He will never reveal his real name, and will insist that the investigators 
  follow this rule as well, so he “won’t know too much.”
  Although Marcus has no real connection to the case other than supervisory his 
  paranoia should be played up to keep the players on their toes. His fears of a counter-
  conspiracy and his nervous manner could both anger and unsettle the investigators, 
  cloaking the entire operation in a sense of insecurity that belies its true simplicity.
  The Macallistar Building
  The Macallistar Building, in which Abigail lived, was built in 1924. It is a classic three-
  story brownstone building with a faux-castle design. A fake portcullis hands above the 
  large double doors, artificial ramparts encircle the windows and ledges, and cheap concrete 
  gargoyles watch from the rooftop.
  A buzzer allows tenants to unlock the front doors through an intercom system. In 
  the foyer is a small marble-floored room where the tenants’ mailboxes are; often old 
  newspapers, sale circulars, and pizza coupons are scattered about here.
  A single hallway runs the length of the building, carpeted in plush burgundy, with 
  two apartments on each side. Two staircases run up and down on either side of the end of 
  the hall. There are a total of twelve apartments in the building (five of them presently 
  occupied), along with four storage rooms in the casement and a boiler room. The 
  apartments are large by New York standards: each has one main room, with a separate 
  kitchenette and bathroom. Each bathroom has an old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub and a 
  hammered-tin ceiling.
  Since the tenants were introduced to The King in Yellow, however, the Macallistar 
  Building is not right. Few subtle changes are noticeable in the daylight, but at night it is a 
  different place altogether. So far, the police and FBI have come and gone during the day, 
  and so have missed the bizarre nature of the place – the face behind the mask.
  At night the building changes. Doorways appear as if by some malignant cancer of 
  reality, windows open on impossible scenes, the exit which once lead to the roof now leads 
  into a near-endless expanse of rooms – the Night Floors. In short, within the walls of the 
  Macallistar Building nothing is impossible anymore, and reality is as unstable as the 
  shifting sands of a windblown desert.
  Along with their build, the seemingly normal tenants undergo a transformation 
  when night falls. Their polite smiles are replaced by malevolent grins, and their honest 
  confusion as to the disappearance of Abigail during the day is replaced by first-hand 
  knowledge of her fate at night.
  The tenants and the building itself have become inextricably linked, each feeding on 
  the other in an ever-quickening loop of fantasy. This loop is so quick now that the tenants 
  themselves don’t sleep, instead leading a twofold existence, feeding the fire that the 
  Macallistar Building has become. When their imaginations finally consume them, the 
  building will forever become a part of Carcosa.
  [[BEGIN SIDEBAR]]
  
  Timeline of Events
  This timeline of events represent all that has occurred in the Macallistar apartments up until 
  the investigators arrive. Facts in italics are not known to the investigators initially, and must 
  be uncovered.
  February 10: Abigail Wright finds a copy of the play The King in Yellow in a bargain 
  basket at a bookstore in lower Manhattan.
  February 21-March 12: The plays makes the rounds of each tenant in the Macallistar 
  Building.
  March 12: All tenants cease leaving the building.
  March 20: A cable-television repairman, David Langford, enters the Macallistar Building 
  to disconnect Roger Carun’s cable at 5:30 P.M. He disappears at sundown. His van is 
  stolen that evening and enters the black market; there is no evidence that he ever reached 
  the Macallistar.
  March 31: Thomas Manuel’s parents, Arthur and Elaine Manuel, are turned away from 
  the Macallistar Building by “A man with a suitcase and a dog. The man said Thomas 
  didn’t live there anymore.”
  April 2: David Langford, the cable installer, is reported missing by his brother. He is 
  thought to have skipped town due to pending lawsuits from two ex-wives.
  April 19: The last phone call from the Macallistar Building to an outside location is made 
  from Roger Carun’s apartment to his editor.
  May 5: After several months of bad dreams, Abigail discovers the Night Floors in the 
  Macallistar Building and comes under the influence of the King in Yellow.
  May 10-28: Abigail creates the shrine in her apartment, using the Night Floors as a place 
  to gather strange and exotic materials.
  May 28: A going-away party is held in the Smoking Lounge on one of the Night Floors; all 
  in the building are in attendance. Abigail leaves with a man known only as “the 
  Encyclopedia Salesman.” She is never seen again.
  May 29: The first page of a mysterious new play is left in front of all the rooms in the 
  Macallistar apartments, containing characters based on the tenants.
  June 4: Abigail Wright is reported missing by her father. After several attempts to 
  telephone her, he checks her apartment (to which he has a key) and finds the shrine. He 
  then calls the NYPD.
  June 5: The NYPD investigates the scene at the Macallistar.
  June 6-10: All residents of Abigail’s apartment building are interviewed, as are her friends 
  and associates. A lack of further leads puts the case on the back burner.
  August 4: Abigail’s credit card is used to purchase a pack of cigarettes in Patience, 
  Maryland.
  August 6: The FBI begins investigating the case as a possible kidnapping.
  August 9: Lack of leads in Patience, Maryland brings investigators there to a dead end.
  August 10: The FBI (and, secretly, Delta Green) sends a team to investigate and catalog 
  
  August 10: The FBI (and, secretly, Delta Green) sends a team to investigate and catalog 
  the Wright apartment.
  [[END SIDEBAR]]
  Ownership
  The Macallistar is owned by a company called ARTLIFE. This non-profit firm purchases 
  property and rents it out to professional artists at low cost to further the careers of up-and-
  coming artists of all types.
  The offices of ARTLIFE are located at 23rd and 3rd St. East. The small building is 
  open 10:30 A.M. – 6:00 P.M. Monday through Friday and is run by Cynthia Lechance, a 
  well-to-do art collector who enjoys giving the up-and-coming art vanguard a fighting 
  chance.
  She will be easily intimidated by federal authorities and will cooperate fully to help 
  the investigation. Questions about Abigail Wright will be answered promptly with motherly 
  concern. She is also familiar with the other tenants in the building: Carun, Vanfitz, Post, 
  and Manuel (described later in this scenario).
  Lechance has no knowledge of the Night Floors or the strange tenants who live 
  there. If asked about a “manager” – who some of the mundane tenants may refer to – she’s 
  perplexed; there is no specific building manager or superintendent besides her, and she 
  doesn’t use that title. The building is maintained by ARTLIFE and several workmen for 
  hire.
  She may mention that the residents of the Macallistar have not paid their rent in 
  more than a month, and late notices have been sent. In another two weeks, the bills will be 
  sent to a collection agency and ARTLIFE will begin the process of eviction. Lechance has 
  visited the building and tried to talk to the tenants, but none of them will speak with her. 
  She will offer a confused comment as the agents leave: “I’ve never had a whole building 
  get evicted at once before.”
  The Shrine
  Abigail Wright’s apartment is a testament to a slow and methodical madness. The walls and 
  ceiling are covered in layers of materials: papers, small items, and larger things epoxied in a 
  bizarre and seemingly meaningful pattern of strata. Most of the items cannot be unstuck 
  without damaging them, so very little has been taken down by the police. So far, only three 
  radios – a transistor radio, a small tape player, and a CD walkman – have been wrenched 
  from the wall, one leaving behind a chunk of plastic from its casing.
  The floor is bare. The rug has been ripped up and taken away, exposing a battered 
  and stained linoleum surface. There is no furniture. Some of Abigail’s possessions, such as 
  her television and VCR, had serial numbers registered with her insurance company, but 
  none have turned up in area pawn shops or police seizures.
  Anyone working within the apartment for more than five continuous hours, or who 
  
  Anyone working within the apartment for more than five continuous hours, or who 
  is alone in the apartment for two hours, or who spends the night here, must make a SAN 
  roll. Those who fail experience an odd sensation akin to the feeling of being watched, and 
  lose 1 point. The second time a roll is failed, voices can be heard through the walls, 
  laughing or crying (it is difficult to tell), but words cannot be discerned. The third time an 
  investigator fails a roll, he or she sees an unknown person pass in front of the open 
  doorway to the bathroom rapidly, as if on a brisk walk, only to disappear. Those that 
  experience this last event at least three times have been thoroughly affected by the 
  apartment, and are now open to the full range of possibilities in the building.
  Each day of examining and documenting the contents of the apartment grants a Spot 
  Hidden roll for each investigator. If successful, it yields one of the following three clues. 
  The Keeper may choose to space these clues out a bit, depending on the pace of the 
  scenario.
  Clue: The Map
  This large map shows an architectural floor plan to the building, along with X’s marking 
  each closet. Some closets are marked up with scrawled notes such as: “Door on 7/12,” 
  “Roses and butter,” and “Man with briefcase and white shoes.” In addition, doors have 
  been drawn in on the edges of the map in pen, with markings such as “Mr. Castaigne” and 
  “The Parlor.” They seem to make little sense. The map shows no intentional irregularities in 
  construction.
  Clue: The Play
  Pages of the mysterious tenant-written play are present, though no more than one should be 
  discovered each day. The pages are not numbered. The characters mentioned include all of 
  the tenants (though not on every page) , as well as several unknowns: The Super, Mr. 
  Castaigne, The Encyclopedia Salesman, Mark Roark, and The Dog.
  All the pages are triple spaced, and are often quite sparse. They seem to tell a story 
  involving all the people in the building as characters, but whether they are true stories or 
  fiction is difficult to tell. A sample page appears as Player Aid #1, included later in this 
  scenario.
  Clue: The Receipt
  This is a yellowed receipt made out to Abigail Laura Wright, but the signature of the person 
  who filled it out cannot be read – it’s little more than a scrawl. It’s a receipt for one month’s 
  rent ($850.00) in July for the occupation of apartment -10. In the layout of the building this 
  would imply an apartment in the basement. But there are only four rooms in the basement, 
  and they are used for storage.
  Although the handwriting is recent, the receipt is obviously quite old. Research into 
  the brand name (printed onto the sheet) indicates that this type of receipt has not been 
  printed in fifty years. See Player Aid #2, included later in this scenario.
  
  The Tenants
  During the day the neighbors are a relatively normal lot. They are an assortment of artists 
  and writers who qualified to live in the building through special application, and enjoy a 
  relatively cheap rent for the neighborhood.
  At night, the apartment building is a different place. The quiet, everyday dumb 
  stares of the tenants are replaced with clever, malevolent looks of plotting, of a sly 
  understanding of things which should never be understood properly by the sane.
  Thomas Manuel by Day
  During the day, Thomas Manuel is an accomplished painter who has received considerable 
  praise for someone so young. He lives and works across the hall from Abigail Wrights’ 
  apartment, and the two often spoke. He has nothing but good things to say about Abigail – 
  whom he calls “Laura,” her middle name – and often offers the suggestion that Abigail just 
  up and left, because she was such a free spirit that New York couldn’t hold her. 
  He doesn’t know what to make of the condition of Abigail’s apartment – it was 
  never like this before – and heard nothing unusual coming from it between the last time he 
  saw Abigail and the day the police broke in, four days later. He did not see anyone strange 
  come or go from her apartment during the previous week, and neither did he see her 
  moving furniture in or out.
  Thomas’s apartment is austere, and no art of any kind (including books on art, art 
  materials, or art of his own making) is present. If asked, he says that the building’s Night 
  Manager lets him work in the basement nights, and that he does so often. That’s where all 
  of his materials are.
  The apartment is a bare minimum, looking rather like a cheap hotel suite, and there 
  is no feeling of comfort of familiarity. It does not feel like a home. A Spot Hidden roll will 
  reveal that for someone involved in the visual arts, Thomas Manuel has a lot of stereo 
  equipment, of very high quality. A second roll will reveal that he seems to own no books, 
  magazines, published cassettes, or compact discs. If questioned on this, he says he got rid 
  of all such items a few months ago because hey were distracting him from his work; the 
  stereo equipment remains, he says, because it was a gift from his parents.
  He stores his audiocassettes, an incomplete copy of the mysterious play, and a 
  medallion of bronze in the base of his plastic plant. Certain portions of his copy of the play 
  (which has reached a considerable size) are underlined in red ink.
  The medallion is an exceptionally made curio. Opened, it reveals a double locket 
  which once held two pictures, each of which has left a bit of paper and glue behind from its 
  removal. Besides the fine craftsmanship and filigree, the locket is mundane and contains no 
  recognizable symbols other than usual ornaments such as swirls and rosettes. If the locket 
  is examined by an expert, they can determine that it was made near the end of the nineteenth 
  century.
  Manuel’s career has reached a standstill. Among the artists in Soho it is a well-
  
  Manuel’s career has reached a standstill. Among the artists in Soho it is a well-
  known fact that Manuel has not sold a painting in more than four months, and he has 
  disappeared from the social scene completely. He is considered a lost cause; many speculate 
  he has fallen under the influence of drugs, new-age religions, or is suffering some other 
  personality chance, but no one has evidence pointing directly to the cause.
  Thomas Manuel by Night
  If asked about Abigail after sunset, Manuel will vehemently tell a different story. He insists 
  that Abigail left the building with some no-account guy who sells encyclopedias and lives 
  on the sixth floor (there is no sixth floor during the day). Thomas claims he has told the 
  authorities this time and again, and has yet to see them follow up on this lead. (The police 
  and FBI have no record of such testimony).
  He last saw Abigail on May 28 at a going-away party in the Smoking Lounge on 
  the fourth floor. If asked where Abigail was going, he will state that she had “moved on” or 
  “figured it out” and could now move upstairs with “the others.” On these comments he will 
  not elaborate.
  At night Thomas can be found either listening to his cassette deck through 
  headphones or making a tape of Abigail’s apartment with a small microphone that he 
  strings across the dark hall, under the carpet. Sometimes he goes downstairs to one of the 
  storerooms and works on his painting. In these rooms, although completely alone, Thomas 
  can be heard to talk to another person at length – though no other voice can be heard.
  If confronted about the tapes or the ghostly conversations he will explode into 
  paroxysms of rage, doing everything short of physical abuse to make the investigators 
  leave him alone. He insists he needs his privacy to work.
  Both his audiotapes and the canvasses in the basement are completely blank, but are 
  each carefully labeled with the notation “My Great Work,” followed by a number denoting 
  its place in the series. Anyone studying the canvasses or listening to the tapes at length 
  (Keeper’s discretion) must make an Idea roll. Success indicates that the investigator loses 1 
  point of Sanity and is now open to all the possibilities at the Macallistar Building, and the 
  advances of the King.
  If asked about the play The King in Yellow, Thomas has much to say. He will 
  gleefully explain the plot to the investigators, and if he feels the audience is receptive, he 
  will actually affect mannerisms of the characters as he speaks selected lines. As his 
  explanation goes on, however, it becomes evident that Thomas is recounting the events as if 
  they really happened, as if he had been present when they occurred.
  Thomas can sometimes be found in the Night Floors playing ball with the dog, and 
  the sound can be heard throughout the building – a ball bouncing and being pursued by a 
  large animal.
  Once close to his family, Manuel has not seen them in over two months, and now 
  has no desire to do so. The building, sensing his apprehension, has taken steps to make it 
  all but impossible for his family to see him. He ignores their calls completely.
  Roger Carun by Day
  
  Carun is a middle-aged science fiction author who has enjoyed moderate success with his 
  series of books, Nightsea. The investigators may have heard of it.
  Carun did not know Abigail very well, but lived in the apartment next door to hers. 
  He had few complaints except for one New Year’s party in 1995 which got out of hand. 
  Past that, he rarely spoke to her. They occasionally saw each other in the halls.
  During the day, Carun is an unassuming, homely little man who seems obsessed 
  with neatness, but falls short of his obsession. His hair is always askew, his sweater never 
  matches his pants, and his loafers are always dirty and scuffed. His apartment is an 
  extension of his personal grooming habits. The groundwork of order has been laid but 
  never followed up on. The furnishings seem kitschy and somewhat old. He has an aged 
  word processor, but otherwise no writing materials can be seen. The machine’s printed 
  output does not match the pages of the play which have been mysteriously appearing.
  He knows and is on speaking terms with Thomas Manuel and Louis Post, but does 
  little socializing. He prefers to spend his time reading, writing, or watching television.
  Roger Carun by Night
  At night, Carun is never heard typing, but is often seen slipping in and out of his apartment 
  and sneaking upstairs. He enjoys the hospitality of all the tenants of the Night Floors, and 
  when returning from his jaunts he reeks of cigars and brandy; in his pockets, bits of exotic 
  fruit and candy (dates, bitras, cinnamon sticks) can be found.
  If asked about Abigail at night, he claims that she never left the building, and acts 
  baffled when the story of her disappearance, the investigation, and the ensuing mess in 
  explained. He maintains that she lives upstairs “on six,” apartment F-109. If asked about 
  the Night Floors, he readily acknowledges them and will again project an air of complete 
  innocence, as if the building was always this way. If asked about Abigail’s going-away 
  part, which Thomas Manuel might have mentioned, he will only confess that he did not 
  have such a good time and leave it at that.
  His seemingly open and giving mood is a thin veneer over his true nature. Carun 
  often places hairs over the openings in his apartment to see if they are disturbed by 
  intruders, and is quite paranoid when it comes to his possessions. His word processor is 
  protected by a simple password protection program, which can be disabled by a successful 
  Computer Use roll. The password is NIGHTSEA.
  Several dozen files are on the system. Each is titled as a short story such as “What 
  the Other Hand Did” or “Smigen’s Rule.” However, each file is actually a single letter 
  typed over and over again, with no breaks or returns. If the files are read in order, letter to 
  letter, a message can be read: SMOOTH IS THE HAND WHICH MAKES THE 
  WORLD AND STEADY IS THE MIND WHICH GRASPS IT. Also on the system is a 
  copy of the mysterious play, here titled “Night Floors.” It is a modification of the actual 
  pages. Anyone comparing it to the pages in the investigators’ possession can determine that 
  Carun copied the play and has modified it to his own inscrutable ends; he does not seem to 
  be distributing his version.
  
  Carun copied the play and has modified it to his own inscrutable ends; he does not seem to 
  be distributing his version.
  Michelle Vanfitz by Day
  Michelle Vanfitz is a feminist author. Somewhat withdrawn, portly, and dire, she is not 
  much different by day or by night. She dislikes everyone as a matter of course, and police 
  more than most.
  She has no friends or family, and is not really friendly with anyone in the building, 
  although she knows them all peripherally. She has no television, no radio, and does not 
  read the newspapers. She constantly goes on about “the establishment” and “the man” in a 
  grating manner, referring to obscure and long-outdated books on feminist culture, beliefs, 
  and mystique. In other words, she is absolutely annoying.
  Vanfitz writes feminist poetry and fiction. Recently, her first short-story collection 
  was picked upon by Berkeley Publishers and two of her poems have won local awards.
  Her apartment is little more than a series of bookshelves covering every open space, 
  blanketed in volumes of feminist and sociological-studies books, feminist fiction, and 
  poetry. Crooked in one corner is a beaten old futon. Above it is a simple photo of Michelle 
  as a young woman in front of her childhood home; no other personal effects can be found 
  in the apartment.
  Michelle Vanfitz by Night
  Michelle’s apartment is quite affected by the change at night and becomes incredibly large, 
  consisting of huge, airy mahogany rooms full of empty crystal tumblers, cigars, and such, 
  as if a party has just ended. No one can be found in any of the rooms, although 
  conversations and merrymaking can often be heard distantly. Windows open onto other 
  rooms, seemingly without end. At night, all her books are centuries-old texts about history, 
  zoology, and science, the spines aged and worn. Also on the shelves is a copy of the play 
  The King in Yellow. Vanfitz will go into ecstasies about the subtleties of that text, claiming 
  it is one of the first feminist plays and that it portrays a patriarchal society shifting to a 
  matriarchal one.
  At night, Vanfitz rarely leaves her apartment, though she may not hear anyone 
  knocking at the door since she’s off in some far-distant room. If she is located, she will go 
  on and on about how Abigail got herself into an abusive relationship with “that salesman” 
  and how they live together “on six.”
  Louis Post by Day
  Louis Post is a painter and illustrator who spends much of his time working. His apartment 
  is a messy dump, littered with grease-stained pizza boxes, paint containers, and dirty 
  clothes. The garbage, once contained under the sink, has spread to cover most of the 
  kitchen floor.
  Post worked for several comic-book and fantasy-paperback publishers in town and 
  his paintings can be seen on the covers of many popular comics. Recently, however, he has 
  
  his paintings can be seen on the covers of many popular comics. Recently, however, he has 
  been fired from his freelance duties for missing deadlines and avoiding phone calls from art 
  directors. The last work he turned in was on May 4th. Since then he has remained in the 
  building, working on private pursuits.
  He lives upstairs in a front apartment with a view of the street, and rarely saw 
  Abigail; even so, he is aware that she is missing and that the police have taken an interest. 
  He openly answers any questions the investigators may have, holding nothing back, but 
  acts somewhat chagrined about the condition of his apartment. While being interviewed he 
  is both polite and funny and will even take the investigators around the premises if asked.
  Louis Post by Night
  At night Louis pursues his craft with the aid of a large, baroque-bordered mirror he keeps 
  under his bed. He sits at his drawing table for several minutes facing the mirror, and begins 
  his work by asking question to the reflection of the empty room. After some time a voice 
  can be heard responding to his questions, quietly, in a tone which is difficult to hear clearly. 
  In the mirror, the reflection of a vague figure can be seen, which disappears when looked at 
  directly. This costs 1/1D4 SAN.
  Louis’s current work – which is not present by day – is a nightmare mish-mash of 
  horrible imagery: drowned babies with bloated, water-logged bodies, clawed hands 
  plunging into basins, tangled umbilical cords wrapped about necks. His work now 
  numbers in the hundreds of pages, each more disgusting and horrid than the last. Seeing 
  these gruesome pages will cost the viewer 1/1D2 SAN. If Post discovers the investigators 
  in his room at night he will attack ruthlessly, stopping only if killed or incapacitated. 
  Investigating the Tenants
  Anyone checking the behavior of the tenants will find some odd things:
  Everyone has ceased going to the local shops; the workers at Manny’s Delicatessen, 
  Destroyer Video, and the Garett Laundrett have not seen these former regulars in weeks.
  If phone records are checked, the last outgoing phone call from the building was placed on 
  April 19th, from Roger Carun to Carmen Wagner.
  Phone and cable-television service is about to be cut off for the whole building, due to 
  unpaid bills. Soon all services will be shut off. (Regardless, the electricity, cable, water, and 
  phone will still inexplicably function.)
  Michelle Vanfitz has ceased attending her writing-club meetings. Carun no longer makes 
  appearances at NYC fandom conventions. Thomas Manuel’s parents have ceased trying to 
  contact him after they were told he has moved out.
  Some tenants’ refrigerators contain milk that was dated to spoil four weeks ago – yet are all 
  fresh.
  No tenant has used a credit card or their bank accounts in three weeks, and there were no 
  large cash withdrawals prior to that point.
  
  large cash withdrawals prior to that point.
  Thomas Manuel’s Parents
  Thomas Manuel’s parents Elaine (54) and Arthur (56) live in Hempstead, Long Island, and 
  in the past were very close to their son. During the last four months, however, Thomas 
  became more and more distant and now refuses to answer the phone or see them at all. This 
  has been devastating to the Manuels, who love their son very much and are very worried 
  about him.
  On March 31st, the Manuels attempted to contact Thomas directly at the Macallistar 
  Building, but were turned away by a man with a suitcase and a large grey dog who said 
  Thomas did not live there anymore. They are out of their mind with worry, and are at a loss 
  as to their next course of action. If federal agents show up asking questions about their son 
  they will be overcome with fear and may cause a major disruption by endlessly calling the 
  local FBI office, pursuing any explanations for their son’s bizarre behavior.
  Roger Carun’s Editor
  Carmen Wagner works for Crescent Publishing, the firm which publishes Roger Carun’s 
  Nightsea series. She handles his personal appearances and edits Carun’s writing. In the 
  past Carmen has rebuffed clumsy romantic advances from Carun, and does not like him 
  much, but she does her job.
  Since April 19th, however, Roger Carun has made her job very difficult. After one 
  last, bizarre phone call on that day, Carun has not talked to Wagner, and has not shown up 
  to two science-fiction conventions in the city that he was scheduled to appear at. In 
  addition, he has not turned in his new Nightsea novel draft, which was due at the end of 
  May. She has kept a tape of the last phone call Carun made to her apartment on the 19th, a 
  transcript of which is available as Player Aid #3 (see the end of this adventure). She will 
  happily cooperate with law enforcement.
  Wagner does not know what to think and is considering her options, while giving 
  Carun time to calm down. She thinks perhaps he has had enough of the public spotlight and 
  needs time to wind down. Or perhaps he has lost his mind completely. Frankly, she doesn’t 
  care, as long as he writes his book.
  Louis Post’s Agent
  Post’s agent is Mike Severs, an older, experienced illustration representative who maintains 
  a small, cramped office on the upper east side. As far as Severs is concerned, Post has lost 
  his mind and alienated all of his former clients, effectively ending his career in New York 
  in just three months – a record, he says sarcastically. He does admit that Post was full of 
  promise and could have been the next big fantasy artist. Instead, he just dropped off the 
  map.
  Severs has no personal interest in Post’s well-being. He manages over fifty 
  
  Severs has no personal interest in Post’s well-being. He manages over fifty 
  freelance artists in the U.S. and abroad, and has little time to spare for emotion. Besides, 
  Post is hardly the first artist to flake out.
  The Night Floors
  The Night Floors – the nearly infinite and shifting array of rooms which are accessible 
  through the roof door of the Macallistar only at night – represent an interim state between 
  the reality of Earth and the surreality of Carcosa. In Carcosa nothing is as it seems, and 
  observation and belief actually transform reality itself, but this transformation is 
  uncontrollable by Carcosa’s inhabitants. In the Night Floors, reality is much more stable 
  than Carcosa but more malleable than that of Earth. Only intense thoughts or feelings affect 
  the reality of the Night Floors. The more concentrated the feeling or belief, the more severe 
  the change in the world of the Night Floors.
  These effects are cumulative and total, so if one person believes strongly enough in 
  something in the Night Floors it will become real for everyone else. This can lead to 
  problems. Single-minded individuals and religious zealots may trigger extremely bizarre 
  manifestations, while people without motivation or direction will only find endless dead 
  ends.
  The Night Floors are accessible through a stairwell from the third floor that 
  provides access to the roof of the Macallistar Building. Before nightfall the door opens onto 
  a drab rooftop; after dark, however, it opens into the ghostly Smoking Lounge and the 
  entrance to the apartment of the Night Manager, Mr. Castaigne, on the fourth floor. Past the 
  fourth floor, the rooms continue endlessly upward.
  The décor of the Night Floors is always that of the Edwardian period, from the late 
  1800s to the 1930s, though it varies from fine furnishings to cheap wallpaper. Some rooms 
  are immaculately maintained and appointed, while others are water-logged garbage heaps. 
  Occasionally people can be heard talking inside rooms, or can be spotted crossing the 
  distant intersections of hallways, but very rarely can these people be approached or 
  questioned. Many simply vanish before the investigators arrive, others speak no known 
  language, and still others will flee anyone pursuing them until they disappear into a closet. 
  These poor souls are the remnants of personalities completely consumed by Carcosa, and 
  now repeat actions without meaning over and over again for eternity. There are those on the 
  Night Floors, however, who have retained some sense of self, and who are motivated in 
  their own twisted manner: Mark Roark, The Encyclopedia Salesman, and Mr. Castaigne. 
  These individuals exist in Carcosa and on the Night Floors, trying to complete their 
  unfinished earthly business in the shadow world.
  Effects of the Night Floors
  The Night Floors are a very dangerous place indeed. Travel in them is unsure at best. Six 
  hours’ worth of movement n the night Floors may take but moments in the real world. A 
  doorway which opened onto a staircase one moment may open onto a room the next. These 
  changes should become more and more significant and frequent the longer the investigators 
  
  stay on the Night Floors. Those that stay too long may find themselves in Carcosa itself.
  Any investigator who suffers a significant SAN loss while in the Night Floors will 
  affect the reality of the Night Floors to a greater degree. Things the investigator says may 
  come true in strange ways. Those that go indefinitely or permanently insane on the Night 
  Floors do not suffer these maladies until they re-enter the mundane portions of the 
  building’ until then, they may wander the Night Floors. Such unfortunates will soon feel 
  compulsion to leave the group, however. They will notice a twisting trail of brightly colored 
  confetti and part favors leading through the endless rooms of the Night Floors. If followed, 
  the trail will lead first to the Whisper Labyrinth (see The Hastur Mythos in Delta Green: 
  Countdown, p. 211) and then to the nightmare streets of Carcosa itself. From there, the 
  palace at the center of the lake of Hali beckons, and in it, the masquerade ball of the King 
  continues – forever.
  Night Floors Encounters
  The following examples of surreal horror are provided to be unleashed on the investigators 
  to keep them on their toes. It is recommended that these encounters spring up as the Keeper 
  sees fit, to keep the mood of the bizarre nature of the Night Floors forefront in the minds of 
  the investigators stranded there. Also, keep in mind that if any of these sights happen to 
  push an investigator over the edge into insanity, the game is not necessarily over, but may 
  continue for that person in the nightmare city of Carcosa.
  Suddenly and without warning a huge chime sounds nearby, although the source of the 
  sound cannot be located. It fades to nothing in moments like an echo. This may cause 
  jumpy investigators to pull out weapons or, even worse, to discharge them by accident. (0/1 
  SAN)
  A single investigator notices framed black & white photographs on the wall of the hallway, 
  room, etc. which portray an odd array of people staring into the camera, their faces blank. 
  Each of these people (most dressed in 1920s garb) are holding an odd-shaped bottle of 
  varying design. A single name rides the lip of each photograph, written in a steady hand. 
  None of the names mean anything to the investigators, except the last one. This photograph 
  shows a single dark bottle sitting on the floor, and the name on the bottom is that of one 
  investigator. This is the investigator’s bottle from the Whisper Labyrinth (see The Hastur 
  Mythos in Delta Green: Countdown, p. 211), and if touched the investigator will hear, in a 
  near-silent whispery voice, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living god.” (0/1 
  SAN)
  A solid-gold goldfish is found by an investigator, lying unattended in the middle of the 
  floor. The craftsmanship of the piece is breathtaking and when examined closely, it almost 
  appears to be real. It is. Anyone putting it in their pocket will discover a live goldfish there 
  in its place several minutes later. (0/1 SAN)
  A sudden eruption of automatic gunfire occurs from deep within the Night Floors, which is 
  silenced by a bloodcurdling male scream. Anyone chasing down the source of the sound 
  will come upon a huge empty ballroom which smells of gunpowder, and which is covered 
  
  will come upon a huge empty ballroom which smells of gunpowder, and which is covered 
  in odd dragging tracks of blood which lead from a large central stain. Dozens of Tommy 
  gun shells lay on the floor freshly fired. Nothing else can be found. (0/1 SAN)
  A dapperly dressed Asian waiter walks up to the investigators, carrying an hors d’ovres 
  platter. The waiter speaks in an odd language no one can identify, but seems friendly 
  enough. He offers the investigators some of the gelatinous snacks on his tray. Careful 
  examination of the snacks will reveal a single, dead, tiny gold snake in the center of each 
  cube of gelatin. This costs 1 SAN point for anyone who ate it without examining it.
  Anyone searching for windows to the outside world finally comes upon one which is 
  shuttered and locked. If opened, the window shows a view of an endless expanse of 
  rooms. The window opens on a living room, whose windows open on a dining room, etc. 
  This sight is mind-bending in the extreme and costs 1/1D3 SAN for any who experience it, 
  as the characters realize there is no longer any outside world.
  A fat man is seen at a distant doorway, and he too sees the investigators. He rushes to open 
  his door with a set of keys, looking incredibly nervous and sweaty, as if he had done 
  something wrong. The door swings shut behind him, but remains unlocked. If opened, the 
  doorway opens onto a dark and seemingly depthless elevator shaft. No evidence of an 
  elevator or the fat man can be seen. (1/1D3 SAN)
  A little girl is heard singing in the distance. She is found in an empty dance hall dancing to 
  a tune which comes from an unknown source. She is covered in a white gauze-like material 
  which obscures her features. Looping round and round and singing in an alien tongue, she 
  will ignore all questions from investigators. If left undisturbed she will slowly wind down, 
  her dance and voice slowing as time passes. Eventually she will freeze in place and never 
  move again. Anyone touching the gauze at any point will cause her to collapse into a 
  thousand pieces of watch-like clockwork; she was an automaton. (1/1D3 SAN)
  The investigators come upon a room full of unmarked books. Anyone opening a book will 
  discover what appears to be a turn-of-the-century text depicting, in great detail, a dream the 
  investigator once had. (1/1D3 SAN)
  As the investigators approach the crux of a hallway they find themselves reflected in a 
  mirror. The closer they come to the mirror, the more they realize that they are wearing 
  gaudy part gear in the reflection, and are at the forefront of a much larger crowd, although 
  there is nothing like this to be found in the hallway. If the investigators look toward the 
  back of the hallway in the reflected image they can make out a huge, tattered figure in 
  yellow robes. (1/1D4 SAN)
  The muffled voices of what sound like actors delivering lines can be heard carrying on in a 
  room nearby. Occasionally huge outbursts of applause or laughter can also be heard, as if 
  an entire theater full of people was enjoying a performance. Investigators finally locate a 
  tiny child’s room with a small puppet theater. The puppets within continue to act as the 
  investigators enter, apparently worked by someone within the tiny curtained enclosure. 
  When opened, there is no one there. (1/1D3 SAN)
  The tinkling of a music box is heard nearby. If the investigators pursue this sound they 
  locate the clockwork child: a small, porcelain-faced, wheeled child made of clockwork. It 
  rolls slowly towards the investigators, stopping before them, and its mouth rapidly clacks 
  open and shut several times. On its back is an unaddressed invitation to the masked ball of 
  
  Carcosa. If the investigators turn their back on the child it vanishes. (1/1D3 SAN)
  The sound of vigorous love-making can be heard. If tracked down, a room is found where 
  the bed is covered in blood and shards of chromed metal. No one is in the room, though the 
  words “Where’s my bottle?” are written on the wall in blue-black ichor. (1/1D3 SAN)
  A large fracture in a wall opens into what appears to be a cave deep underground. A cool, 
  dry wind blows out of the hole. Digging equipment – evidently used to open the wall – lies 
  discarded nearby. Anyone who steps in the hole is now in the Whisper Labyrinth (see The 
  Hastur Mythos in Delta Green: Countdown, p. 211), and it is quite obvious to any inside 
  the hole that such a labyrinth could not exist adjacent to the hallway they came from. 
  (1/1D3 SAN)
  A woman and a man are heard arguing in a room, quite heatedly. If the door to the room is 
  opened, two statues – that of an arguing man and woman – can be found, made of a white 
  alabaster-type porcelain. If the door is shut on them again the fighting resumes. (1/1D3 
  SAN)
  An entire ballroom full of human-sized marionettes is found. Marionette couples sway and 
  dance, their strings disappearing up into the dark’ marionette waiters bring empty glasses to 
  tables of revelers; a marionette band plays a soothing melody. The investigators are 
  completely ignored by the marionettes. Inspection of the ceiling, perhaps effected by 
  stacking tables, reveals that the strings are locked on tracks without an operator, moving 
  their own free will. (1/1D4 SAN)
  An investigator discovers a long crack in the join between the ceiling and wall. If prodded, 
  the entire hallway falls away like a house of cards revealing a huge stage. The investigators 
  stand on stage in the remains of what they though was “reality,” but which was nothing 
  more than simple plywood backdrops. In the audience, hundreds of human-sized 
  marionettes sit mute, staring at the stage, their strings running up into the dark. If the 
  investigators leave the stage the marionettes begin to file out and disperse into the hallways. 
  (1/1D6 SAN)
  One investigator finds a small piece of paper with the terrible image of the Yellow Sign 
  scrawled on it. As he shows it to his companions, each says “Tell me, have you seen the 
  Yellow Sign?” one by one. They are not aware of speaking these words, though the other 
  investigators all hear them. (1/1D6 SAN)
  The Smoking Lounge
  The first room of the Night Floors encountered by visitors is always the Smoking Lounge. 
  This is a large, inviting area resembling a turn-of-the-century men’s club. The walls are 
  covered in re-velvet patterned wallpaper, and overstuffed armchairs of burgundy leather dot 
  the floor. A large hearth and fireplace rests against one wall, burning constantly. A wet bar 
  in one corner is available for anyone’s use, and always contains plenty of ice, unlabeled 
  liquors and liqueurs, glasses, bitters, vermouth, olives, limes, lemons, oranges, and 
  assorted other bar goods. In the opposite corner, a large walk-in humidor contains a wide 
  assortment of the finest cigars.
  One wall is covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases made of rosewood, with a rolling 
  
  One wall is covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases made of rosewood, with a rolling 
  stepladder permanently attached to a rail that runs at the midpoint of the shelves. The 
  hardcover books and folios are of many sizes, but all contain antique pornographic photos. 
  All of the participants in these scenes wear masks, and many are staged in elaborate 
  costumed tableaus. The range of activities in breathtaking, and the photos include many 
  human oddities commonly found at turn-of-the-century sideshows, their peculiar 
  malformations exploited to their fullest sexual potential. A staggering assortment of strange 
  equipment is in evidence, as well, with people suspended from odd contraptions or 
  imprisoned within labyrinths of leather sheeting and gauze curtains. There is no text in any 
  of these works, not even titles or publication information. At the Keeper’s discretion, some 
  of the people in these images may look familiar to the investigators; they might resemble 
  tenants of the building, or relatives, or the investigators themselves. All told, there are tens 
  of thousands of vintage pictures in this obscene and inexplicable collection.
  The Night Floors’ Tenants
  Many people inhabit the upper floors of the Macallistar Building at night. An odd lot, they 
  represent the lost and the mad, those irretrievable souls who have passed over to the world 
  that is Carcosa. Some found this path by accident, others through intense study, but all 
  regret having found it, now that they are here. They live their lives in dark caricatures of 
  what they once were, existing in the endless shifting rooms of the building which is slowly 
  becoming one with Carcosa.
  Some of these tenants are described herein. The Keeper should also make up other 
  odd folks as needed during play.
  David Langford
  This poor cable-television repairman has been trapped within the Night Floors since March 
  20th, when he attempted to disconnect a cable junction on the room just as the change from 
  day to night was occurring in the Macallistar. For several weeks he has wandered around 
  searching for an exit, eating old cake and hors d’ovres and drinking flat champagne and 
  beer to survive. So far his mind has degraded only a small amount and he has yet to run 
  into any of the strange people who call the Night Floors their home; he hides at any 
  indication of noise, holing up in any of the multitude of abandoned rooms until the sounds 
  pass.
  Terrified and disoriented, Langford will leap out of a doorway if he overhears the 
  investigators discussing federal or police matters, or if they are wearing uniforms. He will 
  have a breakdown, babbling his story over and over again and begging to be released from 
  the “prison,” as he incoherently refers to the Macallistar Building. 
  It’s not too late for Langford to be rescued. The investigators can lead him out of 
  the Night Floors and send him home. He will likely spend some months in a mental 
  hospital.
  
  the Night Floors and send him home. He will likely spend some months in a mental 
  hospital.
  Mark Roark
  This enigmatic figure can often be found upstairs in the Smoking Lounge or elsewhere in 
  the Night Floors. His slang and attire are those of the 1930s, s is his knowledge of current 
  events. A portly man with a horrible wig, he is always found smoking a cigar and nursing a 
  drink. His attitude is turbulent, changing form placid to fierce in seconds over the most 
  innocuous remarks. Holding little respect for anyone but himself, Roark answers to no one, 
  not even the police, and refuses to be questioned. If investigators take a kindly attitude 
  towards him, however, he will be somewhat more forthcoming.
  He claims to live on the seventh floors of “the Hotel,” as he seems to refer to the 
  Macallistar Building. He knows all the residents well, and has lengthy conversations with 
  all of them, including Abigail. “Gail,” as he refers to her, is “a sweet kid,” and now lives 
  with “a creep of a salesman” on the sixth floor. He is less talkative about his own life, 
  although he will say he knows the manager of “the Hotel,” a man named Mr. Castaigne. If 
  asked, he will guide the investigators to the office of the manager; otherwise he is of little 
  use except for drunken anecdotes or verbal abuse.
  If a background check is run on him in the real world, the name of Mark Armin 
  Roark turns up in a missing-persons file from 1933. He was an unmarried door-to-door 
  salesman of Fuller Brushes. Besides this, little else about him can be learned.
  The Dog
  The Dog resides in the many rooms of the Night Floors, wandering from place to place, 
  occasionally eating leftover party snacks, crapping in the hallways, and generally making a 
  mess. Far from malevolent, it mostly stays out of the way, and the Dog is only visible to 
  those who have suffered three SAN losses within the Macallistar Building; otherwise, it is 
  only observable through the aftermath of its movements, sounds and smells (this costs 
  1/1D3 to observe).
  When visible, the Dog is a large, gray, long-haired mastiff. Stupidly obedient to 
  anyone who feeds it more than once, the Dog is far too slow, clumsy, and stupid to cause 
  any significant threat to prepared investigators.
  The Dog is the only phantasm in the Macallistar that can travel anywhere in the 
  building, at any time, day or night.
  The Encyclopedia Salesman
  The mysterious Encyclopedia Salesman haunts the Macallistar Building from time to time, 
  although only glimpses of him can be seen by the fully sane. A dashing figure in a 
  pinstriped suit and two-tone shoes holding a large briefcase, he is often seen on the Night 
  Floors rushing past open doors or across the crux of hallways, but only peripherally. He is 
  never seen directly by those who have not failed at least three SAN checks.
  Those open to the influence of the King in Yellow, however, tend to see the 
  Encyclopedia Salesman much more readily. In fact, those who lose enough SAN on the 
  
  Night Floors to go indefinitely insane in the real world can follow the Salesman (although 
  they can never catch up), all the way to the Whisper Labyrinth (see The Hastur Mythos in 
  Delta Green: Countdown, p. 211) and perhaps beyond.
  The Encyclopedia Salesman is a soul without peace, who even after locating his 
  bottle in the Labyrinth was doomed to wander unfulfilled. He continues to do so, hoping to 
  lure others to a similar fate, so he can have some company in eternity. No statistics are 
  provided for him because he should never be met face to face.
  The Author
  The Author is a mystery. He is never seen. Only the remnants of his passing can be found 
  in the pages of his play that he leaves around the building. Late at night he can be heard 
  faintly, hidden in one of the many rooms of the Night Floors typing and listening to a 
  single phonograph record over and over again.
  An investigator who has failed three SAN checks in the Macallistar can find the 
  room of the Author, but only if he is alone, or with others who have also failed three 
  checks. The Author’s room is a mess. Covered in sweat-stained clothes of 1930s vintage 
  and discarded empty glass bottles of bootleg hooch, the cramped room reeks of old smoke 
  and alcohol-tainted sweat, but the author is never there. A battered portable Underwood 
  typewriter occupies the small oak desk and an assortment of blank pages lay scattered 
  about. His writing is never found, although the typewriter’s printing matches the pages of 
  the mysterious play. 
  On the floor next to the desk is an antique phonograph which starts to play when 
  anyone examines it. The record that is always playing is a song called “Whatever Happed to 
  Abby,” by Phil Heart and the Heart Heps, which was released in 1938.
  The Night Manager
  Henri de Calvados Castaigne resides on the fourth floor, which is accessible only at night. 
  As Night Manager of the Macallistar, he lives in a rambling but cramped apartment across 
  from the Smoking Lounge, and is rarely seen outside the doors of his home.
  At night Castaigne arranges who resides in which apartments and fixes leaks and 
  such, although due to his nocturnal nature he rarely attends to his duties. Castaigne will 
  claim he simply works for the Superintendent, a party who he will not name under any 
  circumstance. He has no knowledge of ARTLIFE (see earlier in this adventure) or the 
  company’s leader, Cynthia Lechance, and denies that they own or operate the Macallistar 
  Building.
  Castaigne is an old, old man, and walks with a shuffling limp indicating that some 
  sort of debilitating illness or stroke affected him sometime in the past. His hair is long and 
  white and unkempt, and he looks much like a miniature Einstein. He dresses in exquisite 
  but old clothing, reminiscent of the late 19th century. His voice hides a small accent, 
  perhaps central European or Russian, which is all but wiped out by his adopted tongue, 
  
  perhaps central European or Russian, which is all but wiped out by his adopted tongue, 
  English. Castaigne is quiet, courteous, and seemingly kind, but often those who receive his 
  kindness can feel the manufactured nature of his bon-mots, and the mocking nature of his 
  voice.
  Castaigne is a difficult man to gauge. He is both giving and purposely secretive at 
  the same time. His past is couched in innuendo and old black-and-white photographs of 
  bombed-out cities with senseless inscriptions (“Downtown Tulips” or “Sovereign 
  Carriage”). Other photographs are of indeterminate battlefield scenes containing groups of 
  people – possibly refugees. Castaigne will only point out faces in the crowds rapidly and 
  say “Father, mother, Anna, Christian . . .” He refuses to speak at length about any of them, 
  instead asserting, “They all died during the war.” He does not specify which war. If asked 
  of his origins, he claims he was born in a country of city called Carcosa, but refuses to get 
  specific, and will not discuss “the old days.”
  If asked about Abigail, he explains that she lives on the sixth floor with the 
  Salesman. He does not really know much about the couple except they are quiet and pay on 
  time each month in cash. He says the others in the building would know much more about 
  the subject.
  His dark apartment is stacked wall to wall with old, yellowed newspapers and 
  magazines, none more recent than 1940. Some have headlines which are downright bizarre, 
  and which point towards the entropic nature of the Night Floors (such as a New York 
  Tribune headline from July 1, 1923: “Russo-Germanic Pact Crumbles, Vienna Liberated”). 
  Mr. Castaigne will not discuss his odd collection, and gets cranky if the investigators start 
  poking around.
  Inside his locked bedroom is his most carefully kept secret. Here he maintains The 
  Imperial Dynasty of America, a bundle of ragged and worn handwritten pages which track 
  some sort of complex lineage. It is described further in the next section. Castaigne’s name 
  lies inside the hundreds listed within, and if it is discovered by investigators, it will drive 
  the poor twisted man into an ineffectual murderous frenzy. When he is (easily) subdued, he 
  will shriek, “No! No! The crown is mine! Mine!” Once restrained he will not say anything 
  more on the subject, but will pout quietly, mumbling to himself.
  (Henri Castaigne is a cousin of Hildred Castaigne, who is described in The Hastur 
  Mythos in Delta Green: Countdown, p. 212. The two are aware of each other’s existence 
  and have met on occasion, but they bitterly dispute each other’s claim to the crown.
  The Imperial Dynasty of America
  This leather-bound folio of loose and yellowed pages contains a complex lineage, tracing 
  some sort of royal bloodline from Carcosa to New York City. Over one thousand names 
  are contained within, including that of Henri Castaigne, the Night Manager of the 
  Macallistar Building. On the last page, emblazoned in a splotch of red wax, is the terrible 
  Yellow Sign.
  The Imperial Dynasty of America
  Langue: English; Mythos Gain: +1%; SAN Loss: 0; Spell Multiplier: none; Study 
  
  Time: 1 week; Grants Skill Checks in: Occult; Spells: none
  The Super
  The Super – short for Superintendent – to which Mr. Castaigne refers is his euphemism for 
  the King in Yellow, the patron of the Night Floors. If properly goaded, Mr. Castaigne may 
  lead susceptible investigators to Carcosa itself to meet the Super, using the Whisper 
  Labyrinth (see The Hastur Mythos in Delta Green: Countdown, p. 211) as a causeway 
  between the two worlds. Otherwise he will refuse to elaborate further on the nature of the 
  Super, and will only say that he lives “upstairs,” and is having a party.
  Running This Scenario
  Abigail Wright can never be found. She has moved from her apartment to the Night Floors 
  and from there to Carcosa. At best, the investigators can deduce what happened to her and 
  try to avoid her fate.
  The primary challenge of the scenario is simply to explore and survive. Once the 
  investigators have discovered and examined the Night Floors, the resolution of this 
  situation is up to them. ARTLIFE plans to evict the tenants soon, meaning they’ll probably 
  be dragged out by the police and perhaps committed to asylums. But then, of course, other 
  tenants will move in, and will soon fall under the building’s spell.
  The only permanent solution is for the Macallistar to be demolished. Desperate 
  investigators may decide to undertake this themselves, perhaps destroying it with a truck 
  bomb or burning it down. Potentially, Delta Green could even buy the building from 
  ARTLIFE at a generous mark-up, and then either destroy it or attempt to examine it (a 
  perilous option).
  Either way, other copies of The King in Yellow are still floating around out there. 
  The fate of the Macallistar may one day befall another building – or the world itself.
  NPCs
  Roger Peter Carun
  Obsessive Author, age 43
  Race: Caucasian
  STR
  9
  CON
  9
  SIZ
  10
  INT
  15
  POW 13
  DEX
  10
  APP
  10
  EDU
  15
  SAN
  17
  HP
  10
  Damage Bonus: none
  Education: Masters in English, Catholic University
  Occupation: Science-Fiction author
  Skills: Art (Writing) 55%, Bargain 25%, Computer Use 40%, Drive Automobile 39%, 
  Persuade 43%, Psychology 34%
  Languages: English 81%, Italian 9%, Spanish 14%
  Attacks: None
  
  Languages: English 81%, Italian 9%, Spanish 14%
  Attacks: None
  Description: Roger is a strangely fastidious slob. His attempts at cleanliness only 
  exacerbate his naturally sloppy nature. His glasses are always crooked, his hair unkempt, 
  his clothes clean but poorly pressed and mismatched.
  Otherwise, he is short and completely forgettable. He speaks in a quiet, furtive 
  voice, and is insistent in his views, out-maneuvering his verbal opponents with complex 
  and flowery language that never quite makes a valid point.
  Henri de Calvados Castaigne
  Heir of the One True King, age 75?
  Race: Caucasian
  STR
  8
  CON
  7
  SIZ
  8
  INT
  12
  POW 13
  DEX
  8
  APP
  9
  EDU
  22
  SAN
  30
  HP
  10
  Damage Bonus: -1D4
  Education: Private tutors
  Occupation: Self-proclaimed Night Manager of the Macallistar
  Skills: Archaeology 14%, Art 30%, Astronomy 31%, Chemistry 13%, Cthulhu Mythos 
  4%, History 56%, Law 16%, Listen 45%, Occult 62%, Persuade 41%, Psychology 39%
  Languages: English 100%, French 55%, German 14%, Italian 39%, Spanish 75%
  Attacks: None
  Description: Castaigne is a diminutive man with a shock of white hair, an antiquated taste 
  in clothes, and a quiet demeanor. In his apartment he shuffles around in his slippers like a 
  ghost, re-arranging papers and photos as if by some divine plan.
  If his secret dreams of kingship are discovered the little man will go berserk, doing 
  all he can to injure, maim, or kill the investigators, although due to his advanced age he is 
  not very capable of violence.
  The Dog
  Affable Mastiff, age 5
  STR
  12
  CON
  12
  SIZ
  10
  POW 7
  DEX
  9
  HP
  11
  Damage Bonus: none
  Skills: Listen 78%, Scent Something Interesting 96%
  Attacks: Bite 25%, 1D6
  Description: The Dog is a large grey-haired mastiff. Its narrow eyes give it a harmless 
  appearance despite its size, and its clumsy gait and huge feet often lead it to trip and fall.
  David Langford
  Cable Guy, age 41
  Race: Caucasian
  STR
  10
  CON
  11
  SIZ
  10
  INT
  11
  POW 11
  DEX
  11
  APP
  11
  EDU
  12
  SAN
  41
  HP
  11
  Damage Bonus: 0
  Education: High School
  
  Damage Bonus: 0
  Education: High School
  Occupation: Cable-Television Repairman
  Skills: Accounting 12%, Drive Automobile 55%, Electronics 39%, Fast Talk 31%, 
  Mechanical Repair 36%, Persuade 30%
  Languages: English 60%
  Attacks: None
  Description: Langford was once a handsome and garrulous older man, but the Night 
  Floors have been cruel to him. He looks more like a starved victim of a Nazi death camp 
  then a cable repairman now.
  Thomas Manuel
  Mad Artist, age 26
  Race: Hispanic
  STR
  11
  CON
  12
  SIZ
  11
  INT
  12
  POW 14
  DEX
  13
  APP
  12
  EDU
  14
  SAN
  21
  HP
  12
  Damage Bonus: none
  Education: B.A., Pratt Institute
  Occupation: Fine Artist
  Skills: Art History 58%, Art (Painting) 60%, Art (Photography) 31%, Art (Sculpture) 
  34%, Computer Use 39%, Conceal 19%, Electronics 47%, Spot Hidden 61%
  Languages: English 70%, Spanish 74%
  Attacks: None
  Description: Thomas is an average-looking man with a luxurious mane of black hair 
  which he wears in a loose ponytail. His narrow eyes are blue-grey and are often hidden 
  behind red-tinted sunglasses. He dresses in a casual manner, never in anything more formal 
  than a t-shirt and jeans.
  During the day he is withdrawn and polite, but at night, he is an animated and 
  outgoing person who always ends up the life of the party.
  Louis Adar Post
  Crazed Illustrator, age 27
  Race: Caucasian
  STR
  11
  CON
  11
  SIZ
  11
  INT
  12
  POW 14
  DEX
  13
  APP
  12
  EDU
  12
  SAN
  29
  HP
  11
  Damage Bonus: none
  Education: High School
  Occupation: Comic Book and Paperback Cover Artist
  Skills: Art (Painting) 67%, Computer Use 41%, Fast Talk 37%, Occult 11%, Swim 36%
  Languages: English 60%, French 18%
  Attacks: None
  Description: Louis is a disheveled but attractive man who wears only button-down short-
  sleeve shirts and khakis. His fingers are always covered in India-ink stains and his hair 
  hangs in a permanent unkempt frizz. Despite his odd nature, Louis has a natural charm 
  which comes across in his speech. During the night, however, he is a different person 
  
  altogether. Quiet and brooding, any provocation of the dark Thomas will drive him into a 
  murderous frenzy.
  Mark Armin Roark
  Dead Man Who Tells Tales, age 45?
  Race: Caucasian
  STR
  14
  CON
  13
  SIZ
  14
  INT
  11
  POW 9
  DEX
  10
  APP
  11
  EDU
  9
  SAN
  0
  HP
  13
  Damage Bonus: none
  Education: Junior High School
  Occupation: Former Traveling Salesman
  Skills: Chemistry 13%, Drive Automobile 26%, Earth Science 29%, Fast Talk 37%, 
  History 30%, Mathematics 10%, Physics 20%, Sneak 39%, Spot Hidden 44%
  Languages: English 45%
  Attacks: None
  Description: Roark is an overweight man in a seersucker suit, Roark’s wig, a comical 
  lump of red hair which sits on his head with all the grace of a dead animal, is his only point 
  of pride. Roark’s overbearing nature is compounded by his large stature and bulky frame. 
  There is always a cigar in his mouth.
  Michelle Vanfitz
  Annoying Activist, age 29
  Race: Caucasian
  STR
  11
  CON
  13
  SIZ
  10
  INT
  12
  POW 13
  DEX
  12
  APP
  11
  EDU
  17
  SAN
  11
  HP
  11
  Damage Bonus: none
  Education: Masters in Womens’ Studies, Bennington College
  Occupation: Feminist Author
  Skills: Art (Poetry) 49%, Art (Writing) 38%, Diatribe 81%, Drive Auto 31%, Feminist 
  Literature 53%, Library Use 40%
  Languages: English 92%, Spanish 31%
  Attacks: Mace 39%, 1D10 minutes stun
  Description: Michelle is a squat, distressing woman who frowns constantly. She wears 
  “anti-establishment” clothing; Mustafa hat, African beads, hemp vests and pants, and non-
  prescription glasses. Pretentious beyond compare, she is caught up in her world-view and 
  will not veer from it one iota for anybody. Those who persist in ridiculing her belief system 
  may find out she carries mace everywhere she goes.
  Player Aid 2: The Receipt
  This small piece of paper can be found in Abigail’s apartment:
  [EDITOR’S NOTE: There’s a visual handout here, which I’ve created an abstract 
  
  [EDITOR’S NOTE: There’s a visual handout here, which I’ve created an abstract 
  for.]
  A receipt from Teese Paper Products, #00919, it reads in a handwritten script: 
  Abigail Laura Wright
  July Rent $850
  Apt. S-10
  <Signature>
  Player Aid 3: Roger Carun’s Phone Call
  This taped message lasts about two minutes, and was left on April 19th on Carmen 
  Wagner’s answering machine. It is clearly identifiable as Roger Carun’s voice. Transcript 
  follows:
  “Carmen? Carmen? I . . . Listen. I don’t know if this is getting through. Listen. I’ve 
  found . . . something. It’s amazing. The book, it’s . . . it’s just incredible. It’s so fucking 
  inspiring! I’m working on something new, something to do with the change, you’ll see . . . 
  I love it . . . the way things are now, the way the building, I don’t know . . . is. I can’t 
  explain it. The upstairs just goes on and on. The doors . . . keep on . . . I don’t know . . . 
  going. It’s incredible. Like a Borges story. It’s like living in a surreal novel. I can’t describe 
  it . . . The others warned me not to call . . . but here . . . um . . . here I am. Just wanted to 
  say goodbye. To tell you not to come by anymore, I won’t be here . . . I’m hoping to move 
  upstairs soon . . . to live with the others. Abby and the others are waiting so . . . gotta go. 
  Love and kisses . . . Oh . . . this was Roger Carun. Bye.”
  SCENE:
  The Smoking Lounge, a large parlor on the fourth floor. In the room 
  are THE DOG, THOMAS and MICHELLE.
  ENTER MARK ROARK.
  MARK:
  Abigail is gone, she moved upstairs today.
  THOMAS:
  And?
  MARK:
  I miss the kid.
  MICHELLE: Her dad, that pig, came around. She doesn’t like you Mark, no one 
  likes you. Anyway, she ran off with that salesman, everyone knows it.
  MARK:
  Fuck you, you cunt.
  
  THOMAS:
  Come on guys . . . come on . . .
  THE DOG BARKS.
  Someone is heard coming up the steps, a loud racket reverberating up and down the 
  staircase.
  MARK:
  Who is that?
  Everyone stops to listen.
  MICHELLE: Who could be down there? Who is that?
  MARK steps to the doorway and leans to look down the stairs.
  MARK:
  Hello? Hello?
  ENTER FBI AGENTS
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Delta Green [multi]/adventures/DG - Adv - Night Floors.pdf