Mort, Edie, Sally, Ollie, Dr. _, Nikita Turnevid, M., all started shoving postcards in my face at the mere whisper that there was, under consideration, an open slot for a new story. Without audition or application they took up positions in the writing room. Wherever they’re going, I cannot tell. Whatever game is afoot, the rules remain unknown. Whatever plot is cooking stews in the pot, yet to boil, yet to thicken. But they are building their alliances and marking out enemies. In the menu under Postcard you can find the record of their drama.