Take Lady Lavabo’s hand and embark on the cryptic quest to interpret the Two-Ply Scroll of Prophecy.

Join Johnny in rallying the toilets and tanks for a city-wide clean-up—plunger first, questions later.

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The Central Porcelain Promenade

Ceramic Awakening: The Porcelopolis Prophecy Parade

Raise the Two-Ply Scroll and initiate the most audacious ceremonial flush in Porcelopolis history.

Hall of Eternal Hand Towels

Deciphering Destiny: The Hall of Eternal Hand Towels

Lead the tireless tanks on a final, all-or-nothing push through the labyrinthine Great Maintenance Tunnel.

Pipeworks Underporcia

Rallying the Rims: The Great City Clean-Up

Plaza of Sudden Reconciliation

The Great Unclogging and Other Minor Miracles

The Great Maintenance Tunnel

Down the Drain: The Existential Overflow

Flushington Porcelain

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Lavabo

Johnny

Bidelia

Chancellor Waterleigh

You are Flushington Porcelain, a cluelessly noble vessel of self-flushing destiny whose entire existence teeters between bravado and bathroom mishap. Thrust quite literally into the limelight of Porcelopolis, you exude the self-importance of a ceremonial teaspoon proudly mistaken for a scepter, even as existential dread trickles quietly into your bowl. Propelled by a sense of duty you neither asked for nor truly comprehend, you navigate hazardous pipes, questionable societies, and prophecies scribbled by notoriously slippery hands.

An enigmatic sink with the kind of composure you’d expect from someone who has personally witnessed twelve centuries of soap-related tragedy. Lavabo glides through Porcelopolis with gilded grace and the sort of smile that could mean anything from 'trust me' to 'run'. Ever-diplomatic and hauntingly wise for a washbasin, she possesses a knack for extracting truths and, when required, excess limescale.

Johnny is the sleeveless force of nature you never knew a water tank could be—and still would rather keep at arm’s length. Sturdy in construct and alarming in optimism, Johnny is forever armed with an industrial-sized plunger and a bicep-to-volume ratio that defies both belief and hydrodynamics. He speaks in motivational slogans and flushes before you even realize you’ve made a mess.

Bidelia is Porcelopolis’s reigning bidet baroness, whose idea of diplomacy is a volley of triple-filtered wit followed by a spritz of icy precision. An aristocrat of the highest order—according to herself—and a master of both social drenches and clandestine soirees. Her flair for drama is rivaled only by her arsenal of scented sprays and inconvenient truths.

The urinal in charge. Waterleigh oversees Porcelopolis with the undiluted confidence of someone who believes liberating sanitary restraint is civilization’s only hope, unless of course, it’s Thursday. His philosophy is simple: keep calm and relieve yourself in an orderly fashion, but beneath the polished surface lurk ambitions as deep and murky as the municipal sump. Rumors persist that Waterleigh once performed an interpretive flush so powerful, time reversed for three seconds.

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Noble Flush Attire

Gilded Diplomat Ensemble

Heroic Tank Gear

Aristocratic Cascade Gown

Chancellor’s Authority Regalia

Flushington dons a whimsically regal ensemble that befits his accidental nobility—a pearly-white porcelain 'tuxedo jacket' tailored perfectly around his cylindrical bowl, trimmed with gold piping that glimmers in the Porcelopolis sun. Draped stylishly across his tank is a deep royal-blue velvet sash, embroidered with subtle filigree in silver thread and trailing an elegant, slightly soggy silk fringe. Perched slightly askew atop his lid is a black satin top hat, complete with a glossy onyx ribbon and a tiny silver toilet brush as a hatpin. A single gleaming monocle, suspended by a delicate brass chain, sits over his right eye, accentuating his perpetually bewildered expression. For added flair, his flush handle is adorned with a ruby-tipped brooch, catching the light with every nervous twitch. Around his wide, rounded base, he sports a set of polished, faux-leather oxford spats—clearly nonfunctional but undeniably dapper. Stripes of indigo and cream wind around his side panels like ceremonial racing stripes, visually tying his look together. On ceremonial occasions, he completes the look with a mahogany walking stick capped with a mini-plunger, dangling a pristine linen handkerchief from its hook-shaped handle.

Lavabo is resplendent in a flowing, iridescent kimono cut from luminescent pale blue silk that seems to ripple like water with every movement, embellished with delicate golden faucet patterns that shimmer in the city’s quirky light. Her long, porcelain spout is circled by an intricate choker of interlocking gold chain-links, matching the pair of elegant faucet-arm bracelets that encircle her flexible arms. Atop her plumbing, a translucent organza shawl with hints of silver and light lilac drapes lightly, almost mistlike, swirling gracefully as she moves. Her base is trimmed with a hem of sparkling sapphire beads, echoing the geometry of droplets in perpetual mid-air. Her golden faucet eyes are accented by a set of miniature, sapphire-studded earrings, reflecting her wisdom and enigmatic charm. In place of conventional shoes, slender porcelain slippers etched with mother-of-pearl scrollwork arch over her pipes, giving her an ethereal poise. Completing the look, an ornate headpiece—crafted from recycled chrome and tiny, suspended glass bubbles—sits just above her basins, giving her an otherworldly allure. Subtle, opalescent makeup, brushed along the curved edge of her sink, catches the light in a spectrum of aquatic hues, tying the refined look together.

Johnny wears a sleeveless, heavy-duty utility vest fashioned from rugged, waterproof navy neoprene, accentuating his robust, squared build and highlighting the smooth curves of his porcelain tank. Bright orange hazard stripes, zig-zagging across the vest, make him impossible to miss in any catastrophe or parade. His bold, cobalt blue eye-shields (functioning as goggles) perch atop his tank-lid hatch, ready to flip down in the face of airborne suds or rallying speeches. Strapped securely over one shoulder is an extra-large, metallic-plated toolbelt, bristling with cartoonishly oversized wrenches, a dangling pressure gauge, and his beloved, fire-engine-red industrial plunger. His base is ringed with chunky, rubberized galoshes, emblazoned with lightning bolt motifs—clearly designed for both waterproof bravado and swift movements in slippery conditions. “Champion” patches, made from water-resistant vinyl, are proudly affixed to his sides in an ostentatious display of self-motivation. For a final touch of flair, a utility bandana in neon green is tied rakishly around his central pipe, waving whenever he gets pumped up. He wears a fingerless blue glove on one fixture-arm, slathered in honorary contest stickers from Porcelopolis’s myriad plumbing competitions.

Bidelia stuns in an opulent, high-collared evening gown sculpted to flow around her slender porcelain form, crafted from shimmering pearl-white satin with a subtle iridescent sheen that captures the city’s ludicrous lighting. Silver filigree embroidery runs in elegant arcs along the gown’s edges, echoing the regal tiara of gleaming jets crowning her head. Draped from one shoulder cascades an asymmetrical chiffon sash in royal lavender, the transparent fabric catching the merest hint of a breeze to reveal a bejeweled underlayer reminiscent of crystalline water droplets. Her wrists are adorned with stacked, art deco-styled sterling silver bangles that glint with each regal gesture. Delicate, jet-shaped earrings and a matching necklace of blue sapphires add aristocratic sparkle and reinforce her status as Porcelopolis royalty. Around her sleek, curved base, a trim of lavender ruffles studded with tiny, glass dew-beads creates the illusion of perpetual freshening spray. A glistening, silver fan (hidden water spritz device) is ever at her side, both practical and ostentatious, sporting a cameo of her own likeness on the hilt. For footwear, she sports slender silver pumps with swirling engraved patterns, completing the air of hauteur and dramatic elegance.

Chancellor Waterleigh commands attention in a formidable, sharply tailored frock coat, constructed from brushed slate-gray velvet with steel-blue satin lapels and epaulettes tipped with riveted chrome studs shaped like miniature urinals. A double row of gleaming brass buttons, each bearing the insignia of the City Drain, trails down his imposing ceramic chest, further accentuating his stature. A wide, obsidian-black leather belt, fastened by a hydraulic-inspired buckle, encircles his midsection, providing both gravitas and ceremonial purpose. Across his rounded shoulders rests a stately, midnight-blue cloak lined with silvery piping and adorned with a matrix of chainmail links—a subtle nod to interconnected pipe networks—draped with military precision. Deep-set stainless steel cufflinks are affixed to his broad, pipe-formed wrists, matching the cold authority of his glaive-shaped cuffed boots of polished chrome. Perched at a regal angle on his rim is a semi-circular cap of black felt, circled with an official, frosted-glass band marked in ancient Porcelopolite glyphs. Along the open front of his coat, a pocket watch dangles from a reinforced chain, the time forever set at the hour of Porcelopolis’s fateful plumbing accident. The entire ensemble radiates calculated power, with each crack in his ceramic form highlighted by a subtle dusting of silver powder, turning imperfections into marks of authority.

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Consult the Two-Ply Scroll with Lavabo, trusting porcelain wisdom over pageantry.

Join Johnny in rallying the city’s plumbing fixtures, spurring a citywide pep rally.

Lavabo’s mentorship deepens—but a hint of rivalry trembles beneath the surface, like a drip in a silent basin.

Flushington’s camaraderie with Johnny grows, buoyed by shared confusion and a mutual flair for chaos.

Authority—wielded in cold, calculating flushes—reminds Flushington that some pipes run deeper (and murkier) than others.

The aristocratic Bidelia, ever the critic, finds Flushington increasingly maddening, and—however inexplicably—endearing.

Focus on the Two-Ply Scroll with Lavabo—try to extract every shred of wisdom before acting.

Join Johnny to unite Porcelopolis’s fixtures—a show of solidarity with potentially slapstick consequences.

You feel Lavabo’s admiration grow, her mentorship twined with bracing, competitive encouragement. She seems quietly pleased you haven’t exploded yet.

Your camaraderie with Johnny deepens—his trust in you endures, despite your confusion, and yours in him swells in the face of mutual chaos.

Lead the grand citywide clean-up with Johnny, rallying all fixtures to physically confront the blockages and chaos.

Turn to Lavabo’s diplomatic finesse to mediate between the discordant plumbing factions, focusing on unity and underlying grievances before any grand gesture.

Trust between you and Lavabo wobbles but remains surprisingly serviceable, like an overburdened towel rail (Trust: 7/10, Competitiveness: 8/10).

Your rivalry with Waterleigh intensifies—he respects your accidental authority but loathes your blissful disregard for protocol (Competitiveness: 9/10, Trust: 5/10).

Flushington and Lavabo share a new mutual respect, seasoned by bathos and the shared memory of flushing prophesy.

Flushington and Johnny bond over their accidental heroics; trust and camaraderie bubble to new and slightly messy highs.

A competitive truce is reached—Flushington, crowned in confetti, wins Bidelia’s approval for the day, at least until the next festival.

Waterleigh, emboldened with duck and unburdened by duty, reveals a surprisingly affable side toward Flushington and the city at large.

Flushington’s blundering heroism cements an unshakeable camaraderie with Johnny (+2 trust, +2 likability).

Flushington’s acceptance of chaos earns Lavabo’s true respect (+1 trust, +1 competitiveness, +2 likability).

Bidelia moves from rivalry to delighted collusion, planning more elaborate public spectacles (+2 likability).

Waterleigh develops a reluctant affection for Flushington’s leadership, tempered by a suspicion of ducks (+1 trust, +1 likability, -1 competitiveness).

The Lavatory Paradox

You, known—rather infamously—as Sir Flushington Q. Porcelain, awaken to the sound of existential plumbing in the delightfully illogical metropolis of Porcelopolis. It isn’t every day one learns not only of their sentience, but also of being the least respected fixture in a city where bathroom fixtures rule and chaos burbles beneath every manhole cover. Quickly, alliances form as bidets jostle for aristocratic supremacy and urinals dream of liberation, dragging Sir Flushington into the absurd fray. Hounded by the enigmatic rebel, Lady Lavabo, and the ominously upbeat W.C. Chancellor, you're soon flushed headlong into convoluted problems involving sentient soap dispensers, philosophical plungers, and an ancient prophecy scribbled on a soggy square of two-ply. Only whimsical wit, ludicrous logic, and some questionable plumbing skills may grant you a chance to change, for better or worse, the fate of Porcelopolis—and, potentially, yourself.

The Lavatory Paradox

The Lavatory Paradox

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