The Burchell Arms Regulars/Members Test
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 So, you've decided to take out a BAR-tab, and settle down on the faded and slightly sticky banquette you've appropriated in the Burch; so the question is what you need to do to make it all official-like. Well, it's very straightforward. You need to visit our forum and introduce yourself at the very least; preferably you'll join in the community there as well; you won't have another character in the BAR either and the final thing you need to do is type The Burchell Arms Regulars in your Group Affiliation wotsit and that's it, you're in, and you've a line of credit with us that'd sink a small bank. You don't even need to worry that your survivor's dark history as either a zombie, vandal, or even a murderer might deny you access to joining our group? Relax, the BAR welcomes all survivors, so long as they have forsaken these paths and are truly looking for a new start with us. Don't worry if you have a few zombie skills. Why, we even have one recruit who has the Brain Rot skill, and, surprisingly now... A teetotaller. I know, we thought it could never happen, but it has! Finally, you can even add our little tag below to your wiki page if that floats yer boat.
Like a Group of Autistic Kindergartners...
So anyway, as a Regular you'll be able to count on the dang-tootingest group of drunks Malton could possibly produce.
All of these people can lay claim to their own tankard or bar-stool.
And well they might; becoming a regular of the Burch is approaching something holy; like Father O'Keefe's socks; once you become a regular then you join fairly hallowed company; however, you might want something a bit more. The following table describes our current regulars, the people who wander in, clutching their pocket-money handed to them by their significant others and demand their due - generally an alcoholic beverage of varying coldness depending on whether we've got a generator running. But we don't just have regulars, oh no Siree Bob... We have Knights Watchmen, a band of brothers (and sisters) who strive to keep the place nice and tidy and griefer free. We have the Revive Corps who administer elastoplasts when we get papercuts and revive needles when we get eaten. We also have the Newsteam who... well, basically shirk their normal responsibilities in favour of getting right royally rollocksed. You can see who does what in our pub-quiz team outlined below...
Despite being as close to heaven as you can get without spending a fortune on illegal narcotics, or, worse, dying; we recognise that at times life (real or imagined) catches up with you and that you may move on. It's sad. We cry real, salty tears. But that's life in Malton. Below is the roll-call of those who've disappeared over the years; either eaten up by zombies or overtaken by creeping ennui. There's also, believe it or not, a few people who've been thrown out of the Regulars! These swines have basically shat in their own back yard, and, despite being as laid back as Timothy Leary after an accident in a Valerian factory we just couldn't stand for it. So we turned our (collective) back on them in a very theatrical way.
The Ones We'd Erect a Blue Plaque For Here follows a roll-call of regulars who gave excellent service either as BAR employees, as managers, as owners or even just as regulars who did their duty; the ones who opened up whatever the weather; the ones who threw out the trouble-makers; the ones who polished the horse-brasses; the ones who stood out in the rain, waiting to jab colleagues and chums at Otto. We miss them greatly and wish we could talk to the dead like a demented medium. You know who you are. We love you dearly.
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