0) All of the following goes unless stated otherwise. PMs are written correctly, except when they aren't. Rule of thumb is that when PM and rule disagree, PM wins, but don't be afraid to ask me if you're confused.
0b) The mod has a reputation for, well, not being the best at managing all the little triggers. If I forget or overlook something, please let me know posthaste.
1) When a player needs to be replaced, rather than take the first person off the list, the mod will instead PM the replacements, and the first replacement to respond will take the role.
2) In the interest of progress, this game will use the deadline system from The Asphodel Meadows, with a twist. Day 1 will be deadlined for 4 weeks after the mod's first post. Subsequent Days will last 3 weeks. Extensions of up to one week will be considered in extraordinary cases (i.e. the mod gets hit by a bus).
3) Players who may communicate via Google Group may do so at any time. Players must use their real username in groups.
4) Players may not use two abilities in the same period unless otherwise stated. This restriction does not apply to the mafia or Serial Killer.
5) Day abilities will resolve in timestamp order. Night ability resolution follows the following order (a modified version of Seppel’s):
1. All passive effects
2. Controlling another player's actions
3. Changing the qualities of other actions
4. Losing / gaining actions
5. First strike non-killing actions
6. Redirecting / replacement / delaying effects
7. Roleblocking
8. Protecting
9. First strike killing actions
10. All other actions
11. Gathering information
12. Killing actions
6) The number of votes required to lynch any player can never be lower than 1 or higher than the number of living players minus 1.
7) A player dying or leaving the game during the day resets the vote count.
8) The use of information taken from outside the game, any site other than this one or a mod-created Google Group, or real life is banned unless I explicitly say otherwise. (Quoting from a Google Group is legal, but the mod will not confirm or deny whether any quote is real if asked.) Likewise, all wagers or promises that extend outside the game are also banned. The penalties for screwing around will be severe.
1) PM Structure
Abilities have names and keys. The keys are (Type of Ability/Period of Use/Number of Uses).
Type of Ability: Passive (P), Active (A), or Targeting (T). Passive means the ability works by itself; Active means the ability requires activation submitted to the mod, and Targeting means the ability requires activation and a target or targets for the ability submitted to the mod.
Period of Use: Day (D), Night (N), or Any (A). The period in which the ability may be used/when it activates.
Number of Uses: Permanent (P) or #-Shot (#). The number of times the ability may be used. Permanent means the ability has an unlimited number of uses (although other rules of use still apply). Note that if an ability has a limited number of uses, and one of those uses are blocked in some way, that use is still lost.
So, for example, an ability with keys (T/N/3) is a three-shot targeting night ability.
2) Setup/Neutrals/Factions
This game has three factions: town, mafia, and serial killer. It also has a lot of neutrals. (The serial killer is not a neutral.)
Neutrals do not have one of the normal three win conditions, but instead have alternate win conditions (AWCs). When a player completes his or her AWC, he does not immediately win the game, nor does he leave the game. In addition, completing an AWC at some point is not enough to win; you must have it complete at the time the game ends (see below).
Neutrals cannot win the game if they are dead. But if the mafia win the game and the neutral has completed his or her win condition, the neutral still wins (along with the mafia). If a serial killer and a neutral are the only players alive, and the latter has completed his/her win condition, both win.
Having a particular win condition does not make a player a member of that faction. Factions are predetermined in role PM and do not change.
There are no jesters.
3) Ending the Game
The game can end in one of four ways:
- The town completes its win condition. Every townie’s win condition is “The scum must die.”
- The mafia completes its win condition. Every mafioso’s win condition is “The mafia equals or exceeds the non-mafia in number.”
- The serial killer completes his win condition. The serial killer’s win condition is “Survive to the final two.”
- A majority of players in the game pass a Shutdown measure.
At any time during the day, a player may post Vote: Shutdown. A player who has so moved may remove that vote by posting Unvote. Votes to shutdown will be tracked by the mods alongside other votes, and a vote to shutdown is taken from your normal vote pool. Players may only make one vote from their vote pool to shutdown. If a majority of the players in the game vote to shutdown during a day, the game immediately ends.
When the game ends, all living players who have completed their win conditions win. Note that if the game ends by Shutdown, barring strange circumstances, the town, mafia, and SK will likely all lose.
1) As always, read all the rules carefully - while it may seem simple, there are a lot of moving parts here, and some things have definitely changed from my previous games. I’d hate for someone to lose because they mistakenly thought something worked in a certain way.
2) I hope at this point you know better than to game me. History has shown that trying to speculate about my setups is at best a waste of time - and at worst, suicidal. But don’t think for a second that this setup won’t directly punish you for bad habits or sloppiness, either.
3) Behavioral analysis is always your friend. That being said, you cannot afford to ignore tactics this game. You must always be thinking about how to win from your current position - assuming a win will fall into your lap if you play normally will not be enough this game.
Living
1. Archmage Eternal - Antoine Faber - Town Hatchet Man
2. Emo Pinata - Tito the First - Neutral Candidate
3. EronTheRelentless - "Bruce" - Neutral Survivor
4. ganderin_dan - Y. - Neutral Cult Leader
5. infectiousbaloth - Max Carrow - Town Coroner
6. Iso - Matthew Schroeder - Serial Killer
7. Wuffles_II - Ivan Gore - Neutral Igor
I've had my time rather sapped by dealing with my graduation and family, so I'm going to make the unconventional move of sending out provisional role PMs without the flavor, since not all of it is written yet.
My goal is to get all of the flavor done and sent out before Monday, but I also wanted everyone to have some time to internalize their roles and communicate with teammates, and couldn't be sure I'd get all the flavor done while giving enough time.
To make things easier, I've included a small blurb for each role, explaining who your character is, so you have some idea what to expect from the flavor to come.
Sorry for the inconvenience. If you have any questions about roles or flavor, let me know posthaste.
Oh, and please confirm when you receive the PM, and send me anything I ask for therein.
If you're having trouble understanding the keys for your abilities in your PM, check "PM Structure" under "Special Rules".
His legs weren’t broken. He didn’t know why. The little girl was almost weightless when he finally felt her weight in his hands, but perhaps the wave of pain put that thought out of mind. The man in the Armani suit limped around the corner, cursing his bad luck. Why save the girl. She meant nothing! He checked his watch again to remind himself that he wasn’t losing his mind. 22 December 2018, three twelve. Not quite insane yet.
As he made his way away from the building, the pain worsened. Broken or not, shouldn’t be walking. The goddamn pilot, getting caught up in air traffic. No planning. Incompetent. And now the case is lost. Behind him, he heard a car’s screeching brakes, probably his associates off to retrieve the case. One can only hope. But no time, no time, I’m late for tea - quick mister bunny. Shouldn’t be walking, should not be running.
Ozone Park hadn’t changed. The man in the Armani suit could remember visiting his paternal great-grandmother here, in the few years they shared alive. Her father had come to Ozone Park soon after he stepped off the boat from Germany shortly before the first world war; soon thereafter, the Germans started to get displaced by the Italians, the Lutheran churches were picked up by the RCC, and his ancestors started to disappear into the other boroughs. But his great-grandmother had always stayed, in that first house the first American Klein had owned; she didn’t feel safe in the city, she said. Everyone only looks out for their own selves now. It’s disgraceful. And then she would start talking about the Italian mafia pigs, and Arthur would get a pained look on his face and start pushing his son out of the room...
Arthur. Strange yet to call him Arthur. He’d been accustomed to calling him Alpha, even after he died a few years ago from cancer. Arthur, Raymond, Alpha, Sigma. There was a new Alpha now, and a new Sigma, as was the Press’ custom, but that still felt strange to say... Even eight years later. Eight... yes, eight. In that time - watching him bleed to death in Los Angeles rubble, killing those men, and all those after - the man in the Armani suit had felt his skin tighten, ever so slightly, until it clutched at him.
He hadn’t spoken to Arthur for two years after that mission; just took his new credentials and missions through intermediaries, and put his head down and did everything asked of him precisely. It was only after Alpha got his diagnosis and told his son that the man in the Armani suit let the light hit his face, for a moment. When he heard, two thoughts moved through his mind. The first was a son’s sadness, a feeling he hadn’t known since Sigma’s death, which shocked and humbled him. The second was the lingering recognition, upon learning the cause - Hodgkin’s - that the old man must have known for years - decades? - before he told his son. But why? A question that never came.
In their time between the first days in Ozone and the last moments in a Manhattan hospital, the four generations of Kleins had stretched their arms across the globe. And in that time, the city had grown - metastasized. Manhattan had been rapidly seized in the last decade by new skyscrapers, pushing out all but the rich and their corporations, and already talk had begun of geoforming the Hudson. In their wake, the rest of the city’s citizens were pushed back further - into Long Island, into the Bronx - and found themselves crowding against their side of the river, anxiously eying the glittering towers on the island... like the one the man in the Armani suit’s associates had just gutted. But Ozone Park hadn’t changed. It was still ethnic, and decrepit - prosperity’s memory hole.
Great-grandmother Klein had passed in ‘92, and her grandson had torn down her house, and put up the headquarters toward which her great-grandson now bounded. That had changed, he could admit.
The door was open before he could grab the handle, and he found himself fumbling in the air for something to lean on, lungs and legs fiery. It took him a minute to register the door’s holder, and his beaming face. “Oh... Vin... hey Vincent.”
“What, did you decide you were too good for the helicopter? Decided to run all the way from the island.” Vincent chuckled. His long hair was starting to get tinged with gray, the wages of years spent managing Queens for the Press. He was a local tough who’d made good in the world and graduated to Chief Tough. The man in the Armani suit had called him that one time, a decade ago, when Vincent had been teaching him about repairing some of the Press’ cars, lying on his back on a roller. Vincent promptly dropped a tire on his head.
“Yeah, well, the Sartori Solution - an hour a day, right. Be right for swimsuit season. Is the kid...?”
“Taking a shower. You’ll have to wait your turn. Christ, from the looks of you, might be better if we skip the shower and I just pour this over your head.” Vincent removed his hand from behind his back, revealing a bottle of Ketel. “Merry christmas, man. Don’t drink it all in one place.” He paused for a moment, accepting the man in the Armani suit’s panting nod with a smile, and walked off toward the kitchen. The man in the Armani suit sucked in one last breath, left the bottle on a nearby table, and walked upstairs.
K. was just leaving the bathroom when he reached the landing. Her eyes locked onto him instantly. She was wrapped in an assortment of towels and a look of elation. “Hey! Welcome back. You look like someone beat the **** out of you.”
The man in the Armani suit managed a weak grin. “Been busy.” K. was an up-and-comer the current Alpha had found through his connections and promptly assigned to “his best agent.” That particular agent protested loudly, but to no avail. It wasn’t the work, the work was fine, he’d argued, but I can’t supervise recruits. Why not? was the only reply he received, and the only one he couldn’t answer, so he resignedly took her on. The man in the Armani suit hadn’t told her much about why he didn’t want her - or much else - but did feel heat rising in his gut as he saw her.
She walked past him smoothly. “You’ll be pleased to know that Vincent lost the death pool badly.” An easy laugh. “Last time he bets on ‘crashing the helicopter after trying to pilot it with his...’”
The man in the Armani suit laughed quietly back. “Glad to hear someone stood behind me.”
“Me? Are you kidding? I had you down for ‘thrown out of helicopter by pilot for being a misanthropic ****.’ Gotta hedge my bets.” She removed the damp towel from her hair and threw it to him. “Last one.”
“Yep.” He turned toward the bathroom, removing his suit jacket.
“But...” K. said briefly, over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back, Dave.”
After the moment fell from the air, she turned and walked off, leaving the man in the Armani suit holding the towel and staring at the space she’d left behind, trying to conjure from it some small image of the past.
“You lost it?!” Gamma asked. More gravel in his voice than usual.
“Sir, we were behind schedule, the pilot -”
“I don’t want to hear it!” The screen’s image seemed to tremble slightly. “That case was your responsibility. Retrieving it is instrumental to our mission. You can’t just leave that kind of thing behind!” Gamma is third in line on the Board, naturally, and while he’s an old man like the others, he still has the hungry look. If anything, his age and the proximity of his prize only made him seem to glower more. The man in the Armani suit tried to turn over the list of associates in his head - was this one a friend of his father’s, or an old business associate, or the head of one of the subsi -
“I’m sure there was a reason he left the case behind,” Vincent intervened. “Besides, we know where it is.” He held up a small tracer, which pinged impatiently. “It’s just a matter of turning over the neighborhood to find it. Shouldn’t take more than a day.”
“I hope so, Carr, for your own sake.” Gamma ran his hand through his comb-over out of unconscious habit, and tried to smooth it back out. “You and Larin take our favorite son here and retrieve the case. I don’t care what it takes, but it needs to get done now.” Without waiting for a response, Gamma slammed his keyboard, and the screen blanked.
Vincent turned to the man in the Armani suit, who was staring at the black space. “I hope you had a good reason for what you did.”
K. walked in, reattaching her Glock’s slide absently. The trigger jutted out, and she grinned and pointed it at the man in the Armani suit and pulled the trigger. The click felt too small a sound. The man in the Armani suit realized he’d never seen her shoot the gun outside the range. She put the empty gun down on the table and turned to Vincent. “So?”
“The Board’s pissed at our boy, naturally, and they want us to go crack some local heads.” He rolled his shoulders backward. K. nodded eagerly and turned out the door, headed for the elevator down to the basement. Vincent picked up his pack and followed her, but stopped at the doorway when he noticed the man in the Armani suit hadn’t moved. “What’s eating you, Gilbert? I’d expect you to perk up at a job.”
The man in the Armani suit stood up, twisting his neck around absently. “Guess I’m just tired. Not a lot of quiet places in that tower.” He looked over at Vincent and reached down, hand fumbling for his briefcase. “What’s your impression of K.?”
“She’s enthusiastic. We all were once. It comes with the job.” Vincent shook his head. “You need to knock that thought away. She’ll learn - they all do. I remember you did just fine after Los Angeles. Eight years, right? And you’re still standing, running.” Vincent paused, and looked away to say what was on his mind:
“Your mother would be proud of you.”
He turned back, searching the man in the Armani suit’s vacant eyes. “Bring the bottle. Maybe you’ll convince the kid to finally take you on.” The man in the Armani suit opened his mouth to protest, but saw the playfulness in Vincent’s eyes and could only grin back sheepishly. “C’mon.” And Vincent leaned away from the door frame, and the clatter of his boots receded as he walked toward the elevator.
The boy ran. Every piece of his body powered forward, unconscious of its mission, and his brain sent only one message - run, run, run. Guilt was lost in the fray. Only when he stopped to lean against a stoplight, nearly slamming his head into it from blind momentum, did he remember her. A word he shouldn't think flashed through his mind. Still in the garbage, probably sobbing. He’d never get anywhere with her now.
Over the grinding of the city and the pound of his heart and the rasp of his breath, he thought he could hear the case held tightly in his arms hum. His mind raced at what it might be. A bomb? No, it would tick, right? Don’t be silly, what clock ticks. Maybe some old tech? He remembered the computer at home hummed sometimes. He looked down. The case didn’t look like it had any locks or anything like that, and he thought for a brief moment to open it and take a look inside, but when he reached for the little switch like a clasp on the top it seemed to shudder in his hand, and he pulled away sharply and turned and kept running to find his dad.
His mother met him at the door of his house, wrapped in blankets and wobbling against her hand on the frame. She told him to go to the community center down the road. He’s in a meeting, Kyle. I don’t know if he wants to see you. But only half those words reached the boy’s ears, as he had already turned and run down and away, leaving her to hear the words echo in the chilled air.
The community center had peeling white paint that looked like stucco, or the surface of a rough stone. It used to be a failing charter school before the school had been seized by the state and repurposed. Out front was still a playground - the only polished surface around, worn to a shine by heavy use. The boy burst through the doors and found himself in a long hall of lonely lockers. Only occasionally was the hall lit by bulbs. At the end, he could see a column of light behind a door and hear angry voices. He charged forward toward the light, case swinging behind him, and pushed open the door.
It was an old cafeteria, filled with squat tables and plastic chairs. Every head turned to greet his presence with a startled look. The boy’s father was sitting on his end of the room, and he looked the most mortified. At the other end, a man in a pinstripe suit stood, and he started shouting at the boy’s father about his intrusion, and the boy’s father raised his hands to calm him and turned to his son, who had bounded to his side.
“Now’s not the best time. Dad’s in a meeting. Can this -”
“But I was at the cemetery with Jenny and we saw this man and she fell off a building and I got this case see -”
“Well, that’s nice, but you’ll have to tell me in -”
The man in the suit shouted again. “Hey, are we having a meeting here? What the hell?!”
The boy’s father grimaced and turned back. “Now, just hang on a mo-”
At that moment, the man in the Armani suit stepped through the door on the other side of the room, followed by K., Vincent, and the long tails of his overcoat. “Excuse me, but I believe I have a word to say...”
The pinstriped fellow snorted and turned to the trio. “And now who the **** is this? Another esteemed witness! Please, come in - I’m sure you have a lot to say about our business, sir.” The boy across the room saw the trio and ducked below the table, sliding the case behind some of his father’s bags. His father looked down briefly and said nothing.
Vincent and K. frowned and looked at the man in the Armani suit, who pursed his lips impatiently. “I’m just here looking for something that belongs to me. A case... you might have...”
“No, I don’t think you understand me,” the pinstriped fellow retorted hotly. “You see, you don’t have a say here. And that’s because I say who has a say here, and you sure don’t look like someone I’d like. So I suggest you, the old man, and the little girl turn around and leave us to our business.”
Vincent reached into his coat, but the man in the Armani suit stopped him with a raised arm. He looked up at the pinstriped fellow with an angry smirk, and sauntered toward him. “What’s your name?”
The pinstriped man gave a haughty laugh. “I’m the guy who runs this ****in’ town. That’s my name. What’s yours?”
The man in the Armani suit reached into his coat and pulled out his Sig, and pointed it at the man’s chest. “The man with the gun,” he said, and he fired. The pinstripes radiated outward, wobbling in the air, and the man behind them gasped and tipped forward and fell. Behind him, someone tried to stifle a cry, and it came out like the scrape of metal on metal. The man in the Armani suit blinked a few times, letting it all register, and turned back to the others.
Vincent’s eyes were locked on him, as if unaware there had been a shot at all. K.’s eyes pointed straight ahead, her lips tight. After a moment, she recognized his look, and she tipped her head up and her cheeks tightened slightly, in grim facsimile of a smile. The man in the Armani suit paused, keeping her gaze, for a moment, and he tried to look through her eyes, but he could see the cloud forming behind them, shielding her within from what was about to happen. Always remember the first time, he knew - and it always feels, in your memory, like you’re the one taking the bullet. He closed his own eyes, pointed the gun down at where the fallen man’s head was, and fired one more round.
After the sound of the shot left the air, the man in the Armani suit reopened his eyes in piercing light. The remaining people were silent, tensed. He touched his tongue to his teeth for a moment, and started talking, quietly... “That was not...” but he caught himself. He looked up at their tense faces, took his finger off the trigger, and held his gun up.
“Alright. Now you see what happens when I don’t get what I want. So. Who’s got my case?” He scanned the faces before him. “Let’s see some hands.”
Day 1 has begun.
With 21 players alive, it is 11 to lynch and 11 to shutdown.
Deadline is set for June 11th at noon MST.
Still working on getting the flavor done. I'll send pieces along as I finish them.
2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
Honey Badger on a pointy stick of Suspiscion: Iso .... Arent you supposed to be taking a break from Mafia? That doesnt seem like towny behavior for someone to be untruthful like that.
2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
Are they supposed to be good? I've only heard hearsay.... I only wanted to spectate... but it appears that I am in the kitchen. Oh well, food must be cooked I suppose
2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
unvote unvote unvote unvote Vote Iso Vote Iso for being in the middle of the list and the middle of the phunny zionite joke that i didn't get to make and i borked macius trying to make phunny.
If you keep up that talk, you have a good shot at being elected.
It would be an honor to be considered your candidate, but my goal is not to lead my goal is to connect to the elites of Ozone Park with the common man and bring back the values that made it the great place I recall growing up in. It may have fallen on harder times, but that is when we must join together as a community and support our fellow man. It's about united and no longer dividing when we're not all that different.
2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
Because establishing it sooner rather than later can save time spend sitting here and wondering.
I have no issue with role play (as now as its coherent and readable) if thats what your asking.
Cyan looks at the character known as tordeck skeptically, and states, "This answer lacks sincerity."
Cyan glances around furtively. With a steely look of determination, he grabs tordeck by his coat, and practically screams, "You are hiding something from us, aren't you? AREN'T YOU?"
My only restrictions are the one the government imposes on the economy and the benefit to the people of this fine nation. There is no need for such stringent rules and regulations stifling innovation and growth for some nebulous backroom "science" insisting the world (which is going to outlive me, my children, and my children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children) is on the verge of imploding.
What I offer is more money in your pocket, and the freedom to enjoy all those leisure activities you hold dear - like playing golf or travelling. I also offer you the protection of those freedoms, and even a better business climate to foster the Ozone Park dreams.
I thank you for your apparent good deeds, but there is no need to try and be so helpful! I already have a team of aides and volunteers to support my campaign and keep my promises to Ozone Park and its people. There is no need to be such a helpful citizen!
Bringing people together for a kinder, gentler Ozone Park...
I've been in...I've been in warsh, sonny. I've been in friggin warsh. I've sheen it all. Sheen budsh get...gunned down. And for what? FOR WHAT? Electric can openers and neon...neon Sodom-towers. This schity, man, this schity used to be worth something.
0b) The mod has a reputation for, well, not being the best at managing all the little triggers. If I forget or overlook something, please let me know posthaste.
1) When a player needs to be replaced, rather than take the first person off the list, the mod will instead PM the replacements, and the first replacement to respond will take the role.
2) In the interest of progress, this game will use the deadline system from The Asphodel Meadows, with a twist. Day 1 will be deadlined for 4 weeks after the mod's first post. Subsequent Days will last 3 weeks. Extensions of up to one week will be considered in extraordinary cases (i.e. the mod gets hit by a bus).
3) Players who may communicate via Google Group may do so at any time. Players must use their real username in groups.
4) Players may not use two abilities in the same period unless otherwise stated. This restriction does not apply to the mafia or Serial Killer.
5) Day abilities will resolve in timestamp order. Night ability resolution follows the following order (a modified version of Seppel’s):
6) The number of votes required to lynch any player can never be lower than 1 or higher than the number of living players minus 1.
7) A player dying or leaving the game during the day resets the vote count.
8) The use of information taken from outside the game, any site other than this one or a mod-created Google Group, or real life is banned unless I explicitly say otherwise. (Quoting from a Google Group is legal, but the mod will not confirm or deny whether any quote is real if asked.) Likewise, all wagers or promises that extend outside the game are also banned. The penalties for screwing around will be severe.
Abilities have names and keys. The keys are (Type of Ability/Period of Use/Number of Uses).
Type of Ability: Passive (P), Active (A), or Targeting (T). Passive means the ability works by itself; Active means the ability requires activation submitted to the mod, and Targeting means the ability requires activation and a target or targets for the ability submitted to the mod.
Period of Use: Day (D), Night (N), or Any (A). The period in which the ability may be used/when it activates.
Number of Uses: Permanent (P) or #-Shot (#). The number of times the ability may be used. Permanent means the ability has an unlimited number of uses (although other rules of use still apply). Note that if an ability has a limited number of uses, and one of those uses are blocked in some way, that use is still lost.
So, for example, an ability with keys (T/N/3) is a three-shot targeting night ability.
2) Setup/Neutrals/Factions
This game has three factions: town, mafia, and serial killer. It also has a lot of neutrals. (The serial killer is not a neutral.)
Neutrals do not have one of the normal three win conditions, but instead have alternate win conditions (AWCs). When a player completes his or her AWC, he does not immediately win the game, nor does he leave the game. In addition, completing an AWC at some point is not enough to win; you must have it complete at the time the game ends (see below).
Neutrals cannot win the game if they are dead. But if the mafia win the game and the neutral has completed his or her win condition, the neutral still wins (along with the mafia). If a serial killer and a neutral are the only players alive, and the latter has completed his/her win condition, both win.
Having a particular win condition does not make a player a member of that faction. Factions are predetermined in role PM and do not change.
There are no jesters.
3) Ending the Game
The game can end in one of four ways:
- The town completes its win condition. Every townie’s win condition is “The scum must die.”
- The mafia completes its win condition. Every mafioso’s win condition is “The mafia equals or exceeds the non-mafia in number.”
- The serial killer completes his win condition. The serial killer’s win condition is “Survive to the final two.”
- A majority of players in the game pass a Shutdown measure.
At any time during the day, a player may post Vote: Shutdown. A player who has so moved may remove that vote by posting Unvote. Votes to shutdown will be tracked by the mods alongside other votes, and a vote to shutdown is taken from your normal vote pool. Players may only make one vote from their vote pool to shutdown. If a majority of the players in the game vote to shutdown during a day, the game immediately ends.
When the game ends, all living players who have completed their win conditions win. Note that if the game ends by Shutdown, barring strange circumstances, the town, mafia, and SK will likely all lose.
2) I hope at this point you know better than to game me. History has shown that trying to speculate about my setups is at best a waste of time - and at worst, suicidal. But don’t think for a second that this setup won’t directly punish you for bad habits or sloppiness, either.
3) Behavioral analysis is always your friend. That being said, you cannot afford to ignore tactics this game. You must always be thinking about how to win from your current position - assuming a win will fall into your lap if you play normally will not be enough this game.
4) It’s a Xyre game. Expect the unexpectable.
Good luck, have fun, and more hustle.
Experiments Series: #5 (Courtly Intrigue Mafia) | #4 (Drunken Tracker) | #3 (Big Red Button) - coming soon | #2 (Pope Mafia) | #1 (Iso's Inflammable Mafia)
Mini Games: MTGS Mafia Redux II (Invitational, Evil Mirror Universe) | Unreal City
Old Games (bad): The Greenwood Affair | Blood Moon Mafia
Deadline:
Votes to Lynch:
Living
1. Archmage Eternal - Antoine Faber - Town Hatchet Man
2. Emo Pinata - Tito the First - Neutral Candidate
3. EronTheRelentless - "Bruce" - Neutral Survivor
4. ganderin_dan - Y. - Neutral Cult Leader
5. infectiousbaloth - Max Carrow - Town Coroner
6. Iso - Matthew Schroeder - Serial Killer
7. Wuffles_II - Ivan Gore - Neutral Igor
Unliving
1. Zionite - Alex Carcurro - Neutral Lover - Executed Day 1
2. Arcadic - Aaron Timkovitch - Neutral Shapeshifter - Beaten Night 1
3. Cyan - Jack Larsen - Neutral Conspiracy Theorist - Smothered Night 1
4. Wrath_of_DoG - "Samson" - Mafia Jack-of-All-Trades - Filled with bullets Day 2
5. Guardman - Det. Trisha Stern - Town Beta Cop - Smothered Night 2
6. zindabad - Trevor Murphy - Town Alcoholic - Impaled by a holy sword Night 2
7. The Cold Monarch - Peter Alexandrov - Mafia Necromancer - Submitted Day 3
8. DRey (r. pinkys brain) - "Dr. Warren Dempsey" - Neutral Doctor - Smothered Night 3
9. Cyouni - Asher Golta - Mafia Overseer - Sliced in half Night 3
10. Void (r. Niv) - Luisa Clarke - Mafia Lover - Beaten to death Night 3
11. tordeck - Michael Fabrizzi - Town Chronoshifter - Electrocuted in curious fashion Night 4
12. Macius - Monica Epstein - Town Vote Manager - Executed Day 5
13. KittyCupCake - Kasey Rose Larin - Neutral Mastermind - Cut to ribbons Night 5
14. Archonoid - Hanna Kells - Neutral Spy - Ruptured Night 5
Game ended Day 6 in Shutdown
Experiments Series: #5 (Courtly Intrigue Mafia) | #4 (Drunken Tracker) | #3 (Big Red Button) - coming soon | #2 (Pope Mafia) | #1 (Iso's Inflammable Mafia)
Mini Games: MTGS Mafia Redux II (Invitational, Evil Mirror Universe) | Unreal City
Old Games (bad): The Greenwood Affair | Blood Moon Mafia
I've had my time rather sapped by dealing with my graduation and family, so I'm going to make the unconventional move of sending out provisional role PMs without the flavor, since not all of it is written yet.
My goal is to get all of the flavor done and sent out before Monday, but I also wanted everyone to have some time to internalize their roles and communicate with teammates, and couldn't be sure I'd get all the flavor done while giving enough time.
To make things easier, I've included a small blurb for each role, explaining who your character is, so you have some idea what to expect from the flavor to come.
Sorry for the inconvenience. If you have any questions about roles or flavor, let me know posthaste.
Oh, and please confirm when you receive the PM, and send me anything I ask for therein.
If you're having trouble understanding the keys for your abilities in your PM, check "PM Structure" under "Special Rules".
Experiments Series: #5 (Courtly Intrigue Mafia) | #4 (Drunken Tracker) | #3 (Big Red Button) - coming soon | #2 (Pope Mafia) | #1 (Iso's Inflammable Mafia)
Mini Games: MTGS Mafia Redux II (Invitational, Evil Mirror Universe) | Unreal City
Old Games (bad): The Greenwood Affair | Blood Moon Mafia
But in ourselves...”
- Shakespeare, Julius Caesar
[signup flavor]
His legs weren’t broken. He didn’t know why. The little girl was almost weightless when he finally felt her weight in his hands, but perhaps the wave of pain put that thought out of mind. The man in the Armani suit limped around the corner, cursing his bad luck. Why save the girl. She meant nothing! He checked his watch again to remind himself that he wasn’t losing his mind. 22 December 2018, three twelve. Not quite insane yet.
As he made his way away from the building, the pain worsened. Broken or not, shouldn’t be walking. The goddamn pilot, getting caught up in air traffic. No planning. Incompetent. And now the case is lost. Behind him, he heard a car’s screeching brakes, probably his associates off to retrieve the case. One can only hope. But no time, no time, I’m late for tea - quick mister bunny. Shouldn’t be walking, should not be running.
Ozone Park hadn’t changed. The man in the Armani suit could remember visiting his paternal great-grandmother here, in the few years they shared alive. Her father had come to Ozone Park soon after he stepped off the boat from Germany shortly before the first world war; soon thereafter, the Germans started to get displaced by the Italians, the Lutheran churches were picked up by the RCC, and his ancestors started to disappear into the other boroughs. But his great-grandmother had always stayed, in that first house the first American Klein had owned; she didn’t feel safe in the city, she said. Everyone only looks out for their own selves now. It’s disgraceful. And then she would start talking about the Italian mafia pigs, and Arthur would get a pained look on his face and start pushing his son out of the room...
Arthur. Strange yet to call him Arthur. He’d been accustomed to calling him Alpha, even after he died a few years ago from cancer. Arthur, Raymond, Alpha, Sigma. There was a new Alpha now, and a new Sigma, as was the Press’ custom, but that still felt strange to say... Even eight years later. Eight... yes, eight. In that time - watching him bleed to death in Los Angeles rubble, killing those men, and all those after - the man in the Armani suit had felt his skin tighten, ever so slightly, until it clutched at him.
He hadn’t spoken to Arthur for two years after that mission; just took his new credentials and missions through intermediaries, and put his head down and did everything asked of him precisely. It was only after Alpha got his diagnosis and told his son that the man in the Armani suit let the light hit his face, for a moment. When he heard, two thoughts moved through his mind. The first was a son’s sadness, a feeling he hadn’t known since Sigma’s death, which shocked and humbled him. The second was the lingering recognition, upon learning the cause - Hodgkin’s - that the old man must have known for years - decades? - before he told his son. But why? A question that never came.
In their time between the first days in Ozone and the last moments in a Manhattan hospital, the four generations of Kleins had stretched their arms across the globe. And in that time, the city had grown - metastasized. Manhattan had been rapidly seized in the last decade by new skyscrapers, pushing out all but the rich and their corporations, and already talk had begun of geoforming the Hudson. In their wake, the rest of the city’s citizens were pushed back further - into Long Island, into the Bronx - and found themselves crowding against their side of the river, anxiously eying the glittering towers on the island... like the one the man in the Armani suit’s associates had just gutted. But Ozone Park hadn’t changed. It was still ethnic, and decrepit - prosperity’s memory hole.
Great-grandmother Klein had passed in ‘92, and her grandson had torn down her house, and put up the headquarters toward which her great-grandson now bounded. That had changed, he could admit.
The door was open before he could grab the handle, and he found himself fumbling in the air for something to lean on, lungs and legs fiery. It took him a minute to register the door’s holder, and his beaming face. “Oh... Vin... hey Vincent.”
“What, did you decide you were too good for the helicopter? Decided to run all the way from the island.” Vincent chuckled. His long hair was starting to get tinged with gray, the wages of years spent managing Queens for the Press. He was a local tough who’d made good in the world and graduated to Chief Tough. The man in the Armani suit had called him that one time, a decade ago, when Vincent had been teaching him about repairing some of the Press’ cars, lying on his back on a roller. Vincent promptly dropped a tire on his head.
“Yeah, well, the Sartori Solution - an hour a day, right. Be right for swimsuit season. Is the kid...?”
“Taking a shower. You’ll have to wait your turn. Christ, from the looks of you, might be better if we skip the shower and I just pour this over your head.” Vincent removed his hand from behind his back, revealing a bottle of Ketel. “Merry christmas, man. Don’t drink it all in one place.” He paused for a moment, accepting the man in the Armani suit’s panting nod with a smile, and walked off toward the kitchen. The man in the Armani suit sucked in one last breath, left the bottle on a nearby table, and walked upstairs.
K. was just leaving the bathroom when he reached the landing. Her eyes locked onto him instantly. She was wrapped in an assortment of towels and a look of elation. “Hey! Welcome back. You look like someone beat the **** out of you.”
The man in the Armani suit managed a weak grin. “Been busy.” K. was an up-and-comer the current Alpha had found through his connections and promptly assigned to “his best agent.” That particular agent protested loudly, but to no avail. It wasn’t the work, the work was fine, he’d argued, but I can’t supervise recruits. Why not? was the only reply he received, and the only one he couldn’t answer, so he resignedly took her on. The man in the Armani suit hadn’t told her much about why he didn’t want her - or much else - but did feel heat rising in his gut as he saw her.
She walked past him smoothly. “You’ll be pleased to know that Vincent lost the death pool badly.” An easy laugh. “Last time he bets on ‘crashing the helicopter after trying to pilot it with his...’”
The man in the Armani suit laughed quietly back. “Glad to hear someone stood behind me.”
“Me? Are you kidding? I had you down for ‘thrown out of helicopter by pilot for being a misanthropic ****.’ Gotta hedge my bets.” She removed the damp towel from her hair and threw it to him. “Last one.”
“Yep.” He turned toward the bathroom, removing his suit jacket.
“But...” K. said briefly, over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back, Dave.”
After the moment fell from the air, she turned and walked off, leaving the man in the Armani suit holding the towel and staring at the space she’d left behind, trying to conjure from it some small image of the past.
“You lost it?!” Gamma asked. More gravel in his voice than usual.
“Sir, we were behind schedule, the pilot -”
“I don’t want to hear it!” The screen’s image seemed to tremble slightly. “That case was your responsibility. Retrieving it is instrumental to our mission. You can’t just leave that kind of thing behind!” Gamma is third in line on the Board, naturally, and while he’s an old man like the others, he still has the hungry look. If anything, his age and the proximity of his prize only made him seem to glower more. The man in the Armani suit tried to turn over the list of associates in his head - was this one a friend of his father’s, or an old business associate, or the head of one of the subsi -
“I’m sure there was a reason he left the case behind,” Vincent intervened. “Besides, we know where it is.” He held up a small tracer, which pinged impatiently. “It’s just a matter of turning over the neighborhood to find it. Shouldn’t take more than a day.”
“I hope so, Carr, for your own sake.” Gamma ran his hand through his comb-over out of unconscious habit, and tried to smooth it back out. “You and Larin take our favorite son here and retrieve the case. I don’t care what it takes, but it needs to get done now.” Without waiting for a response, Gamma slammed his keyboard, and the screen blanked.
Vincent turned to the man in the Armani suit, who was staring at the black space. “I hope you had a good reason for what you did.”
K. walked in, reattaching her Glock’s slide absently. The trigger jutted out, and she grinned and pointed it at the man in the Armani suit and pulled the trigger. The click felt too small a sound. The man in the Armani suit realized he’d never seen her shoot the gun outside the range. She put the empty gun down on the table and turned to Vincent. “So?”
“The Board’s pissed at our boy, naturally, and they want us to go crack some local heads.” He rolled his shoulders backward. K. nodded eagerly and turned out the door, headed for the elevator down to the basement. Vincent picked up his pack and followed her, but stopped at the doorway when he noticed the man in the Armani suit hadn’t moved. “What’s eating you, Gilbert? I’d expect you to perk up at a job.”
The man in the Armani suit stood up, twisting his neck around absently. “Guess I’m just tired. Not a lot of quiet places in that tower.” He looked over at Vincent and reached down, hand fumbling for his briefcase. “What’s your impression of K.?”
“She’s enthusiastic. We all were once. It comes with the job.” Vincent shook his head. “You need to knock that thought away. She’ll learn - they all do. I remember you did just fine after Los Angeles. Eight years, right? And you’re still standing, running.” Vincent paused, and looked away to say what was on his mind:
“Your mother would be proud of you.”
He turned back, searching the man in the Armani suit’s vacant eyes. “Bring the bottle. Maybe you’ll convince the kid to finally take you on.” The man in the Armani suit opened his mouth to protest, but saw the playfulness in Vincent’s eyes and could only grin back sheepishly. “C’mon.” And Vincent leaned away from the door frame, and the clatter of his boots receded as he walked toward the elevator.
The boy ran. Every piece of his body powered forward, unconscious of its mission, and his brain sent only one message - run, run, run. Guilt was lost in the fray. Only when he stopped to lean against a stoplight, nearly slamming his head into it from blind momentum, did he remember her. A word he shouldn't think flashed through his mind. Still in the garbage, probably sobbing. He’d never get anywhere with her now.
Over the grinding of the city and the pound of his heart and the rasp of his breath, he thought he could hear the case held tightly in his arms hum. His mind raced at what it might be. A bomb? No, it would tick, right? Don’t be silly, what clock ticks. Maybe some old tech? He remembered the computer at home hummed sometimes. He looked down. The case didn’t look like it had any locks or anything like that, and he thought for a brief moment to open it and take a look inside, but when he reached for the little switch like a clasp on the top it seemed to shudder in his hand, and he pulled away sharply and turned and kept running to find his dad.
His mother met him at the door of his house, wrapped in blankets and wobbling against her hand on the frame. She told him to go to the community center down the road. He’s in a meeting, Kyle. I don’t know if he wants to see you. But only half those words reached the boy’s ears, as he had already turned and run down and away, leaving her to hear the words echo in the chilled air.
The community center had peeling white paint that looked like stucco, or the surface of a rough stone. It used to be a failing charter school before the school had been seized by the state and repurposed. Out front was still a playground - the only polished surface around, worn to a shine by heavy use. The boy burst through the doors and found himself in a long hall of lonely lockers. Only occasionally was the hall lit by bulbs. At the end, he could see a column of light behind a door and hear angry voices. He charged forward toward the light, case swinging behind him, and pushed open the door.
It was an old cafeteria, filled with squat tables and plastic chairs. Every head turned to greet his presence with a startled look. The boy’s father was sitting on his end of the room, and he looked the most mortified. At the other end, a man in a pinstripe suit stood, and he started shouting at the boy’s father about his intrusion, and the boy’s father raised his hands to calm him and turned to his son, who had bounded to his side.
“Now’s not the best time. Dad’s in a meeting. Can this -”
“But I was at the cemetery with Jenny and we saw this man and she fell off a building and I got this case see -”
“Well, that’s nice, but you’ll have to tell me in -”
The man in the suit shouted again. “Hey, are we having a meeting here? What the hell?!”
The boy’s father grimaced and turned back. “Now, just hang on a mo-”
At that moment, the man in the Armani suit stepped through the door on the other side of the room, followed by K., Vincent, and the long tails of his overcoat. “Excuse me, but I believe I have a word to say...”
The pinstriped fellow snorted and turned to the trio. “And now who the **** is this? Another esteemed witness! Please, come in - I’m sure you have a lot to say about our business, sir.” The boy across the room saw the trio and ducked below the table, sliding the case behind some of his father’s bags. His father looked down briefly and said nothing.
Vincent and K. frowned and looked at the man in the Armani suit, who pursed his lips impatiently. “I’m just here looking for something that belongs to me. A case... you might have...”
“No, I don’t think you understand me,” the pinstriped fellow retorted hotly. “You see, you don’t have a say here. And that’s because I say who has a say here, and you sure don’t look like someone I’d like. So I suggest you, the old man, and the little girl turn around and leave us to our business.”
Vincent reached into his coat, but the man in the Armani suit stopped him with a raised arm. He looked up at the pinstriped fellow with an angry smirk, and sauntered toward him. “What’s your name?”
The pinstriped man gave a haughty laugh. “I’m the guy who runs this ****in’ town. That’s my name. What’s yours?”
The man in the Armani suit reached into his coat and pulled out his Sig, and pointed it at the man’s chest. “The man with the gun,” he said, and he fired. The pinstripes radiated outward, wobbling in the air, and the man behind them gasped and tipped forward and fell. Behind him, someone tried to stifle a cry, and it came out like the scrape of metal on metal. The man in the Armani suit blinked a few times, letting it all register, and turned back to the others.
Vincent’s eyes were locked on him, as if unaware there had been a shot at all. K.’s eyes pointed straight ahead, her lips tight. After a moment, she recognized his look, and she tipped her head up and her cheeks tightened slightly, in grim facsimile of a smile. The man in the Armani suit paused, keeping her gaze, for a moment, and he tried to look through her eyes, but he could see the cloud forming behind them, shielding her within from what was about to happen. Always remember the first time, he knew - and it always feels, in your memory, like you’re the one taking the bullet. He closed his own eyes, pointed the gun down at where the fallen man’s head was, and fired one more round.
After the sound of the shot left the air, the man in the Armani suit reopened his eyes in piercing light. The remaining people were silent, tensed. He touched his tongue to his teeth for a moment, and started talking, quietly... “That was not...” but he caught himself. He looked up at their tense faces, took his finger off the trigger, and held his gun up.
“Alright. Now you see what happens when I don’t get what I want. So. Who’s got my case?” He scanned the faces before him. “Let’s see some hands.”
Day 1 has begun.
With 21 players alive, it is 11 to lynch and 11 to shutdown.
Deadline is set for June 11th at noon MST.
Still working on getting the flavor done. I'll send pieces along as I finish them.
Experiments Series: #5 (Courtly Intrigue Mafia) | #4 (Drunken Tracker) | #3 (Big Red Button) - coming soon | #2 (Pope Mafia) | #1 (Iso's Inflammable Mafia)
Mini Games: MTGS Mafia Redux II (Invitational, Evil Mirror Universe) | Unreal City
Old Games (bad): The Greenwood Affair | Blood Moon Mafia
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething Spicy{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
Honey Badger on a pointy stick of Suspiscion: Iso .... Arent you supposed to be taking a break from Mafia? That doesnt seem like towny behavior for someone to be untruthful like that.
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething Spicy{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
Enjoy.
Are they supposed to be good? I've only heard hearsay.... I only wanted to spectate... but it appears that I am in the kitchen. Oh well, food must be cooked I suppose
Um.... my soul is a slice of red velvet cake, and its all mine to om nom nom on.
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething Spicy{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
Bringing people together for a kinder, gentler Ozone Park...
this message approved by Tito 2012
{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
If you keep up that talk, you have a good shot at being elected.
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething Spicyvote zionite for being last and being first to vote the first
vote iso for voting first the last who first voted the first
My wife was on MTV with this video.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUutIZg2EpU
Silence: Arcadic for making me get stupified.
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething Spicy-Sounds good to me.
Vote EP
r u claimin a dubl vote
i cc u
{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
I can't make you something you already are???
ohsnapburrrrrrrrrrrrn.
unvote unvote unvote unvote Vote Iso Vote Iso for being in the middle of the list and the middle of the phunny zionite joke that i didn't get to make and i borked macius trying to make phunny.
My wife was on MTV with this video.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUutIZg2EpU
Do you have fangirls?
I didnt think so...
#ohsnnnaaaaappppp
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething SpicyThe Family
They hate us cause they ain't us.
Acutally, UnVote, Vote Niv for getting addicted to League of Legends.
Millionaires, I hear it's good Music (Disclaimer: lyrics not PG-13) Thanks, CC
vote: Macius for being one sick animal who can't tell the difference.
Huehuehuehuehue!
I am BR.
I am vote Niv.
More importantly, would any of you like a game of it at shum point? If so, PM me.
Thank you for letting thish one's impertinensh go unpunished, masters.
*shuffles off*
Mass Effect reference?
That you citizen for your continued support of our cause . I hope that come November I can receive your support as well!
Bringing people together for a kinder, gentler Ozone Park...
this message approved by Tito 2012 and the citizens for a better tomorrow than this one.
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething Spicy{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
E_P do you have a post restriction?
yes
no
The Family
Why do you want to know? Are you one of THEM?
I take it that your also going on flavor....
I must account for this unexpected result and change my figures post haste. Its almost election day...
540 Peasant cube- Gold EditionSomething SpicyBecause establishing it sooner rather than later can save time spend sitting here and wondering.
I have no issue with role play (as now as its coherent and readable) if thats what your asking.
The Family
Unvote
Vote WoD
"Forgive thish one for being impertinent, shir, but...obvioush troll...is obvioush..."
Cyan looks at the character known as tordeck skeptically, and states, "This answer lacks sincerity."
Cyan glances around furtively. With a steely look of determination, he grabs tordeck by his coat, and practically screams, "You are hiding something from us, aren't you? AREN'T YOU?"
Millionaires, I hear it's good Music (Disclaimer: lyrics not PG-13) Thanks, CC
Oh for ****s sake Niv, cant you roleplay someone that speaks English for once.
The Family
What I offer is more money in your pocket, and the freedom to enjoy all those leisure activities you hold dear - like playing golf or travelling. I also offer you the protection of those freedoms, and even a better business climate to foster the Ozone Park dreams.
I thank you for your apparent good deeds, but there is no need to try and be so helpful! I already have a team of aides and volunteers to support my campaign and keep my promises to Ozone Park and its people. There is no need to be such a helpful citizen!
Bringing people together for a kinder, gentler Ozone Park...
this message approved by Tito 2012
"...a talisman against all evil, so long as you obey me."
Only if your sandwich is a hamster.
Wait, I have a better Idea:
17
Oh, wait, let me try that Again!
Millionaires, I hear it's good Music (Disclaimer: lyrics not PG-13) Thanks, CC