| Day 4 - 21 days until Christmas |
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 Member 74 Level 48.86 Mar 2006 |
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Member 122 Level 42.89 Mar 2006 |
Why not? Crash has done it before.
LOL CAPO GOT TO IT BEFORE ME. |
Member 246 Level 21.94 Mar 2006 |
Well, I can see a few reasons if you believe that any tidbit of info will help you. For example, The_Griffin just said "his check" for the seer, meaning one of the seer is probably a guy. But frankly, if it were me I'd use "he" no matter what the actual gender of the player is. Or perhaps even "it", as I believe Crash did a few times.
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Member 74 Level 48.86 Mar 2006 |
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Member 512 Level 20.62 Mar 2006 |
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Member 266 Level 32.14 Mar 2006 |
Butchere hit the nail on the head. I'm using "he" as a generic term, here.
Also, it served a double purpose: a) to gently remind the Mafia and Seer in question to get off their duff and quit holding up the game, and b) to let everybody NOT Mafia and the Seer holding up the game what the hell's going on. Also, I'm setting a deadline now. If their actions are not in my inbox within 24 hours, I will proceed with Day 1 regardless, and they will lose their opportunity to perform an action this night.  |
Member 601 Level 43.61 Mar 2006 |
We're still using the 48 hour deadline for night/day, right?
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Member 666 Level 39.27 Mar 2006 |
Do the masons get a kill in if one evil team fails to submit a kill?
Join the Gamingforce Composition Competition Useful Stuff
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Member 692 Level 35.52 Mar 2006 |
 [ Bernard "Owl" Schmidt ] |
Member 266 Level 32.14 Mar 2006 |
A car puttered down a road, a topper proudly displaying "EMERALD CITY PIZZA" giving hint to its purpose. Inside, RockgamerXIII cursed under his breath. He was late for this delivery, and he was hurrying as fast as he could down the road. Finally, he found the house, and leaped out of the car, a carrying case filled with lukewarm pizza and boneless buffalo wings following him. He dashed to the front door, and rang the doorbell, taking advantage of the brief pause to check his order and memorize the price. Finally, the door opened, and RockgamerXIII looked up, a smile on his face...
Which promptly melted off as he looked down the barrel of a shotgun. Gulping, he looked up at the owner, a tall man in a trench coat. Stammering, he dropped the carrying case and held his hands up in the air, a dark spot appearing in his pants as he soiled himself. "Uh.. you, you know... I think this order's for free, don't... don't you agree?" he stuttered, his knees shaking. The man with a gun snorted, and cocked the weapon, barking out, "You little dirt-licker, stop the act. You honestly think you could work with the Mafia as much as you have, even picking out their targets, and not attract the attention of those with... superior observational skills?" RockgamerXIII's eyes widened, and he crouched down low into a fetal position, shouting out, "I don't know what you're talking about! I'm a delivery driver, dammit, not a spy! I don't even know how to get marijuana, much less work with the Mafia!" The shotgun-holding man chuckled mirthlessly, and replied simply, "Then what's that stiletto doing concealed in your sleeve?" In a flash, RockgamerXIII's entire demeanor changed, as he darted up with lightning speed, the knife aiming directly for his throat. Any person would have been suckered in by the surprise attack, and been left laying on the floor, their life's blood bleeding out. The other man was faster, though. With a tremendous "BANG," the shotgun fired, the pellets blasting at point-blank range into RockgamerXIII's skull, reducing it to a bloody pulp. He fell back, the knife jerking out and flying past the man's neck, which jerked to one side, as the blade left nothing but a thin red slice and a few severed hairs. The man smirked with satisfaction, and bent down, picking up the carrying case filled with pizza. He took out one of the cardboard boxes, and opened it, taking a bite out of a slice. Frowning down at the headless corpse, he scowled and said, "Fucker couldn't even get here fast enough to keep it warm." Spoiler:
While Rockgamer was making his last delivery, another shotgun-wielding man was making his way purposefully through the suburbs, his eye on the house ahead of him. Cackling at his luck, he kicked down the unlocked door, and stepped inside. The sight that greeted him was unique in its normality: A fit-looking man, Acro-nym sat at the table, his wife and child across from him, meatloaf on a platter with potatoes and a salad to one side. The three looked up at him in shock, and Acro-nym stood up, a protest forming on his mouth. Anything he might have said, however, was silenced as the man pointed his weapon at him. The man smirked, and said, "You know, I really must congratulate you on your cleverness, werewolf. But you failed to take into account my brilliance. And because of your critical error, you die now." Acro-nym gaped at the man, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, before saying "...You know... if I was a werewolf... wouldn't I be all fuzzy right now? It's night, after all... and wouldn't I also be... you know, out hunting and killing?" The man paused, his eyes widening. "...You know, I never thought of that." Shrugging, the man shouldered his shotgun, and calmly walked out the door. Acro-nym breathed a sigh of utmost relief, and they all sat down, their appetites ruined and their good mood dashed. Suddenly, with a "tink," a small, spherical object rolled into their house from where the door used to be. Curious, Acro-nym walked over to it and picked it up curiously. The man outside looked back at the house, and shrugged as the grenade went off, reducing most of it to rubble. Turning his back to the burning wreckage, he said, "You might not have been a Werewolf... but I wanted to kill somebody tonight." Spoiler:
It was dark in the swamp at night. The darkness did not matter, though, to the five who prowled through its muck and filth. Covered in a thick coat of fur, claws and fangs sharp and anticipating the kill, five werewolves sprinted across the terrain, foregoing the path for the sake of stealth. Finally, a small hut lay out before them, and they approached it swiftly and silently. Inside, ZeroSlash sat in the lotus position, his eyes closed. He breathed in deep through his nose, and his brow furrowed as he detected a hint of something else... a wolf? But there weren't any wolves in this swamp. Shrugging, he returned his concentration to deepening the link between the spirits and himself, confident that the elementals he had made a pact with would protect him from harm. That confidence was dashed, however, as he heard the sound of footsteps upon his wrap-around deck, and his eyes shot open as he realized he was in true danger. He quickly picked up a dagger and a small buckler, and prepared himself for the onslaught. His eyes darted from place to place, eyeing each and every window. Finally, they came. Four dark shapes slid into his hut, their fangs glistening and their eyes gazing into his own. He held his buckler up protectively, his mind whirling as he considered his options. So focused was he on finding an avenue of victory (or escape), that he never noticed the fifth sneaking up behind him. With a single blow to the back of the neck, he crumpled, the weapons falling out of his hand. The five wolves stood over him, and ZeroSlash rolled over, dazed and disoriented. "B... but my elemental protection..." he murmured. One of the wolves overheard him, and smirked, before responding, "It's one of the perks of working with a demon." Morning came by the time they were finished with him. There was nothing left of ZeroSlash except a smear on the floor and his head. Sated in more ways than just hunger, they left the hut, gnawing the flesh off the skull. Maybe they could convince their devillish "friend" to re-animate it... Spoiler:
While the wolves were thoroughly enjoying themselves with ZeroSlash, five figures in trench coats and smelling strongly of alcohol sidled through the seediest parts of town. They looked around, and saw a building under construction, and shrugged, one of them pulling out a half-bag, while another pulled out several bottles of rum and whiskey. They strode slowly to the site, and settled down. In a short while, a haze of marijuana smoke and alcohol filled the site. Plarom, who was working unusually late tonight, yawned as he finished mixing a final batch of concrete for tomorrow. He shut down the mixer and stretched, shaking his head afterwards to clear it. He rubbed his temples and started to walk to his car, blinking sleepily. He turned a corner, and stopped blank. Sitting before him around a fire, five men were chugging bottles of alcohol and smoking joints. Grinning sheepishly, Plarom asked, "Err... mind if I join in... fellas?" The five men looked at each other and started to grin quite evilly. Plarom gulped and backed away, prepared to run. Finally, one stood up, and walked towards him. Plarom flinched back, and yelped as a hand came down on his shoulder. "Sure, ya can have some fun, kid," one of the mobsters said. Plarom looked up at him and breathed a sigh of relief at his smile. "Ya see, we're takin' a night off from killin' everybody in dis town, an' on top of dat, we're tryin' ta get a better image. We're actually pretty good guys when ya get right down ta it." Plarom nodded, and accepted the fresh bottle of rum that was handed to him, taking a swig. Several hours of merry-making and pot-smoking later, Plarom staggered into his car, wishing his new friends a fond farewell. He started the car, and tore out of the lot. Finally, something occured to one of the mobsters, and he turned to the others. "Do ya think he was sloshed enough ta take us seriously when we said dat we were in Britain, an' dat he should be drivin' on da left side o' da road?" A sudden, tremendous CRASH punctuated this statement. Shrugging helplessly, the mobster said, "Guess so." Spoiler:
Alive Players nuttyturnip neus Capo LZ 645 Zergrinch Kilroy Brent el jacko Ryuu Jochie Helloween Dullenplain Tritoch Chaotic knkwzrd nazpyro Nehmi Identity Crisis Qube ramoth Miravana wvlfpvp Darkcomet72 is suspiciously tasty with scalloped potatoes and a mushroom sauce Krelian a lurker Lukage Yeldarb galador MTGNecro Mysterious Strangers YeOldeButchere Crash Landon Shin Dead Players RockgamerXIII Acro-nym Plarom ZeroSlash Ouch. The Mafia, with one lucky strike, has been robbed of their spy in one blow, and the Infiltrator is kicking around. Not all is well for Good, though. The Masons have been all but gutted already, and they lost a shaman too, on top of that. Regardless, I now declare it to be DAY ONE! Good luck, everybody!
Last edited by The_Griffin : Oct 2, 2006 at 02:22 AM.
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Holy Chocobo
Member 635 Level 32.46 Mar 2006 |
Wow. What a way to go. Dying in a fiery explosion! I couldn't have asked for a better death. And my family dies with me, not having to deal with the post-death grief.
How are you doing, honey? What do you mean you want to communicate with the living? You weren't targeted for death. Don't be like that. You get to enjoy the afterlife with the kids. I get to be stuck in this Limbo-state for a little while. You get to have so much more fun. Yes, I'm sure you'll have fun. Yes, I'll join you as soon as I can. |
Member 11146 Level 26.23 Aug 2006 |
That was quick. Bravo, Vigilante! It's a shame about the three good guys getting killed, though. Anyway, the almighty ChocoDecide has once again decided my vote for Day 1. galador!  Without any solid leads, I can't really do anything but vote randomly. :/  Backloggery -=- Because no one demanded it!
Last edited by Identity Crisis : Oct 2, 2006 at 12:21 AM.
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Member 607 Level 30.91 Mar 2006 |
Sweet that the spy's gone, boo to the loss of two masons and a shaman.
I have no suspiscions (i guess that goes without saying) and to me, it just feels like Chocodecide is a way of hiding. I will observe the situation from afar for the time being. Expect my vote by the end of this day.  |
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