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  • Locked thread
Sep 1, 2011

(jump to votecount)


“In this City, you can make your own fortune.” What a load of bullshit.

The city we’re in now has always been a cultural melting pot, sure, but everyone knows how those sucker lines go - people with a bindle and barely enough money to spend the night in a cheap motel, looking to make their name. More meat to pick apart for the people up above, the real winners.

It happened probably about a dozen years ago, maybe closer to two - way it goes, a major housing crisis was underway. Too many people, not enough buildings, especially in places like this, where there wasn’t much room left to grow outwards - metropolis spanning the coastline as-is. But the lobbyists had a crooked idea: give the people what they want. More houses, and more access to the city. Seemed logical enough, right? Everyone’s trying to make their fortune here, no one wants to be so far out that transit’s impossible (railways are still being choked out by the drat auto companies, those son-of-a-bitches), and people will jump at the chance. But since they couldn’t branch out, they had to branch “up”.

And that’s where the real hell starts: A second city, built over the first, and who do you think had first dibs on the buildings then? Not you or me, not the struggling Joe Schmoe looking for a break. No, it was those assholes who already had all the money and didn’t wanna share - the big buck corporations who were getting bolder every year, those assholes who didn’t have to work just to keep food in their mouth. So we got to sit and watch them build their own paradise, away from all of us. Soon people were giving the two cities a name. The upper crust, the ivory towers - that’s the Spires.

And us, down here in the filth and grime, getting our hands dirty? This is the Verge.


It should have been a routine job. Except for the profile, the scope, and the drip-feed of information you got from your contacts.

New Horizon Technologies. One of the big players in making the city what it was - their main manufacturing facility is one of the few buildings to connect to the Spire and the Verge both, it’s been called the backbone of the city, and for good reason. The word that you’ve been hearing, the biggest score of anyone’s life is waiting there. Tonight. A secret New Horizon is keeping from the world, a breakthrough the likes of which might never have been seen before. Word is it might be the secret to Artificial Intelligence. Others still think maybe their fingers in the deep-space pies are about to crack the code of interstellar colonization. Smart money is on Nanotechnology - or so you hear. There’s a lot of money riding on the bets of what New Horizon plans to unveil.

Of course, that means there’s a lot of money riding on someone to take it from them, before they can. And your group is one of the best at ‘freelancing’ - a rather cute word for ‘deniable ops’ that has emerged as the 21st century’s revitalized gig economy reared its ugly, capitalist head. Success attracts success, which means even here at the bottom of the barrel you’ve put together a prized crew - larger than most by half, but every one you’d say you trusted with your back when the heat got on you.

Until tonight.

You could feel it on the way the stale air under the Spire clung to your skin. On the way the crowded streets were just a little too quiet. In how the neon lights from the shops downtown seemed to be buzzing just a bit too aggressively. Something was wrong. But you didn’t trust your instincts until it was too late. Until you were in the building. You shouldn’ve known then what this was.

A set-up. The mother of all set-ups, baiting the biggest crew of freelancers in the Verge with the biggest score. But something still didn’t add up - the sources had their intel legit, everything looked on the up and up until the moment you hit the building. That’s when it hit you. This was a bait from the corps. At least not from New Horizon themselves - they wanted New Horizon and the crew out, all in one fell swoop. Which could only mean they’ve had someone on the inside for a long drat time.

You’ve been sold out.

VERGE, EPISODE 1: NEW HORIZONS, SAME OLD $#*! is a closed, role-heavy, flavor-heavy setup for 18 players.

What is Mafia?
Mafia is a social party game that goes by many names, though Werewolf is probably the most commonly heard alternative. In Mafia, an uninformed majority - the Town - try to find the faction of informed killers - the Mafia, or Scum. It’s a game that relies on your ability to read people, gauge reactions, and convince others that your interpretations of people’s actions is the correct one. Games are divided into 2 phases. The “day” phase, which involve the thread voting for a culprit they believe to be a member of the Mafia, and a “night” phase, in which the Mafia members kill a member of the Town, while other game-specific role actions occur.

This game is ‘role-heavy’, meaning there are many roles among both Town and Scum that have special abilities and actions that can be used during the night phase. While this is a role-heavy game, be advised that posting is more important that trying to solve the game via Night Actions, and there may be actions in place designed to confuse you for this reason. Use actions to help your casing, but still case based on a person’s posts and reactions.

Basic Information:
  • All executions will be performed by majority vote, as will any executions stemming from lurker mechanics.
  • Days will be 48-72 hours, depending on when the thread opens and my ability to be awake for deadlines/action resolutions. I am adjusting to a new schedule based on an early morning job and have other responsibilities, so be aware I may not be immediately available, though I will try to always be awake for deadlines.
  • Nights will be around 24 hours or shorter, depending on when parties get their night actions in. I will not resolve night actions without all relevant actions being submitted.
  • Replacements will not be allowed after Day 1. Please do not sign up if you aren’t going to put effort into this game and see it through to the end.
  • I will be using a variant of Pod’s Anti-Lurker Rules V3.3 for this game:
    • If a player does not make 10 substantial posts in a game day, they will be permanently ON NOTICE for the rest of the game. (Substantial posts will be at the discretion of me, as well as any observers)
    • If a player who is already ON NOTICE does not make 10 substantial posts on any subsequent game day, they will be subject to a FREE LIGHTS-OUT EXECUTION the next day. Said execution will not end the day, and the player’s flip will not be posted until the end of game day.
    • These rules will not come into effect if a majority day-ending vote happens more than 24 hours from the game day’s deadline, or the game day lasts less than 24 hours, or I otherwise deem it to be unfair to enforce said posting rules.
  • This game does not have any alignment-changing mechanics, or ‘bastard roles’ such as fool/jester.
  • This game will be making heavy use of Discord, so please make sure you have that if you want to play. The game will not start until all parties have joined the Discord, and the link to join will be posted closer to the start date, once signups are filled but before the game begins.

In addition to that information, Standard Mafia Rules Apply:
  • Don’t be actively antagonistic to other people in the game without reason. Mafia is a game, first and foremost, and while people will generally case you and prod you for reactions. If you are reacting badly (or deliberately provoking someone in a way that stretches the limits of good faith): stop, take a deep breath, go outside, have a smoke break, do what you gotta, but come back later.
  • Don’t edit your posts if you can help it. Small formatting “ninja edits” will be fine within reason, but any further than that should be clarified as a “Mafia Edit”, quoting your own post to correct statements.
  • Twilight posting - posting after the vote that ends the day (typically known as the “hammer” or :redhammer:) is allowed, but don’t post once I start making end of day posts. I will declare a limited twilight phase after execution as I write end of day posts, after which the flip will occur.
  • Don’t post after you’re dead, within reason. A simple “go town!” or some such after being killed is fine.
  • You are welcome to pursue flavor arguments if you wish. It may help you, it may not. All flavor is original, so there’s nothing that will help you crack the game open immediately in doing so.
  • If your role does not allow it, do not communicate out of thread with other players about the game under any circumstances.
  • Do not directly quote any out of thread communication, either from me, your Role PM, or any out of thread communication you may have access to. Paraphrasing in your own words is fine. Screenshots or trying to not-so-subtly edit the format of your Role PM is not.
  • Don’t fake Day Actions.
  • If you are affected by a Day Action, don’t post under any circumstances until the result of said action is posted. Everyone else is good to keep going.
  • Do not do anything else that isn’t listed here that compromises the spirit of the game of Mafia. This includes Truth or Dare, Toxx Clauses, Post Encryptions, and other dumb bullshit.

Result Language:
  • A result that successfully that successfully targets a player will yield the result “You successfully [x] your target.”
  • A result that does not successfully target will yield the result “Your action fails.”
  • If a player name is ever mentioned as part of an action’s target result, this should be considered a mod error and brought to my attention immediately.
  • A “successful” target is defined as an ability resolving properly on a target. This does not have to be your intended target.
  • Any exceptions will be noted in your Role PM.

Monathin’s Special Rules:
  • I like to get to know people in my mafia games, and you should too! To this end I would like to respect people’s preference of pronouns, so alongside of a signup, I would like you to decide whether you want your flavor to use Masculine, Feminine, or Non-Binary terminology when referring to both pronouns and name selection. You can also claim to have no preference! That’s fine. Non-Binary pronouns will be ‘they/them’, while flavor names will attempt to be as indeterminate/androgynous as possible.
  • Days will be replaced with Acts in flavor, and Nights with Intermissions. This will not affect any standard Mafia mechanics, and should be treated as a standard Day/Night Phase.

I am hoping to start this game sometime within the first week of November, likely no earlier than November 2nd. This should allow this game to dodge the majority of games both currently running and in need of signups.

This game has been given a sanity-check by Pod, who I owe a lot of thanks to helping me figure out how to put all the bits and bobs of my setup together!

Have fun!

  1. Anomalous Amalgam A Sometimes Food
  2. CapitalistPig
  3. Dick Bastardly
  4. EccoRaven
  5. GenericGirlName
  6. GeneX GulagDolls
  7. got some chores tonight
  8. Hal Incandenza
  9. hambeet
  10. imgay
  11. jimmydalad
  12. Jonathan Fisk
  13. King Burgundy
  14. Kitiara
  15. Max
  16. Murmur Twin
  17. SolusLunes
  18. Toalpaz

  1. Podima
  2. Tommunist
  3. Humalong
  4. Asiina

  1. IcePhoenix
  2. Sal

Monathin fucked around with this message at 15:12 on Nov 5, 2018


Sep 1, 2011

Intermission 0:
:suicide: Monathin, aka Casey "Snitch" Hunt, CREW(Town)-Aligned Informant (Doublevoter), was shot to death! :suicide:
Act 1:
:rip: Dick Bastardly, aka Carter "Wraith" Forgrave, SELLOUT(Scum)-Aligned Assassin (Ninja), was executed! :rip:
Intermission 1:
:rip: Jonathan Fisk, aka Walker "Bones" Lee, CREW(Town)-Aligned Muscle (Compulsory Visitor), was shot to death! :rip:
Act 2:
:rip: GenericGirlName, aka "Chief" Kiera Winslett, CREW(Town)-Aligned Face (Mason Recruiter), was executed. :rip:
Intermission 2:
:rip: Toalpaz, aka Willow "Chance" Hall, CREW(Town)-Aligned Specialist (Backup) Muscle (Compulsory Visitor) was shot to death! :rip:
:rip: A Sometimes Food, aka "Tiny" Tina Mailine, CREW(Town)-Aligned Hacker (JOAT), was eviscerated! :rip:
Act 3:
:rip: GulagDolls, aka Diana "Cipher" Leigh, SELLOUT(Scum)-Aligned Detective (Rolecop), was executed. :rip:
Intermission 3:
:rip: Murmur Twin, aka Allison "Crash" Dewitt, CREW(Town)-Aligned Muscle (Compulsory Visitor), was shot to death! :rip:
:rip: Hal Incandenza, aka Aiden "Sly" Foxwell, CREW(Town)-Aligned Switchboard (Bus Driver), was eviscerated! :rip:

Monathin fucked around with this message at 02:04 on Nov 14, 2018

Sep 1, 2011

Tommunist posted:

Take me out, dont think i'll have time in next two months

Understood! Good luck with work, Tomm.

Sep 1, 2011

that's 9! Halfway to full!

Sep 1, 2011

imgay posted:

I identify as Anomalous Amalgam, please refer to me as that for the rest of this game.

only if you make a Revolver Amalgam account

Sep 1, 2011

Four more to go! I'm pretty excited to run this.

Sep 1, 2011

got some chores tonight posted:

i, chores, join the mafia game

make that three!

Sep 1, 2011

That leaves one last spot for a mystery someone!

It could be you!!! Yes, YOU, reading this post!!!

Sep 1, 2011

And that's lucky number 18!

I'm writing role PMs now. In the meantime, please join the discord:

If you can see anything, let me know ASAP. The game will start once everyone's in the discord and roles have been assigned.

Sep 1, 2011

Mr. Humalong posted:

Hi can I observe?

Sure! :toot:

Sep 1, 2011

One of the other players has dropped out, so there's a sudden availability now. First come first serve.

Sep 1, 2011

Kitiara posted:


Female pronounces preferred, though I don't really care.

It is done!

I'm going to keep the thread open so people can post here (and let me know when they're in the discord/who they are), but the game will likely not start until tomorrow morning so I have time to finish writing.

Sep 1, 2011

I'm almost done writing! Please be patient.

I think there's still some people missing from the Discord, and I'd like everyone to join that before the game begins. :)

Sep 1, 2011

All flavor and preparations have been complete. This thread will be closing and Role PMs will be going out shortly the game should reopen within the hour.


You will all need to join the discord at your earliest convenience! Thank you!

Sep 1, 2011

"Welcome to New Horizon Technologies." A cheery voice said, over a loudspeaker as you entered the building.

The grating automated voice was a lot like other corporate spiels that ran in the background as cheery music played - at least, during hours. Your informant said the playback would be on, to cover their tracks. But no music should be playing.

"Founded in early 202, New Horizon Technologies was originally a west-coast startup, looking into perfecting emerging new technologies for the good of our consumers and the public both. It wasn't until 2033, however, with the production of the-"

"Oh, good, you're here." A male voice rang out, drowning out the automated spiel. "Listen. I don't know how much time we'll have, but the skeleton crew that was manning the building are all quiet. That worries me a lot. I'm thinking of leaving the automated spiel going while I go investigat-"

A shattering of glass blew out the speaker, followed by the telltale sounds of a struggle. The informant's voice quickly turned to panic as you all heard a familiar cocking and loading of a firearm over the intercom.

"Wait, what are you- no, no no no no NO-"


The intercom went dead, the shot echoing through New Horizon's Factory Floor, all the way up to the office buildings and down to their data center. Strangely, though, no alarm. That's when you knew for a fact there was something wrong. Something that went deeper than a job being set up to fail.

You'd been sold out by one of your own.

:suicide: Monathin, aka Casey "Snitch" Hunt, CREW(Town)-Aligned Informant(Doublevoter), has been shot to death during Intermission 0! :suicide:

"New Horizon Technologies," the voice resumed, cheerfully unaware of the carnage that had unfolded. "Looking forward... to your future."

It is now Act 1.

Sep 1, 2011

GulagDolls has replaced GeneX.

Sep 1, 2011

A Sometimes Food has replaced Anomalous Amalgam.

Sep 1, 2011

As a reminder, you need 10 substantial posts, as decreed by me, before the end of the game day, or you will be put ON NOTICE going forward!

Gulag and ASF, being replacements, will not be subject to this rule today, but will be going forward.

Enjoy the game!

Sep 1, 2011

As long as you're actively moving the game forward and discussing things, I'm going to be fairly lenient with what counts as 'substantial'. It's mainly there to keep people from skirting the margins of the rules.

Sep 1, 2011

A healthy reminder for the thread:

Monathin posted:

[*]Dont be actively antagonistic to other people in the game without reason. Mafia is a game, first and foremost, and while people will generally case you and prod you for reactions. If you are reacting badly (or deliberately provoking someone in a way that stretches the limits of good faith): stop, take a deep breath, go outside, have a smoke break, do what you gotta, but come back later.

Sep 1, 2011

In addition, the following people have yet to meet the 10 Post Minimum for Day 1:
- CapitalistPig

The following people have met a 10-Post Minimum, but may still be put On Notice depending on the substantiality of their posts:
- Kitiara

Sep 1, 2011

Max posted:

Didnt genex drop?

That'll teach me to make modposts when I just woke up!

Sep 1, 2011

The crew has voted to execute Dick Bastardly.

Intermission 1 will commence shortly. Until then, feel free to keep posting. Twilight phase is in effect.

Sep 1, 2011

:krad: NO ONE is ON NOTICE for Act 1! Thank you all for posting so very much! :krad:


It was a powder keg, waiting to go off. It started slow, but the fuse had been lit. With everyone knowing there had to be a traitor among the crew, it didn't take long for tempers to rise, accusations to fly, and guns to be pointed at one another. Nevertheless, the crew pressed on - they had to get to the control room where Snitch had been found - without him to relay the map info, they'd have to go find it themselves.

Getting up to the control room wasn't hard. In fact, it was suspiciously easy - Snitch had claimed all the guards were off-duty tonight, thanks to a forged email he had gotten into the system. Once they got up to where Snitch's grisly corpse was, though, all hell broke loose.

"You been kinda... -quiet-, Wraith." One of them spoke up. "

"Aren't I always?"

"Not like this." Eyes narrowed among the crowd. A few nervously went for their weapons. "You're more sullen, you seem too calm about all this. Way too calm."

With all eyes on him, the man named Wraith looked at his fellow crewmates. His eyes darted nervously, his teeth grit sharply. And then suddenly, he moved, faster than anyone could see. He lunged past the rest of the crew to the control panel, jumping over it as a hidden, retractable knife came out of his jacket and lanced through the system as he jumped on top of it to plunge the blade down. It fried the system in an instant - as alarms blared in the distance, and shutters dropped over the doors and windows. Useless given the lack of guards, except to keep the crew trapped where they were.

"poo poo! We're locked in!" "You -did- set us up, you bastard!"

Wraith just laughed, his eyes shrunk to pinpricks in the dim light accentuated by the sparking control panel beneath him.

"You think they don't know we exist? You think we're striking back against the man? You idiots don't know a drat thing! Of course we were gonna get played for fools, I just happened to know about it ahead of time! I was gonna get out of here! Find a nice cushy place to call my own! But now I see I was always gonna be the fall guy. Always gonna be their fuckin' cover! 'Course they needed someone like me to take the fall. Well, you know what? gently caress all of you, then! I hope you rot, you greedy sons a b-"

The control room erupted into a blaze of gunfire, as Wraith's torso buckled in the air, letting go of his knife, and falling through the shattering glass pane behind him - plummeting several floors below. A sickening wet crunch confirmed what was a long formality.

A few members of the crew went down to recover his bloody, broken, bullet-ridden body, but his communication device had some sort of dead man's switch - it was as dead as the man himself was. With the communicator down, and no further leads to any additional traitors, all they could do was breath a sigh of relief, hoping they could pin down his co-conspirators. They picked up some of his equipment to scavenge - no use letting it go to waste.

As for the map of the facility? Well, Snitch had been alright - he'd downloaded a backup to his brain, just in case, and a quick plug into his lifeless corpse managed to retrieve it. The R&D Labs were in Sub-Level 4. A massive sprawling chunk of the facility - far, far below the surface of even the Verge. And the lockdown meant no elevator.

It was gonna be a long hike down there.

:rip: Dick Bastardly, aka Carter "Wraith" Forgrave, SELLOUT(Scum)-Aligned Assassin (Ninja), was executed at the end of Act 1! :rip:


Some people have all the luck. Not Carter, though. He's always had to make his own luck from day one - and the only way he got lucky was if someone got thoroughly hosed. The less said about his family life, the better, he grew up a rebel punk who rarely had any money to his name. Soon enough, though, he started to get a talent for roughing people up, shaking them down, even makin' 'em disappear, after a fashion - after all, it's easier to beat someone up if you don't get caught doing the deed.

Soon enough, someone tracked him down - which was a bit of a blow to the ego, all told, given the whole 'don't get caught' thing. Still, he took it in stride - after all, she had an offer for him. Quit making small-time change, and start landing the big jobs he knew he could work. Trade in that worn-out leather jacket for some sleeker duds that fit his aesthetic a bit more. Get hooked up with a back-alley surgeon with some nice enhancements that make his job all the more easier.

He didn't regret the offer one drat bit.

It is now Intermission 1. All actions are due NO LATER THAN 11 PM Eastern Standard Time, Tuesday, November 6th. I will process and open the thread early should all actions be submitted before the deadline.

Monathin fucked around with this message at 23:31 on Nov 6, 2018

Sep 1, 2011

The building had been more labyrinthian they expected. The twisting staircases were underused, and many pathways - even with the map - were unclear, leading to slow progress from the main floor down into the sub-levels of the facility. It made sense, to a degree - no one was supposed to be down here, except those who knew what they were doing. No one had even known there were sub-levels to the facility - who would build below the Verge, of all things? For most corporations, the Verge was the sub-level - all their grunt workers, the employees who they didn't care about. They were under the sleek, shiny display floors level with the 'ground' of the Spire. The ceiling most day-to-day citizens would never break through.

The crew's progress was stymied, then, as they went through Sub-Level 1. While Sub-Level 4 had been where they expected to find the R&D labs, Sub-Level 1 was clearly a production floor for... something. Twisted metal shapes, half-complete and indeciperable, littered the corridoors and conveyor belts. Whatever this was, it wasn't the usual products New Horizon made - security systems, prefabricated building materials, militarized hardware for private militarized forces... sure. These shapes seemed like they had no use, and any attempts to try and piece together what they had been building were met with shrugs and stumped looks.

They wouldn't have long to puzzle on that, however, as shots of muffled gunfire rung outside the main production floor, in the cooridors beyond. As the crew rushed to see what was afoot, they realized too little, too late, that the crew had split up in covering the production floor - allowing one of their own to be picked off by their sabotuers, two holes expertly placed in his temple.

It was honestly impressive, from an academic standpoint, as his temple had been reinforced with carbon fiber plating - or so he said - many years ago.


You know, it's funny. There's a reason he's called Bones, and it's not cause he's a doc. It's more like what he's known for is sending people to the doctor.

For broken bones.

It sounded funnier in his head, admittedly, but the fact of the matter was, he was just enough big guy who did good work threatening everyone who looked at him funny. Which, given he was a big guy, he got funny looks pretty drat often.

He doesn't want you to know his story. He doesn't need you to pity him. When he joined the crew, he had one request - don't go digging too far into his past. It wasn't worth the time, and it was more trouble than it was worth. Bones drives a hard bargain, but in the end, the rest of the crew accepted.

Good for them, now he can keep his meal ticket rolling.

:rip: Jonathan Fisk, aka Walker "Bones" Lee, CREW(Town)-Aligned Muscle (Compulsory Visitor), was shot to death during Intermission 1! :rip:

Bones was a big guy, and he wasn't here to make friends, but he was one of the Crew all the same. Now, in this unsettling production floor, the Crew has to make a choice. Going down to the next sub-level will almost certainly give the saboteurs time to strike. They knew that Wraith had other people in the crew that he had been working with. The question was... who?

Even now, they could hear the muffled chimes and canned loudspeaker of the foyer.

"New...forward... your future."

It is now Act 2. Deadline is at 9 PM Eastern Standard Time on Friday, November 9th.

Sep 1, 2011

:siren: A quick interruption! This is your (slightly more than) 24-Hour Warning! :siren:

The following players have not yet made ten posts, and will, as of the 24-hour mark, be ON NOTICE if they do not make 10 substantial posts by end of game day or hammer (whichever comes first):

Hal Incandenza

The following players have made more than ten posts, but yet still may be put ON NOTICE if their posts do not meet the criteria for substantial posting:

Murmur Twin

Thank you all for your continued posting and enjoyment.

Sep 1, 2011

The crew has voted to execute GenericGirlName.

Intermission 2 will commence shortly. Until then, feel free to keep posting. Twilight phase is in effect.

Sep 1, 2011

:krad: NO ONE is ON NOTICE for Act 2! Once again, thank you all for posting so very much! :krad:


Tensions continued to boil on the production floor. The twisted, curved metal shapes seemed to put them all on edge. Mocking them, it seemed, with their jagged curves, beveled edges, twisted frames. The discussion continued to revolve around more than a few scapegoats, but eventually, people started to come around to a central idea.

"You would've known better than anyone, what you were getting us into." Someone said, prodding a woman to lift her head up from methodically polishing her sidearm. "Wouldn't you, chief?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The woman called 'Chief' let her gaze level at her accuser, as others came around to them.

"You lead us into this mess, told us it was gonna be the biggest score of our life."

"It still is."

"And what if you're wrong? What if you've been lying to us the whole time?"

She took a step forward, eyes glinting as frustration gave way to fury. "You think I was ready for someone to sell me out from under my nose? After everything I built? You think I wanted this bullshit?"

As soon as she moved, guns trained on her. "No, we think you're the one -behind- this. You're the one setting us up, so you can cut and run with the big score."

"...So that's how low your opinion of me has gotten, huh...? Thinking I'd sell my own family out like that." Despite the rumblings, mutterings and murmurings that had plagued the production floor, the room was now deathly still. "...If that's everyone's decision, do it."

She lifted one of her accuser's guns up to her temple, her eyes - once furious, but now replaced with something more wistful, as she spit on the floor. "If you really think I'm the one who did this to all of you, if you think for even a second I'd do that kind of thing to the people I brought all this way cause I believed in them..."

"Well, maybe I haven't been near as good a Chief as I thought. So do it. If that's the way you all think, I don't want you to have to get out of here and let that kinda doubt cloud your hearts."

The gunshot that rang out as a result... felt hollow.


She had a dream, once. Funny how that works, right? With all the slumming and surviving shes had to do, all the couches she crashed on, you'd think she wouldn't have had time for dreams. But there was one that always stuck out to her: Making the big wigs up at the top take notice of the kind of world they made, and making them regret it.

She'd never known her parents. She's sure she was just a drain on their resources - and besides. It was because of that firsthand experience she learned how to talk to others, to make them realize how they wanted some of the same things she did.

Two people, at first. Two became four, four became eight. Crews rarely got bigger, but she put her faith into vetting everyone. She knew they needed to be big enough to hit a big score. Bigger than any crew dared to dream.

It was nice to dream, but sometimes dreaming gets you in more trouble than it's worth.

:rip: GenericGirlName, aka "Chief" Kiera Winslett, CREW(Town)-Aligned Face (Mason Recruiter), was executed at the end of Act 2! :rip:

The group scavenged what of Chief's equipment they could, their spirits dampened by the Chief's declarations. But it'd long since been too long to take those kinds of things back. It was get their score and get out, or die trying.

Next stop, Sub-Floor 2.

It is now Intermission 2. All actions are due NO LATER THAN 10 PM Eastern Standard Time, Saturday, November 10th. I will process and open the thread early should all actions be submitted before the deadline.

Sep 1, 2011

Sub-Floor 2, the last of the four actually identified on the facility map - was a power facility. A massive room, full of humming generators and white noise, flickering lights that hadn't been replaced in an age, and holographic monitors that kept tabs on the the whole facility's power draw. It was, at least at first, nothing noteworthy - after all, a building this big that permeated both the Spire and the Verge both needed the power to do so, and where else would you put those power facility's but at the bottom of your facility.

However, the strange figures they had seen above were showing up in fewer numbers, here - the completed products looked strange, a faintly glinting, glowing, nearly-complete ring of twisted material that seemed impossible to identify at first glance. These rings, for lack of a better term, seemed hooked up to various power conduits, giving parts of the power system an eerie glow, as if possessed by some otherworldly force. Of course, such a thing was clearly not possible - supernatural phenomena like that had been debunked a thousand times over. But even if it had, something about the noises the machine made, and the only stable lighting being the glow produced from these experiment power conduits caused some hearts to beat faster than others, as some felt their nerves threaten to overtake them.

It was at that point that screams and gunshots - from different parts of the massive power facility - cause the others to jump, splitting up to opposite corners to investigate what was surely the saboteurs once again at work.

They found the victim of the gunshot wound first, much like the others, this one was clear as could be - two clear bullet entry-points to the temple, a look of shock the only thing that might betray the identity of their killer.


Willow's never been one to attach labels to themselves. Never felt right - either professionally or personally. They do things, most of those things are useful in one way or another, and they've got a lot of those things they can do. What else is there to it?

Well, okay, maybe the something else is they're on call to help fill the gaps in the largest gang in the Verge. That they got wind of the score coming up tonight, and muscled their way to be on the ground floor. That they're ready to take on whatever duty they need to in order to make this heist one to remember.

They're not gonna bore anyone with the details of who they were before all this. Everyone's got a story in the Verge - and you don't need to hear theirs to know that you shouldn't be sleeping on Chance if you can help it - they've got more than a trick or two up their sleeve.

:rip: Toalpaz, aka Willow "Chance" Hall, CREW(Town)-Aligned Specialist (Backup) Muscle (Compulsory Visitor), was shot to death during Intermission 2! :rip:

The rest of the crew found the second victim - and many needed to make sure their constitutions were strong enough to stomach the sight. Pinned into one of the active generators by a metallic blade sharp enough to pierce right through their torso, the electrical output cooked them from the inside out, still twitching erratically as the electricity caused the remnants of their nerve system to spasm.

Gods, she hadn't deserved that - she was one of their best at tech. Why'd they have to lose her now?


You might ask her why she's called Tiny Tina. Well, jesters of all sorts will tell you that Tiny is best nicknamed when someone is decidedly bigger than most of their compatriots. So this quiet, six-foot-four slavic girl who was far more interested in computers than people, hunching over her desk to look at a monitor when she was still 17 made a lot of people amused.

They stopped laughing when she showed she could falsify their juvenile records.

Since then, she's had people come to her for odd requests. Clear a public data record here, erase an identity there. It was good work, it paid well, especially when she hooked up with the crew - and something about the crew's reliance on her has made her feel something close to 'wanted', which is a whole lot more than the rest of society has done for her.

The least she can do is repay the favor where it counts.

:rip: A Sometimes Food, aka "Tiny" Tina Mailine, CREW(Town)-Aligned Hacker (JOAT), was eviscerated during Intermission 2! :rip:

With all of this going on, it's unsurprising the third interruption caused many to raise their firearms as if ready to shoot down anyone who would dare try anything else in this hellhole of a generator room. Instead, they were greeted by a curious sight.

A mechanical raven, perched atop one of the inactive generators, red glowing apertures for eyes blinking oddly, as it opened its mouth, a digitally crushed simulacrum of a raven's cry echoing through the floor.

The following people visited the LOOKOUT during Intermission 2:


Tensions were running high. They were losing good crew members left and right. Who the hell could be doing this? Was anyone trustworthy, at this point?

Though they could no longer hear the voice, the muffled chimes on the foyer echoed distantly down here, their pitch warped by the distance. Something that felt less welcoming than even the canned phrases... if that were possible.

It is now Act 3. Deadline is scheduled for 10 PM, Eastern Standard Time, on Monday, November 12th.

Sep 1, 2011

Whoops, forgot to remove GGN: That's 13 alive, 7 votes to execute.

Sep 1, 2011

Monathin posted:

Dont be actively antagonistic to other people in the game without reason. Mafia is a game, first and foremost, and while people will generally case you and prod you for reactions. If you are reacting badly (or deliberately provoking someone in a way that stretches the limits of good faith): stop, take a deep breath, go outside, have a smoke break, do what you gotta, but come back later.

A gentle reminder.

Sep 1, 2011

Apologies, was laying down for a bit.

The crew has voted to execute GulagDolls.

Intermission 3 will commence shortly. Until then, feel free to keep posting. Twilight phase is in effect.

Sep 1, 2011

EccoRaven has been put ON NOTICE! If they fail to make 10 substantial posts during a game day again, they will be subject to a free LIGHTS-OUT execution!


The smells, sights, and sounds of the power room were starting to get to them, as the crew hounded each other. There were two of their number they felt were up for debate today.

After much arguing, they finally all came together, turning to one of the smallest of their number, staring up at them with her cold eyes.

"Hmph, you go after Kiera, then you come for me? You sure you just don't like ousting the old guard?"

Firearms were leveled as the lights flickered overhead. "We know it's you. We know you're the one who sold us out."

"And how do you know that, eh? A hunch? A gut guess? Do you have evidence?"

"We don't need evidence."

"...Keheheh. Spoken just like one of -them-. Rat bastards... rat bastards, the lot of you!" Her face twisted from calm to fury in the blink of an eye, a pistol drawn as she ducked between two of the running generators, winging one of the other members of the crew as she ran.

The sparks flew as gunshots rang out, many of the stranger generators knocked askew, but the smaller, wiry woman could dodge fire with the best of them.

Not forever, though - cut off from the exit upstairs by some, she was cornered by the rest of the crew, brandishing her holdout pistol.

"You think it's easy, waiting this long for my vindication? Waiting this long for this poo poo? Kiera got what was coming to her! You all didn't even need my help to do it...! Kehehehe! I hope the rest of you rot just like my I've done from the inside out for so long!

The only thing that met her declaration of motives was a hail of bullets, as she laughed until she could laugh no more.


She used to be part of law enforcement, you know. A real idealist, trying to change the way the system works from the inside. She knew all about how the squeaky wheel got the grease. She used to think she'd get a desk seat, start making the big changes. But the squeaky wheel always gets the grease, doesn't it? She was framed for a botch-job cover-up the other officers messed up on. Something she had nothing to do with - they needed her out, and she didn't have an alibi. Disgraced, a 'crooked cop' - less crooked than most, just the one who got caught.

She met Kiera not long after, slumming in the back alleys and dead-ends of the cities. A smooth-talker the likes of which she never was, Kiera was sympathetic to the plight of someone screwed by the system. She proposed a solution: Form a group that works from the outside in. Get big enough no one could stop you. Diana agreed - she still had plenty of contacts, and a trip to the cyberdoc cemented this as the path she was planning to go down, one way or another. The road's been longer than she thought, though. Way longer. But the end's gotta be in sight. Just one more job.

:rip: GulagDolls, aka Diana "Cipher" Leigh, SELLOUT(Scum)-Aligned Detective(Rolecop), was executed at the end of Act 3! :rip:

Her communicator, unfortunately, had the same dead-man's switch as Wraith's. Which meant there were still more to find. Stunned at the betrayal of the Crew's second-in-command, but with a mystery yet to be uncovered between them and their ultimate goal, their spirits were yet renewed.

But if Sub-Floor 2 was bad... what kind of poo poo was going to be waiting for them on Sub-Floor 3?

It is now Intermission 3. All actions are due NO LATER THAN 10 PM Eastern Standard Time, Wednesday, November 13th. I will process and open the thread early should all actions be submitted before the deadline.

Sep 1, 2011

The crew felt the change in the atmosphere as you approached Sub-Floor 3 before you got there. It was hard to deny, though, for what reason it changed, the crew weren't sure until they got there.

Underneath the power station and production lines was apparently a server farm. And not just any server farm, but the largest one any of the crew had ever seen. Each sub-floor had felt bigger than the last, and this was the largest by far. Rows and rows of servers stretched out to the near-limits of your vision - not hard when the lights are tuned so low as to be practically nonexistent, only the glow of the computers around the crew seemed to give any substantial light.

Moreover, this many servers produce a lot of heat - or they would, if the room wasn't set to levels that were seemingly just above freezing. Thankfully, the multi-layered wear of a crew on a mission is build to deal with such extreme changes in climate, but it has nevertheless gotten some of the crew shivering from the suddent and drastic change.

But with servers, naturally, means databases. Already, the crew set out to work picking out clusters of servers to try and brute force and extra data from - with how far down these servers are, it's likely that at least some of the information may be pivotal to the R&D department down below.

Unfortunately, bloodcurdling screams and a shot ringing loud and clear, following by the sparks of what are undoubtedly broken, shorted-out servers startle everyone into action, as they look for the saboteurs' latest victims.

Naturally, they found the gunshot victim first. Two shots to the temple - they had to shake their heads and sigh. She had been doing good work for just being on patrol. It's likely if they got out of this mess, she would've gotten bumped up to a main member of the crew...


Your story's not that remarkable, in the grand scheme of things - you were a girl with a chip on her shoulder and everything to prove to the wrong kinds of people. She wasn't ever really that good with the technical side of things. But she was pretty good at roughing up the right sorts of people for the right sorts of pay. Simple work, but it never went out of style.

The fact that she got onto the biggest crew in the Verge was a lucky coincidence - she'd just gotten bounced from her latest gig, and needed a new place to crash, some new people who got her style. She found them, alright, which made her feel all the more comfortable that the way she was doing things was the way things were meant to be done.

Course, with this group, she didn't need to bash heads as often - this outfit were professionals. All she needed to do for them was look scary and walk in circles for 'em.

And boy, did she love doing that..

:rip: Murmur Twin, aka Allison "Crash" Dewitt, CREW(Town)-Aligned Muscle (Compulsory Visitor), was shot to death during Intermission 3! :rip:

The second kill, naturally, was uglier. A broken server farm, with the square, fine-edged metallic blade having apparently skewered right through it - and its target - from behind, embedding itself in a different server. The clean hole put through the con-man's chest still steaming as his look betrayed his final scream, an empty, silent shadow of the sound that they still felt ringing in their ears.


Son of a con-man, Aiden never wanted for any life but taking up after dear old dad - master of every matter of hustle tricks. Or at least he used to be. See, dad never caught up with the pace of technology - all his tricks were outdated, and all the latest tech could see where the tricks were coming from a mile away. Suddenly, dear old dad's little river of sucker-funds started drying up.

But Aiden? He was a whiz with tech in some ways. Made people easier to fool with how much they trusted his hand at it. Dad called him his 'good-luck charm', and Aiden knew it was cause he was the one keeping the operation moving. When daddy dearest eventually got locked up because he couldn't keep up with the ways people were catching old con-men like him, the best thing he did for Aiden is make sure they knew he was the only one at blame.

It let him take over the 'family business'. Of course, it's a much bigger family business, with the Crew having its say on his activities, but he's as good at pulling the old sleights of hand as anyone, talking them in circles till they don't know which way is which anymore.

It's the gig you were born for - why do you need anything else?

:rip: Hal Incandenza, aka Aiden "Sly" Foxwell, CREW(Town)-Aligned Switchboard (Busdriver), was eviscerated during Intermission 3! :rip:

They couldn't move on until they had decided who had done these things, and more to the point, many were still working on the server data. There had to be something there, anything, that might clue them in to why this was happening. The chill was creeping in, though, in more ways than one.

They were running out of crew, and time.

It is now Act 4. Deadline is 10 PM Eastern Standard Time on Friday, November 16th.

Sep 1, 2011

NO ONE has been put on notice, as the day ended before lurker rules took effect!

The crew worked quickly through the cold server room - the chill was getting to everyone, it seemed, and tensions were running high. There was a constant feeling of running out time. The confusion over Sly's death made everything worse.

Eventually, someone spoke up. "Old Dog said he was guarding Sly, right? How come Old Dog's here, and Sly ain't?"

The room turned to the big, hulking old man, half hunched over - and more metal in the torso than flesh, as he took a drag on a cigarette, staving off the cold. His eyes betrayed frustration, and more importantly, confusion, and regret.

"I don't know, gang." He shook his head. "You know how I get standing guard. I don't sleep, I hardly blink. But maybe I'm just not as good as I used to be."

"Yeah, or you're in on the setup." Someone accused, as firearms were brandished in Old Dog's direction. He didn't flinch - he'd been on the receiving end of firearms like theirs, before. Many times.

"I came out here for one last job. I intended to finish it." He drew himself up to his full height, slowly - a figure who dwarfed many of the others here. "...But, well, if I can't even do my job properly when it matters. What good am I, yeah?"

He stood still, as he took a sharp inhale of his cigarette, finishing it off and tapping the ashes out on the floor, lightly stamping them.

"...You're gonna need a lot of firepower to kill me, if none of you got any of the good ammo left." He motioned to a spot just below his ribcage. "But if you shoot up from here, point blank, well. Tis old frame has some structural weaknesses, and blind spots. Not useful if the target knows about 'em."

"Just make it quick, will ya? I don't wanna suffer - and I'd like to get to Sly proper quick, to apologize. For letting him - and you - down."

It was a grisly effort - in a way, it felt much like their execution of Chief. Which is why none of them were surprised when, after Old Dog dropped to the ground and finally earned his proper retirement, to not find a clue to their saboteurs on him.


He wasn't part of the latest generation of freelancers. Wyatt remembers better than most when the roof over people's heads wasn't a steel ceiling dividing the haves and have-nots. That didn't me he didn't know how to ply the trade - the old mainstays of getting work, doing the legwork, they all still worked, even with a more digitized medium. It's not gotten any easier to do the job, but there's some small conveniences the newer tech bring - he would know, with that reinforced ribcage of his.

A couple years ago, though, he wanted out - and no strings attached, he got it. He'd been helping the crew grow in his twilight years, but it was better to get out now than risk it all. Or so he thought. He was more than a fool than he realized, given he got lured back in. One last job, for the biggest prize they'd ever gone for.

What could go wrong?
:rip: hambeet, aka Wyatt "Old Dog" Bancroft, CREW(Town)-Aligned Heavy (Bodyguard), was executed at the end of Act 4! :rip:

With the grisly business taken care of, they wrapped up what data they had gotten - not much, with how quickly they had worked. The laboratories waited, down below. They needed to see what this special secret was... they had a name for it, now, at least.

"Project Tsukuyomi".

It is now Intermission 4. Action submissions are due NO LATER THAN Midnight, EST, on Friday, November 16th. I will process and open the thread early should all actions be in before the deadline.

Monathin fucked around with this message at 17:25 on Nov 16, 2018

Sep 1, 2011

Apologies for the further wait, but in order to catch up on writing and other non-Mafia obligations, I am delaying the start of next game day to no later than Noon EST tomorrow (Friday, Nov 16). Thank you all for your patience!

Sep 1, 2011

Sub-Floor 4. They were here. Not in one piece, and not without issues yet resolved... But they made it. Eyeing each other warily, people were yet still getting use to feeling the warmth in their fingers after leaving the server room. But many who were catching their breath found it taken away by the laboratories they came so far to find.

Project Tsukuyomi.

The lab was expansive, possibly bigger than even the server room above it. And all sorts of technologies seemed present - all containing strange metals the crew had never seen. A look through the active databases, however, caused their eyes to light up with equal parts curiosity... and fear.


The results are astounding and beyond anything we could have ever predicted. Using iridium in some of our latest technological pursuits - specifically, iridium mined from the surface of the Moon, has done nothing but jump start our findings.

When 'activated' with a highly focused beam of light, the material glows, and the reaction changes the resulting metallic compounds around it, as well as producing energy reactions that are unprecedented - changes in states of matter, exothermic expulsions that nearly defy the conservation of energy as we know it, and other marvels quite unlike it. We're the only people who have managed to acquire this technology. Do you know what this means? We would be the start of a second technological revolution. A true Singularity, the likes of which could never have been conceptualized by the greatest writers of science-fiction!

If there is any downside to this technology, it's that lunar iridium, once 'activated' within a piece of technology not made entirely from lunar iridium cannot change back so readily - once 'on', it is on, for good. This can be seen with our demostrative shapes - the metallic cubes, once 'activated' with inner lunar iridium, change their shape to invoke a partial solar eclipse - which gave rise to the project's name.

Further experimentation of lunar iridium in mechanized human prosthetics has revealed...
A second technological revolution. One that could rival the greatest world-shaking technological discoveries of the past. No wonder New Horizon wasn't keen on letting this go.

...And why there were some within the crew who still wanted it for themselves.

Shots and screams rang out, almost deafeningly familiar - but at the same time was the noise of a mechanized raven's cry. Spreading out, the remaining crew investigate.

They found Warden first. Their go-to lockdown specialist, Warden had been keeping himself in check all through the trek, but now his face was a shocked, almost bemused expression - something about his impending betrayal, characterized on his face, as funny. It was unsettling enough to see him smile.

It was more unsettling that the face he made seconds before his death was one of grim amusement.


Gene wasn't here to make friends. That's what he always told them. He was here cause Keira had him over a river with a deal he had to take. Gun to his head, that was the honest truth - Kiera could be real nasty when she wanted, and she had wanted someone to help keep things in line. Apparently all those stories he told her of his old corp work lead to her thinking he had some sway over all the tricked out augmented people he ran into in the day to day.

She was right, but still. Kinda ballsy for her to think that of him.

Ever since he's played the hardliner while the rest of the crew's gotten to play fast and loose - so long as the successes keep rolling in, it's fine, right? The crew needs someone to be the bad guy - or, well, as close to 'bad' as anyone here gets. And lucky for him, he fits the bill to a T.

:rip: imgay, aka Gene "Warden" Watanabe, CREW(Town)-Aligned Interrogator (Odd-Night Jailer), was shot to death during Intermission 4! :rip:

Midnight wasn't so lucky. Ever since Tiny died, she'd been picking up the slack, trying her best to probe into records and find what they needed to get out of here alive. Unfortunately, that meant she had let her guard down for just a moment - looking over her gear, and with a blade struck right through her torso, pinning her to the ground where she sat. Pity, the one time she stopped fidgeting...


Ashe's story begins and ends with a simple fact. She never was able to sit still, to do one thing, to stay in one place. The crew's been the longest she stuck around for a while, and part of that is how well they've matched up with her sleep schedule - "Midnight" was a good moniker for her, cause she'd wake up about that time, with some new idea in her head. And once an idea got lodged there, she wouldn't be able to leave it be until she explored it.

Luckily, this translated to a little bit of background in everything, and you've filled in the blanks as needed. Getaway driver, doctor, computer systems specialist. You've done those and more, but you rarely go on the high profile missions - but this time, there's a score big enough for everyone. How could she say no to that?

Maybe she should have, in retrospect.

:rip: Kitiara, aka "Midnight" Ashe Campbell, CREW(Town)-Aligned Specialist (Backup) Hacker (JOAT), was eviscerated during Intermission 4! :rip:

And then there was the raven, whose shrill, mechanized voice called out once more, in the ringing silence of the grisly scene.

The following people visited the LOOKOUT during Intermission 4:



There wasn't much time left, or people left... but they had made it to the labs, and found the mother-lode they'd been hoping to find.

The question was... now what?

It is now Act 5. Deadline is at 10 PM Eastern Standard Time on Sunday, November 18th.

Sep 1, 2011

Lurker rules will not apply, as hammer occurred more than 24 hours before deadline!


The labs were massive, there was no way they could get everything here out of the building. And if they left anything, their mission would be incomplete. But how were they going to get out of here, if they trashed the labs.

That would have to wait, for now, they had a traitor to take care of.

"We do not understand." Came the voice. A face tricked out with technology, to make it near-impossible to tell whoever they once had been. They only responded to one name now: Deviant, as they thought that was funny, apparently.

"You sold us out, didn't you?" Someone took one of the remaining firearms of the crew, pushing it up against Elden's chest. "You've always been weird, Deviant, but you crossed the line this time."

"Needed understanding. Needed to understand complexities of group dynamic to their fullest."

The group stopped, befuddled, and stunned. "W...what?"

"Group seemed prime to dissolve, go separate ways, after job. No matter what, crew would not exist after tonight. We needed data, collection, closure. Only way to fully achieve that was to act, as we have acted."

"You son of a bitch!" Someone cried, as the clicking of safeties disengaged. "You sold us out just so you could 'understand' us!?"

"Only available option, for us." They repeated, clearly non-remorseful. "In our position, you would have done the same. Do not regret actions, if dying here, we have died with a full understanding of the behaviors that made this group what it was. Understanding has been achieved.

Well, here's hoping Elden felt that way, for certain. Because with their brain as put together by equal parts wiring and meat splattered all across the floor, they weren't ever going to write a dissertation to the opposite.


We have not always been like this. Elden, our name was. Once. Still is. However, the allure of the chrome and machine working with flesh and bone... appealed to us. Opened mind's eye, we did. Elden still name, but past before opening of mind's eye matters littler. New name, more befitting, Deviant.

Deviant watches. Behaviors interesting to them. People who are desperate, but still eke out living. Unenlightened. Not like us. With mind's eye, can see the behaviors as if observing ants. We see the social web that connects us all. See sabotage of greater ideas for personal gain, and refusal of reward that comprimises seeming values. Such behavior... intrigues and fascinates.

Approaches, garnered notoriety for strange speech patterns, strange thoughts. We took offer to join crew. They gave us more purpose, a place to observe more closely-knit bonds. How they weave together, how they break. Good for observing the microcosm.

As above, so below.

:rip: CapitalistPig, aka Elden, aka "Deviant", SELLOUT(Scum)-Aligned Snoop (Watcher), was executed at the end of Act 5! :rip:

Gathering up what of the strange lunar-iridium technology they could - and all available data - the group noticed a door down below. As someone scouted it out, a cry came from the staircase. "Hey! There's a transit system down here! We've found our escape! Let's torch the place!"

Fires were set, escapes were planned, as the sellout's body was left to burn away in the quickly conflagrating room.

It is now Intermission 5. Deadline for action submissions will be 10 PM Eastern Standard Time on Sunday, November 18th. I will process early if all actions are in ahead of schedule.

Monathin fucked around with this message at 01:01 on Nov 21, 2018

Sep 1, 2011

Whoever had claimed it had been right. There was a transit system down here. Aged and worn down, but clearly still maintained and functioned.

This must have been part of the old subway systems, once. Now, it was just another facet of a tumor in this sickly city. Of course New Horizon would have a special underground transit system. With everything they'd been doing, why wouldn't they have?

At least cleanly, they could make their getaway as they felt the faint heat and heard the crackling of the labs set ablaze. Hopefully, nothing would come from that...

In the meantime, the five of them called an active tram as they started to board it, having found a path that would lead them relatively close to their grand hideout. As they boarded, however, something came to mind.




You wouldn't know it looking at Riley now, but in their childhood, they were the ultimate troublemaker - jumping out of dark corners to spook people they followed, just for the fun of it. Eventually, those fun hobbies and pranks turned into something they could leverage - especially as the world got worse. They were gootd at weeding out traitors and people who were trying to ditch their commitments, and some people even gave them a share of the person's "cut" on smaller jobs for making sure they didn't snitch. That might be the first time Riley realized that this could be a real profession.

Fast forward several years, and they had gotten a chance to sit themselves in front of the people running one of Verge's biggest up-and-coming crews.You didn't need some gimmick - every crew needed someone like you, and you considered yourself drat good at your job.

They agreed, and it'd been smooth sailing since.

:rip: SolusLunes, aka Riley "Nightowl" Calder, CREW(Town)-Aligned Shadow (Tracker), was eviscerated during Intermission 5! :rip:

The tram left before they could go back for his body. Now, stuck on the tram with someone who was still determined to finish the crew off... what were they to do?

It is now Act 6. Deadline is at 10 PM Eastern Standard Time, on Tuesday, November 20th.

Monathin fucked around with this message at 01:10 on Nov 21, 2018


Sep 1, 2011

Game-talk twilight was allowed per the rules of the OP. Sorry, I was asleep!


Stuck on a long ride home, the remains of the crew deliberated among their ill-gotten gains, fingers were pointed, actions considered, but in the end, no one had the wherewithal to push for one person over the rest.

No one was executed at the end of Act 6.

It is now Intermission 6. Deadline for action submissions will be TOMORROW AT NOON EST. I will open the thread early if Night Actions are submitted quickly.

Monathin fucked around with this message at 01:35 on Nov 21, 2018

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