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PlatinumAshes
I am now certain that you are not scum and are just town trying to play scum as hard as possible.
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CYOR: Breath of Mafia Game Thread
Reason to justify an absurdly gruesome execution, check.
Let's get this show on the road, gentlemen.
Let's get this show on the road, gentlemen.
CRUSHING FINGERS - MAFIA (The end of the story)
Haha, I'd be suprised if many people got it. I know it's very very confusing stuff, but it's more about the 'feel' of it anyway :p
CRUSHING FINGERS - MAFIA (The end of the story)
It was morning, and Wildwes was standing at the riverside. The city had not yet sprung up from its sleep, and so the world seem rather empty and lifeless: he and the figure opposite to him, were the only living, breathing things within miles. The figure was wearing a peculiar set of black rags and a blindfold. You could tell just from their close proximity to one another on the massive emty plain, that they weren't strangers, and if you took the time to listen to the tone of their voices, you would realize that they had known eachother for a very, very long time;
The playwright and the ferryman.
“' 'ave you figured out yet what the world will look like?” the ferryman asked, like it was the most normal thing ever. The playwright responded by carefully reaching into his pocket for a small, folded piece of paper and, while pinching it between thumb and index finger, handing it to the man in rags, who unfolded it, and closely observed it. The blindfold did not seem to be bothering him one bit. Either the it was somehow see-through, or the he was using some other sense. Eitherway, he found himself holding a small, sketched pencil drawing. I could describe its content in objective terms but such a description would be useless to you, as you would not have his memories and asociations to interpret those facts, and see their underlying thoughts and feelings. All I can say is that it was a juvinile drawing; one in which everything looked wonderful and everyone was smiling.
“Hn. Hmmmm.
Yes, I can use this.
Did you come up with this..?”
He nodded. The ferryman shifted his head and raized his eyebrows in recognition.
“Well, next up, we'll have to destroy the sample I built this world out of. ”
“I'll just turn away untill you're done. ” the playwright whispered, and did just that. “Yeah. Sure” The ferryman got out a lighter in one hand, and an old, wrinkled fotograph in the other, which didn't last very long in the flame. “Charon, ehh, do I still need to pay the styx fare?” The playwright asked, knowing full well the answer would be 'yes', yet still clinging to the hopes of a 'no'.
“I was afraid I'd have to remind you myself.” Charon muttered apologetically. He scratched his head and leaned to the side. “I'll make it it quick.” The playwright had already gotten out his right hand, which had been resting in his pocket up intill then. It struck me how his middle-, ring- and pinky finger weren't standing straight anymore; they seamed to have swollen and had turned pinkish blue. He raided held up his hand, as though he was handing the ferryman his payment, even though his palm was empty. Instead, the ferryman wrapped his hand around the playwright's index finger and made a quick, decisive rotary gesture, that snapped it at the knuckle. He cringed and groaned, but quickly managed a recovery, and contained most of his reaction.
“You never get used to it, do you?” Charon sympathized
“Hah! I'm FINE!” the playwright said coarsely with a sarcastic grimace.
The two stood there silently for a moment. Charon listened to the rushing of the wind and clashing of the waves of the river styx, while the playwright waited for the waves of pain in his hand to subside. Time drags by when a decision has been made, and all that remained was to say to goodbye.
The town was a million miles under. Even though he had never informed his subjects of the nature of their creation, it was hard not interpret their rabbid looks of fear and resentment as a sign that they knew they were about to be abandonned. Even their irrational phobia of cannibalism could merely be a result of the way he himself had treated them. He was, however, not willing to interpret manners that way. He wished not to live in a world where everything was somehow his fault, and instead chose to make some logical consessions. After all, he was not a scientist.
The others spent the afternoon divining some hitghly advanced, agonizing means of execution. He did not involve himself in the process, from which it followed that he was their next subject (that is how a cannibal was detected). He overheard parts of their hours long discussion in which they laid down their sience; in how many parts the carpals could be fractured under optimal circumstances, how to make effecient use of a tissue with a high density of nerve endings and all the different ways in which leftover meat could be repurposed.
His price was payed. When his time came to be tied up brought to the shed, Charon appeared at his side, and told him to close his eyes. The world spun as he fell through a great number of doorways untill he could watch from a distance, his body being carried off into the shed.
“Your request was settled with the old man.” Charon smiled and directed his look at the shed in which the playwright's empty vessel was being deconstructed “They won't follow you overseas now that they think your dead. So we're all set. Let's go!”
Wildwes was Lynched on Day 5! He was the Playwright, a “Vanilla”. He was Town-alligned!
“This is the part that always gets me” Wildwes exclaimed, after they had been sailing for a while. “I just can't believe this place used to be my idea of paradise.”
The End
The playwright and the ferryman.
“' 'ave you figured out yet what the world will look like?” the ferryman asked, like it was the most normal thing ever. The playwright responded by carefully reaching into his pocket for a small, folded piece of paper and, while pinching it between thumb and index finger, handing it to the man in rags, who unfolded it, and closely observed it. The blindfold did not seem to be bothering him one bit. Either the it was somehow see-through, or the he was using some other sense. Eitherway, he found himself holding a small, sketched pencil drawing. I could describe its content in objective terms but such a description would be useless to you, as you would not have his memories and asociations to interpret those facts, and see their underlying thoughts and feelings. All I can say is that it was a juvinile drawing; one in which everything looked wonderful and everyone was smiling.
“Hn. Hmmmm.
Yes, I can use this.
Did you come up with this..?”
He nodded. The ferryman shifted his head and raized his eyebrows in recognition.
“Well, next up, we'll have to destroy the sample I built this world out of. ”
“I'll just turn away untill you're done. ” the playwright whispered, and did just that. “Yeah. Sure” The ferryman got out a lighter in one hand, and an old, wrinkled fotograph in the other, which didn't last very long in the flame. “Charon, ehh, do I still need to pay the styx fare?” The playwright asked, knowing full well the answer would be 'yes', yet still clinging to the hopes of a 'no'.
“I was afraid I'd have to remind you myself.” Charon muttered apologetically. He scratched his head and leaned to the side. “I'll make it it quick.” The playwright had already gotten out his right hand, which had been resting in his pocket up intill then. It struck me how his middle-, ring- and pinky finger weren't standing straight anymore; they seamed to have swollen and had turned pinkish blue. He raided held up his hand, as though he was handing the ferryman his payment, even though his palm was empty. Instead, the ferryman wrapped his hand around the playwright's index finger and made a quick, decisive rotary gesture, that snapped it at the knuckle. He cringed and groaned, but quickly managed a recovery, and contained most of his reaction.
“You never get used to it, do you?” Charon sympathized
“Hah! I'm FINE!” the playwright said coarsely with a sarcastic grimace.
The two stood there silently for a moment. Charon listened to the rushing of the wind and clashing of the waves of the river styx, while the playwright waited for the waves of pain in his hand to subside. Time drags by when a decision has been made, and all that remained was to say to goodbye.
The town was a million miles under. Even though he had never informed his subjects of the nature of their creation, it was hard not interpret their rabbid looks of fear and resentment as a sign that they knew they were about to be abandonned. Even their irrational phobia of cannibalism could merely be a result of the way he himself had treated them. He was, however, not willing to interpret manners that way. He wished not to live in a world where everything was somehow his fault, and instead chose to make some logical consessions. After all, he was not a scientist.
The others spent the afternoon divining some hitghly advanced, agonizing means of execution. He did not involve himself in the process, from which it followed that he was their next subject (that is how a cannibal was detected). He overheard parts of their hours long discussion in which they laid down their sience; in how many parts the carpals could be fractured under optimal circumstances, how to make effecient use of a tissue with a high density of nerve endings and all the different ways in which leftover meat could be repurposed.
His price was payed. When his time came to be tied up brought to the shed, Charon appeared at his side, and told him to close his eyes. The world spun as he fell through a great number of doorways untill he could watch from a distance, his body being carried off into the shed.
“Your request was settled with the old man.” Charon smiled and directed his look at the shed in which the playwright's empty vessel was being deconstructed “They won't follow you overseas now that they think your dead. So we're all set. Let's go!”
Wildwes was Lynched on Day 5! He was the Playwright, a “Vanilla”. He was Town-alligned!
“This is the part that always gets me” Wildwes exclaimed, after they had been sailing for a while. “I just can't believe this place used to be my idea of paradise.”
The End
CRUSHING FINGERS - MAFIA (The end of the story)
They weren't allowed to speak in there, just spectate. But yes, that was a difficult decision to make, and I doubted it somewhat.
Some hosts leave the dead in the dark while others let them in on everything. For my first mafia, I went with full visibility because it seemed like the more 'standard' way to handle things, but I might try the other approach next time.
Some hosts leave the dead in the dark while others let them in on everything. For my first mafia, I went with full visibility because it seemed like the more 'standard' way to handle things, but I might try the other approach next time.
CRUSHING FINGERS - MAFIA (The end of the story)
CYOR: Breath of Mafia Game Thread
author=Liberty
I was considering a Suikoden Mafia with a 'find the x' game style. That is, one assassin "Mafia" has infiltrated the Castle and has the True Face Rune which allows them to take on the identity of one of the Stars of Destiny. Fortunately the Strategist has learned of this and everyone is trying to protect the Tenkai from assassination. Thus, it's up to the assassin to figure out who the Tenkai is (since they're an outsider they have no idea what the Tenkai looks like) while the group tries to find whose identity the assassin stole.
I considered some of the Stars to have different powers, like the Chiyu Star being the Detective (as those under that star sign usually are the castle detectives) or Tenei Star being the Tenkai's bodyguard. There's a lot that can be done with the stars.
author=CAVE_DOG_IS_BACK
what you have described is known as 'kingmaker' mafia
I've never played a king maker Mafia, but that sounds incredibly interesting and cool ^^ I'd totatlly play that if you hosted it.
CYOR: Breath of Mafia Game Thread
author=CAVE_DOG_IS_BACKOh, that's totally fine. I'm actually kind of glad that my rules were clear enough to be re-used. And besides, I stole some of my rules from Jeroen myself xD
CHALLENGE YONDER OGRE, ROGUE
i stole 'how to play mafias' from other thread and put it in the op, for..f.irst time player.
Speaking of which, you'd better be in for this one Jeroen! or I'll never get to find out what your playstile is like.
CYOR: Breath of Mafia Game Thread
Hah, you weren't kidding when you said we'd have a rematch right away. I'm in, of course!
I've never even heard of BoF, so I have some reading up to do.
I've never even heard of BoF, so I have some reading up to do.
CRUSHING FINGERS - MAFIA (The end of the story)
Oh, and thanks to Jeroen_Sol for guiding me through the whole thing!
Seriously, I really wouldn't have known what to do without him to come to with my questions "xD
Seriously, I really wouldn't have known what to do without him to come to with my questions "xD
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