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Mafia2: The Game Thread

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20:45 / 12.02.03

Ladees and Gentlefolk this round is on the estate of the late Doc Flyboy. Drown your sorrows for tonight we die (or one of us). I suggest that we are all very nice to the nice Priestess with the dodgy Italian accent and the recipe for meatball sauce. Nice stilettoes though.

No star here laces

20:56 / 12.02.03

Bitchlaces sits on the opposite side of the pub from Todd and occasionally attempts to apologise the priestess until he's had too much slurry and slopes off to his garrett to sleep the sleep of the miserable and unclean.

21:09 / 12.02.03

Tezcatlipoca says nothing, but from And/Orr's cellar comes the occasional sound of a trap snaping closed, and, with slightly more frequency, the sound of a cork being popped...

22:09 / 12.02.03

"Shit!" exclaims Chromeo as Fair Juliet serves him a pair of shorts. "Got any ketchup to go with that?" he asks, while a tear runs down his cheek. Fair Juliet remains mum, giving him the evil eye.

I suppose, supposes Chromeo, that supposition can be faulty.

Someone knocks on the door and when Chromeo and Juliet answer it, nobody's there, except for the mysterious note on the doorstep.

It read:

Yesssss.

Chromeo, up to that moment filled with grief, switched to that of rage.

They exist. They're queer. I won't get used to them. And some of them must have accused Flyboy also, knowing full well he was an innocent villager.

Look at the list people.

STOATIE LIEKS CHOCOLATE MILK

22:29 / 12.02.03

The old Chairman idly wonders who'll give him a good deal on... medicine now, and wonders if maybe he was too hasty in joining the mob. (with a small 'm', of course.) Realising the answer is "of course he was", he ties off, inserts the needle, and mainlines slurry.

22:33 / 12.02.03

Bah! Lynch, schminch, that hardly even counted. In my day we strung em up three to a branch.

00:28 / 13.02.03

Bjacques slopes off in a funk of guilt, drunk as a skunk on Flyboy's laudanum. He will spend the night doing unspeakable things ALONE, his only company the night terrors, the screaming meemies and the blind staggers. He'll scream at the sky, shaking a gnarled fist (think Berni Wrightson) at a malevolent god. In his shotgun shack, he'll put on an old Nick Cave record and read Faulkner and O'Connor until he falls into a troubled sheep--SLEEP!!

Whisky Priestess

08:44 / 13.02.03

The Priestess, smug as a bug in a rug about being right, yet sorrowing over the needless death of the innocent Doc, says a quick prayer for Flyboy's departed soul and crosses herself with slurry vodka.

But wait. Something's not right. She sniffs her fingers suspiciously and beckons the halfwit barkeep over with one of them. Or is he as slow as he seems?

"Thanks for the compliment about the shoes," she whispers, breathing slurry fumes into his big simple face, "but I don't like being served Italian liqueur when I ask for vodka. Got that?"

And/Orr nods slowly, guiltily, like a Sicilian pig-dog - sorry, child - caught with his hand in the poison bottle. Sorry, cookie jar.

Hmmm, muses the Priestess, as she wonders who at the bar had ordered the Limoncello she had been served ... and how come And/Orr's usually limited bar was stocked with the obscure tipple at all?

Hmmm...

13:28 / 13.02.03

For the moment, Chromeo is severely confused.

What to do, who to suspect?

14:14 / 13.02.03

"I'd say I'm sorry for lynching the wrong person, but only God can forgive us for what we've done. And with my deep personal connection to God, I know I'll be absolved. Barkeep, another glass of milk. Whole milk, son.," Todd rested his ponderous right leg on an adjacent bar stool. It had been a tiring day, even for one used to getting up at 4 am to milk the cows, feed the chickens, and stud the ponies. The winner of the Lancaster county solo barn-raising bee from 1963-1967's heavy limbs felt like lead. For a moment, he wondered if some non-metaphorical lead would be entering his body sometime during the evening, then shrugged it of, placing his trust in God.

15:11 / 13.02.03

Sun rises over Granton, but the light brings only a cold comfort.

A street urchin runs to the Mayor's office.

"Mayor McGrant! Mayor McGrant! Come quick! There's something horrible at the foundry!"

The waif leads the mayor and his entourage into the cavernous recesses of Brick Line #7, Warehouse 5.

"What's this?" barks the Mayor. "Why've you brought us... Oh, good gracious, there's a man up there!"

Indeed. A man. Dead. Hung on a rope deftly woven from spaghetti, his blackened tongue lolling out of his open mouth, is Tezcatlipoca, village rat-catcher.

His body is lowered to the ground... but wait! There's something inside his coat!

It's an official Ratcatcher's Investigator Union badge, Local 777!

"My God," mutters McGrant. "What can we do now? He was our Detective!"

An uneasy murmur goes through the assembled villagers.

And with the badge is a small notebook, labeled "Top Sekrit Findins." There is only one page with writing on it.

It reads, "Bendt Chromeo is innocent."

There is a sudden wail from the catwalk behind the machinery, and a small, sooty figure leaps to the railing.

"I loved him," he shrieks, and plunges over the side, headfirst into a pudding reduction vat.

The body is dutifully hauled from the vat. It is Enamon.

"This man went mad from what he saw," says Old O.M., gravely. "Another innocent villager lost today, alas.

"Well, we've got a hard row to hoe - we Grantonians have got to communicate with one another better than ever before! There's still someone among you capable of saving all of our lives - and there's still three killers we've got to nab as a village!

"Let's get to work!"

Whisky Priestess

15:29 / 13.02.03

Oh fuck.

15:34 / 13.02.03

[ghostly voice]
My sentiments exactly, Whiskey. This sadly means my pet theory was right and I now know who at least one of the Mafia is. For all the good it will do me. Bah. *slumps back to the grave*
[/ghostly voice]

16:00 / 13.02.03

Trusting in God has just killed two villagers, so I think Todd needs to come up with a better explanation. Todd? Is this how they do things amongst all those crazy Amish out in BX?

16:51 / 13.02.03

Yipes, how did they get him in one? That fool ratcatcher probably took the wrong someone into his confidence. Even my idiot nephew over in Toddsylvania knew better than that.

Okay, this leaves us with 10 suspects: 15 - 3 dead - 1 Chromeo - 1 (you, or in my case, me) = 10. Voting stats:

Flyboy: (Chromeo), Todd, (Qalyn), (Tezkimpossibletopronouncipoka), Maominstoat, bjacques, Lionheart
Byron Bitchlaces: Whiskey Priestess, Iszabelle, lolita
Whiskey Priestess: Byron Bitchlaces, Bengali in Platforms
Chromeo: (Flyboy)
Iszabelle: And/Orr

The last three voters were lolita nation, Bengali in Platforms, and Lionheart. There are 7 innocents left, which means gives us a margin of error = 3.

Frankly, I don't see much of a pattern here. I'm betting the mafia didn't organize their lynch-vote this round. Todd could be crooked, I suppose, but with Chromeo cleared it doesn't stand to reason. 3 in 7 is not bad odds.

16:58 / 13.02.03

"God told me to trust Bendt Chromeo, and god was right. God is always right. Bendt Chromeo is human, so he can be wrong."

"I'm willing to bet that at least one of those Mafia folks voted for each other in the last round, so they can plausibly deny being connected in the future. Let's just see who sticks to their guns this round. And who was the last person to been seen with Tez?"

18:24 / 13.02.03

Tez, I'm sorry I didn't mingle much more with you but this "This sadly means my pet theory was right and I now know who at least one of the Mafia is. For all the good it will do me. Bah." will do me alotta good.

Mafia scum, I'm on your Dogon tails.

19:16 / 13.02.03

I'm letting my mind wander.

What if Todd was mafia, he could certainly be one of the influential ones, who has a knack of masquerading themselves as harmless villagers ... But how harmless is a man who works with agriculture, and who gladly drinks milk without knowing the cancerous effects of it, and if he isn't harmless, does that then also make him a mafiaman who could play an innocent?

Byron Bitchlaces, he sure was curious to find out if our late, great Doctor Flyboy, the famed criminal psychologist, was the real doctor? He accused Whisky Priestess, who in turn accused him. Does anyone else wonder why? Wild cards? Who is mafia, and who is the most charming of these 2?

Lionheart and BiP ... We all know that BiP has been remarkably restrained from mingling further with us, but can Lionheart say the same? Remain quiet and attract as little attention as you can?

lolita nation? Hmmm.

Col. Qalyn? Hmmm.

Maominstoat? Third time's the charm? Mafia?

I feel like adopting the Cooper approach, someone please organize a bucket full of stones, some bottles and a blackboard with the potential mafia names written on it.

19:33 / 13.02.03

Chromeo, that made no sense whatsoever. Here, take one of my pills.

21:17 / 13.02.03

Okay, I have an idea, but I'm not sure if it makes sense, so I'm going to try and shake it out in public.

We break up into three groups, randomly -- maybe we can ask the mayor to randomize who's in which group, or even someone outside the Game, say by drawing names from a hat. This should have the effect of separating the mafia. They settle on their suspect via PM, then announce their suspect. Then, everyone votes on those suspects only.

The idea is to narrow the pool of candates... I dunno, though. It's dicey.

21:39 / 13.02.03

SHIT!!! I know for sure who is Mafia.

Trusted people, I'll PM you.

21:46 / 13.02.03

Wa-a-a-a-itaminnit, Chrome. You're not that much in the clear. It's still possible that Tez was mafia, and you & Todd sacrificed him to throw off the scent.

If there's a living detective, he should take action.

21:53 / 13.02.03

Erm, Colonel? Hello? Have you read page 3? Where our trusted Mayor established that Tez was the detective, and that I was an innocent villager?

Hard to fake those, I think.

22:02 / 13.02.03

Mmmmidunno. If I were mayor, I'd give the nod to a strategy involving explicit instructions to plant detectivey evidence on your man. I'm not saying it's so, just that it's possible and you shouldn't rush around acting like you're clear. The only way we'll know is if another detective comes forward and we lynch him.

Any takers?

22:49 / 13.02.03

Well, is there more than one detective left?

22:54 / 13.02.03

If Tez was fake, there is, but we only started with one. While I think their luck was a little too good to be true, I was really warning Chromeo not to take his status for granted.

00:07 / 14.02.03

Rest assured, when I say somebody's a detective, they are indeed a detective! It's as sure as shooting!

Now enough flapdoodling! Back to work!

00:43 / 14.02.03

Pooh, you never let me have any fun.

07:31 / 14.02.03

The Widow massages her aching temples.

"Did we only have one detective? Or did we have two and lynch one?? Lose one to suicide??? I'm not accustomed to imbibing that much slurry; even my hair hurts this morning. I'm sooo confused! Why is the Colonel talking so loud?"

She slumps, disheveled and disheartened.

Whisky Priestess

13:34 / 14.02.03

Qalyn:
"We break up into three groups, randomly -- maybe we can ask the mayor to randomize who's in which group, or even someone outside the Game, say by drawing names from a hat. This should have the effect of separating the mafia."

Except that because it's random it might just as easily come up with a group of 2 or 3 Mafia, who will be able to outvote the innocent villager. Or if there's one Mafioso in each group and they are persuasive enough it could all go their way.

"They settle on their suspect via PM, then announce their suspect. Then, everyone votes on those suspects only."

Hmm - this is a bit Big Brother nominations after all. Fair enough, we can try it if people want, but I just don't see how this is better than individual voting.

Re: detective - I'm pretty sure that (unfortunately) we are playing the variation with only one detective and one doctor - if I'm wrong, grant, please correct me. At least the doctor can protect people from Mafia hits, but this will probably only become really useful in the latter stages of the game.

13:38 / 14.02.03

Actually, the doctor is very key right now. I hope s/he knows what to do.

13:52 / 14.02.03

"It is clear, that whoever was last seen was Tezcatlipoca is a member of the Mafia, and therefore must be punished. With the mayor's permission, I'd like to demand that each and every villager come forth and state their relationship to our dear, departed ratcatcher. In the spirt of openness, I'll go first."

"although he smelled of poison and cheap, cheap cigarettes, I knew instantaneously that Tezcatlipoca was someone to be trusted. I also knew, however, that his inquisitive nature would get him into trouble, and quickly. I suspect he talked to the wrong person, and that lead to his downfall. I have no proof, as I never spoke to the brave man before he died, only exchanging meaningful glances with him across the crowded barroom. Meaningful glances that communicated "I know you, todd, are not mafia." and "yes, that's true""

"How 'bout the rest of you lot?"

16:10 / 14.02.03

The Widow Iszabelle cringes further into her corner. Now, that patriarchal gent who rolled into town (when, just yesterday?)is shouting.

He's demanding that residents, her friends, explain why they're innocent of the horrible crime of killing the ratcatcher! She takes a deep breath and draws herself up.

"It's obvious that there are more rats in town than our ratcatcher could keep under control. I, for one, don't appreciate being treated as if I'm one of them! You, sir. Todd. Who are you and why did you come here?? You seem to be accustomed to wielding power, being obeyed without question. We don't know you at all, why should we bow to your whims?"

17:43 / 14.02.03

Bjacques picks himself up from the alley wherein he fell last night, still sozzled to the gills on Flyboy's laudanum, and still exhausted from fending off giant face-fucking bats (and not the fun kind). He pries open one bleary eye and cocks the other one toward the citified gent. I hope he's more entertaining than the last one, the Irish dude who toured the slurry mines and the red light district and did poetry.

19:23 / 14.02.03

Bah, I'm not going to try to convince anyone of my innocence. If you think me guilty, come at me -- you'll live to regret it.

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