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Mafia 3 - The Game

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13:36 / 01.04.03

Can one's first impression be wrong?

(pensively strokes chin)

No, it's definitely that oaf Bleulaces. I accuse him.

19:57 / 01.04.03

Christ nod off for a minute...it would make *Bjacques* more comfortable if Bleulaces revealed in greater depth the causes for his suspicion of Bjacques. I do *Chinese* organized crime; those spaghetti-eating mattress-tag-rippers don't even rate. Who do you think *invented* pasta? While I can unscrew the inscrutable oriental mind (but can't play Mah Jongg to save my life--perhaps literally), I find the Sicilian one as rewarding as a rusty bolt. Coyote, I want a rematch. Bleulaces, I want you safely underwater, as you clearly want me to sleep with the fishes. J'Accuse Bleulaces! Bartender, gimme a beer. I'll take the shot in the privacy of my cabin...

19:58 / 01.04.03

Shit. My html skills are on a par with my Mah Jongg skills.

otherjerry & the unworkable siblings

22:22 / 01.04.03

i'm siding w/ hefe bluelaces.

(and hopefully i'm never washing another fond encrusted sheet pan)

i accuse bjacques

22:39 / 01.04.03

Lionheart sits at a blackjack table at the dark, shady corner of the ship's casino, playing a hand every once in a while and, every other once in a while, taking a sip of absinthe from his hip flask. He suspects that the absinthe has been mixed with something more...exotic for the face cards seem to wink and smile at him as he gains or loses those precious millimeters of the width of his wallet. Lionheart just smiles and nods.

Upon realizing the need for an accusation Lionheart stands up, wavers, trying to gain a balance on his feet, and picks up his neglected grey vest off the floor. He brushes off the dust only to have a book fall out from one of his many hidden inner pockets. "How To Count Cards and Other Ways of Cheating at Blackjack". Lionheart turns a shade of purplish red and quickly hurries, stumbling, to the main deck where he sits down at the outer deck cafe and orders a black russian. The waiter nods and hurries off.

Lionheart reaches into his vest's breast pocket and pulls out a crumpled list of passengers. He uncrumples it and picks out a name at random by spitting up into the air and catching the spittle with the list. The only wet spot on the list appears on the name "Todd".

22:41 / 01.04.03

(Hmmm.. that reminds me that I should buy a hip flask. If anybody has one and if they don't want it then send it over to me.)

Oh, and in case there's any questions about why I accused Todd then let me answer them by explaining that Todd was the first name on the passenger list.

00:52 / 02.04.03

J'accuse monsieur Bleulaces.

Because you are the most suspicious french person I know.
And I have to choose someone, sorry :-(

11:28 / 02.04.03

"Excuse Me..."

The figure glides soundlessly up to you, waits for a few moments, then gives a polite cough.
"Excuse me, but the young captain is currently indisposed giving directions to one of our cocktail waitresses. He is desirous that you should be kept informed of the comings and goings of the Substandard, and to that end has charged me with the duty of informing you that the following passengers have yet to vote."

At this he unfurls a piece of paper and reads out the names of:

Chairman Maominstoat
iconoplast
Todd
Bizunth
rat
Orr
~~~B C~~~
Bleulaces

The paper rolls back up noiselessly and the figure gives another cough. "The captain has also asked me to remind you that the votes must be cast prior to the designated finish of the working week, or grave circumstances will be forthcoming. Thankyou for your time."

And with a bow, he glides effortlessly away.

Regrettable Juvenilia

11:39 / 02.04.03

Excuse me, lickspittle, but Bleulaces certainly has voted. I suggest you check your adding machine again. The votes against are currently as follows:

Nietzsch E. Coyote - 1 (Flyboy)
Todd - 1 (Lionheart)
bjacques - 3 (Bleulaces, Nietzsch E. Coyote, otherjerry)
Bleulaces - 3 (grant, bjacques, angelvanilla)

11:55 / 02.04.03

"Ah yes,"

"Ah yes," mutters the butler. "I see you have realised my deliberate mistake, cleverly employed to ensure that the proper attention is being accorded to the movements of the passengers and staff. Excuse me, sir. I think I need to lie down."

He glides away once again, muttering something about not being treated this way when in the employ of Lord Cyrill Smythe-Smythe Parkinson.

12:28 / 02.04.03

A commotion on the deck. The swooping arrival of the Flyboy and his fantastical flying apparatus, while quite jolly, has proved to be too much for young Toddle's poor mind to take. The little lord falls to the ground, rolling and thrashing, filthifying his precious little suit.

Aunt Prudence scoops the boy up with one arm, and tucks him under her meaty elbow. She stomps right up to the rakish Flyboy.

"Young man! I have never seen such irresponisble daredevilry in my entire life. Thank St. Christopher, St. Anthony and St. Hubbins that you did not kill us all with your foolish contraption! Look at this poor boy! I daresay you've given him brain-fever. And his suit! Ruined! You can't get salt-spray and gull guano out of velvet! Believe me, I've tried."

The formidable Prudence looks the Flyboy in the eye.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't have the Captain send you and your infernal machine straight to Davy Jones's Locker."

Regrettable Juvenilia

12:37 / 02.04.03

That 'innocent' little devil was responsible for hounding me to my grave in a former life...

STOATIE LIEKS CHOCOLATE MILK

15:28 / 02.04.03

The ghosts of old comrades swim dizzingly before Stoatie's eyes, quite putting him off his game of quoits. "D-don't worry, Algie"... he murmurs to himself... "we'll get that old Baron yet..."

Again, a veil lifts. "I'm so sorry, please excuse me. I had a funny turn. I think it may be the food. I sense something a little amiss about that Bleulaces fellow. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and- OH MY GOD!!!"

Throwing himself to the deck, he covers his head with his hands and prays, as if some mighty... thing... were threatening him from above.
Seconds pass in silence. Then, looking awfully embarrassed, he gets to his feet, dusts himself off, and heads to the bar.

15:40 / 02.04.03

"Past life! I should have know you were a heathen as well as an atheist! Away from me, you!"

Prudence spins away from the debonair Flyboy, Toddles danging limply from under her arm.

"The nerve of that man!" she thought to herself, "I should definitely have him lynched. But what if it doesn't work? He could no doubt wreak some horrible vengeance on my precious Toddles. No, accusing the Flyboy now is not the thing to do.

But what's this? That delightful French chef is in trouble? But he makes the most delicious crepes I've ever tasted. The voyage will be intolerable without his fluffy pastries, buttery sauces, and colorful curses. I must do all that I can to save him."

Prudence marches up to the Captain's quarters. "Sir, I would like to accuse BJacques."

15:55 / 02.04.03

'Ah, yes sirs. Your drinks, as ordered. Our apologies for the slight delay, but I was forced to administer some vegetable based lubricant to a young scamp that had wedged himself in a starboard porthole.'

Turning swiftly from the semi-comatose guests, the senior steward fixed the butler with a steely glare.

'And as for you, Ponsonby, that chin is not set at a regulation angle. Report to the ships chiropractor this instant. We can't have you flaring your nostrils at your superiors. Oh, and requisition some ankles at the first opportunity as well. Don't eyeball me, sonny. I know why you left Lord Parkinson's service and if you don't shape up I will take you off dog-walking duties...'

'Should you pass the Captain, you may care to mention that we have a radical aboard and pass on my request that we keel haul Mr. Coyote whenever he has a moment. Dismissed.'

18:09 / 02.04.03

The smell of incense (and peppermints) drifts from Zunti's cabin. Then the sound of a cry, a crash, a small explosion, and Zunti shouts 'BLEULACES!'.
Or maybe 'Bullrushes'. You're not quite sure.

18:38 / 02.04.03

Flushed and woozy, 'rat' makes his way into the casino. His naturally shy inclination still causes him to flinch and start at the lightest touch but, fuelled by a recent win below-decks and a half-bottle of something labelled; 'Very old Genuine Scotch Whisky: Andre Bloc et Cie, Saigon,' he makes his way to the Poker table with the merest perceptible swagger (and a more obviously perceptible stagger).

Other people, people he doesn't know, seem to be staring expectantly at him while muttering intensely. Then, with a chilly, creeping realisation akin to seating oneself on a wet chair he realises that they are discussing, of all things, a lynching. And that he is to express an opinion.

'Surely a jest. A jape at my expense perhaps, but still, surely, a jest,' he thinks. And then with, perhaps, ill-advised bravado: 'Ah, but fortune is with me tonight. I can make no mistakes,'

"If I really have no choice, then, er, ha ha, er, I accuse B-B-B-BJacques."

Nietzsch E. Coyote

22:40 / 02.04.03

Wow, we have a potential tie situation with only BC and Iconoplast yet to vote.

Oh and Orr, I wouldn't describe myself as a radical but my mother was. Also I don't think being a radical would have made it likely that I was a mafia thug anyways.

10:21 / 03.04.03

My apologies, Mr Coyote, obviously a discrete search for our sicillian stowaways is in progress. To my shame I have, as yet, been unable to discern any pesci-leanings amongst our passengers and so was merely taking advantage of the opportunity to address another matter. Please excuse the inconvenience of your lynching should that occur and, naturally, should you wish to travel with us again, you may consider your subversive heritage to have been purged.

14:25 / 03.04.03

The lanky youth in the immaculate suit rubs his temples.

"All these accusations. My head is spinning. I think I need some rest, before I have one of my spells."

Green-faced, he rushes off to his stateroom.

16:22 / 03.04.03

Bjacques is nervous in the extreme, but tries not show it. "This company is not conducive to my enjoyment of the Middle Kingdom's fabled product. However you decide, I will be waiting in my cabin. Good day."

Through his cabin door, for the benefit of Nosey Parkers, pass odd odors not generally associated with opium dens, and one can hear muttering in an unknown (CERTAINLY NOT ITALIAN, NOR EVEN SICILIAN) language, and *is it being answered??*

17:40 / 03.04.03

The young aspiring author, more than a little heady from all the 'inspiration' he's been taking at the bar, nods his head abruptly, and points with the pad he's been writing on.

"Bjacques."

The bad guy, you see, always has the funny hat.

18:10 / 03.04.03

"Sir, I'll have you know that hat is the trademark as such illustrious fellows as Tommy Cooper and Morocco Mole, who, er, haven't yet been conceived" bjacques rejoins, or would if he were in the saloon instead of in his room doing odd but utterly non-Italian things.

No star here laces

20:35 / 03.04.03

Bleulaces sits abandoned, in the scullery, comforting himself with fois gras and petits fours. "Have I not fed these people well? 'Ave I not crafted and finessed zere pastry? 'Ave I not bullied and belaboured my menials to deliver zem ze finest food? Why do zey turn on me so?"

He wipes a single tear from his purple cheek. "Zees ees no life for a chef, I 'ave been fighting so many years for fine food and ze freedom of ze seas. Maybe eet ees time for zomeone else to take up my knives, gird my rolling pin and grease my pots."

He rises slowly and heavily, chewing pensively on a truffle. "Eef I survive zees, I weel retire and join ze passengers - eet ees time for a younger man to feed zees sheep. Eef only zere was someone qualified..."

Nietzsch E. Coyote

21:28 / 03.04.03

BC now gets to decide whether we have a tie or if Bjacques dies.

Hey Bjacques if in fact you do die can I have your uh dragon chasing gear? oh and the Mah Jongg tiles?

11:47 / 04.04.03

Er, yeah, you can have it all, but be careful about the other things.

07:17 / 05.04.03

"Ladies and Gentlemen"

The tannoy splutters into life with a metallic cough.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Voting has now concluded, but Ponsonby informs me that ~~~BC~~~ has not only failed to vote, but also appears to have disappeared from his cabin. Whilst the stewards search for him, I see we have a tie situation, so I'm afraid that I'm forced to ask you all to recast your votes as soon as possible. Thankyou."

07:41 / 05.04.03

I'm still alive! Wahooo!!

08:33 / 05.04.03

After consultation with the fates I have discovered that it is in fact the demon whelp Toddles who is allied with Sicily. In fact, I believe him not to be a child at all, but a circus midget in disguise, using the swaddles of childhood as a misdirection! Not that I have a problem with midgets, of course, some of my best friends are of that ilk...

Regrettable Juvenilia

10:39 / 05.04.03

Call me crazy, but according to the captain my previous count was correct. Adding the subsequent votes, my tally is as follows:

Nietzsch E. Coyote - 2 (Flyboy, Orr)
Todd - 1 (Lionheart)
bjacques - 6 (Bleulaces, Nietzsch E. Coyote, otherjerry, Todd, rat, iconoplast)
Bleulaces - 5 (grant, bjacques, angelvanilla, Chairman Maominstoat, Arturo B Zunti)

..Which gives us a total of 14, a full compliment minus BC, and means that bjacques is dead. I don't mean to undermine the captain's authority, but I'd appreciate it if someone would like to explain to me how I'm wrong.

14:00 / 05.04.03

"Apologies"

"Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, but Flyboy is indeed correct. Your beloved captain has - in his haste - made an unforgivably grave error of judgement and miscounted the votes. Voting is finished and poor bjacques would appear to be our designated victim. We also have the mysterious disappearence of ~~~BC~~~ to consider, and night is almost here. Mafia, Detectives, Fink, please PM your details."

Nietzsch E. Coyote

17:52 / 05.04.03

Are you going to tell us if Bjacques is innocent or not?

18:44 / 05.04.03

Bjacques was as pure as the driven snow, god rest his soul. An innocent man has been killed, and, whilst ~~~BC~~~ has vanished, a check of his possesions show that he too was innocent.

Nietzsch E. Coyote

19:27 / 05.04.03

Noooo!

01:33 / 06.04.03

Oh dear god and we hung the poor bastard.

This is shite. Fuckity fuck.

Back to the poker...

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