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Mafia - The Game

 
  

Page: 123(4)5

 
 
■
19:41 / 30.05.06
Chee! Who'd a thunk it? That Von Mises guy not only innocent but bulletproof? Johnny's guess had been based on helping his old friend Feverfew as there hadn't been enough to go on otherwise. He picked his teeth while thinking.
We start out with 15, how many left? One of the Barb posse had dangled, two were left. The two detectives must still be around, too, or do the mob steal their badges before they die? The same goes for the medic and the fink.
Two of the wiseguys still alive (or maybe the dame) had either both had a pop at Von Mises or one of them went instead for someone being protected by the doc. Either way they both missed. Second time round, Rising and Revolving took the chickenwire walk down in sandsville. Did he know something? Or was it just that now the bulletproof was gone they wanted to find the medic?
Little Johnny's head was hurting. He'd had enough thinking for one day, so chose a couple of canines and a gold bicuspid and wandered down to see if the den needed a good pipe cleaner.
On the way he mumbled to everyone he recognised: "So, the doc protect you on the first night?"
 
 
Elijah, Freelance Rabbi
21:02 / 30.05.06
"So, the doc protect you on the first night?"

The square headed kids question seemed meaningless to Elijah, since his theory was that the bad guys in this drama went after the Austrian on the first night, and failing there decided to stir up the crowd against the poor man.

Bulletproof. There had been times in The Profit's life when being bulletproof would have come in handy. He had a sneaking feeling that this was turning into one of those times.

He walked into the Lotus hoping to make peace with Maneki over the accusations he made the previous day. Sure, Opium is nasty business, but he was fairly certain she was working for herself, not the Barbelith Family.
 
 
STOATIE LIEKS CHOCOLATE MILK
22:39 / 30.05.06
Stoatface wandered back to the speakeasy. Typical. Not von Mises. Backing the wrong horse again, Capaldi. That was why you stopped gambling. And got into boxing. Just don't go betting on y'self in a match, eh?
 
 
Tezcatlipoca
07:40 / 31.05.06


Don Calipoca stands at the door of Fats' barbershop. His mood had become sullen upon the death of Von Mises, and the whacking of Rising & Revolving had done nothing to lighten it.

"People of Little Catlipocia," he announces. "Today is Wednesday, and I ain't got no votes. I know you don't want to be responsible for killing no more innocents, I don't want that neither, but the Barbelith Family has got to be rooted out. So bring me your votes, people, or 'Legs' Diamond will be forced to wipe out a lot more innocent lives on Friday night."

And with that, he turns, walks back into the shop, and takes his usual chair.
 
 
Eloi Tsabaoth
13:03 / 31.05.06
A sullen gunsel
Chews a single balsa spear
and then says 'One-mitt'
 
 
maneki neko
14:55 / 31.05.06
Maneki stood behind the bar and felt like a ding bat. She should never have consulted the I Ching while being gowed up and angry. She felt fairly certain that she'd made a mistake by accusing Elijah the Profit and wondered if he'd take offence if she gave him a pipe as a peace offering.

She poured herself a glass of Feverfew's special Lemonade and pondered about the Don's request for nominations. Johnny Biz had named One Mitt but how could the baker have done anything to rising and revolving's brakes with his mangled arm? And anyway, wasn't he one of the people responsible for Yaz taking the drop?

Maybe it was time to look at the citizens who didn't vote for Yaz but wanted von Mises to do the dance. Maneki sighed and looked at her pipes. Life had seemed so much easier when she only had to deal with decks of Luckies. Still, there was time for a quick blow before she took a walk down to the Barber Shop.
 
 
Shrug
15:19 / 31.05.06
Looking into the mirror and sighing Rupert Dalliance carefully began to remove a varying array of plummage from his person. First, from beneath his chin, in small soft tufts, the cast-offs of a white-throated sparrow. The feathers of snipes, killdeers and purple martins adorn his torso. Pigeon feathers, in their plentitude, made up most of two poorly constructed wings, although the speculum and primaries of a peregrine falcon dappled the left and he had salvaged the upper coverlets of a snowy owl for the right. These he amputated with the precision of a surgeon lifting the frame with what was less care more reverence.
"Failed vaudevillian, failed human, failed avian it would seem", he grumbled at his reflection. "Successful alcoholic however, and I do really like the wings", he mused brightening up a bit, "Oh dear, another day" and with that donned his favourite suit and began his walk of the square.

Each citizen of Little Catlipocia seemed to hang meekly in their doorframe, faces drawn and brows furrowed, fearing judgement, mourning friends. Passing The Blue Lotus, he tipped his cap to Maneki, she didn't raise her head, her inner turmoil apparent. Similarly his wave to Johnny "The Cube" Boyd went unnoticed. Finally he came to what he'd heard refered to solely as "The List".
"Johnny Biz, always quick with a name", and remembering the townsfolk's balking faces, thought, "an unusually eager boy too". He had an inkling as to Biz's nature and maybe this time he'd get some satisfaction.
 
 
STOATIE LIEKS CHOCOLATE MILK
22:43 / 31.05.06
Hmm, thinks Stoatface, nursing the latest of his many bruises, along with their friend "whisky". Feverfew's choices have been a little suspicious... but Biz has indeed been very eager. Though perhaps it's a little much to blame a guy for being trigger-happy, given all that's going on in this burg... ah goddammit, that leaves me feeling like the guy next door in my block, the guy whose toilet collapsed last week, and the Super's refusing to do anything about it because he's behind on his rent. He had nothing to go on as well.

Thinking you know, it's jokes like that that mean I'd get the shit kicked out of me just as often if I hung up my gloves for good, he casts a vote for Feverfew.
 
 
Baz Auckland
22:55 / 31.05.06
Bazmo sits in the Blue Lotus with his standard pints of gin, trying to decide....

"I ain't had the best luck out of this hunt... if I jump along with the crowd on Feverfew or Johnny Biz, I might just end up with innocent blood on my hand."

"This time, I'll go with my first thought. The Faces might be working together on this, so I vote:

Stoatface
 
 
■
07:28 / 01.06.06
Little Johnny, while cleaning the gunk out of Maneki's pipes and wondering if the black ooze might be useful for dubbin, though about the replies he'd had to his question. It hadn't turned up much, but for some reason one of them had said something that piqued his adolescent interest. For want of anything better to say, and perhaps because his addled little die-head couldn't even remember who was still alive, he blurted out: "could it be One-Mitt?". Then, realising the deed had been done as half the townsfolk had been sitting smoking around him, he panicked and ran back to his garbage can.
 
 
Shrug
08:53 / 01.06.06
*Shakes head*
 
 
Elijah, Freelance Rabbi
13:43 / 01.06.06
"I like the cut of your jib, Rupert," Elijah said at the bar of the Lotus, "I don't know what it is, but you seem to have some information we aren't privy to,"

Elijah left that bar, walked to the List, and wrote Biz in plain block letters for all to read.

"Boy, I hope I don't kill an innocent person this time around, I have no innocent blood on my hands yet, this would be a bad time to start,"
 
 
P. Horus Rhacoid
14:25 / 01.06.06
Fiver paces in front of the board. Several times he goes and almost starts to write something, then stops. Who to pick, who to pick... Finally he makes his choice, and writes Stoatface on the board.
 
 
Feverfew
17:04 / 01.06.06
Feverfew awakes from a day-long sleep, having mulled over all the options from the last week - still feeling haunted, however, gaunt and in need of Vitamin C, he pins his vote to the board...

"I just don't trust that Stoatface; and I have my suspicions... But I'm beginning to question my judgements... Well, too late now."

With this, he slinks back to close up the stall, then heads to the Blue Oyster to see what's shaking.
 
 
maneki neko
18:25 / 01.06.06
Maneki rose from her bed. She had dreamt of a beaver wrecking its own dams and the flood had swallowed the whole of the city. Was the opium making her all jingled brained or was there a message? Beaver, beaver... Maneki thought, of course, it's Johnny Biz!
 
 
Baz Auckland
23:01 / 01.06.06
A passing glance at the Ol' Lynchin' Board shows the following tally:

With only 2 votes to go:

3 votes:
Stoatface (Bazmo, Feverfew, Fiver)
Johnny Biz (Rupert D, Elijah, Maneki)

2 votes:
One Mitt (cube, Johnny Biz)

1 vote:
Feverfew (Stoatfacce)
 
 
STOATIE LIEKS CHOCOLATE MILK
23:09 / 01.06.06
Well, thinks Stoatface, Can't really blame that Feverfew for pointing the finger... but I have no idea why the other guys'd wanna see me swing. Unless maybe they had money on me in that fight with Burnetti last night. Although they couldn't be that stupid... could they?
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
23:10 / 01.06.06
In his own mind One-Mitt had narrowed it down to four citizens earlier in the day. With things as they stood there wasn't a decision for him to make to make anymore. Johnny Biz he scrawled onto the board.

He didn't like having the final vote, but the slugger had tried to put the squeeze on first and if he was clean, well it just meant a choice from three next time.
 
 
Baz Auckland
00:59 / 02.06.06
Bazmo lays on the bed in his dingy room, playing his trumpet like there's no tomorrow. He heard that One-Mitt cast his vote for Johnny Biz and was relieved as hell.

"I want those Barbelith family caught and all, but damn, after Von Mises, I don't want to chance having any more innocent blood on my hands... I hope to hell Paleface doesn't vote for Stoatface..."
 
 
Eloi Tsabaoth
11:09 / 02.06.06
Johnny Biz slouched through the city, the rain coming down like big hammers made of water and a certain percentage of metal impurities. No-one would meet his eye. Was there any chance he could escape the noose? None that he could detect. He pulled out a tiny figurine his father had whittled for him when he was 8 and began gnawing at its intricate features.
His final meal?
 
 
Tezcatlipoca
18:53 / 02.06.06


The citizens of Little Catlipocia gather once again on the cold wharf, colder still with the recent memory of Von Mises' demise.

Two figures stand at the edge of the wharf, their hands tied, blindfolds fixed over their eyes. Both stand near-motionless, the chill wind snaring their cloathes and hair.



Don Catlipoca stands to one side of the mob, his face calm and impassive.

"Well Fats?" he asks.
Fats walks over to the figures, bends down, and taps at the vast concrete blocks that have been set around the feet of both people. He gives a critical grunt, taps them again, then nods.
"Theyse good, boss. Hard enough."

Don Catlipoca nods, then turns to the crowd. "This has been a strange day, my friends. Like the first day, we are here to remove not only one we believe to be a threat to this community, but also one who has failed to vote in time. May the death of Paleface serve as a warning to those who might be backward in coming forward with their votes." The Don sighs. "And may the death of Johnny Biz prove that we can spot a guilty man. Proceed"

There is a grim finality in the air as three of the Don's gorillas step forward and, with much grunting and weating, heave the two figures backward.
There is a great splash, and two plumes of water shoot up over the edge of the wharf. for a moment the droplets hang suspended in the oily brown air, then fall back to the inky waters and are lost.



Two hours later, as the night settles over the community of Little Catlipocia, the notice goes up. Citizens gather eagerly around to read the paper that has been pinned there.

"Loyal Catlipocians,
A strange day indeed. It would seem like we repeated not only the nature of the lynching, but also the results. My guys have finished going through the belongings of both victims, and I can now announce that whilst poor Paleface was innocent of anything other than late voting, that dispicable rat, Johnny Biz, was the second of the Barbelith Family Mafia.
Citizens, take heart. We have now eradicated two of the Mafia. But be vigilant, since the remaining one is still dangerous, and he or she is now on their own, making them harder to track down. Citizens, take heart, you have won a great victory for your community this day. - Don Catlipoca"


*******************************

Well done, people. It is now Night. Remaining Mafia, Doctor, Fink, and Detectives, please PM me your respective targets.
 
 
Eloi Tsabaoth
19:29 / 02.06.06
To be opened and read only in the event of my being executed by the people of Little Catlipoca on discovery of being a member of the Mafia.

Dear Little Catlipocans,

Well, duh.

Yours,

Giovanni "Johnny Biz" Bizunthiano.
 
 
Feverfew
20:07 / 03.06.06
Feverfew polishes an apple and consider's Johnny Biz's cryptic last message. If only it's meaning could be deciphered, all would, he felt, become clear.

He saw, then, Stoatface walking up the street to the bar, and beckoned him over. "Look... I'll be honest. I'm still voting in the dark here, for the most part. Now, only this far in, do I have my suspicions, but voting for you previously was petty, and it almost got you lynched in that final race. It was fortunate, because the actual involuntary lynchee - although I suppose in a way they're all involuntary - turned out to be one of the mafia.

But for now, please accept my apologies, this bag of fruit, and this bottle of amber-coloured but obviously non-alcoholic and legal liquid from the crates under my stall. I hope this will make good."


Stoatface makes no discernible reply, but nods, and walks away.

Feverfew stands, and considers Little Catlipocia. The streets feel safer and there are more people out and around, now, that there's only one Mafia person left. But that means they have free reign to kill whoever they want, now, and with the bulletproof gone...

Still, he thinks, things do feel a little less tense round here, at least to me. He sells two bags of well-shined red apples to a lady with a pram, and returns to his reflections. "I wouldn't want to be the last one of the Barbelith family, what with the detectives still left, and all..."

Satisfied enough for now, he closes the stall (which seems to be a recurring motif in his life, recently, what with all the upheaval), gets out his sandwiches in their greased paper, and sets off to shoot the breeze with Maneki for a pleasant hour.
 
 
Tezcatlipoca
16:54 / 04.06.06



Dawn rises over the streets of Little Catlipocia, and the community gathers at Fats' barbershop to hear the news.

"People," begins Don Catlipoca, "I have some excellent news. The boys tell me that nobody got whacked during the night. Now we have sadly lost our Bulletproof, so that must mean that the Mafia tried to whack the same person the Doctor chose to protect. This is good news, but it still means that the Mafia member is out there somewhere. It is now the start of a brand new Day, and you all know the routine..."
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
23:42 / 04.06.06
Well, the croaker certainly ain't no bunny thought One-Mitt as he strolled back to the shop. The last joker looking to step up for made-mod-mazuma had gone tripping for biscuits. Again. Was likely enough to get anyone runnin' to the head doctor, or at least going over the edge with the rams.

Passing by little Johnny Cube's trashcan One-Mitt paused. Peering inside he could see the diminutive shiner curled up in the bottom with his curious green friend. Sure were funny-lookin' them New Yorkers.

One-Mitt stepped away and walked on. He knew one of the citizens wasn't like the others, that one of these folks just wasn't the same. That one of the pugs was doin' their own thing, he just wasn't certain who was in the frame. Cube had tried to finger him yesterday along with Johnny Biz but then Biz had tried to sucker the neighbourhood into making Cube do the dance on the first day. While revenge for yesterday would be sweet, One-Mitt didn't savvy Biz as the kinda' trouble-boy with enough wisehead to play it cute with the voting. Hell, he'd voted for von-Mises when a vote for someone else would have sealed the good doctor's fate less suspiciously.

Horsefeathers! Well, if the heat was off Cube for the moment then who else looked hinky? One-Mitt slid back behind the counter at the bakery and settled onto a stool to await the morning rush. He'd have plenty of time to think about it during the day. In the meanwhile the pressing issue was how much he should short change the little punk who'd voted for him when he came in for his breakfast muffins.
 
 
Baz Auckland
02:31 / 05.06.06
Chalking up his latest shipment of gin in his ledger, Bazmo flips to the back where he's kept a tally of the lynching votes:

"Well, One-Mitt has voted for nothing but Barbelith Mafia each time... he's probably safe. Or a very sneaky Mafia... Rupert D also voted for Johnny Biz the last two nights running. Maybe he knows something we don't....

Cube voted the last two days with Johnny Biz against Von Mises and One-Mitt, but he's just a kid, right?"
 
 
Elijah, Freelance Rabbi
13:21 / 06.06.06
"been quiet around lately," mused Elijah, "After the Johny Biz takedown and the night where nobody was killed I guess nobody has any ideas as to who the last Mafia member is. It's a gizzly thing to say, but if someone had been killed last night we might have more clues"

Elijah bought an apple off the fruit cart and walked down the street towards the barber shop, he realized he hadn't shaved since all this began so was getting a fair growh of stubble.

"After breakfast and a shave, I think the only way to get any tip on who the last criminal is would be to cozy up to one of the dicks in town. If only we knew who they were..."
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
23:50 / 06.06.06
One-Mitt locked up the shopfront after selling the last of the coffin shaped loaves Frank had baked in celebration of the unmasking of another rat. Had the eye for business angle did Frank; the bread had sold like hot cakes and he was already working away in the kitchen, beating out a cutter for gingerbread ice-picks for customers to insert into the vital gingerbread organ of their choosing of the gingerbread mafioso men currently lying on a tray waiting for a fiery entry into the world early tomorrow morning.

Frank's upbeatness seemed a little premature to One-Mitt though - it'd been all eggs in the coffee for the community so far but it would be coffee and doughnuts if the last rat wasn't found. They were on their own but had a big crowd of innocents to hide in. No-one in particular stood out as hinky but looking back there was a marked gap between those who'd voted for the recently departed hoods and those who by bad luck, poor judgement or cunning intent hadn't hit the mark once. There wasn't anything better to go on; the first 2 mafia had been exposed quickly and One-Mitt didn't savvy the last one had had time to vig the odds by cheesing themselves in fakeloo voting.

No-one seemed to want to get the ball rolling though. Who could blame them - even a reasoned guess was still a guess and no-one wanted to mess their rep by getting it screwy. One-Mitt glanced at Don's notice, clocked who hadn't been on the trolly so far and picked out a name. Fiver. There was no innocent blood on One-Mitt's hand so far and he hoped like futz this wasn't going to be the start.
 
 
Shrug
23:59 / 06.06.06
Short on time, Rupert D steals through the night, scribbling Fiver quickly on the board.
 
 
Baz Auckland
01:05 / 07.06.06
Bazmo walks up to the lynchin' board and sees the two votes for Fiver...

"I reckon it's either Fiver or Stoatface as the last Barbelith mole around here... but which to vote for? Hell... it can wait another day...."
 
 
■
09:29 / 07.06.06
Someone avoided getting whacked last night thanks to a doc, thought little Johnny, and it hadn't been him. Johnny Biz had tried to frame One-Mitt by pretending to be the detective, and it would explain a lot if the Barb posse guys had kept trying to whack One-Mitt if he was a tec.
He wondered for a minute about Maneki, who had kept a very low profile, and there were a couple of others who might fit into the equation, but if it's good enough for the hat-trick boy, it's good enough for him. Fiver he daubed in Dark Tan on the notice. Then hoped no-one thought he was making a dirty protest.
Mind you, his smock hadn't been washed since he'd been fired by Randolph Hearst, so it was pretty filthy and no-one had ever mentioned it - or asked by it had gone that funny shade of yellow. Job done, he decided to go fishing for boots.
 
 
maneki neko
16:30 / 07.06.06
Maneki hurried back into the Blue Lotus. Visiting her grand-mother in the Chinese Quarter had taken longer than expected but she'd needed some advice since she could no longer rely on the I Ching. She had been a bit of a bunny for chasing the dragon more often than not, but still, she had to come up with a name if she didn't wanna swing with the rat.

The old lady had only agreed to hold a Seance when Maneki gave her a bottle of Feverfew's special brew but it had been fairly successful. It had narrowed it down to two names - the boxer and the narcoplectic kid. But who to go for? She had a fair idea that none of them were the peepers but what about the croaker?

Maybe it was best just to follow the mob. She ankled over to Fat's Barber Shop, quickly scribbled Fiver on the board and sighed. The deed was done.
 
 
Elijah, Freelance Rabbi
19:36 / 07.06.06
"Rupert seemed to know the score last time around. If we were looking for Detectives instead of Mafia he would have my vote,"

Elijah wrote Fiver on the board and did some quick math,

"I don't think it matters who the rest vote for, I think Fiver is going down," Elijah hoped that he would end the day with hands as clean of innocent blood as they were now.
 
 
P. Horus Rhacoid
20:32 / 07.06.06
Fiver plods down the street, wind blowing in his face. Casually, he glances at the voting board as he passes. He yelps and does a double take. Three... four... five votes for him. Leapin' lizards! His body stiffens and pops six inches into the air, then he crumples to the ground, snoring. His left hand spasms in the dirt. Curiously, the markings it makes spell a name: Elijah. There is a pause, then his hand spasms again. In messy yet still legible writing are the words oh, fuck. Fiver's hand stops, and he lies still, snoring peacefully.
 
 
Shrug
20:57 / 07.06.06
Stepping over him Rupert Dalliance whispers "There, there, go to sleep tiny dancer", quoting someone called Mordant but he knows not why.
 
  

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