GUESS WHAT The phase has ended. Please hold. |
Cry Wolf
Cry Wolf is a brand new forum focused on the forum version of the deception game Mafia/Werewolves
GUESS WHAT The phase has ended. Please hold. |
T3tsuya wrote:Cure wrote:TRY HARDER I DONT BELIEVE YOU.
THE TRUTH IS THANKFULLY NOT A DEMOCRACY. Stop trying to be clever for like 12 seconds and wait for Alca to make a specpost since she literally just said
I received two messages last night. Both signed. One of them was from T3tsuya.
Then we can talk about how wrong you are.
As a side note. I do think it's kind of interesting that as soon as it was suggested that mafia is killing off people that have impactful commentary the previous day and are probably made up of new and inexperienced players, Alca was targeted for a kill.
I'm going to advise everyone to take that to heart along with last phase's voting regardless of if I am horrifically murdered by a shrew this phase or not.
As the crowd shuffles into the center for what seems to be another cycle of endless deliberation, an uneasy optimism hangs in the air. News travels fast, and word of a survivor had buoyed the hopes of the townsfolk this time around. We're winning, they murmur among themselves, we can flush out the attackers. We can beat them. We can win. Overconfidence gives way to unfounded theories, and soon people end up pointing fingers wildly once more. Blinded by their success in the night, the crowd grows restless, drawing out baseless accusations that grow stranger and stranger by the minute. They're a werewolf, they're an alien, they're a cold-blooded killer posing as a civilian. Cockiness overcomes any urge to deliberate conservatively, and eventually the crowd rumbles loudly, demanding their judgment be passed. "But... that can't be the truth, can it?" one person in the back says, their voice relaying a measured tone that breaks up the storm of words. "I mean... we've got to think this through carefully. Look at the facts." This, though, is met with derision and skepticism. The blue shirts in the crowd roll their eyes: they know this person. Journalist. Bad reputation with the town for getting into places they shouldn't go, with more than a few fair altercations with the police. In a town where a lack of information bred mistrust, the media and the government were both fair targets. The crowd begins to buzz, and restlessness gives way to loose lips, dripping with anger and malice. "And why should we listen to you when your dirtrag paper doesn't do any real reporting?" "Listen, I've been having my own troubles too, you know!" the journalist replies, their voice raised. "I've been trying to get to the bottom of these murders, too--" "You're not doing any real journalism! You're in cahoots with the government, tryin' to hide the facts!" "Maybe you're actually the killer, you lying media scum, changing things so all of us are kept in the dark about you!" "I'm not!" the journalist cries out in response to the barrage of voices. "I..." They trail off. To them, the crowd's frustrations were justified. The journalist hadn't found much of anything to report on: government blocking off all questioning, police refusing to give them access to evidence... They had failed in their job, plain and simple. The crowd was right to be angry, but... That emptiness was all the crowd needed, a pregnant pause symbolizing an admission of guilt. The journalist pulls out their pen as the crowd advances, morphing slowly into a mob fueled by angry rhetoric and arrogance. Though their editor had long said the pen was mightier than the sword, the journalist couldn't help but laugh hollowly at how silly such a proverb seemed at that very moment. How ironic was it that the very crowd they had sworn to report for and reassure, was coming at them like a threatening wave, high off perceived success from the night before... For the briefest of moments, the journalist turns their head behind them and smiles weakly, proof of a promise made many nights ago, in hopes of getting to the truth. The mob then swallows the journalist up, pen and all, and deals out their punishment blindly until they no longer breathe. In the madness, the pen ends up crushed by a rogue foot, ink seeping into the carpet of the center alongside the blood. An ugly truth indeed. |
Katze was lynched. She was town. Katze was a renowned journalist who had previously worked with large daily newspapers such as ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙-◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ and the ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ Times, and was currently on assignment with this very publication, the ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙. With a penchant for pursuing the truth, Katze was noted by her fellow editors as being diligent in her reporting, carefully approaching any topic from a multitude of angles. Despite having some friction with the local government in recent weeks, she will be dearly missed by the newsroom at large. Funeral arrangements are currently being handled by the ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ Funeral Home on ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ Rd. In addition, the best of Katze's stories will be published in the Sunday edition of the ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙. NIGHT SIX A curfew has been instated. All actions must be submitted before 4pm PST. Phase ends at 7pm PST. PMs will be sent out at that time. Rollover will be posted at 8pm PST. Please PM all actions to nautilus. ?T : ?M |
Last edited by nautilus on Thu Aug 25, 2016 9:54 pm; edited 1 time in total
Last edited by T3tsuya on Thu Aug 25, 2016 9:58 pm; edited 1 time in total
Five wrote:The fact that a day phase ended is actually really confusing to me. This might be a different item entirely.
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