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Log inoh my god this is too much pressure ahaha. re-reading the flavor again
I DIDN'T WNANT TO PAGETOP WITH THIS
I DIDN'T WNANT TO PAGETOP WITH THIS
Last edited by eleni on Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:34 pm; edited 1 time in total
Cry Wolf
Cry Wolf
Cry Wolf is a brand new forum focused on the forum version of the deception game Mafia/Werewolves
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distortion [THE END]
+21
drandahl
Rasei
katze
Kiyoko
She-Ra
Crypsis
Ardonye
chinomi
ezzelin
high seraph
angel★
Mr. Alice
T3tsuya
Tinylightsflash
alcasync
Ninfia
Tiki The Troll
Five
Mr. Gerbear
Cure
nautilus
25 posters
Message [Page 46 of 60]
676 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:33 pm
eleni
677 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:34 pm
Mr. Gerbear
but my role is literally flip maf when investigated/dead, so i could be an exception
but hey
all claiming rules have been lifted right? does that mean.... we can share role pms.................
but hey
all claiming rules have been lifted right? does that mean.... we can share role pms.................
678 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:34 pm
Kiyoko
Admin
Yeah go for it. All claiming rules lifted.
679 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:36 pm
Mr. Gerbear
we're probably supposed to piece all this info together anyway so
this me:
this me:
- Role PM:
- Kiyoko wrote:
![distortion [THE END] - Page 46 0dZrth9](https://i.imgur.com/0dZrth9.png)
You stop because you recognize yourself on that flyer on the wall. Hey, that's interesting. No one's ever noticed you before. It's nice, you think, to finally feel wanted.
"WANTED," the flyer declares, in bold, all-caps Times New Roman, "FOR MURDER."
Oh.
It's a grainy still frame from a security camera, but it's irrefutably you. It's your familiar hoodie with holes in the sleeves where your thumbs have worn their way through. You're holding that bottle of diet coke you bought last week. The flyer lists some details beneath your rough-hewn silhouette: time, location, the circumstances of the murder. You acknowledge the words, but fail to process them.
"I didn't do it," you insist, aloud to the image of you upon the wall, in your head to an imaginary, stony-faced officer with thin lips and furrowed brows. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. What kind of murderer kills someone and then goes to buy a diet coke?"
The stony-faced officer doesn't answer. The still image of you on the wall, well, it doesn't answer either.
Fine then. You'll prove your innocence. You'll find the real murderer yourself. You pull your hood up over your face and pull the strings tight, as if fabric might protect you from the world outside.
You never should've bought that coke. God, you hate diet coke, anyway.![distortion [THE END] - Page 46 ZT4k8rL](https://i.imgur.com/ZT4k8rL.png)
TOWN
You will appear as mafia upon
investigation and death.
Last edited by Mr. Gerbear on Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:38 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : spoiler to save y'all from scrolling?)
680 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:36 pm
Cure
if the whole point of the game is that we ~ruined everything by killing people and turned ourselves into monsters~
the obvious correct answer is to not kill anyone and collectively lose because of it.
the obvious correct answer is to not kill anyone and collectively lose because of it.
681 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:36 pm
alcasync
Hmm, well then!
- Role PM:
Your story is one of the past, not the present.
When you were a kid, it didn’t really bother you that your mom was gone. Your dad was cooler, anyways. He was busy and always came back in the middle of the night tired, but that meant you spent a lot of time with your grandparents in their small house at the end of the road.
You never wondered about where your mom was or what your dad did when he was gone. Whenever you asked, your grandparents would fall silent and Grandma would always stop what she was doing and invite you to the kitchen to get you a popsicle. You liked popsicles, but you didn’t like the faces that your grandparents made when you asked, and so at some point you just stopped altogether. You tried asking your dad, but he would just dodge the subject and tell you that all you really needed was a dad, who cares about moms anyways? He would then laugh, and you found yourself laughing too. That was fine – all of it was fine.
Back then, you thought all dads liked to keep secrets from their children. And it was okay for your mom to be gone, even if no one told you why or how. That was just the way.
One afternoon, you parked your bike in front of your grandparents’ house and rushed inside. You had caught a frog in the schoolyard, and you wanted to tell everyone at home all about it. Especially your dad, who you hoped would be there – he would always talk about his friends croaking all the time, and you figured that meant they really liked frogs.
Instead, you saw your grandma and grandpa sitting on the stools around that small kitchen table, mumbling under their breaths. The two of them were huddled around a letter that Grandpa was holding in his right hand. You wondered what they were looking at that made their eyebrows furrow all funny and their lips curl, but your dad had told you (though thinking about it now, you figure he didn’t impart many good lessons on you) that kids were better seen and not heard.
Instead, you decided to sneak in, low and against the tiled floor. You had watched some spy movies at a friend’s house the other night, and you thought they were undeniably the coolest. Sometimes you liked to think that your mom was really some secret agent on a mission so hush-hush that even Grandpa, in his infinite knowledge of everything in the world, didn’t know where she was. You think now that such thoughts were rather naive of you, but perhaps it was your way of filling in that gap in your life.
As you made your way towards your grandparents, you remember stepping on something. An envelope. It had fallen to the floor rather ungracefully, and you wondered whether or not it was the envelope to the letter that had made your grandparents so distressed. Like any curious kid, you had yanked it from your foot and took a look at it.
Your heart immediately leapt into your throat when you read the name on the return address. It was your mom’s name, which you knew only from old photo albums and the whispers of your grandparents over the phone. Mom? Mom! She was here, in this letter, she really did exist-- You glance briefly once more at the address--
That was when your heart dropped.
At that age, you didn’t know what a correctional complex was, but you knew what the rest of it meant. You remember screaming, and screaming, and Grandpa picking you up off the floor and you kicking him--
When dad came back, he wouldn’t give answers either.
And then he stopped coming back.
The next few years are a blur: drugs, robberies, break-ins. You never go back to that home full of lying adults despite all the phone calls, you never go back to that school because you know everyone knows and you were just too naive to ever realize. You get arrested a few times, and the police begin to recognize your face. Grandma posts bail every time and tells you to come home, tells you she’s sorry she never told you anything, that it was for your own good--
And then one day, she’s gone. Grandpa, too. You hear about it from the friend of a friend: an apparent forced entry. No witnesses. Lots and lots of blood. No one knows who did it. No one you know, anyways. You know a couple of folks who would knock a guy dead, but nothing like this. Friend of a friend asks if it was you, but you shake your head. You figure the police’ll come to you eventually, anyways. Motives and all. You’re in their books.
You visit the house a week later once all the police are gone. Your childhood bicycle remains near the porch, still entrenched in the mud where you’d left it almost a decade ago. Despite the fact that you’ve seen loads of bodies and bullet holes, something stops you from stepping inside. There’s nothing wrong with you that you know of, but you feel a pain in your heart that you just can’t explain.TOWN
You will appear as mafia upon
investigation and death.
682 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:36 pm
Rasei
I wish I can be some help but I been working crazy hours these past few weeks after my boss quit at one of my jobs. I been thinking about how the night kills were done if no one knew they were mafia. Would it have been movement or did the host pick at random? Also has anyone gone to all the places? Can we talk about locations now?
683 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:37 pm
Cure
- Cure 76:
The anecdotes that you tell on the porch of your home to whomever will listen (which, to be honest, hasn’t been that many in recent weeks) always begin with a rousing moral about your exploits in a faraway war. Ever since your discharge from the army, you’ve taken up the duty of educating the town. After all, in today’s spineless society, kids wouldn’t understand the first thing about what it takes to find the bad guys and make them pay.
When the murders hit, you weren’t surprised. You figured it was some group of nasty kids from down the lane who haven’t been taught respect by their parents. If these hooligans were faced with a severe beating at home, you think, maybe they’d straighten up their acts. It’s a shame the cane isn’t used anymore.
You turn on the old TV in your living room, adjusting the antennas to get the right signal. A few weeks ago a young man, probably in his 20s or so, had come to your door and tried to sell you something. Some kind of digital box and HDTV and LCD and other newfangled acronyms. You ended up shutting the door in his face: you got along fine back in the day with regular phones and regular mail. All this technology is just contributing to the death of society.
The TV drones on. There’s a news report on the murders, which you listen to while drinking your coffee. A man you recognize vaguely as the mayor appears on screen.
“Bah,” you mutter to the TV, as if the man on the screen can hear you. “Government pigs, all of them. Don’t know anything about handling an emergency.”
“... We ask the citizens of the town to stay calm -- our best forces are on the case… urge the public to not engage with… stand together … ...”
You turn your gaze towards the TV, your eyes locked with the mayor’s image on screen. There is a faint clink as you slam your coffee mug down.
“All this talk these days of standing and waiting … if it were up to me, I’d shoot the goddamn bastards right where they stand!”
You pause for a second to catch your breath, your body struggling to keep up with your sudden burst of energy. However, your mind is racing. What if it were up to you?TOWN
In the event of a tied lynch,
whomever your vote is on
will always be the one lynched.
but really, did lucas kill anyone?
Last edited by Cure on Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:38 pm; edited 1 time in total
684 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:38 pm
Kiyoko
Admin
Rasei wrote: Can we talk about locations now?
Yup
685 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:38 pm
Tiki The Troll
"A monster lurks where there was no monster before." And going by the rest, I think Alca might be right about killing = Mafia.
As for roles...mine turned out to be one I was excited for...but, looking back, I don't see any possible use for it. Yeah, I'm a watcher who knows if I was acted upon, and I was told who did it. But, beyond only getting acted on once, by a Plottie who was a mute the day she was lynched (and had no action in rollover), given how all actions were 1 use items anyway...I don't think my role would have added diddly to the game, heh.
Hell, thinking on it, may have been an intentional troll role...because I learned of the one time I acted on myself, and yet I didn't get to see who killed me when Hayley acted on me. XD
Edit: the PM:
As for roles...mine turned out to be one I was excited for...but, looking back, I don't see any possible use for it. Yeah, I'm a watcher who knows if I was acted upon, and I was told who did it. But, beyond only getting acted on once, by a Plottie who was a mute the day she was lynched (and had no action in rollover), given how all actions were 1 use items anyway...I don't think my role would have added diddly to the game, heh.
Hell, thinking on it, may have been an intentional troll role...because I learned of the one time I acted on myself, and yet I didn't get to see who killed me when Hayley acted on me. XD
Edit: the PM:
- Role PM:
- Kiyoko wrote:
You lay cans on the stairs so the killer can’t catch you, one by one by one by one. Each hollow silver shell, labels facing outwards, labels facing outwards just so. You lay them out, four to a step, stair by stair by stair by stair. When you reach the top, you creep into your room and turn on the lights, and turn out the lights, and turn on the lights, and turn out the lights, and climb into your covers and sleep an uninterrupted sleep. In the morning, you pick up the cans and stand them up at the end of each step, one by one by one by one. And then you begin your day.
You lay cans on the stairs so the killer can’t catch you, one by one by one by one. Each hollow silver shell, labels facing outwards, labels facing outwards just so. You lay them out, four to a step, stair by stair by stair by stair. When you reach the top, you creep into your room and turn on the lights, and turn out the lights, and turn on the lights, and turn out the lights, and climb into your covers and sleep an uninterrupted sleep. In the morning, you pick up the cans and stand them up at the end of each step, one by one by one by one. And then you begin your day.
You lay cans on the stairs so the killer can’t catch you, one by one by one by—clatter, roll, roll, clatter. A slip of a hand and it all collapses, like dominoes, like bowling pins, like Rome. You’re gripped with the wrongness. You see the disorder scattered across the stairs, across the floor, and the wrongness rises like bile. You feel it beneath your skin, like an itch, like writhing, and you need to set things right. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Your flesh is still crawling but you clean up the cans, every last one, the fallen, the unfallen, and stand them up at the end of each step. And then you lay them out again, one by one by one by one.
The wrongness accompanies you to bed. Like a large, wet dog, it curls around you, a slimy, heavy weight. You don’t last. It’s only four minutes, and you’re climbing to your feet and turning the lights on, off, on, and fixing the cans. You line them up and lay them out, step by step by step by step, and, hands shaking, you fix the stairs, you fix the stairs, you fix the stairs, you fix the stairs. When you climb into bed, you do not sleep. You listen to the silence, you listen to the sounds within the silence, you listen for the cans that will warn you of the killer. You listen for the sounds of the cans. You listen for the sounds of the killer. You listen to the silence.
In the morning, you pick up the cans and stand them up at the end of each step, one by one by one by one. And then you begin your day.TOWN
You will be aware if anyone
acts on you during the night.
Last edited by Tiki The Troll on Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:40 pm; edited 1 time in total
686 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:39 pm
Mr. Gerbear
Rasei wrote:I wish I can be some help but I been working crazy hours these past few weeks after my boss quit at one of my jobs. I been thinking about how the night kills were done if no one knew they were mafia. Would it have been movement or did the host pick at random? Also has anyone gone to all the places? Can we talk about locations now?
yeah where's that map that was floating around :0
687 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:39 pm
T3tsuya
drandahl wrote:Tet, that's betting on none of the three actually being mafia. Which is possible.
But otherwise, mafia will just vote last minute.
It's specifically not betting on any possible permutation of mafia numbers.
If there were two or more mafia, by the rules in the start of the game they would have already won. If there was just one mafia member remaining there would be absolutely no reason for them to not out it at this point. They literally have nothing to lose. There is literally no way for them to lose in this situation.
There is no actual reason for anyone to think someone has been mafia this entire game outside of vague hints. There is no actual solid ground to stand on for anyone who has flipped any way this entire game. There is no reason for the clause of 'If town and mafia all manage to vote mafia, everyone wins' if the remaining members of the game knew their own alignment as a certainty.
Nobody is mafia. Or nobody knows they're mafia.
The only thing we have ever been able to go off of this entire game from start to finish has been 'If you play your cards right, nobody has to die.'
So the only winning move at this point in the game is not to play. That is everybody's situation right now. Give it a try, because you guys have tried literally everything else.
DO NOT VOTE
- Spoiler:
- Kiyoko wrote:
You were asleep when it happened, jolted awake by the sound of breaking glass and dishes falling. At first, you thought it was just a bad dream, some fantasy made up by a brain who had spent too much time watching horror movies the night before. Yet those screams and banging were definitely no dream.
You laid in bed for a while, pale and sweaty, waiting for your parents to get up and investigate the noise for you. In the meanwhile, you pulled up your blankets and cowered under them, as if the giant dragon printed on them would frighten away any intruders. However, the sound of your parents' door opening never came: only a deafening silence.
Summoning all the courage you had, you clenched your fists and got out of the bed. Maybe your parents were just asleep… You wrapped the blanket around you just in case as you made your way to the door and tiptoed downstairs.
On the way, you peeked into your parents' room (even though you weren't really supposed to) and found the room empty. You gulped a little, but pressed on with your journey downstairs. They were probably just busy…
The front door had been, for lack of a better word, destroyed. Large, dangerous looking splinters were scattered all over the ground, with gashes in the wallpaper and the flowerpot in pieces on the floor. You resisted the urge to scream as you stopped at the scene. It looked like a monster had torn the hallway apart. But you were a big kid, and you knew monsters didn't really exist, just like how the Tooth Fairy and Santa weren't real. But if that were the case, then what had done this…?
You breathed in deeply, puffing out your chest in an attempt to gather whatever courage you had to venture on. Pulling your blanket tighter around you, you followed the series of gashes into the kitchen, where hardwood flooring gave way to cool tiling under your feet. After a few cautious steps, your socks seemed to get a little wet; there seemed to be something on the ground. Had someone spilled something?
Your thoughts were interrupted as you could hear a soft thump and the sound of something rolling out from behind the kitchen island; something had fallen from the countertop. Your breathing quickened as you froze in place, your mind racing with anxious thoughts in the utter darkness: was it a bomb, oh god no, I need to warn them, I--
At that moment, a cloud moved from in front of the moon, and light crawled up the ivory tiled floor. You froze in place as you watched the object roll right under the light, splattering the floor with --
All you remember after that is running, your throat tight and your voice gone. Whomever (or whatever) had come into your house had left the back door open, and you took the opportunity to run blindly outside. As you ran straight into the backwoods behind your home, you could feel branches scratching your legs and mud soaking your socks. Even so, you didn't care: there was no one to chide you anymore about getting your socks wet, no one to remind you to bring a coat to go outside, no one to make pancakes when you came back from a friend's house.
After all, the people who used to do that for you were all over the kitchen floor.
You closed your eyes to try and block out the image and kept on running. In truth, you knew back then that you didn't have anywhere to go but that house, but you couldn't bring yourself to stay. Perhaps you were frightened, being your parents' only child, of being next. Perhaps you were afraid of the police coming to your house.
Perhaps you were running away from the reality of it all.TOWN
On Night 0, choose another player.
If you are ever targeted for a kill,
that player will die in your stead.
If you do not choose,
one will be randomly assigned.
688 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:39 pm
drandahl
- Role PM:
“I hate him.”
You hated how he would always play his little drum set in the middle of the night. You hated how he would snort milk up his nose and bring home snakes and frogs and wild animals as “pets”. To you, he was that annoying little sibling that you wrote about in your 2nd grade essay, the one where you passionately wrote in imperfect English “I want to send my brother to Antarctica and I hope he never comes back. Brothers should be banned!!!” (That night, you decided to hide the essay from your parents that day to avoid a lecture).
Eventually though, you grew to like him. It took a couple years, but the two of you became the best of friends. It was him that you trusted the secret of where you went that Friday night. It was him who would cover for you whenever your parents found out the two of you were up to no good. The days of you wishing you could send him to Antarctica quickly melded into days where the two of you were never apart.
It was you that he told first of his engagement, and it was you who he brought along to pick out presents for his fiance. You disapproved of his fiance, sure, but you figured that your brother had a good enough head on his shoulders and you weren’t going to contest his choice. After all, the two of you were like bread and butter. He was always backing you up - why couldn’t you back him up for once?
You still remember what he told you the last time you saw him. He had brought over some peaches and tea leaves because you were sick and couldn’t make it out to the store. You remember the goofy grin he gave you when he saw you sneezing in the bed, that smile that felt like the sun shining on a new day.
“Just call me and I’ll be back here, ready to help you. I promise. I mean, that’s what brothers do, right? We’re always there for you, thick and thin.”
The police called you in a few days later as the next-of-kin; your parents were in another city. As you stood over his lifeless body, one sentence tumbled out from your mouth, one that you know you didn’t mean but you couldn’t hold back.
“I hate you.”TOWN
There’s someone out there who you
don’t have the best relationship with…
Heading home from the office, will be unavailable for the next 40m, though:
nautilus wrote:And now, only one remains. Progress? That remains to be seen. For now, the truth is thus: A monster lurks where there stood no monster before. It sees through stolen eyes and beats a stolen heart. Beneath its stolen ribs, it fills its stolen lungs, every breath a transgression.
This suggests to me that the remaining mafia is a convert.
689 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:40 pm
Cure
also, katze killed drandahl but flipped town.
i'm 90% sure lucas didn't claim killing anyone but flipped mafia.
it checks out otherwise, but i don't think that can be it.
shit sammie killed drandhl.
i'm 90% sure lucas didn't claim killing anyone but flipped mafia.
it checks out otherwise, but i don't think that can be it.
shit sammie killed drandhl.
Last edited by Cure on Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:41 pm; edited 1 time in total
690 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:41 pm
alcasync
Sammiya killed drandahl and flipped mafia.
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