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Log inHmm... If anyone figured out their names, can they tell me what their names were and how they were able to guess it?
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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RE: RE: Corporate Team Building Retreat is over. Mafia wins!
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A Community Events Availability Poll is open for voting!
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 48 of 60]
707 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:54 pm
Cure
eleni implied that you had to guess what "character" you were. Lucas was the only one who figured it out.
anyway, if we're assuming maf = murder, alca is the only maf right now, so voting her would make the most sense but I still think.
![distortion [THE END] - Page 48 3RtiTep](https://i.imgur.com/3RtiTep.jpg)
anyway, if we're assuming maf = murder, alca is the only maf right now, so voting her would make the most sense but I still think.
Last edited by Cure on Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:55 pm; edited 1 time in total
708 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:55 pm
Tiki The Troll
I only got 3 chances, and as I stated, I completely missed my first chance. I think i got a hint once, but I'm not even sure if that's what it was.
709 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 8:57 pm
T3tsuya
If Lucas revived himself he is literally the only person who has done anything in death and thus literally the only person who could clear up that aspect for you.
But then again Lucas was literally one of the earliest ones to flip mafia too so his word is kind of needed for whatever the newest theory is. But
I restate.
Going off of the newest theory every single time since the beginning of the game has led us to our current particular clusterfuck. Try something new.
But then again Lucas was literally one of the earliest ones to flip mafia too so his word is kind of needed for whatever the newest theory is. But
I restate.
Going off of the newest theory every single time since the beginning of the game has led us to our current particular clusterfuck. Try something new.
DO NOT VOTE
710 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:00 pm
Tiki The Troll
I still think that Kiyo was being completely up front., It wasn't in rollover, it wasn't an intermission, there was no flavor. Only host clarification. I think the only way to guarantee we all lose is if NO ONE votes.
711 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:00 pm
Cure
also if no one was mafia the ratio would have just said 24:0 on n0, lmao.
![distortion [THE END] - Page 48 96PXMQA](https://i.imgur.com/96PXMQA.png)
713 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:01 pm
alcasync
Cure and T3tsuya, I understand that you're potentially upset about the game mechanics and I recognize that you think that not voting is the best strategy, but I'm sure eleni and I and Saki when she reads thread understand your message loud and clear. Your posts are starting to get distracting and I honestly would like a chance at thinking about rollover rather than immediately deciding to call it quits. I agree with drandahl and Tiki that the host clarification post was genuine. ;v;
714 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:03 pm
Rasei
Here what my pms and actions-
Then I died:
I will continue on a different post so I don't get to behind in the thread but there is something I MUST KNOW!
WHAT HAPPEN IN YEAR 1916? WHO IS THE LADY WITH THE UMBREALLA
- City Hall:
- First PM::
- CITY HALL
The entry of the city hall is open to the public. An expansive foyer celebrates town history with glass displays and framed photographs. Near the doorway stands two models of the town in miniature: the first from the town’s early years, back in the late nineteenth century; the second from only three years back. You can make out a few recognizable buildings: the school, the police station, the city hall, even that local corner store that’s been in this town for generations.
A timeline winds its way across one wall, photographs and placards of text marking out defining events. On the opposite side of the room, a row of faces peer down upon visitors: portraits of important figures from the first mayor to the most recent, celebrity visitors, local heroes like firefighters and policemen, and that one tennis player who attended the local high school and went on to win bronze in the Olympics. An array of overhead lamps spotlight these photos with a focused glow.
In the back of the entryway, the city hall’s receptionist sits behind her desk and fills out today’s crossword puzzle. Aside from the scratching of her ballpoint pen and the austere ticking of the clock beyond her shoulder, the foyer is stiflingly quiet.
Browse the photographs
Read the timeline
Drop in on the mayor’s office
Exit south to the park
Follow Main Street west to the library
Follow Main Street east to the corner store
I first looked at the photos:- Spoiler:
This is a small town, and its heroes, too, are small. Not in terms of stature or heart, just humble. There’s a photo of man in a neon firefighter’s hat, smiling at the camera as he holds a soot-stained cat in his arms. Further down, an aproned woman standing beside an orphanage sign, laughing children clinging about her knees. Over here’s your town’s recent claim to fame, your Olympic bronze-winning tennis player, who moved to the big city years ago, and hasn’t visited since.
A photo near the far end of the wall catches your eye, hailing from a black and white era. You don’t know why you’re so drawn to this figure, a woman standing in front of the church, her face and shoulders obscured with a white parasol, but she offers a comforting presence. The placard beneath her frame reads simply, “The Lady with the White Umbrella. 1916. Vanquished a terrible evil.”
You glance over your shoulder at the timeline behind you. There is no entry for 1916.
Then the timeline:- Spoiler:
- To be honest, you’d never realized the town was old enough to have a substantial history, never mind one that spanned an entire wall. The timeline begins with the founding of the town in the late 1800s, when one Reverend Hopper, his family, and his constituents thought this patch of wooded ground a good place to settle. The black and white daguerreotype accompanying the informational text shows a family of five, most likely the Hoppers, blank-faced and unenthused like the subjects of every photo from that time period.
The timeline continues, through two world wars until the turn of the millennium, marking out grand events (May 8, 1945: Victory in Europe Day) and humble ones (July 15, 1972: Grand opening of Giovanni’s Pizza Restaurant).
The placards and photos aren’t evenly spaced. You lean in, and upon closer inspection, it appears from the holes in the wall that some placards have been removed from the timeline quite recently.
I also talked the mayors bodyguard but she wouldn't let me in.
I then moved to the Library:- Library:
- LIBRARY
The local library is not an impressive building by any measure. From the glass double doors, you can see the whole, one-room interior in a glance. At the long desk in the front, an old woman with a puff of curly hair sorts and stamps cards. Filing cabinets line the wall adjacent to her, labeled by year. Handwritten signs announce their contents: Newspapers, municipal documents, photographs, historical records.
The children section consists of two low wooden shelves and a circular table that comes up to your ankles. On every surface nearby, someone has propped up books with colorful covers to entice children into picking them up. It hasn’t worked. Some of the books have stood at attention for so long that dust has begun to gather around their covers.
The rest of the space is saturated with flimsy metal bookshelves on stiff wheels. The more common shelves, science fiction and fantasy, thrillers and romance, pivot at slight angles where browsers jostling for books have rolled the shelves askew. The less popular sections, biography, world cultures, spiritual how-to, stand uniformly aligned and uncomfortably close together. Their wheels have begun to sink into the gray carpet below.
Browse newspaper archives
Browse book catalogue
Stop by the church next door
Visit the neighboring school
Follow Main Street west towards city hall
Cross the parking lot east towards the park
I chose to browse the newspaper archives to try to find out what happen in 1916:- Spoiler:
- LIBRARY
There are a good ten cabinets lined up against the wall, but only the middle six are dedicated to newspapers. They seem to be ordered by date. On each drawer, the librarian has scrawled the start and end year on the paper label. The handwriting changes as you travel from left to right, to reflect the passage of time, and of head librarians. You open a random cabinet experimentally. They’re not full newspapers, just photocopied versions of them, shrunk down to fit on a piece of printer paper and then laminated. You squint at the blurry text and tilt the plastic covering to avoid any glare from the fluorescent lighting above. You can make the words out, but just barely.
Then I died:
- Death PM:
- DEATH
It came in like a hurricane.
You remember the cry lodged in your throat. You remember your surroundings melting away, as a howling rush drowned out everything around you. You remember leaving your physical form, forcibly torn out from your body like a weed.
And then everything went black.
You wake up later, though you're not sure how much later. It takes a few seconds for you to regain your bearings, but when you finally do you're assaulted with a flood of thoughts: where are you? What's going on? Your brain tries in vain to keep up with the dizzying pace of your thoughts as you slowly sit up to take stock of your surroundings.
One sweeping glance tells you that you're in some sort of endless white universe, with nary a landmark or really much of anything in sight. While a white room would have some sort of faint shadow indicating the presence of walls meeting or a ceiling, your current location lacks anything of that sort. Instead, the whiteness stretches out for infinity, never giving way once to shadow or to any sort of definite form.
It occurs to you that you're sitting on something, suggesting the presence of some sort of floor beneath you. Yet as you realize the existence of this floor, it suddenly gives way, and you--
You don't fall, actually. Instead, you float aimlessly, whatever forces of gravity at play in this world relinquishing their hold on your body. You kick a little to try and position yourself in an upright position; the force of the kick is enough to propel you a short distance forward. After a few minutes of experimentation you find yourself able to "swim" within the whiteness using an awkward series of kicks and paddles, and you eventually settle into a cross-legged position. Given the lack of definite markers, you hesitate about whether or not you're actually facing "up", but you figure that's the least of your concerns right now, behind "where are you?" and "are you alright?"
You hold your hands outwards. Your little exercise in propulsion earlier had revealed to you that your body existed within this space, blood and flesh and humanity all coming together to form a very normal human body. Instinctively, you pat down your body to check for injuries, but you find no evidence of open wounds or gashes. Relieved at this discovery, you open your mouth to sigh a little, but what comes out is anything but.
"… I'm dead."
… I'm dead?
You blink. For some reason, your lips had betrayed you and uttered out something you were definitely sure wasn't right. Had something hit you in the head too hard? You take a hand to your forehead and feel around for any bumps, but there are none to be found. Then why did you…
You remove your hand from your forehead and look at it intently, as if the creases in your palm would give you some sort of answer. Why did you blurt out that you were dead? Was it just a slip of the tongue, a jumble of words that had spilled out from a mind that had clearly been through a lot in the last little while? The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. Why would you just… go and say… you’re…
Yet as you stare into your palm, a horrifying, creeping feeling sweeps over you, burrowing into your skin and every inch of your being. You become aware of a smell hanging low against your body, one that you’ve never encountered before, that seems to choke you at every turn.
You're no fortune teller, but that feeling is unmistakable.
It's the feeling of death.
I will continue on a different post so I don't get to behind in the thread but there is something I MUST KNOW!
WHAT HAPPEN IN YEAR 1916? WHO IS THE LADY WITH THE UMBREALLA
715 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:04 pm
nautilus
Hi, other host saying that Kiyoko's post is genuine if any extra reiteration is needed.
716 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:06 pm
Cure
alcasync wrote:Cure and T3tsuya, I understand that you're potentially upset about the game mechanics and I recognize that you think that not voting is the best strategy, but I'm sure eleni and I and Saki when she reads thread understand your message loud and clear. Your posts are starting to get distracting and I honestly would like a chance at thinking about rollover rather than immediately deciding to call it quits. I agree with drandahl and Tiki that the host clarification post was genuine. ;v;
okay ^_^
![distortion [THE END] - Page 48 DontVoteButton](https://2img.net/h/vote-revolt.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/DontVoteButton.jpg)
Last edited by Cure on Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:10 pm; edited 1 time in total
717 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:07 pm
chinomi
- ROLE PM:
- ROLE PM wrote:
![distortion [THE END] - Page 48 0dZrth9](https://i.imgur.com/0dZrth9.png)
You saw the killer.
“I’m going to need you to describe—
—dead, life leaking out in crimson rivulets—
—oh god, oh god, oh god… the police, you should call the—
—straight towards you, and you don’t even have time to scream, either.
“I don’t…”
Sirens.
There’s something about them that seems off by the way they’re moving, lurching slightly, walking as if trying to hide something beneath their clothes. There’s a man on the park bench, taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing smoke into the night. The lurching figure makes their way down the path, towards the man on the bench, and as they step into the pooling light from the streetlamp above you see—
“I don’t…”
—glinting like a sudden falling star—falls from his fingers and glows faintly on the concrete beneath the bench, still spilling tendrils of smoke—streetlamp—
The eyes. You saw their eyes. You locked gazes and they know you saw them. You’re next. You’re next and there’s no escaping, there’s no—
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re the police. We just need you to answer some questions. Did you see—
Sirens.
—knife—didn’t even have time to scream. Just choked. Burbled. The sound of blood filling windpipes. The sound of death—streetlights, reflected in the—not lurching anymore, but running at full sprint—so much blood, spilling into the grass, watering it like a morbid sprinkler system, and who knew a human body had so much—phone—
“I don’t… remember.”
—waking up in a cold sweat. The images and sounds play over and over in your dreams, in your nightmares, fragmented, out of order. The eyes, you saw their eyes. Your spine is rigid with terror and all you remember are blood and eyes and blood and blood and dying. You’re next. You know you’re next.
“I don’t think we’re going to get any answers out of this one. Call in the next witness.”
You saw the killer, but you don’t remember the face.![distortion [THE END] - Page 48 ZT4k8rL](https://i.imgur.com/ZT4k8rL.png)
TOWN
You will be made aware
if mafia ever targets you
with any action or item.
I honestly thought I was mafia and didn't know I was for a while there. I thought I killed someone and couldn't remember that I did LOL.
718 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:09 pm
katze
CAN I JUST SAY THE WOODEN HAND WASN'T A WOODEN HAND, BUT THE WOODEN BENCH???????????????
(literally the one thing that was bothering me the whole time)
(literally the one thing that was bothering me the whole time)
719 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:10 pm
eleni
so you're supposed to guess your name after you die. it's the reason why none of us have any names attached to our role pms. the name isn't an actual name like "Bob"or "Mary Jane," it's a word describing your character's thoughts/personality/motivations as a whole!alcasync wrote:Hmm... If anyone figured out their names, can they tell me what their names were and how they were able to guess it?
it's pretty much impossible to guess until you get to the route in the afterlife that gives you a more in-depth story snippet about your character whiiiich actually gives you one phase with unlimited guesses (hosts let me know that meant around 15 names, just within reasonable count). still difficult though because you have no idea whether you're on the right trail or now :') i was guessing pretty much the whole game and i have no idea if i was completely off track or i was guessing synonyms of my correct name.
oh my god this makes much more sense LMAOKatze wrote:CAN I JUST SAY THE WOODEN HAND WASN'T A WOODEN HAND, BUT THE WOODEN BENCH???????????????
720 Re: distortion [THE END] Fri Sep 09, 2016 9:11 pm
katze
also my role pm:
also I wasn't aware of tet's attachment to me so there's that. because i know people were confused about it and i wanTED TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
- ROLE PM:
- Kiyoko wrote:
When the assignment landed on your desk, you jumped at the opportunity. As a kid, you were enamoured with the 6 o’clock news: your parents always found you in front of the TV, staring at the news anchor as they explained the stories of the day. And what stories they were! Your eyes would widen as you learned about locales you’ve never heard of, things you’ve never seen from the porch of your small town. Soon enough, your allowance became enough that you could walk to the local dollar store and pick up your own shiny spiral notebook, perfect for the up and coming journalist. You wanted to be just like them, correspondents from everywhere from Dubai to Delhi covering all of the things that made the world tick.
Eventually, you landed a job at the local paper. Sure, it wasn’t glamorous to cover some kid’s lemonade stand, but you took it all in stride. You’d get your chance to become a real reporter. Cover some real news. And when that finally happened…
“That’s classified information. We are not obligated to divulge information about the murders at this time.”
“We’re not talking to the media right now.”
The last one, a government aide, shoots you a dirty look before he disappears into the crowd.
“Goddamnit!” You throw your pen at the police cordon, only to have it needlessly bounce off. You’ve been in this town for weeks, yet you haven’t been able to report a single thing. Everyone blocks your attempts to get to the answers, like some impregnable wall. You huff and pick up your pen, before taking a look at some bystanders watching the scene. You can tell by their furrowed brows and fidgeting expressions that they’re scared, whispering, pointing at the white chalk outline on the ground.
You feel for them: you’re the one best poised to reassure them at night and explain the facts. Yet, you’re stuck here, a bystander just like them, knowing only that bodies keep piling up and fifty different ways to turn someone down in the time you’ve been assigned to this story. Even pleading to your editor to pull some strings didn’t work. No one will give you anything except grimaces and glares.
You pull at the bridge of your nose, the aide’s face on your mind. Briefly, you consider driving back and abandoning this story, but in your heart you know you want to chase this to the bitter end.
If no one’ll give you anything, you’ll just have to find the true story on your own.TOWN
If you target a player with an item,
you will passively eavesdrop on
any results they may receive.
also I wasn't aware of tet's attachment to me so there's that. because i know people were confused about it and i wanTED TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
Message [Page 48 of 60]
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