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MISTU IS A GREAT WRITER AND HUMAN BEING GUY S U DONT EVEN KNO!!!!!!!!!!
kiyokos flavor is okay i guess
kiyokos flavor is okay i guess
Cry Wolf
Cry Wolf
Cry Wolf is a brand new forum focused on the forum version of the deception game Mafia/Werewolves
Video Game UPick is over! Town Wins!
RE: RE: Corporate Team Building Retreat is over. Mafia wins!
We now have a Discord Server!
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 55 of 60]
812 Re: distortion [THE END] Sat Sep 10, 2016 7:38 pm
nautilus
![distortion [THE END] - Page 55 0dZrth9](https://i.imgur.com/0dZrth9.png)
| [THE SCENE OPENS IN THE COMMUNITY CENTER. ALCASYNC IS STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM, HOLDING ONTO WHAT APPEARS TO BE A PISTOL.] [ELENI SUDDENLY JUMPS IN THROUGH THE WINDOW, DOING A BACKFLIP.] eleni: We’ve got you now! [CRYPSIS LATER ATTEMPTS TO JUMP THROUGH THE WINDOW, BUT FAILS AND HITS THE WINDOWFRAME. THERE IS AN AWKWARD FEW SECONDS AS CRYPSIS NAVIGATES THROUGH THE CENTRE'S WINDOW.] Crypsis: We’ve… g…aughh… [ALCASYNC THEN TURNS AROUND. ALCASYNC’S EYES GLOW RED.] ALCAMAF: I see… you’ve finally figured out the truth. eleni: You can’t continue on massacring all these people! You’ve been engaging in wanton murder for too long, spirit! Crypsis: I can’t believe that you’re inhabiting my friend! Can you read alca’s throughts? Does it hurt when your current host dies? eleni: Save the questions, Crypsis, we’ve got a job to do. [eleni throws Crypsis one of Ninfia’s guns, which immediately discharges into the ceiling. A few tiles fall onto the ground.] eleni: I knew they didn’t give two shits about using the safety, I swear to god. Crypsis, take it. Crypsis: But guns are dangerous! I’ve never shot anyone before! ALCAMAF: Listen, hear me out. I have a very good reason for wanting all of these people dead. eleni: Oh? And what, pray tell, is it? ALCAMAF: You see… I’ve been around as a manifestation of all that is evil and unholy for a couple hundred years. I’ve seen civilizations rise and fall. But I’ve always had one wish. Crypsis: … The end of humanity? ALCAMAF: For this town to win the “Best Town of the Year” award. eleni: … You’re joking. ALCAMAF: No, I’m not. eleni: Yeah, well, hard to be best town of the year when pretty much the entire town’s population is dead. ALCAMAF: You don’t understand. I had to kill those people. I’ve been waiting a hundred years since my last chance at this award and getting it is my dream. The last time I was around and kicking, the town was in decline after the war and some lady who believes in “participation ribbons” was trying to get rid of me. Participation ribbons are for the weak, I tell you. I am here to win! Municipal competition is my passion. Crypsis: Why was it necessary to kill eleni, then? ALCAMAF: Who could trust her? What if she were to open up a giant shopping centre in town? It would completely mesh with our image of a quaint little hamlet in the middle of nowhere! eleni: … That wasn’t in my plans. ALCAMAF: I couldn’t take any chances. Crypsis: What about that weird vacationer? ALCAMAF: Me? Risking some random person from another town wrecking my plans? No way. So I used some of my powers to manipulate that poor sod’s life so they couldn’t leave, and then took them out myself. Did you know that person was actually from the town who won Best Town last year? Totally a spy. ALCAMAF: … Though I have to admit, it was amusing that my host back then fought me off briefly, looked at the dead body, and tried to perform CPR. And cracked their ribs in the process. Ah, sometimes I forget my strength... eleni: What about the old vet? The teenager in a hoodie? The priest? The conspiracy theorist? ALCAMAF: Listen, for a town to win, we need to project a youthful image. Young professionals in sweaters with coffee and dogs, not grumpy old veterans with a bone to pick. Teenagers in hoodies gives off the implication that your town is a hotbed for hooligans. And no one wants to live in a town full of utter prudes, so that priest had to go too! Crypsis: That conspiracy theorist though… ALCAMAF: … Okay, that was for personal reasons. A person who honestly believes the mayor is a snake person is not the kind of face I want to project to the judges. eleni: Oh, yeah, right, as if the judges would want to see the pile of corpses left all over the town. And aren’t you in the body of a criminal? ALCAMAF: I’m leaving the corpses around because it's my aesthetic. Look at how well I draped that one corpse over a hedge! ALCAMAF: As for my host ... I don’t have much choice, y'know! Everyone sort of killed each other. Either way, having my current host be a criminal could make for a wonderful redemption story. Judges love a good narrative. Crypsis: But… but we have to stop you! eleni: That’s right! We can’t keep on listening to your lies, demon! ALCAMAF: Join me, you two, and together we can make a beautiful town. We can win Town of the Year. We’ll get that trophy. eleni: Over my dead body! Crypsis: Over my dead—well… I am legally dead I guess… so over my already dead body? ALCAMAF: So be it. [ALCAMAF opens up coat to reveal in order: a long hunting knife, a first aid kit, a police baton smeared with blood, a broken anime sword, and a crowbar] ALCAMAF: Meddlers like you who can’t see the merit of municipal order always exist… Alas. You’ll learn the dangers of trying to mess with my plans! I’ll use your corpses as an art installation in front of City Hall – the judges love contemporary art, don’t they? eleni: I’ll tell you how this is going to end! Crypsis: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA [CRYPSIS FALLS ON THE GROUND DRAMATICALLY AND BEGINS SHOOTING AT THE CEILING LIKE IN THE COP MOVIES. THIS SEEMS LIKE A COMPLETE WASTE OF BULLETS BUT LOOKS VERY COOL NEVERTHELESS.] eleni: ... Well, okay then. [CRYPSIS AND ELENI BEGIN WILDLY SHOOTING AT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT, NOT NECESSARILY ALCAMAF. ALCAMAF PRODUCES A GUN AND BEGINS SHOOTING BACK. THE AMOUNT OF SPECIAL EFFECTS IN THIS SCENE IS RIDICULOUS, AND AT THE END OF IT, CRYPSIS, ELENI, AND ALCAMAF LAY DEAD UPON THE FLOOR FROM COMICAL YET GRUESOME WOUNDS.] ... Wait. This isn't your story. |
![distortion [THE END] - Page 55 F33cN69](https://i.imgur.com/F33cN69.png)
| Everyone was killed! |
815 Re: distortion [THE END] Sat Sep 10, 2016 7:57 pm
nautilus
Crypsis wrote:omg is this hot fuzz? :o
we made a lot of hot fuzz jokes in the host chat this game once blaire pointed out that the premise of mysterious murders in a small town was like hot fuzz
just a series of accidents, everyone
816 Re: distortion [THE END] Sat Sep 10, 2016 8:00 pm
nautilus
alcasync was lynched! They were mafia. ![distortion [THE END] - Page 55 ZT4k8rL](https://i.imgur.com/ZT4k8rL.png) You make your decision. The steel chills your palm. For six nights and six days, this pistol was your constant companion. It feels only right to use it now. The pair of you can go out together. Your two companions look on, eyes gleaming with concern and trepidation. If you were them, you’d be nervous, too. Probably. I mean, you’re allegedly some dangerous killer. And yet here you are, the only one in the room with a firearm. You turn the barrel inwards and stare down it, that gaping darkness, like the eye of death. You’ve evaded it twice now. Death. The Grim Reaper must be very disappointed. But then, that runs in the family. Disappointing others. “Disappointing others.” Is that really going to be your last thought? How about something more encouraging, like, “Grandma, Grandpa, I’m coming home now.” Nah, too cheesy. You settle on a succinct, “Seriously, fuck life.” And then you pull the trigger. When you come to, it takes you a moment to recognize the building, all slanted roof and sunbeams. The crosses give it away, though, as do the pews beneath your body. Ah, damn, if this is the afterlife and the pastor really was right, you are absolutely screwed. There’s no way Saint Whoever is letting you past those pearly gates. You reach for the books in the seat back shelves in front of you, hoping to get some last minute studying in. “Good morning,” You freeze, hand outstretched, and turn. She’s a woman in some Victorian dress, hair all pinned up, sitting in a pew across the aisle and a few rows ahead. While some part of your mind aches with familiarity, there’s an even more insistent thrashing against your ribcage, like your heart is struggling to flee its container. Painful as it is, it’s a little nice to know that your organs haven’t completely stopped, even after death. “Uh… Hi.” That’s the best you can manage. “Is this the afterlife?” “Oh no, not at all. That happens much later. Hopefully, for you, it will be still many years yet,” she replies with a patient smile. You’re not a huge fan of patient smiles. They remind you too much of condescending teachers and manipulative police officers and your grandmother who was always forgiving you, even when you shouldn’t have been forgiven. “I’m pretty sure I just shot myself in the head,” you reply, mimicking the action with two fingers to a temple that you finally notice is very much intact. “So if I’m somehow still not dead after attempt number three, Death’s going to be real pissed when my time finally comes.” The woman simply tilts her head and continues smiling, fondly this time. “It was very noble of you. Trust me when I tell you that I understand entirely how you feel.” Your head says comfort but the rest of your body is still doing this looming sense of dread thing, and since your head just recently survived having a bullet carve its way through your brain, perhaps you ought to trust the latter. “Who are you?” you ask, and if suspicion bleeds into your voice, well, there’s nothing you can really do about that. In response, she climbs to her feet with a rustle of fabric. She raises an object from her lap, and it’s not until she opens it and swings it across one shoulder that you recognize that white parasol. “My story is one of the past, not of the present. I believe we are very similar, in this regard.” You have so many questions. She recognizes something in whatever wide-eyed expression you must be wearing, because she raises her eyebrows in sympathy. “I am not at liberty to tell stories at the moment. When it is truly your time to go, come find me. We will have much to discuss, then. If you are interested, though, in the events of April 1916, I believe our town still holds a few remnants of the story. After all, I hid them myself.” “I’m sorry, did you just tell me I’m not dead enough to talk to you?” “You must have misheard me earlier when I told you that you are not dead in the slightest.” She’s stepping closer now, sliding her way into your pew, and as she approaches, your body flares into pain, like every inch of your flesh is screaming. “If this isn’t the afterlife,” you manage to choke out, hands clutching at the opposite arms, as if trying to hold yourself together, “then what the hell is this?” Your chest blazes as if rupturing, and that rabid tug is more insistent now, like something wild and reckless trying to tear away. “This,” the lady with the white umbrella says, folding her umbrella once more, “is an exorcism.” Pain erupts, white-hot and blinding. You squeeze your eyes shut, or maybe they were already closed. A rush. A severing deep in your core. Numbness, pulsing through your body in waves, from your chest to your fingers and toes. The last thing you feel is a brush of fabric, cool against your cheek. And then, darkness, (that warm embrace). When you come to, it takes you a moment to recognize the building, all wooden floors and sunbeams. It’s the community center, and you’re alone. Reflexively, you reach a hand up to the side of your head, which should be ripped open and leaking gore, but it’s fine. You’re fine. Your hand comes away clean and dry. You push open those double doors and step out into the sunlit street. Here is the town you have always known, teeming with people as you have always known them. An office worker with his wife and kids, not draped over a blood-stained bench, but laughing and ruffling his daughter’s hair. A woman in a suit and a folder beneath one arm, alive and well and arguing spiritedly over the phone. A customer on their way home from the corner store with a fistful of lottery tickets and a lighter wallet. Heart thumping now, not with that sense of dread from that illusory church, but one of hope and painful excitement, you stroll down Main Street and make the turn towards your neighborhood. On occasion, you spot someone you know only as a passing acquaintance walking aimlessly, or purposefully, through the motions of their daily lives. And they are alive. And you are alive. They make eye contact and nod, and you nod in return. And then you allow your paths to diverge once more. And so it goes. Your feet slow to a stop in front of that familiar house. All the police tape is gone. The lights are on in the windows. Your childhood bicycle remains near the porch, still entrenched in the mud where you’d left it almost a decade ago. Despite the lingering trepidation, you make your way up the steps to the front door. Your hand hovers over the painted wood for one second, two, and then you rap your knuckles against the door. There’s a clang from the kitchen. Someone setting down pots and pans. Footsteps. And then the door opens and Grandma beams at you from across the threshold and welcomes you. And that vicegrip around your heart finally loosens and slips away. You have so many questions, then, and now even still, but those can wait for another time. Tomorrow, maybe. You’ll scour the library and the church and wherever else, and resolve those lingering mysteries. Today, though, Grandma’s baking cookies and Grandpa’s yelling at the game on TV, and that’s all you need, for now. You’re home. |
| drandahl was revived! They were fraternity. Rasei was revived! They were opportunism. deo was revived! They were outsider. plotstickers was revived! They were infatuation. katze was revived! They were insight. Sammiya was revived! They were shelter. T3tsuya was revived! They were isolation. Mr. Alice was revived! They were aspiration. tinylightsflash was revived! They were infatuation. ezzelin was revived! They were wisdom. Five was revived! They were sacrilege. angelstar was revived! They were heartbreak. high seraph was revived! They were potential. Mr. Gerbear was revived! They were misfortune. She-Ra was revived! They were authority. Tiki The Troll was revived! They were vigilance. chinomi was revived! They were terror. Ardonye was revived! They were epiphany. Cure was revived! They were obstinancy. Ninfia was revived! They were violence. alcasync was revived! They were transgression. eleni was enterprise. Crypsis was oblivion. THE END 23T : 0M |
818 Re: distortion [THE END] Sat Sep 10, 2016 8:03 pm
Kiyoko
Admin
Thank you for playing, everyone, and thank you to Mitsu for writing half of this game and co-hosting with me.
We'll explain game mechanics and storyline later, probably.
We'll explain game mechanics and storyline later, probably.
822 Re: distortion [THE END] Sat Sep 10, 2016 8:11 pm
nautilus
Going to make a longer comment later, but here are the answers to the two most pressing questions in the game:
1) What the fuck does the bell do?
The bell was the first item I wrote and it's also probably one of the most powerful items in the game. A lot of the items I intentionally wrote vaguely because you have to consider that there are 23 instances and then some of every single item, and it also avoids people gunning for items immediately, haha. The bell was the most vague because it's in a very accessible area and a lot of people would be able to get access to it very fast.
I asked a certain friend who wasn't allowed to play this game to translate the Latin, but long story short it's something along the lines of willingly throwing your hands into the flames. It's a reference to the Trisagion (hence the three rings in the alternate flavour). Five was right on the money that each item corresponds to a typical role power, and the bell was alignment investigation (it gives a result, and breaks if the target is mafia or if the user is mafia).
At least 3 people told me privately that they thought the bell was genuinely a piece of garbage so it's okay; I don't think anyone (until eleni near endgame) really got close to what it did the entire game.
2) What was up with drandahl and Angel?
drandahl and Angel had my most favourite roles in the game (I wrote both of them, and drandahl's was straight up my favourite role to write) and I was suuuper upset when Sammie shot drandahl because their roles involve the two of them being alive simultaneously for them to work. A lot of the flavour was intertwined with each other (Blaire and ezz, for example; Blaire's power was that she inherits ezz's bulletproof if ezz dies as a hand-me-down), and drandahl and Angel were the prime example of this.
Thematically, drandahl and Angel are a sibling and a fiance that are both interconnected to a victim: Angel was the victim's fiance and drandahl was their sibling. The two of them have a really shitty relationship with each other because the sibling blames the fiance for being an accessory to murder for not protecting the brother, and the fiance believes that the sibling has a major stick up their ass and was deliberately impeding their relationship + is also an accessory for failing to protect their lover. Both of them are fine on their own, but they get loud and angry and frustrated when together. In truth both of them feel shitty about the whole thing and blame themselves (but pass off the blame onto each other), and the shoes in the cemetary are actually Angel's late fiancé's shoes, which the sibling stole as a prank.
If one of them were ever to vote for the other, an instant election would occur between the two of them. I actually had flavour prepared for this the entire time and then Sammie shot drandahl and then drandahl got REALLY CLOSE to guessing his name the second time and then veered off.
1) What the fuck does the bell do?
The bell was the first item I wrote and it's also probably one of the most powerful items in the game. A lot of the items I intentionally wrote vaguely because you have to consider that there are 23 instances and then some of every single item, and it also avoids people gunning for items immediately, haha. The bell was the most vague because it's in a very accessible area and a lot of people would be able to get access to it very fast.
I asked a certain friend who wasn't allowed to play this game to translate the Latin, but long story short it's something along the lines of willingly throwing your hands into the flames. It's a reference to the Trisagion (hence the three rings in the alternate flavour). Five was right on the money that each item corresponds to a typical role power, and the bell was alignment investigation (it gives a result, and breaks if the target is mafia or if the user is mafia).
At least 3 people told me privately that they thought the bell was genuinely a piece of garbage so it's okay; I don't think anyone (until eleni near endgame) really got close to what it did the entire game.
2) What was up with drandahl and Angel?
drandahl and Angel had my most favourite roles in the game (I wrote both of them, and drandahl's was straight up my favourite role to write) and I was suuuper upset when Sammie shot drandahl because their roles involve the two of them being alive simultaneously for them to work. A lot of the flavour was intertwined with each other (Blaire and ezz, for example; Blaire's power was that she inherits ezz's bulletproof if ezz dies as a hand-me-down), and drandahl and Angel were the prime example of this.
Thematically, drandahl and Angel are a sibling and a fiance that are both interconnected to a victim: Angel was the victim's fiance and drandahl was their sibling. The two of them have a really shitty relationship with each other because the sibling blames the fiance for being an accessory to murder for not protecting the brother, and the fiance believes that the sibling has a major stick up their ass and was deliberately impeding their relationship + is also an accessory for failing to protect their lover. Both of them are fine on their own, but they get loud and angry and frustrated when together. In truth both of them feel shitty about the whole thing and blame themselves (but pass off the blame onto each other), and the shoes in the cemetary are actually Angel's late fiancé's shoes, which the sibling stole as a prank.
If one of them were ever to vote for the other, an instant election would occur between the two of them. I actually had flavour prepared for this the entire time and then Sammie shot drandahl and then drandahl got REALLY CLOSE to guessing his name the second time and then veered off.
824 Re: distortion [THE END] Sat Sep 10, 2016 8:20 pm
nautilus
I'm allowed to post actual game stuff now but does anyone want me to make a spiel on something in particular (the remaining PMs, etc.,)?
There was indeed a clue to the killer in every rollover: the beeping of the heart monitor in alca's initial attempt was a clue-in to Mr. Alice, and the extremely unorthodox route of death in Cure's death was a clue-in to alca, since the killer went out of their way to do a break-in through the living room window instead of killing Cure on the porch.
I'll probably draft up game mechanics, though we did deliberately leave the actual plot's ending open ended and I'm not sure how much of it I should go into.
A lot of the flavour was ridiculously intertwined with each other, though: the conspiracy theorist mailing THE MAYOR IS IN ON IT to the mayor in She-ra's flavour is indeed Ardonye, the hole referenced in Sammie's flavour is revealed in Ninfia's flavour, the poster is in both Plot and Gerry's role PMs, etc.,
There were also a ton of red herrings scattered through the game, that if certain players visited those locations they would get special flavour about what caused that herring. As far as I'm aware only Ninfia and angel fulfilled this (Ninfia checkin' out that hole she made, angel checkin' out those shoes), but there are others.
There was indeed a clue to the killer in every rollover: the beeping of the heart monitor in alca's initial attempt was a clue-in to Mr. Alice, and the extremely unorthodox route of death in Cure's death was a clue-in to alca, since the killer went out of their way to do a break-in through the living room window instead of killing Cure on the porch.
I'll probably draft up game mechanics, though we did deliberately leave the actual plot's ending open ended and I'm not sure how much of it I should go into.
A lot of the flavour was ridiculously intertwined with each other, though: the conspiracy theorist mailing THE MAYOR IS IN ON IT to the mayor in She-ra's flavour is indeed Ardonye, the hole referenced in Sammie's flavour is revealed in Ninfia's flavour, the poster is in both Plot and Gerry's role PMs, etc.,
There were also a ton of red herrings scattered through the game, that if certain players visited those locations they would get special flavour about what caused that herring. As far as I'm aware only Ninfia and angel fulfilled this (Ninfia checkin' out that hole she made, angel checkin' out those shoes), but there are others.
825 Re: distortion [THE END] Sat Sep 10, 2016 8:27 pm
nautilus
Oh yes and also:
Thank you for playing!! It really made me feel good to see how much people enjoyed the game the last little while haha even if I did slip off the face of the planet the last few days. We worked hard on this game and Kiyoko is the real MVP for being absolutely ridiculous with flavour. She wrote endgame that wasn't Hot Fuzz, she's great
Thank you for playing!! It really made me feel good to see how much people enjoyed the game the last little while haha even if I did slip off the face of the planet the last few days. We worked hard on this game and Kiyoko is the real MVP for being absolutely ridiculous with flavour. She wrote endgame that wasn't Hot Fuzz, she's great
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