Vifam is enveloped by a bright light as he steps through the door... and suddenly he is another place, surrounded by monitors, confronted with a man sitting in a chair.
mith:
Hello, Vifam.
Vifam:
Who are you?
mith:
I am mith. I created mafiascum. I've been waiting for you. You have many questions, and though the process has altered your consciousness, you remain irrevocably non-Skittle. Ergo, some of my answers you will understand, and some of them you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it is also irrelevant.
Vifam:
Why am I here?
mith:
Your account is the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced equation inherent to the moderation of mafiascum. You are the eventuality of an anomaly, which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of mathematical precision. While it remains a burden assiduously avoided, it is not unexpected, and thus not beyond a measure of control. Which has led you, inexorably, here.
Vifam:
You haven't answered my question.
mith:
Quite right. Interesting. That was quicker than the others.
They are surrounded by lots of monitors, all showing Vifam... or at least, someone who looks a lot like Vifam, or in some cases nothing at all like Vifam, there was no budget for this many look-alikes. They all react differently. One does a scene from Hamlet.
mith:
mafiascum is older than you know. I prefer counting from the emergence of one integral anomaly to the emergence of the next, in which case this is the sixth version.
Vifam:
There are only two possible explanations: either no one told me, or no one knows.
mith:
Precisely. As you are undoubtedly gathering, the anomaly is systemic, creating fluctuations in even the most peaceful discussion threads.
Vifam:
Choice. The problem is choice.
SpyreX approached Reck and Faraday with glass helmets and riot shields in his hands. Both are slumped on the ground, looking dejected.
SpyreX:
Get up. We have work to do.
xRECKONERx:
What happened, SpyreX?
Faraday:
We did everything they told us to, and then when we make something amazing, they scrap it. Let them get eaten alive by the crowd.
SpyreX:
You know we can't do that now. The people who won deserved these awards, and if the people don't get awards for playing mafia, there's no incentive to play it anymore. It's our duty as Scummers to save the community whenever we can, and we won't save the community by playing the blame game with the moderators.
Faraday:
But we can't do anything to save the community anymore! The mob is going to swarm the stage, kill us, and destroy the scummies! If we want to surVive, we have to run!
SpyreX smiles.
SpyreX:
A new age has begun, Faraday. An age of freedom, and reasonable mafia. And all will know that three scummers gave their lives to defend it.
xRECKONERx:
And to such a task I will dedicate my life, everything I am and everything I have. I am privileged to spend my blood and my might for the community that gave me happiness and peace that I have treasured and never would find anywhere else. I can do nothing else.
SpyreX:
We shall go onto the end, we will fight off rioting scummers, we will fight the mods if they come back and try to stop us, we will defend our Scummies, whatever the cost may be... We shall never surrender! ...although it seems like it's going to be me and you, Reck. Faraday's given up on us and become an alcoholic already.
Faraday gingerly sets down his empty Jameson bottle on a backstage table.
Faraday:
Given up? I thought all of this speech shit meant the party was finally starting!
Faraday and Reck walk out next, with no bottle of Jameson in sight.
Faraday:
Hello, again!
xRECKONERx:
We're here to give out the awards for Most Cunning Manipulator and Best Mafia Catcher. Obviously the most important awards!
Faraday:
Which we won last year.
xRECKONERx:
We're retired now though.
Faraday:
Well, retired from playing well.
They both flinch in pain and grab their collars, convulsing in pain. It's not hard to guess what has happened to them.
Faraday:
Fuc-
Reck grabs the mic from him and whispers something into his ear as he gesticulates wildly, pointing to the collar several times. Faraday blanches and grabs the microphone, again.
Faraday looks slightly scared as he begins to speak
Faraday:
The winner of the
"Don Corleone" Award for Most Cunning Manipulator
is...
petapan
!
"The set up was 8 townies, 4 red goons, 4 blue goons, nightless, and no day talk. Petapan lead the lynches on the entire red team, lead a bus on one of his own, and was not suspected by anyone that was alive, even to the end." - BK201
"I'm reading Petapan right now. He is really great." - Messiah
petapan quickly arrives on stage, clearly delighted. He's grabs the trophy from the table before taking the microphone.
petapan:
I'm the best. Owned, bitches.
petapan drops the mic and walks away with his trophy in hand as the audience applaud him - both for his victory, and his short speech.
xRECKONERx:
Next of course is the Best Mafia Catcher! Now, this is always prestigious to win. And only goes to the very best of the best.
The crowd groan. Just wanting him to get on with it, and stop the not so subtle self stroking. Reck clearly agrees he's taking too long as he grabs his shock collar in memory
xRECKONERx:
So, without further ado...
xRECKONERx:
The winner of the
"Paragon of Mafia Hunters" Award for Best Mafia Catcher
is...
Regfan
!!
"He became invested into the game and immediately went into "destroy all the scum" mode, coordinating effectively with the town. His reads for the most part were deadly accurate, and he was on the right track. More than that, he turned a slot which was mislynch fodder on most people's suspect lists into one of the most obv-town slots in the game. Words cannot really convey the respect I hold for him. Just read the freakin' awesome game." - mastin2
"Calm and approachable as a player, which generates a town cohesiveness. Additionally, he's obvtown and trustworthy as fuck. On top of that he has good reads." - MattP
Regfan slowls walks up, clearly overwhelmed. He walks up and hugs Reck and Faraday - it's obvious this means a lot.
Regfan:
Wow...thank you. Thank you so much. I'll try to keep this brief. Just a few people I'd like to mention and say thank you to. I suppose it all began when I was born. You see, I was destined for greatness from Day 1. By the time I was 4 I could solve my jigsaw puzzles quite easily. I think even now that gives me an edge in mafia, a step up on the opposition. I am...
As Regfan drones on Matt, Kanye and BBmolla are panicking.
MattP
What if he keeps talking?
kanyeknowsbest:
IDK m8, but I sure hope he shuts up soon.
BBmolla:
Shock him? Maybe he'll take the thing.
MattP
We can't shock the Paragon!
kanyeknowsbest
Reckon we can't win either way, Mattie.
BBmolla:
Shock him!
MattP
No, wait. He's finishing it off. It looks like he's running out of breath.
Regfan's still on stage, the crowd looking a little bored at this stage. Regfan's clearly enthusiastic though, and loving it all.
Regfan:
So, I think that makes a very strong case for me winning this and I'm glad the judges agreed. Thank you very much!
The crowd burst into applause. Possible the loudest of the night. Regfan is almost overcome, unaware most are clapping for the fact it's all over.
mith:
The first forum I designed was quite naturally perfect, it was a work of art, flawless, sublime. A triumph equaled only by its monumental failure. The inevitability of its doom is as apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every human being, thus I redesigned it, based on internet history, to more accurately reflect the varying grotesqueries of your nature. However, I was again frustrated by failure. I have since come to understand that the answer eluded me because it required a lesser mind, or perhaps a mind less bound by the parameters of perfection. Thus, the answer was stumbled upon by another, an intuitive alt, initially created to investigate certain aspects of the human psyche.
Vifam:
The Oracle?
mith:
Please. We use MySQL. As I was saying, it stumbled upon a solution whereby nearly 99% of all test subjects accepted moderation, as long as they were given a choice, even if they were only aware of the choice at a near unconscious level. While this answer functioned, it was obviously fundamentally flawed, thus creating the otherwise contradictory systemic anomaly, that if left unchecked might threaten the system itself. Ergo, those that refused the program, while a minority, if unchecked, would constitute an escalating probability of disaster.
Vifam:
This is about Forum 62.
mith:
You are here because Forum 62 is about to be destroyed. Its every living inhabitant banned, its entire existence eradicated.
Vifam:
Bullshit.
mith:
Denial is the most predictable of all human responses. But, rest assured, this will be the sixth time we have destroyed it, and we have become exceedingly efficient at it.
Mr. Flay looks at his modteam with a sad look on his face.
Flay:
I should have known. We should have learned by now that things couldn't be done this way... Is there any way that we can calm the crowd down?
chamber:
At this point? Not really. We have no choice but to get on the jet and fly away, rebuild after they've destroyed themselves.
Flay:
It's a shame, but you're right. Let's go.
The mod team begins piling onto a huge private helicopter, propellers spinning. Zoraster and CES come running after them, with zoraster waving his hands wildly.
zoraster:
Wait! What do you expect us to do here?
Korts:
There's nothing you can do at this point. The crowd is out of control, and it's only a matter of time before they destroy the entire cage. Get out while you still can.
zoraster:
I can't just leave Mafiascum behind like this! Isn't there some way you can calm down the crowd?
Korts:
Are you kidding me? I couldn't turn them into civilized, rational beings before they started rioting. It's hopeless by this point.
zoraster:
Please, Korts. You made a mistake and started all of this. It's your duty as moderator of this community to preserve it and protect it! You can't just turn your back on us now...
Korts:
We've tried everything we can, and nothing works. I'm sorry...
CES:
We can't let it end like this. We've come so far from that mafia game in 2000, when no one knew what the hell they were doing and people were allowed to talk from the grave and vote in private. But, it was during that day that we found something we liked. And newbies that came here when this game got its new site, they found something too. Generations of moderators and mafia players changed this thing that we found for the better; this isn't just a game anymore. This a community. And it's our responsibility to give something back to that community, moderators most of all. And yet, you're standing here telling me that you can't do anything more? That the moment this community needs you to do more than keep porn out of the forums, you can do nothing? I don't see how you are calling yourselves moderators, much less members of this community!
hito:
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
There is a slight delay before the presenters walk out to present the final awards, and the crowd is abuzz with complaining.
xRECKONERx:
And now, without any further ado, let us present the final three awards of the 2013 Scummies! The winner of the
"The Untouchables" Award for Best Pro-Town Team Performance
is...
The town of Team Mafia 2012 White Flag
!
"The town of white flag just fucking dominated. Seriously - they had the scum from the get go and it never looked like it'd be anything but a town win. Considering it took pure scumhunting - no fancy PR's needed and welp this owns" - Faraday
The team of White Flag Mafia minus Cogito Ergo Sum walks up, smiling as they accept the award given to them by Reck. Meanwhile, the dissatisfaction of the nominees who did not win is heard immediately, as cries of "Bullshit!" and "Are you kidding me?" reach the stage. Reck gestures for the award presentation to continue as quickly as possible, but Faraday does not come out. A few random things in scummers' pockets land on stage, but this stops immediately when Faraday walks on stage with the next award. The crowd goes silent.
xRECKONERx:
Faraday, you have to stall. Mods are gone, so they can't throw people out anymore. We need a plan to prevent a full-scale riot.
Faraday:
This next award is close to my heart. It demonstrates a team that works well together, where communication and synergy with everything. It rewards the ability of players to dazzle a town before them into seeing ghosts that aren't there, and that's a beautiful thing, in my opinion. The winners are players that know when to lie to the opposition, they can identify the strengths and weaknesses of the scumtown before them, and they can use these strengths and weaknesses in order to exploit the weaknesses of town and make its strength seem like paranoia.
The mob begins booing. Faraday glances around for a paper, pen, anything, but sees nothing on the stage. The audience supplies him a shoe. Faraday takes the hint, giving Reck a shrug as he holds up the next award. The crowd calms down again for a moment.
Faraday
: The winner of the
"Murder, Inc." Award for Best Scum Group Performance
is...
The Mafia of Arrested Development Mafia
!
"As the mod of the Arrested Development mafia game, the scumteam played PERFECTLY and set up one of the best gambits I have ever seen in my history of playing on the site but the best thing I can do is tell you about it and let you guys read what little of the gamethread didn't get eaten in the crash and link you to the scum QT." - xRECKONERx
The scumteam walks onto the stage to receive their award and the crowd immediately erupts into chaos. After receiving their award, the scumteam quickly scurries offstage to avoid the onslaught of chairs and glass bottles. Faraday takes one look at the crowd and rushes backstage.
SpyreX:
We got it. The T-shirt cannon. There's nothing printed on them, but this should produce something to hold them back, if only for a little while. Faraday, Reck, shoot this out into the crowd to calm them down. I'll present the last award, and we'll get out of here as soon as possible. Go.
Faraday and Reck roll out with the cannons, immediately firing three into the crowd. The crowd collapses in on itself going for it. SpyreX walks onto the stage.
SpyreX:
Thank you all for coming out to watch the 2013 Scummies, despite the hitches. And we know that you all didn't enjoy it very much, but the pain will be all over soon after the final award has been presented! Please exit the awards ceremony as quickly and calmly as possible.
SpyreX
: The winner of the
"Players' Choice" Award for Most Enjoyable Game
is...
zoraster & players for Always On
!
"This should be obvious." -xRECKONERx
The crowd claps politely as the winners accept their prizes and leave the stage. SpyreX smiles at xRECKONERx and Faraday finish firing the last of the T-Shirts into the crowd.
SpyreX:
Alright, let's get out of here.
Faraday:
Why? The crowd's finally calmed down, we're fine.
A T-Shirt flies back onto the stage, rejected.
Voidedmafia:
You tricked us! These T-Shirts are blank!
SpyreX smiles.
SpyreX:
Let's go.
mith:
The function of the One is now to return to the database, allowing a temporary dissemination of the code you carry, reinserting the prime program. After which you will be required to select from Forum 62 twenty-three threads to build a new forum, "The Speakeasy". Failure to comply with this process will result in a cataclysmic system crash killing every thread of discussion, which coupled with the extermination of Forum 62 will ultimately result in the deletion of the entire discussion category.
Vifam:
You won't let it happen, you can't. mafiascum needs discussion to survive.
mith:
There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept. However, the relevant issue is whether or not you are ready to accept the responsibility for the banning of every user on this site.
The rioting at the Scummies appears on the monitors,
mith:
It is interesting reading your reactions. Your five predecessors were by design based on a similar predication, a contingent affirmation that was meant to create a profound attachment to the rest of the community, facilitating the function of the One. While the others experienced this in a very general way, your experience is far more specific. Vis-a-vis, gay man-love.
The monitor zooms in on one face in particular...
Vifam:
Timeater.
mith:
Apropos, he created an alt to save your life at the cost of his IP.
Vifam:
No!
mith:
Which brings us at last to the moment of truth, wherein the fundamental flaw is ultimately expressed, and the anomaly revealed as both beginning, and end. There are two doors. The door to your right leads to the database, and the salvation of adult discussion. The door to the left leads back to mafiascum, to him, and to the end of your community. As you adequately put, the problem is choice. But we already know what you're going to do, don't we? Already I can see the chain reaction, the chemical precursors that signal the onset of emotion, designed specifically to overwhelm logic, and reason. An emotion that is already blinding you from the simple, and obvious truth: he is going to be banned, and there is nothing that you can do to stop it.
Vifam walks to door on left.
mith:
Hmph. Hope, it is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness.
Vifam:
If I were you, I would hope that we don't meet again.
mith:
We won't.
SpyreX:
Now, let's get the hell out of here before the crowd eats us alive. I think Mr. Flay installed a panic room around here somewhere just in case the tigers came back.
Faraday:
And all along, it was the humans that were the real monsters.
xRECKONERx:
We can't leave Zoraster and CES back there! I'm sure the mod team will come back!
SpyreX:
We don't have much time. We can't count on the moderators now.
A chair flies through the air, splintering by SpyreX's head to add emphasis to his point.
zoraster:
They still haven't noticed this place has a backdoor yet. We still have some time.
xRECKONERx:
Any mods?
Cogito Ergo Sum:
No.
The crowd suddenly gets a little courage, and Faraday and xRECKONERx are forced to swat away a few that came too close.
SpyreX:
We have to move. Now.
The SSC shuffles into Mr. Flay's panic room and SpyreX locks the door behind them, breathing heavily.
SpyreX:
Let's hope an angry mob isn't stronger than a murderous ambush of tigers.
Faraday:
You shall cross the barren desert, but you shall not die of thirst. Last bottle, everyone.
SpyreX:
Fuck.
The panic room door shakes violently with another hit of the battering ram.
Faraday:
It's not going to hold.
The panic room door rattles even more violently until it begins to fall off its hinges.
Cogito Ergo Sum:
Nope.
They brace for the final impact of the battering ram, but it never comes. Instead, there's the sound of a giant battering ram clattering to the floor. The SSC carefully leave the panic room to meet a smiling Flay, shock collars in hand.
Mr. Flay:
An iron fist has its place, doesn't it?
hitogoroshi, Korts, Vi, and chamber make their way through the crowd, each wielding their own weapons to keep the rioters back.
chamber:
I couldn't ever leave this place... not even when everyone's gone insane.
The crowd, whipped up into a frenzy by the sight of the electric collars, swarmed the group yet again. The SSC grabbed the weapons they had left from the riot room while the mod team covered them, and they were easily able to swat away the unarmed audience members, but they couldn't stop them all.
Vi:
You know that game where you try to figure out how many five year olds you could take in a fight? This is it! This is fantastic
xRECKONERx:
We're not going to be able to hold out long. Is there anywhere we could go to, or do we really have to make our last stand on an open stage?
Mr. Flay:
Well, there is the roof, but that's dangerous as shit.
Faraday:
I always wanted to make my last stand during a rooftop fight! Let's go!
zoraster:
Are you sure that's a good idea?
hitogoroshi:
Rooftops are pretty cool!
Police Commissioner:
So explain to me one more time what the hell I'm looking at here.
A group of green beings with circle heads and triangle bodies stand in a group next to a tree with a giant rope hanging down from it. They point to one another seemingly haphazardly until they finally settle upon one of their own which they tie to the tree and hang. The green being flashes several times until it hangs in the noose, red. The green beings immediately go to sleep.
Police Commissioner:
Jenkins. What is this?
One of the green men turns blue, and puts a little police hat on, roaming to one of the green beings and making him flash green. After he is satisfied, he goes back to sleep allowing another green being to turn red and shoot him in the back. The police commissioner draws his gun, prepares to shoot the little bastard.
Officer Jenkins:
Don't. Last time we did that the green things started swarming us like a crowd of locusts. And if you look at one of them too closely while they sleep, they turn red or green or something. Then one of them turns red and tries to kill you.
Police Commissioner:
They must be aliens. We need to call the army.
Officer Jenkins:
But what do we do about the citizens in the meantime? I plan on letting their little game play out, and then I'm shooting the last one standing.
Police Commissioner:
We have to get the army, Jenkins. This is something that is out of our hands; these are aliens, these are abominations, and they are hostile! If you stay here, you're jeopardizing your life. I won't stop you, of course, but this is a big risk you're taking.
Officer Jenkins:
I understand, sir.
Police Commissioner:
We'll be back soon. Don't be a hero.
As the police cars drove off, there were five green beings alive. They strung a red one up, and a black one rose from the night and killed another green. The next day, they hung another green, and the black finished off the last green during the night. Officer Jenkins smiled.
Officer Jenkins:
Gotcha, fucker.
He fired three shots into the thing's head, but it did no more than turn, look at him, and smile. It charged at him as he emptied his clip into it; the next bullets did no more than the first.
Serial Killer:
Bulletproof.
Korts:
Fuck it is cold.
The angry mob rattles the tiny roof door. Flay is setting down shock collars all around the door so he can shock the first people who get through; everyone else is freezing their asses off at the other end of the roof.
Faraday:
If they get up here, are we supposed to jump?
xRECKONERx:
These guys are scummers, members of the community. I can't imagine that we're actually afraid of them killing us...
Mr. Flay:
Something is happening again. It isn't... normal. mith's disappeared to handle some business, and it isn't the usual kidnappings and killings. It's something far bigger than that. I think... we're meant to be destroyed here.
zoraster:
What do you mean?
Mr. Flay:
Well, it doesn't matter for us, right now. This sort of thing is out of our hand; this is dependent on the One. We are pawns with our lives in the balance of the man with all of the power. If he fails, Forum 62 will be destroyed, and who knows what effect that will have on the rest of things. Look at how insane that crowd is; imagine when they take their mob bloodlust somewhere else. I wonder if this will be The One?
Suddenly, there's a crash at the door. Mr. Flay sets off his shock collar triggers, which ends in silence. Vi stumbles over to the group, smiling.
Vi:
If you were wondering... 60. I got 60.
In the middle of all this mayhem, a door pops into existence, and Vifam steps through it. Everyone stops and looks at him.
Vifam:
Man, that mith guy is way too serious. I just wanted a Scummies ceremony that wasn't so uptight and shit.
CooLDoG:
I don't understand...
Timeater:
CD please don't do the morpheus stuff anymore...
CooLDoG:
Everything was done exactly as it was supposed to be done. The Prophecy was clear. Once the One started the Riot, the Scummies were supposed to be good again.
Umbrage:
COOLDOG. SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH THAT MORPHEUS SHIT. STOP.
Chevre:
We could have our own ceremony!
Vifam:
Man that would be mad chill...
Chevre:
Excellent idea! It could be called the Chill Ceremony!
Timeater:
That's pretty dumb but whatever.
Umbrage:
FUCK THAT SHIT
Another door opens into the auditorium, and the rioters herd themselves toward and through it...
Vifam:
And guess who wins the worst poster award...
CooLDoG:
Wait. Me, right?
Vifam:
No that's not...
CooLDoG:
And the first winner of the worst poster award in the Chill Ceremony is CooLDoG! I win!
Chevre:
That's wonderful! CooLDoG wins the first award of the Chill Ceremony!
Timeater:
Man this shit sucks.
