Post
Post #0 (isolation #0) » Thu Aug 09, 2012 4:13 am
Postby Oversoul »
Mafia in the Lounge
"Welcome to my little game," Martin continued "I hope you all find your seats comfortable. They along with these faces will be the last thing you see of the Lounge should you fail to achieve victory. Don't worry, though. Not everything is doom and gloom. Should you win, as I already explained, everything you'll ever need can be found inside the Lounge.
Are you ready to begin? I'd like to get this game started before this room becomes a smaller rendition of the smoke filled gallery through that door. We are of a different, more eccentric class in here and this game will be your first taste of what that eccentricity can do for you. First, can I offer you all a drink, anything that you'd like."
*sweat builds up on the brows of each man and woman listening, their hearts racing at the trap they've all stumbled into. Each guest casts nervous glances toward one another, for fear of the consequences of the game, or suspicion between each other only they know*
Last edited by Oversoul on Tue Aug 28, 2012 5:36 pm, edited 5 times in total.
Post
Post #2 (isolation #2) » Thu Aug 09, 2012 4:41 am
Postby Oversoul »
1.)
Be civil.
2.)
No talking outside the game about this game, unless your role PM allows otherwise.
3.)
No editing or deleting your own posts or another's posts.
4.)
No mod-quoting. Only paraphrase in your own words. You may quote from the sample role PM. As a corollary, do not impersonate the Mod.
5.)
This is a closed setup, which means the only roles you will know in advance are your own and that of any other player I mention in your role PM. All other role information is secret, including how many players with a certain role exist and even if the role exists in the first place.
6.)
Nights will last at least 48 hours, or until a replacement is found. Day One will last at most 2 weeks. Each other game Day will last at most one week. Exigent circumstances may result in an extension.
7.)
A lynch (or a No Lynch) takes a majority of votes. In other words, if 7 players are alive, it takes 4 votes to lynch. A majority is half the amount of living players rounded to the nearest whole number. If deadline is reached with no player having enough votes for a lynch, the day ends in an automatic No Lynch.
8.)
To vote, post a bolded
Vote: Oversoul
. To unvote, post a bolded
Unvote:
.
9.)
If you have a request, the fastest and preferred way to get ahold of me is by PM'ing me, but you may also communicate to me in thread if it is day or twilight and you are still alive. To do so, bold "Mod (or Oversoul):" followed by what you want to tell me, as in
Mod: Please prod Oversoul
or
Mod: Oversoul should have seven votes, not three.
Please use your judgment in whether or not what you want to tell me should be public knowledge before talking to me in the thread. In addition, I will not entertain questions regarding possible night actions, nor will I answer questions about a person's role unless you happen to be the person in question and you ask me privately.
10.)
I am not clairvoyant, omnipresent, or perfect. If I miss anything, please let me know in the game thread or through a Private Message.
11.)
My color for this game is
brown
. Do not use this color under any circumstances.
12.)
If you're dead, you are allowed one "Bah" post after your death. This "Bah" post must contain no information about the game or its contents. Any post after death containing information will be met with strict punishment.
13.)
After a lynch is reached, there is a brief period of twilight (from the time of lynch to the time I check the thread). You may talk during twilight, but you must adhere to the game's rules. No more votes will be counted after a lynch has been reached.
14.)
Do not use small text, invisible text, spoiler text, etc. All players should be able to read everything you say. As a corollary, do not constantly use CAPS LOCK, large text, colored text, etc. All players should be able to read everything you say without getting a headache.
15.)
I will issue a prod to any player that does not post for 72 hours without notifying me of his or her absence. If you are prodded, you will have 48 hours from the time of submission to post in thread. Failure to do so may result in replacement. I will only prod the same player twice after that, he or she must post every 72 hours to ensure that he or she remains in the game.
16.)
Discussing an ongoing game gets you a warning the first time and a
MODKILL
the second time.
17.)
I reserve the right to change or add to all game rules.
18.)
The most important rule of all, saved for last for what I think is a very good reason:
HAVE FUN!
Enjoy! And good luck!
Sample VT Role
Post here to confirm your role.
Flavor is just flavor. I tried to spice up your PMs a little bit so this wasn't just a cut and dry game. If you guys don't like it tell me and I won't waste time/delaying the flips writing up flavor. Although I was only planning on having a paragraph each flip.
Also, feel free to give input for the deadline. Currently the deadline is set for two weeks after 5/7 of the players have confirmed their role PMs with each night lasting only 48 hours and each subsequent day having a week long deadline. An alternative to those deadlines is a flat 10 day deadline for each day with 48 hour nights. Which would you guys prefer?
Post
Post #15 (isolation #3) » Thu Aug 09, 2012 7:01 am
Postby Oversoul »
Vote Count 1.0
With 7 alive, it takes 4 to lynch
Not Voting (7): Hyperion, Ser Arthur Dayne, mykonian, vendetta21, Empking, Knight of Cydonia, CryMeARiver
Deadline is August 19, 2012 at 2:00 PM EST
Countdown (expired on 2012-08-19 13:00:00)
Deadline is tentatively set for flat 10 day long game Days. Speak up if you want the 2 week first Day, 1 week subsequent days. Majority (4) rules will determine game day length.
Post
Post #71 (isolation #6) » Sat Aug 11, 2012 7:10 am
Postby Oversoul »
Vote Count 1.2
CryMeARiver (2): mykonian, Empking
Hyperion (1): Ser Arthur Dayne
With 7 alive, it takes 4 to lynch
Not Voting (4): Hyperion, vendetta21, Knight of Cydonia, CryMeARiver
Deadline is August 19, 2012 at 2:00 PM EST
Countdown (expired on 2012-08-19 13:00:00)
My lovely darlings, I will be away from the computer for 24 hours starting now. I will have access via my phone to lock the thread/answer questions, but a votecount in that time will be less likely.
Last edited by Oversoul on Sun Aug 12, 2012 9:03 am, edited 1 time in total.
Post
Post #129 (isolation #12) » Sat Aug 18, 2012 3:28 pm
Postby Oversoul »
"An end to the day so quickly," Martin questioned. It was true. While their game stretched into the hours, a consensus was reached rather quickly and left one guest wondering how his peers had turned against him. Each guest in the Lounge grew restless. They all wanted access to this exclusive club. They all wanted to reap the benefits that Martin promised. The desire to become part of the elite clouded their vision and spurred them into irrational thinking.
"Such a sad state of affairs when greed and power corrupt the very morals you were taught at such a young age." Martin commented. "A man, more quiet than you would have liked, is a criminal? Is he one of them? I'm sure you're all wondering the same questions. Well, some of you at least. And the answer?
Unfortunately one you won't like."
CryMeARiver, Augusto Paldilno,
1-Shot Jailkeeper
, has been lynched Day 1!
Night 1 ends Monday, August 20th at 11:00 PM EST.
Working with someone to replace in, depending on their schedule 24 hours might be added to the night.
Last edited by Oversoul on Tue Aug 28, 2012 5:21 am, edited 2 times in total.
Post
Post #131 (isolation #14) » Mon Aug 20, 2012 5:30 pm
Postby Oversoul »
"I will now warp your heads in a silk scarf, so as to prevent any cheating. Notice the texture, the color, the smoothness of the fabric. This and more can all be yours if you just persevere and win this game. The perennial luxuries in your life, just outside the reach of your grasp, the ones that only last a fleeting moment - those are your rewards. I have unlimited access to these commodities. While they are like shifting sand that escapes your fingers, they hold fast between mine."
*Martin's voice trails off as he walks across the room. You hear him whisper something and then the band starts to play a melodious song. Faint whispers can still be heard, but their origin is untraceable.*
"The power that this room, via its secrecy and those who populate it is unfathomable for the common man. I know each one of you has the necessary skills. What I don't know is whether you will use those skills. This game is not meant to be punishment, it is meant to be a test. Only the most apt will be allowed to stay. All others will be exiled."
*Martin's speech abruptly stops. He whispers something and the music suddenly stops. He asks everyone to remove their scarves.*
"Maybe you can all breathe easier now." he laughs.
No one has died Night 1.
Vote Count 2.0
With 6 alive, it takes 4 to lynch
Not Voting (6): Farside22, Hyperion, Ser Arthur Dayne, Knight of Cydonia, mykonian, Empking
Deadline is August 31, 2012 at 11:00 PM EST
Countdown (expired on 2012-08-31 23:00:00)
Last edited by Oversoul on Tue Aug 28, 2012 5:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
Post
Post #179 (isolation #18) » Fri Aug 24, 2012 6:09 pm
Postby Oversoul »
Conversing with external mods on appropriate action for Hyperion and SAD. Personally, I am leaning on letting them stay in the game but given the deadline I see the problem.
Alternatively, a deadline extension can be given (3-5 days).
Knight of Cyodonia prodded. I will remind everyone that he has leukemia and is undergoing chemo.
Last edited by Oversoul on Mon Aug 27, 2012 3:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Post
Post #207 (isolation #22) » Tue Aug 28, 2012 5:36 am
Postby Oversoul »
"Another not fit to be here? I see. I'm sorry this could not go on any longer, but everyone has spoken. All of you were given a simple task - to win. While not everyone will win this game, there will be victors. I hope my game does not leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth, I only recently just mentioned your luxuries being sand, and it seems that this room is sand as well. It seems as though some had their way this game, while others simply could not tolerate the questioning and suspicion. I guess randomly choosing is not the best way to choose an assembly for my devious little game.
I was looking forward to befriending everyone, sharing what I have. It gets quite lonely in here and my personality is not exactly a magnet. Unfortunatlely, one more must be cast out before everything is all said and done."
Post
Post #208 (isolation #23) » Tue Aug 28, 2012 5:21 pm
Postby Oversoul »
"Here's the deal, my little darlings. Two of you will be granted access, the rest of you will not. The game was designed to test your skills and prove that you deserved to be here. Only two of you answered this call. Like the others already ejected from the Lounge, you will now follow suit while I have a nice little soiree with my new guests, and my new friends. You might see us on the streets, and you might remember who we are, but for now, take in these last moments. Remember the red walls, the music, the chandelier, and the music. Remember the faces of those who graced the plush cushions. Remember the ordeals you all went through. I may not have given you refuge inside the Lounge, but hopefully you've forged something better inside yourself.
I'm not going to kill you. That would be barbaric and old fashioned. Instead, I am going to give you a little purple brew. This brew has really changed my life since I accidentally discovered it so many years ago. It was the key and my gateway to a more prosperous life. Now, I am not saying that my life was free from entanglements or is necessarily even pure in its past, but what I am saying is that it has helped me. Hopefully the skills you learned here will allow you to create something with your life just as my little accident gave me all this. I don't even know why I am telling you this since you won't remember it in the morning. But if there is some infinitesimal chance that a neuron retains this memory, that you don't completely lose these thoughts, I wish you luck."
*Martin raised the glass just as the the band forced the guests to drink the shot of the mysterious purple concoction.*
"And for you two... Welcome."
farside22, Catherine Alvey,
Vanilla Townie
, has been endgamed Night 2!
Knight of Cyodonia, Joseph Whitle,
Vanilla Townie
, has been endgamed Night 2!
Empking, Dorian Emers,
Post
Post #209 (isolation #24) » Tue Aug 28, 2012 5:35 pm
Postby Oversoul »
Spoiler: Role PMs
Role PMs
vendetta21 wrote:
*
You notice a little slip of paper tucked under your drink. It reads:
*
*
A private party sounds horrible. Although your time out can't get much worse than it already is. No one has bothered to visit you table and you have already seen this show with your sister. You see that no one else has gotten up, and decide to endure the final acts of boredom when a woman stands up. You focus your gaze in her direction. Does she have the paper? Is she holding a key? She certainly decided to get up at an odd time. Maybe she has to go to the bathroom. Is anyone sitting at her table? Why is she bringing her belongings? She's leaving. You see her direction twist towards the burgundy door. She's going to the party! You strain your neck to get a better view twisting in your chair while simultaneously pulling your dress down. You think to yourself about your poor decision to wear such a short dress in public. Only vulgar people care about vanity you mumble under your breath.
Someone begins to move in the corner of your eye. A man with a suade coat! Is he coming to my table to talk or is he leaving as well? You notice a piece of paper at his table as well before a waiter obscures your vision. He is going to the party! I have to go now. Maybe they took all the people who have seen this show before. You quickly gather your things and apply a fresh coat of lipstick. You look at your reflection in your glass of wine and push up your hair. You'll need more pins the next time you go out, or to at least not move so much. The man has already begun walking to the door when you decide to almost jog over there. Your feet making a loud noise as your heels hammer the floor. You feel embarassed at the scene you are creating when you finally reach salvation at the door. The man is in your way and you desperately wish to be release from the crowd's imperial stare. You've surely ruined their show with your commotion. You raise your key to the man in the suade and he calmy opens his palm to disclose his own key. He puts the key and enters before you, such a gentleman you think as you shoot him a glare. Finally, you're in the Lounge.
*
*
As you enter the room, a man takes your coat and ushers you to the sitting area. As you sit down, the scent of a cigar from a bandplayer flows into your nostril. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room casting a soft glow to each corner of the Lounge. A bartender waits resting his body on his hands as he prepares himself mentally for the rush of drinks. The dealer at the Poker table sits with his hands on the table, reading glasses on his head, waiting to deal. The walls of the Lounge are painted red and depict a scene from a garden. Ornate columns line the walls every ten feet, their curvature mesmerizing.
Once everyone has taken a seat, a man enters the room from a door next to the bartender. He is wearing a dark red jacket punctuated by gold buttons and gold cufflinks. His starch white shite underneath is pleated and recently cleaned. His black slacks fall to his feet wherein his shoes shine under the golden chandelier. He must be the host of the Lounge. His dress is unlike any other native to the room.
"Greetings, my guests. I am your host, Martin Pel," he says with audible certainty. "You all must be wondering why I invited you specifically, and really there is no answer. You all were chosen randomly. Your glasses marked before you even stepped foot in the Backroom."
"The Lounge is an exclusive club controlled by secrecy. Only the most sophisticated people know of its existence. It exists as an escape from the outside world, for whatever reason you see fit. But in order to officially gain access to the club and use its amneities, you must first play a little game that I like to call Mafia."
"On the underside of each chair is a little note similar to the one that was under your drink in the Backroom. On this note you will be given your role and any abilities if you have any as well as your goal to winning the game. I must warn you, though. This game is unlike any other you may have played. Losing this game carries dire consequences. I will be moderating this game to make sure none of you try and break my rules or choose not to play. Afterall, we are here to enjoy ourselves. So please, relax and play."
*
Empking wrote:
*
You notice a little slip of paper tucked under your drink. It reads:
*
*
Why did you even agree to come to this place? The show is boring. The drinks taste horrible. The food was mediocre and half the audience is smoking. The music is tinny and everyone is keeping to themselves. You really like Cindy, but if she keeps making you go to these places you don't know if you can handle the relationship anymore. This little note could give you enjoyment. Should you ask Cindy if she wants to come? No, she is talking to all her friends and ignoring you. You might as well sleep through the entire show for all you care. The socialization here is smoke a cigarette, listen to music, watch a show, drink and eat. No dancing, no talking with other tables, no interaction with other humans. What kind of place is the Backroom touting to be? I can see other people have already left and even more are getting up now. Or are they leaving? The woman with the blonde her flew to that door as if her life depended on it.
You watch the woman with the cigarette make her way to the door preceeded by the older man who fumbled with the handle. You should probably head over to the door now. Simultaneously, a man directly across from you leaves his table and stares at you. He has light brown hair and dark eyes. His skin is tan and his stride large. Looking at the man altogether you size him up to be six foot five. He has a green tie on and a belt buckle that curves upward towards his bellybutton. You scratch your face at what to do before quickly saying to Cindy that you have to use the bathroom. You rub your hand across the stubble of your chin and approach the door. The man silently walking with you before opening the door and entering.
*
*
As you enter the room, a man takes your coat and ushers you to the sitting area. As you sit down, the scent of a cigar from a bandplayer flows into your nostril. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room casting a soft glow to each corner of the Lounge. A bartender waits resting his body on his hands as he prepares himself mentally for the rush of drinks. The dealer at the Poker table sits with his hands on the table, reading glasses on his head, waiting to deal. The walls of the Lounge are painted red and depict a scene from a garden. Ornate columns line the walls every ten feet, their curvature mesmerizing.
Once everyone has taken a seat, a man enters the room from a door next to the bartender. He is wearing a dark red jacket punctuated by gold buttons and gold cufflinks. His starch white shite underneath is pleated and recently cleaned. His black slacks fall to his feet wherein his shoes shine under the golden chandelier. He must be the host of the Lounge. His dress is unlike any other native to the room.
"Greetings, my guests. I am your host, Martin Pel," he says with audible certainty. "You all must be wondering why I invited you specifically, and really there is no answer. You all were chosen randomly. Your glasses marked before you even stepped foot in the Backroom."
"The Lounge is an exclusive club controlled by secrecy. Only the most sophisticated people know of its existence. It exists as an escape from the outside world, for whatever reason you see fit. But in order to officially gain access to the club and use its amneities, you must first play a little game that I like to call Mafia."
"On the underside of each chair is a little note similar to the one that was under your drink in the Backroom. On this note you will be given your role and any abilities if you have any as well as your goal to winning the game. I must warn you, though. This game is unlike any other you may have played. Losing this game carries dire consequences. I will be moderating this game to make sure none of you try and break my rules or choose not to play. Afterall, we are here to enjoy ourselves. So please, relax and play."
*
mykonian wrote:
*
You notice a little slip of paper tucked under your drink. It reads:
*
*
What is this you ask yourself. An invitation only party, and you are specifically invited? Perhaps this is your lucky day. You've only been to this place a thousand times and still have yet to successfully woo a single gal. You adjust yourself in your seat to get a better view of the smoke filled room. Despite being in such good health you have trouble seeing everything, the dim lights combined with the smoke from the cigarettes blurs your vision. You can barely even make out the burgundy door closest to you due to your location in the back of the room. Just as you decide to order another drink a woman stands up and begins to make her way across the room. A beautiful blonde next to you begins to fidget. The woman's hair is in a bun and with each step your minx coat floats slightly in the air. You wonder where she is going until you realize the direction she is headed. She must have been invited to the party as well. By this time the waiter has arrived at your location, and you apologize for the inconvenience, but you leave the table. The blonde is also packing her things, despite her beauty she was surely not invited to the party as well. You both sat so close to each other, how would that not have come up as a conversation? The woman with the bun has already stepped inside just as a waiter blocks your path. You see the blonde is now clearly walking towards the burgundy door and begin to worry if there is a capacity limit. Hastily you squeeze past the waiter and reach the door just as the other woman grabs your shoulder. She has big red lips and golden blonde hair. Her skin is light and her teeth white. She is wearing a red dresse that ends half way between her knee and her hip. You ask her what she is doing here and she asks you the same thing holding up a key. You sneak a glance at the key and realize she is invited to the party as well. Maybe now you'll finally find a girl.
*
*
As you enter the room, a man takes your coat and ushers you to the sitting area. As you sit down, the scent of a cigar from a bandplayer flows into your nostril. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room casting a soft glow to each corner of the Lounge. A bartender waits resting his body on his hands as he prepares himself mentally for the rush of drinks. The dealer at the Poker table sits with his hands on the table, reading glasses on his head, waiting to deal. The walls of the Lounge are painted red and depict a scene from a garden. Ornate columns line the walls every ten feet, their curvature mesmerizing.
Once everyone has taken a seat, a man enters the room from a door next to the bartender. He is wearing a dark red jacket punctuated by gold buttons and gold cufflinks. His starch white shite underneath is pleated and recently cleaned. His black slacks fall to his feet wherein his shoes shine under the golden chandelier. He must be the host of the Lounge. His dress is unlike any other native to the room.
"Greetings, my guests. I am your host, Martin Pel," he says with audible certainty. "You all must be wondering why I invited you specifically, and really there is no answer. You all were chosen randomly. Your glasses marked before you even stepped foot in the Backroom."
"The Lounge is an exclusive club controlled by secrecy. Only the most sophisticated people know of its existence. It exists as an escape from the outside world, for whatever reason you see fit. But in order to officially gain access to the club and use its amneities, you must first play a little game that I like to call Mafia."
"On the underside of each chair is a little note similar to the one that was under your drink in the Backroom. On this note you will be given your role and any abilities if you have any as well as your goal to winning the game. I must warn you, though. This game is unlike any other you may have played. Losing this game carries dire consequences. I will be moderating this game to make sure none of you try and break my rules or choose not to play. Afterall, we are here to enjoy ourselves. So please, relax and play."
*
Hyperion wrote:
*
You notice a little slip of paper tucked under your drink. It reads:
*
*
You read the note several times over, had several sips of water and you are now turning red from pinching your leg so many times. This was not a dream. Someone, perhaps the manager, has invited you to a party. Maybe your looks, or your style, or you personality? Whatever the reason, you are going to this party. You stand up and adjust your dress, reposition your bun and drape your coat over your shoulders. No one else has gotten up, has the party already started? Is this a sham or a cruel joke? All these questions will be answered once you open that burgundy door and you decide to cross the room in front of everyone. The key seems unusually light and particularly shiny, as if it was made out of a precious metal. Has this mystery host really spared no expense to create what seems like a gold key? You decide bite key to find its authenticity later, when no one is watching you after interrupting their leisure. You just hope you are not late to this party.
*
*
As you enter the room, a man takes your coat and ushers you to the sitting area. As you sit down, the scent of a cigar from a bandplayer flows into your nostril. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room casting a soft glow to each corner of the Lounge. A bartender waits resting his body on his hands as he prepares himself mentally for the rush of drinks. The dealer at the Poker table sits with his hands on the table, reading glasses on his head, waiting to deal. The walls of the Lounge are painted red and depict a scene from a garden. Ornate columns line the walls every ten feet, their curvature mesmerizing.
Once everyone has taken a seat, a man enters the room from a door next to the bartender. He is wearing a dark red jacket punctuated by gold buttons and gold cufflinks. His starch white shite underneath is pleated and recently cleaned. His black slacks fall to his feet wherein his shoes shine under the golden chandelier. He must be the host of the Lounge. His dress is unlike any other native to the room.
"Greetings, my guests. I am your host, Martin Pel," he says with audible certainty. "You all must be wondering why I invited you specifically, and really there is no answer. You all were chosen randomly. Your glasses marked before you even stepped foot in the Backroom."
"The Lounge is an exclusive club controlled by secrecy. Only the most sophisticated people know of its existence. It exists as an escape from the outside world, for whatever reason you see fit. But in order to officially gain access to the club and use its amneities, you must first play a little game that I like to call Mafia."
"On the underside of each chair is a little note similar to the one that was under your drink in the Backroom. On this note you will be given your role and any abilities if you have any as well as your goal to winning the game. I must warn you, though. This game is unlike any other you may have played. Losing this game carries dire consequences. I will be moderating this game to make sure none of you try and break my rules or choose not to play. Afterall, we are here to enjoy ourselves. So please, relax and play."
*
Knight of Cydonia wrote:
*
You notice a little slip of paper tucked under your drink. It reads:
*
*
You take one last swig of your whiskey before wiping your mouth with your handkerchief. You smooth back your hair and clear your throat with a hearty cough. You haven't been to a social gathering like this in a long time. Then to be invited for a private party on top of that socializing. Things must be changing, or you must be getting old. Maybe both. Parties were meant to bring people closer, to have fun. Not to alienate or create cliques. You realize you hate exclusivity, but you are still drawn to the party like a butterfly to a flower's nectar. You don't know who will be at this party, whether it will be grungy or high class. You get up and wipe your pants of crumbs from your croissant. You put on your coat and securely tuck your favorite handkerchief into the pocket. You notice that a woman has already arrived at the door and you wonder whether she is hosting the party. You see a man and a woman race each other to the door only to quietly bicker as the audience starts to stare. You make your way around the edge of the room so as not to disturb the other guests from their show although secretly you don't want more people to realize they are being excluded. You get to the burgundy door quickly and struggle opening the door your hand missing the slot three times before you successfully insert the key. A satisfying clunk of metal greets you as you twist the key and open the door, warm air rushes into the room behind you as you step into the golden aura.
*
*
As you enter the room, a man takes your coat and ushers you to the sitting area. As you sit down, the scent of a cigar from a bandplayer flows into your nostril. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room casting a soft glow to each corner of the Lounge. A bartender waits resting his body on his hands as he prepares himself mentally for the rush of drinks. The dealer at the Poker table sits with his hands on the table, reading glasses on his head, waiting to deal. The walls of the Lounge are painted red and depict a scene from a garden. Ornate columns line the walls every ten feet, their curvature mesmerizing.
Once everyone has taken a seat, a man enters the room from a door next to the bartender. He is wearing a dark red jacket punctuated by gold buttons and gold cufflinks. His starch white shite underneath is pleated and recently cleaned. His black slacks fall to his feet wherein his shoes shine under the golden chandelier. He must be the host of the Lounge. His dress is unlike any other native to the room.
"Greetings, my guests. I am your host, Martin Pel," he says with audible certainty. "You all must be wondering why I invited you specifically, and really there is no answer. You all were chosen randomly. Your glasses marked before you even stepped foot in the Backroom."
"The Lounge is an exclusive club controlled by secrecy. Only the most sophisticated people know of its existence. It exists as an escape from the outside world, for whatever reason you see fit. But in order to officially gain access to the club and use its amneities, you must first play a little game that I like to call Mafia."
"On the underside of each chair is a little note similar to the one that was under your drink in the Backroom. On this note you will be given your role and any abilities if you have any as well as your goal to winning the game. I must warn you, though. This game is unlike any other you may have played. Losing this game carries dire consequences. I will be moderating this game to make sure none of you try and break my rules or choose not to play. Afterall, we are here to enjoy ourselves. So please, relax and play."
*
CryMeARiver wrote:
*
You notice a little slip of paper tucked under your drink. It reads:
*
*
One by one you watch other patrons slowly rise out of their seats and move toward the two doors. A woman in a minx coat and her hair in a bun is the first to unlock the door glancing to her side to see if anyone is watching her. Her white gloves polishing the handle as she opens the door. A young man with a suade jacket quickly followed by a blonde with full red lips and sickly sweet perfume enters the room next, holds the door open for the blonde after a brief flash of her key. Another man, older with graying hair and broad shoulders stands up tucking away his handkerchief into his coat pocket. He quickly makes his way to the burgundy door and after struggling with the key, enters the room. A dark haired woman with dark eyes and a teal cigarette holder picks up her purse, briefly inhales deeply igniting the cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke from her half open mouth. She kisses the man next to her, says goodbye to everyone at the table squishes the cigarette into a glass ash tray and then picks up her purse to head for the door. She too opens a burgundy door and closes the door behind her. You stand up readying yourself for the awkward stroll across the room. Other guests are beginning to stare and the band members have softened their tunes. A bartender cleans a glass only glancing up to see why the music has suddenly dimmed. He stares at you and another man who just stood up from the table infront of you. He has hazel eyes and a mole on his chin with dark brown stuble growing in on his face. He acknowledges your presence and you quicken your pace. He matches your pace and meets you at the door, both holding up your key and the note you decide to enter the room at the same time.
*
*
As you enter the room, a man takes your coat and ushers you to the sitting area. As you sit down, the scent of a cigar from a bandplayer flows into your nostril. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room casting a soft glow to each corner of the Lounge. A bartender waits resting his body on his hands as he prepares himself mentally for the rush of drinks. The dealer at the Poker table sits with his hands on the table, reading glasses on his head, waiting to deal. The walls of the Lounge are painted red and depict a scene from a garden. Ornate columns line the walls every ten feet, their curvature mesmerizing.
Once everyone has taken a seat, a man enters the room from a door next to the bartender. He is wearing a dark red jacket punctuated by gold buttons and gold cufflinks. His starch white shite underneath is pleated and recently cleaned. His black slacks fall to his feet wherein his shoes shine under the golden chandelier. He must be the host of the Lounge. His dress is unlike any other native to the room.
"Greetings, my guests. I am your host, Martin Pel," he says with audible certainty. "You all must be wondering why I invited you specifically, and really there is no answer. You all were chosen randomly. Your glasses marked before you even stepped foot in the Backroom."
"The Lounge is an exclusive club controlled by secrecy. Only the most sophisticated people know of its existence. It exists as an escape from the outside world, for whatever reason you see fit. But in order to officially gain access to the club and use its amneities, you must first play a little game that I like to call Mafia."
"On the underside of each chair is a little note similar to the one that was under your drink in the Backroom. On this note you will be given your role and any abilities if you have any as well as your goal to winning the game. I must warn you, though. This game is unlike any other you may have played. Losing this game carries dire consequences. I will be moderating this game to make sure none of you try and break my rules or choose not to play. Afterall, we are here to enjoy ourselves. So please, relax and play."
*
Ser Arthur Dayne wrote:
*
You notice a little slip of paper tucked under your drink. It reads:
*
*
You put your drink down slowly while you digest the information about the party. You slowly turn your head to your view your friends' glasses. None of them have any visible sign of the note. Does John? You quickly turn around and look at John's glass, lifting it up when he asks why are you doing that. You cover yourself by taking a gulp of his wine and some other ungodly alcohol. You can barely restrain the tears that are forming due to the burning sensation in the back of your throat. He mentions that was Wine and Vodka. You nearly slap him for mixing such a disgusting drink but you can't help but cherish his concerned smile when he asks if you need to go to the bathroom. An escape, you thought. You suck on the cigarette one more time before devising an excuse to leave. You have already planned with John that you need to leave early to visit your mother and your father, but you weren't planning on leaving this early. You swing around, finish your drink, and back your gloves into your purse along with an extra cigarette that John has lent you. Secretly, you take his matchbook and push it to the bottom of your purse.
You burn the cigarette down to its end letting the smoke billow out of your mouth, obscuring your vision of the door. You had already noticed several others left for the burgundy door and you didn't want to miss out on any of the exclusivity. You put the teal holder into your purse and say your adieus. You kiss John and tell him you will meet up with him later for dinner, but now you must really be going. You walk with confidence and strength, slightly showing a grin. You cannot wait to see what type of entertainment is inside the room. The show was good, yet you never felt completely enthralled. You put on your gloves as you walk across the room and take the key out of your purse. You slowly twist the knob and open the door to the delightful smell of a lovely cigar.*
*
As you enter the room, a man takes your coat and ushers you to the sitting area. As you sit down, the scent of a cigar from a bandplayer flows into your nostril. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room casting a soft glow to each corner of the Lounge. A bartender waits resting his body on his hands as he prepares himself mentally for the rush of drinks. The dealer at the Poker table sits with his hands on the table, reading glasses on his head, waiting to deal. The walls of the Lounge are painted red and depict a scene from a garden. Ornate columns line the walls every ten feet, their curvature mesmerizing.
Once everyone has taken a seat, a man enters the room from a door next to the bartender. He is wearing a dark red jacket punctuated by gold buttons and gold cufflinks. His starch white shite underneath is pleated and recently cleaned. His black slacks fall to his feet wherein his shoes shine under the golden chandelier. He must be the host of the Lounge. His dress is unlike any other native to the room.
"Greetings, my guests. I am your host, Martin Pel," he says with audible certainty. "You all must be wondering why I invited you specifically, and really there is no answer. You all were chosen randomly. Your glasses marked before you even stepped foot in the Backroom."
"The Lounge is an exclusive club controlled by secrecy. Only the most sophisticated people know of its existence. It exists as an escape from the outside world, for whatever reason you see fit. But in order to officially gain access to the club and use its amneities, you must first play a little game that I like to call Mafia."
"On the underside of each chair is a little note similar to the one that was under your drink in the Backroom. On this note you will be given your role and any abilities if you have any as well as your goal to winning the game. I must warn you, though. This game is unlike any other you may have played. Losing this game carries dire consequences. I will be moderating this game to make sure none of you try and break my rules or choose not to play. Afterall, we are here to enjoy ourselves. So please, relax and play."
*
Night Actions
Night 1 - Mafia No kill
Thoughts
- Well, this game did not end at all like I expected it to end. First, I was surprised at the number of first time college students, myself included, that would be affected by this game. I am not blaming any of their absences, or their play in particular, but the fact that many players had to go on extended V/LAs because of that really hurt the town. It allowed the scum to push for compromise lynches that really did not have any strong basis for the lynch. With a game this small, any sort of compromise lynch that lands on town is very devastating.
I expected the scum to be hampered by the fact that they couldn't kill who they wanted to kill, but in reality they did not need to kill anyone to achieve this victory which is very surprising and probably an ironic commentary on my setup making skills. I didn't want to give the Mafia Power roles, ever in a game like this and intended it to rely more on skill with the chance for catching a scum if the sole power role was used correctly. However, the town suffered from trying to outguess the mod and ended up losing their only power role.
I don't really know what I could do more that would balance this setup. I definitely felt any unlimited roles would be overpowered against the mafia and I am curious as to why others thought the contrary. I invite criticism and feedback on the setup if any of you want to.
A big thank you to farside22, who despite many difficult situations was able to make time for this game. I truly appreciate the fact that you did this for me. Also, congratulations on being the best scumhunter in the town. Had you had more time, and had your life been less crazy, I am fairly sure that this game would have ended in a town win or at the very least gone to 3p LyLo.
I wanted to counteract the common mountainous problem of killing off the best players in a "race to the bottom" with the restriction on their Nightkill. Llamafluff and Cogito Ergo Sum gave me the inspiration to try their mechanic out. I still don't know how well it fairs in my own experience. Looking at their games, though, it decently did its job.
Well, I have to go right now and I'll leave you guys with the QTs as well as bitterness given the full setup. I really did try to make it balanced guys.
Post
Post #219 (isolation #27) » Wed Aug 29, 2012 11:52 am
Postby Oversoul »
In post 213, mykonian wrote:being able to kill only 2 of the possible 5 townies (because as scum you are going to make damn sure you get enough posts to avoid getting only one option) isn't as hurtful here as it would be in a larger game. Further, it was no lie that a one shot JK doesn't belong in a 7p. It's way too weak. Getting into this night I kinda expected at least 2 more powerroles to sit in the town. You have to have some overpowered actions to counteract that in 60% of the games town is sitting in a 5p lylo day 2 (which is very hard to win). 7p's are from the start really really scumsided, and a one shot JK is just not up for the job.
Further, even if you don't consider the above, having a 1 shot JK in a game with just two nights, because a full JK would be overpowered is a bit silly. A JK isn't a cop, and it would at most ever make one confirmed townie and be only useful in a limited amount of cases.
My response to this is that I overestimated town's ability to lynch scum. Welp. My thought process was that since scum can't make ideal kills they will have to rely on Dayplay to get them through the game, giving town that extra buffer in a way to preserve good townies.
The general town apathy is really what gave the game to the scum in my opinion more so than any imbalance in terms of roles. Look at if Farside had been in the game from the very start. I am very certain in that iteration it would have played much more like I envisioned since scum would have been forced to leave her in the game.
I am going into theoretical assumptions here, but honestly giving town more power roles in this particular game would most likely have done nothing. The scum were under very little pressure until Farside replaced in and realistically, what kind of power role can you even add into this game?
Investigative roles swing this matchup too much in town's favor. More protective roles could have made it into this setup but even then they have such a high chance of failure. I guess a BP townie would have helped things.
I had a lot different expectations of how days would play out in this game. I expected the JK to create 2 confirmed townies (or at least have the potential to create 2 confirmed townies) in itself and a person it protected the night there was a kill + only 1 member remaining.
I wanted to emphasize day play in this game, but I guess that colored my view into drastically screwing the town and I am sorry for that.
I am not claiming this setup is perfect, far from it. But I don't think it was absolutely horrid.
In post 214, Ser Arthur Dayne wrote:And limiting nightkills to only 2/5 doesn't really do much either. Esp when you can just no kill.
If the mafia buddy up, even just a little subtly, they can pretty much take over town.
This is probably the biggest failing in my reasoning for the balance of the setup.
