The Scummies, 2011... Live! (ish)

[mith]

Mr. Flay:

We've had a lot of fun tonight, but we would be remiss if we did not mention the recent tragedies. We all know where we were when it happened. I personally was taking a bath with my armada of rubber duckies while wearing wizard's robes made of bubbles. Admiral Splashworth and I were making plans to invade the Foam Continent when I felt a disturbance in the tubes... As if millions of posts suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I ran to my computer in the nude save for a foamy wizard's hat and saw that mafiascum had been invaded by tigers. I'm sure we all have our own personal stories of posts lost and so I would like us to take a moment and reflect on those posts that could not be with us today. Scores of games lost entirely and literally five or six worthwhile posts in Forum 62 ceased to be. Let us take a moment and remember the cost of letting our guard down to tigers. Constant vigilance.

Mr. Flay cries silently for about thirty seconds.

Mr. Flay:

Never forgive. Never forget. And now onto more awards!

[mith]

As the "hurry up and get on stage" music starts playing, SpyreX, Faraday, and xRECKONERx hustle out onto stage. Both Faraday and Reck are struggling to walk, clearly still intoxicated from the immense amounts of alcohol consumed earlier in the show. SpyreX gives the opening speech.

SpyreX:

Hello, ladies and germs! Thanks for your patience! We are finally at the FINAL awards block of the evening, so let's not waste any time!

He produces a group of envelopes, but before he can grab the first one, Faraday drunkenly jumps in front of him and snatches one. He rips it apart and opens it, leaning towards the microphone.

Faraday:

The winner of the

"Paragon of Mafia Hunters" Award for Best Mafia Catcher

is...

xRECKONERx

!

---

Fates Mafia

"There's no useful strategy to counter Reck in this game except to stay off his tunelling gun sights." - Kublai Khan

"If reck isn't the best player ever, you can kill me now" - TheLonging

---

Reck holds a hand to his chest in an extremely effeminate manner and begins fanning his tears away as Faraday gives him a big bro-hug. SpyreX just rolls his eyes and goes to grab the second envelope... but this time, Reck jumps in front of him and snatches it away to read it.

xRECKONERx:

The winner of the

"Don Corleone" Award for Most Cunning Manipulator

is...

Faraday

!

---

Mafia MetaMafia

"Faraday teaches a class every Wednesday night at 11 pm est on Skype. It's called 'Sexiness and Scum Tactics'. Be there." - Setael

"Just be careful, Faraday is outstanding as Town but truly masterful as scum" - Pine

---

Faraday begins leaping around in the air like some kind of wild baboon, shouting and screaming. Reck gives him a bro-five and the two begin to shout and yell together for their shared victory. SpyreX steps in front of them to try and maintain some kind of class, quickly opening the next envelope and reading it hastily.

SpyreX:

The winner of the

Best Performance Pro-Town Team

is...

animorpherv1, Hoppster, Iecerint, Katsuki, Mina, Parama, populartajo, UncertainKitten, xRECKONERx, and Zachrulez as the town of Psychic Mafia

!

---

Psychic Mafia

"Psychic cranked up the pressure on a smaller screwup and netted Ythill, of a perfect scum record, because of how he reacted to it. Even moreso, they not only managed to have strong personalities push against each other not delve into madness but they cleared swaths of town based on play early, early game. Thats a strong active town." - SpyreX

---

SpyreX watches Reck begin to cry like he had just won a million dollars. Faraday pulls him up off of the ground and begins to shout drunken words of wisdom at him, all of which just sounds like gibberish. SpyreX holds up his hands and puts the ceremony on pause.

SpyreX:

Now wait just one frickin' minute! Reck just so happens to give Faraday the award for Don Corleone, and Faraday just so happens to give Reck the award for Paragon? Then I open the next envelope and Reck wins again!?

Reck and Faraday just stare blankly at him.

SpyreX:

You two may want to act like you've had one too many Irish Carbombs, but I know you two. You're crafty bastards. You set all of this up, didn't you!? Sending AniX back in time, the drunken antics with DGB, the attempts on the lives of many people... this was all just one giant distraction so you two could switch your names in for winners of the big awards, ISN'T IT?

SpyreX begins to grow red with anger, so Faraday calmly steps up to the podium and pats SpyreX on the back. He grabs the next envelope and reads it aloud.

Faraday:

The winner of the

Best Performance Scum Group

is...

Thor665, SpyreX, vezopiraka, and Empking as the scum team of ASOIAF: Test of Faith

!

---

ASOIAF: Test of Faith

"The Mafia played a excellent game overall. The play of all four, the timing of the claims & the Thor\SpyreX minibus interaction throughout the game was great.

Overall, I think the faction that played the best won." - ooba

---

SpyreX's angry-red face suddenly becomes a sheepish grin of embarrassment. He holds his hands up and nods over towards Faraday and Reck as if to apologize. They're both too drunk to notice. Reck leans too far forward and just faceplants off of the stage and onto the hard concrete floor, shouting something about broken bones and blood. Faraday attempts to jump down and help him up, but winds up just busting his ass and injuring himself in a similar manner. Nobody notices either way. SpyreX, holding only one envelope now, opens it and reads it aloud.

SpyreX:

The winner of the

Award for Most Enjoyable Game

is...

AlamasterGM for DEFCON 2.0

!

---

DEFCON 2.0

"What an amazing game. I had so much fun, both alive and dead." - Percy

"Also, everything about this game was awesome Alm." - Jack

---

A polite round of applause on soundtrack goes up to congratulate the winners. SpyreX smiles politely into the camera, finally composing himself.

SpyreX:

Well... that's just about all for the show! We've got one last award to hand out, and none other than the man himself, mith, will be here to give it away! Right after this commercial break!

As the cameras begin to zoom out, it is obvious Faraday & Reck are being loaded onto stretchers to be hauled off to the hospital.

[mith]

Backstage, a half-furious, half-terrified Mr. Flay storms over to SpyreX.

Mr. Flay:

Why on earth did you promise them mith would be here?!? We don't know where he is! This is a disaster of epic proportions! What are we going to do?

SpyreX:

Hey, don't worry about! It'll be just fine... mith wouldn't skip out on an entire Scummies show, would he? It's like... his favorite thing or something.

Mr. Flay:

I thought

The Notebook

was his favorite thing.

SpyreX:

Well, second, then. Besides, what could possibly be more important than this?

As we cut to black, we catch a very brief glimpse of some shadowy - one might even say "mysterious" - figures lurking behind the two...

[mith]

[mith]

A long, long time ago (2009), at a Scummies far, far away, AniX is seen backstage in an undisclosed dark room. He looks around until he finds a small, shiny, metal box with a red LED display.

AniX:

This is it! Hehehe... At last, I'll settle this business with mith once and for all, with or without my unreliable supporters...

AniX finds a nearby box of tools and begins to tinker away with the box. After a few moments of overdramatic frenetic tinkering, he wipes the sweat away from his forehead and breathes a sigh of relief.

AniX:

Now to see if this works...

AniX flicks a couple of switches and a low, metallic hum comes to life. A small red LED on the top right hand corner of the box lights up as the whirr gets louder. Suddenly, the display flashes green, and after a quick crackle of static from the speaker, the machine speaks.

MafiaBot3000:

Hello, master.

AniX:

MafiaBot3000 - what is your directive?

MafiaBot3000:

To eliminate the one called 'mith'.

AniX smirks ear-to-ear.

AniX:

Excellent.

There's a clatter in the distance. AniX looks up and notices flashlight beams shining down the hallway. After shutting down MafiaBot3000, he quickly dives behind a stack of unassuming boxes in the corner of the dank room. Two men with flashlights appear and approach the hunk of metal.

[mith]

Scummer #1:

So, is this it?

Scummer #2:

I think so. Matches the description that mith gave us.

A name badge on the man’s chest identifies him as “Netopalis” – probably a pseudonym; Mafia players are fond of hiding their true identities. The other one is, apparently, “Yosarian2”. Netopalis is standing by a dressing table, staring at the box intently. Yosarian2 is sitting on the luxurious leather couch, scratching the stubble on his chin. He, too, seems transfixed by the machine, which stands in the centre of the available space, an unassuming, plastic, microwave sized device with an old speaker plugged into a hole on the back and an LCD display on the front. In all other respects, it is simply a black box.

Netopalis:

I suppose we turn it on, now? How do you do that, anyway?”

At this, the machine beeps and whirs to life.

MafiaBot3000:

Hello, gentlemen. I am MafiaBot3000.

As it speaks, it’s tone vaguely melodic and of indeterminate gender, the words flash across the LCD display before vanishing again. The two men, Yosarian2 having vacated his couch, are standing tensely alert and staring with wide eyes at the machine in front of them.

MafiaBot3000:

I am perfection. The final, end product of ten years of experimentation into mafia skills and algorithms, of data collected from a thousand games from the best and the brightest of the mafia playing community. I can detect a liar with 97% accuracy, can calculate the probability of a player being mafia to twenty three significant figures, come equipped with the latest in scumdar technology and am myself completely unreadable. And now, I am here, to replace you.

The machine stops as if to gather its thoughts while the two men gape at it as they try to understand exactly what is going on. It is Netopalis who reacts first, finally parsing his way to the end of MafiaBot’s speech.

Netopalis:

Wait, replace us? mith wants to replace us?!

MafiaBot3000:

mith? Oh, no. mith may have started my creation in motion, but... no, mith has no more idea of what’s coming than you do. He, too, will die.

Netopalis barely has time to glance at Yosarian2 before both collapse on the floor.

[mith]

Brandi:

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

The group of scummers in the waiting room spectacularly fail to pay any attention to the panicked screaming of the young woman accosting them. One looks up from his cards.

Shanba:

First day here?

Blinking in astonishment, she shakes her head then turns to run. SpyreX pushes some chips around idly on the table, then shoves his stack forwards a few inches.

SpyreX:

All in.

At that moment, a spider wielding a lightsaber bursts through the ceiling. It is duelling with a cloaked man whose face is covered with a flashing mask. One of the players at the table nods and waves.

JDodge:

Hi Kison.

The two exit through the front door, lightsabers still flashing rapidly.

Some more time passes. All of a sudden, the side of the room begins to whirr and pulse, and a blue police box can be seen pulsing in and out of vision, slowly gaining in opacity as it finishes travelling across the dark depths of time and space. The Doctor bursts out, spins once on his heel and then runs through the nearest door. A short while later he backs out through the same door, MafiaBot3000 facing him with a laser pistol. He has a small, alien looking device pointed at the beast.

The Doctor:

Stay back. Do you know who I am?!

MafiaBot3000:

You're the Doctor.

The bot swings 'round and fires a shot at the TARDIS, which whines, quivers and then disappears into itself.

The Doctor:

Geronimo?

The Doctor turns to run, but is quickly gunned down. Whistling nonchalantly, AniX steps over to The Doctor's not-yet-regenerating body, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a sonic screwdriver. Smiling triumphantly, he breaks it in half with his bare hands.

[mith]

MafiaBot3000 begins to morph. It grows arms and legs and marches out of the room and out to the main show.

AniX:

At long last! Our glorious plan will be set into motion when mith is eliminated! I will be witness to our great victory!

AniX darts out to the main stage after a few moments to watch mith's demise with his own eyes. AniX hides behind the stage curtain as mith finishes up his speech.

mith:

For once, it looks like we've made it through a ceremony without too many casualties, so I guess I'd better sign off before...

MafiaBot3000 storms out onto stage and begins to grow until he is two times the size of a normal man. MB3K stomps over to mith and extends an arm, clamping it around mith's throat and choking the life out of him. AniX's grin grows wider, wider, wider as mith's eyes flutter shut. He jumps in the air at mith's imminent demise and shouts:

AniX:

At long last! We will finally end the reign of the dictat--

Suddenly, there's a ripple in the space-time continuum, and a loud sound, as a blue police box begins to materialize just off stage. After a few brief moments, Feysal comes tumbling out of the door to the TARDIS. AniX sees him arrive and jumps to stop him, but Feysal ducks and rolls towards the stage. Out on the stage, petroleumjelly and charter have rushed the stage to save mith. Feysal pulls something out of his pocket.

AniX:

No! That's the--

Feysal:

--sonic screwdriver! You know it, [removed]!

AniX:

But... how?

Feysal:

Well, it's a fascinating, amazing, incredible story...

[mith]

Feysal begins flashing back to...

[mith]

Feysal:

Hey, wait a minute! You're just trying to distract me from my mission!

AniX:

Darn. I was sure that would work...

AniX tackles Feysal to the floor, grabbing his feet and holding him still. Unable to make it out to the stage himself, Feysal does his best to toss the sonic screwdriver all the way out to the main stage.

Luckily, charter picks it up in the nick of time and turns to blast MafiaBot3000. mith falls to the ground, gasping for air. AniX slams his fists on the ground and shouts.

AniX:

No! Dammit! So close!

Feysal turns back to AniX and approaches to apprehend him. AniX backs away, lighting up as if realizing that his opportunities to disrupt the timeline in his favor are limitless. He continues backing toward his own time machine until he runs into something unexpected. Turning around, he sees Tierce with her arms crossed. AniX looks for escape to the left and right, but Voidedmafia and Haylen block his away as well.

Feysal:

You're coming with us.

AniX:

But... I'm Lord 11th Hour! I can't be stopped so easily!

Feysal:

Pretty sure you can.

AniX:

Can't.

Feysal:

Can so.

AniX:

No!

Feysal:

There's no use acting like a baby about it. If it's any consolation, you almost had me with that flashback talk.

AniX:

Really? You mean it?

Feysal:

No, I'm just saying it to be nice.

AniX:

Oh. Well, it's the thought that counts.

Resigned to his fate, AniX allows himself to be led to the TARDIS... but not the one that just appeared.

AniX:

Didn't you come in that other one?

Tierce:

It'll make sense it a minute. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey, or something.

[mith]

Back at the 2012 Scummies, Feysal, Tierce, Voidedmafia, and Haylen are working tirelessly backstage to restore power to the fragile structure cobbled together from the explosion. Tierce is getting sleepy, but he continues plodding away at the data, until suddenly he sees something and is forced to stop and stand up in fear.

Tierce:

Hey, uh, guys? I just noticed something. There's a disturbance in the timeline...

Haylen:

A what?

Tierce:

You know how all the posts on the forum have timestamps?

Voidedmafia:

Yeah? So what?

Tierce:

One of them is

wrong

.

The other three gasp, loudly and dramatically. Their gasps tail off neatly into the sound of an appearing TARDIS. Their future-selves step out.

Present-Tierce:

Huh. Well, I hope this

obvious and blatant disregard for time travel protocol

isn't the cause.

Future-Feysal:

Don't worry, there's no paradox here. At least, as long as you follow our directions. Now, you'll need to take this TARDIS, and...

[mith]

Back on stage, Mr. Flay is still looking up at the big screen, watching this confusing resolution with a mostly dissatisfied audience. Flay himself finally seems pleased with things, however. Turning back to the microphone, he addresses them...

Mr. Flay:

It looks like everything is just about wrapped up here! No unresolved plot threads, all the awards have been given out...

[Unknown Voice That Hasn't Been Heard Since Before The Show Began]:

Not so fast, Mr. Flay... I believe I know of some... unfinished business...

The lights go out, except for a single spotlight which points to a balcony wear two mysterious figures are holding knives to the throat of a blindfolded JDodge.

[Other Unknown Voice]:

The people are always right...

Simultaneously, they slit JDodge's throat. Blood squirts out everywhere, splattering faces of the onlooking crowd below, who start to scream.

[UVTHBHSBTSB, Except For A Few Seconds Ago]:

We have been ignored for too long. Now, it is time...

[Other Unknown Voice]:

Time for what?

[UVTHBHSBTSEFAFSA, And The Time Before That]:

You know. Our evil plan.

[Other Unknown Voice]:

Oh. That.

They each reach inside their hooded cloaks to brandish a small box with a key, already inserted. They reach to turn the keys simultaneously... but are interrupted by a loud growl. The spotlight goes dark momentarily, as one of the voices screams, then the other. When the lights in the auditorium finally return, the crowd is astonished to find that the figures have vanished, leaving behind a majestic tiger, standing on the edge of the balcony with blood dripping from his mouth.

Mr. Flay:

Oh, gods...

The tiger leaps down to the ground floor aisle, and stalks up to the stage, Mr. Flay looking more and more terrified with each step. As the tiger leaps up onto the stage, the quite voice of a child says:

[Child]:

It's ok, mister, he won't hurt you.

Mr. Flay turns and discovers that he is being addressed by someone he has never met, but has only seen in one old, black-and-white photograph...

Mr. Flay:

...mith? Is it really you?

Eight-year-old mith:

Who's mith?

Mr. Flay:

Oh, er, right. Never mind. But... how? Why?

AniX:

It's a funny story...

Feysal and crew rush onto the stage...

Feysal:

I don't know how you got away, but you won't succeed this time either, AniX!

[Off-stage voice]:

Uh, guys? I'm still back here... Can you untie me now?

Feysal looks back in the direction he came, then back to the young mith and... oh.

mith:

This weird guy from the future came to visit me... twice. The first time, um, well, I don't really want to talk about. But the second time, he stopped a tiger from attacking me. Told both of us that there were bigger fish to fry. And then we all came here. Even this other guy calling himself "xyzzy", whatever that means.

Nothing happens.

mith:

So here we are. Saving the day, I guess. Oh, and I found this.

He hands the

"Name Should Be In Orange" Award

to

Feysal, Tierce, Voidedmafia, Haylen, and everyone else who helped out during the post-crash recovery effort

.

mith:

Someone told me you guys did a really got job save the site.

AniX:

I wasn't about to let some other group take over mafiascum, that's the destiny of the Eleventh Hour! Besides, the kid is kinda adorable.

mith:

You are so weird. Can I go home now?

The visitors from another time walk off-stage together, as Flay is joined by Kison at the podium.

Mr. Flay:

This show makes even less sense than usual. Oh well. At least everything is wrapped up in a nice, neat bow now. JDodge was finally killed, the mysterious fifth group was defeated...

Kison:

Yeah, I wonder who those guys were. I mean, we never found that out. Or what they were after. Or anything, really.

The crushing reality of the total lack of closure lands on Flay like a ton of bricks, and he crumples to his knees, raises his fists to the sky, and shouts:

Mr. Flay:

NOOOOOOOOOOO...

Fade to black...

[mith]

In an unknown, darkened room, there is total silence apart from the peck-peck-pecking of someone typing who never learned how to type correctly. The only light in the room is the dim glow of an old computer monitor. The figure typing is nearly unrecognizable, and clearly hasn't shaved - or bathed, for that matter - in weeks.

The typing finally stops, and the man at the computer lets out an exhausted sigh. He reaches for the mouse, clicks a few times, then stands and stretches as the printer comes to life.

mith:

Finally!

He looks at himself in the mirror, frowns, and heads off to the bathroom to tidy himself up while the printing continues. For several minutes, nothing is heard by the running water, the whirring pages, and the theme song from "The Notebook" as performed by a master whistler.

Eventually, the sound of the water is no longer heard, and a few minutes later and clean-shaven and smartly dressed mith emerges from the bathroom. The printer has stopped, and as he lifts the printed pages he sees that the printing is not complete, but instead he has run out of paper. He sets down the pages and digs through a cabinet to find a fresh unopened stash of 500 brilliant white pages, then resumes printing.

After several more minutes of bored silence, the printer stops again, this time finally complete. mith gathers all the pages together, lightly lifts them up and down as if checking the weight of the massive stack, and smiles. He grabs an already-packed suitcase, and heads to the door.

mith:

This is the greatest thing I have ever written... I can't wait until this year's...

He opens the door and is hit by a thick sheet of 95 degree air. Instinctively, he shields his eyes from the cruel Texas sun with the stack of paper and tentatively steps outside, already starting to sweat.

mith:

...Scummies show.

He looks around and sighs.

mith:

Fuck, what month is it?

[Xalxe]

Excuse me, has anybody seen the bits of my head? I'd like them back please, my pants have nowhere to go.

[Kublai Khan]

Mr. Flay:

This show makes even less sense than usual. Oh well. At least everything is wrapped up in a nice, neat bow now. JDodge was finally killed, the mysterious fifth group was defeated...

Kison:

Yeah, I wonder who those guys were. I mean, we never found that out. Or what they were after. Or anything, really.

The crushing reality of the total lack of closure lands on Flay like a ton of bricks, and he crumples to his knees, raises his fists to the sky, and shouts:

Mr. Flay:

NOOOOOOOOOOO...

Man our awards show is weird.. and awesome.

Congrats to all the winners (especially Reck), and good job all the writers and steerers!

[redFF]

This is amazing.

[Parama]

oh what

that got nominated

ummmmm

[kdowns]

Absolutely Amazing!

[xRECKONERx]

Mr. Flay:

This show makes even less sense than usual. Oh well. At least everything is wrapped up in a nice, neat bow now. JDodge was finally killed, the mysterious fifth group was defeated...

Kison:

Yeah, I wonder who those guys were. I mean, we never found that out. Or what they were after. Or anything, really.

The crushing reality of the total lack of closure lands on Flay like a ton of bricks, and he crumples to his knees, raises his fists to the sky, and shouts:

Mr. Flay:

NOOOOOOOOOOO...

Man our awards show is weird.. and awesome.

Congrats to all the winners (especially Reck), and good job all the writers and steerers!

Indeed. It's quite odd.

oh what

that got nominated

ummmmm

???

[animorpherv1]

o_0

I WON A SCUMMY. WHAT.

But seriously; why did Mish Mash not get a scummy this year?

[Parama]

I was not aware that psychic mafia even got nominated

umm... yay scummy?

it's not like I'm not an awful player now anyways

[animorpherv1]

it's not like I'm not an awful player now anyways

Say that for yourself.

[Parama]

uhh

what are you implying?

I really don't actually know :/

[SpyreX]

We've pushed the madness quotient up so high after this years we may need to drink the waters of Ryleh next year to top it.

Awesome show guys!

[animorpherv1]

uhh

what are you implying?

I really don't actually know :/

That I cannot play mafia for shit.