GUNSMITH MAFIA
It is 17th-century London and the lucrative gunsmithing industry is booming. A group of prospective apprentices has been acknowledged by the Guild management,
and you now stand among them before a stocky, rough-skinned old woman in her domain.
Running the family business since her widowing, she sells off her product local when she isn't getting a pound-per-musket on her Crown contract.
"Ho there, lads and lasses! If you're here, then you must have been assigned to my tutelage by that Worshipful Company of Gunmakers. Call me Master Montmorency.
I'm here to teach you the craft, meaning I own your skins for the next 7 years! Anyone feeling afflicted by doubt may leave immediately, never to work in this town again."
No one moves.
"Good. Think of the next few weeks as an orientation, where we weed out the weak and talentless. I still own you though, so if you drop out you still gotta pay me that satisfaction."
One boy raises his hand. "Master, will you handle the food and board? I'm already hungry and tired and I've no money."
Master Montmorency drops him with a knee.
"We'll have none of this jejunery! Do I look like your marm or your maid? You have to work for your keep here, and you lot's first order of the day can be to fix our supper.
Once we conclude, I can think about scheduling all your beatings. And don't make me give you too many beatings, lest you tax my fortitude and slow down the smithing work - which calls for more beatings.
It's a vicious cycle. "
The master is already exiting the storefront, but at the threshold to the workshop she abruptly turns,
"By the way, I ought let you kids know that this town's crawling with French and Spanish spies, and there's nothing they'd like so much as to disable English arms production.
All us Masters have Lvl 99 Shooting skills and the special notice of the constables, but you might well be smothered like defenseless babes in the crib.
Next to gunpowder accidents and the plague, we lose more promising gunmakers like that. And pub stabbings, and street stabbings, and the flux. Work-life balance burnout. Absconsion to the New World.
Well, I'm sure it's happened. Must be why the Crown is shifting production to the blasted Midlands, fewer foreigners... If it warranted a guess, my eyes would linger on the swarthy middle-aged fellows in this group -
but officially, the Guild practices non-discrimination on the basis of age (good for me!), so keep that to yourselves."
"Now get to doing the chores or whatever. "
She's gone.
You're alone now...
Game Setup
This is a vanilla "mini" mafia game calling for 7 (1 Mafia) or 9 (2 Mafia) players. I may or may not introduce some mechanical tweaks if it's 9 players.
Phases are 24-24 hours set around 7:00 PM ET , except for D1, which is 48 hours.
Standard lynch (no hammer). Ties at deadline are ended by sudden death (i.e. first tie-breaking vote counts). Alignment reveal on death.
Town wins when all threats to town have been eliminated. Mafia wins when they reach parity with town.
Game authorized by Beskar.
Rules
Signups:
1. Kagemusha
2. El Barto
3. Choxorn
4. Sooh
5. Logic
6. Double A
7. nl. (Visor)
8. Fenn
9. Champ
Replacements/Substitutes:
1.
2.
Thread Milestones:
D1 -
N1 -
Gunsmith Mafia (Monty Mafia #1)
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