French Revolution Mafia [Concluded]

[Zack]

It's called teamwork you vagrant.

apparently in your mind "teamwork" is "everyone does what montmorency says"

[Montmorency]

apparently in your mind "teamwork" is "everyone does what montmorency says"

Zack's teamwork is 'everything unilateral and to others' detriment'.

If we don't have a structured discussion about what we're expecting or trying to achieve, then a lot of townies will get killed for no reason. This is what Zack wants for you guys.

[Zack]

I never said anything about teamwork. I don't trust anyone outside my faction to actually work with me at this point.

Also I lynched a wolf d1, then put two more on the scan list n1. That's more than you, so don't lecture me about "killing townies".

[Zack]

I never said anything about teamwork. I don't trust anyone outside my faction to actually work with me at this point.

I mean, you guys were voting winston for how long just because LOLwecangetawaywithdoingthis despite never giving legit reasons and him being a pretty obvious villager.

[Montmorency]

I don't trust anyone outside my faction to actually work with me at this point.

It's treason, then.

[Montmorency]

I mean, you guys were voting winston for how long just because LOLwecangetawaywithdoingthis despite never giving legit reasons and him being a pretty obvious villager.

Yet you're voting Manasi?

[Zack]

I never said anything about teamwork. I don't trust anyone outside my faction to actually work with me at this point.

Also I lynched a wolf d1, then put two more on the scan list n1. That's more than you, so don't lecture me about "killing townies".

* also fought super hard to keep auto alive which ended up clearing several mislynches

[Montmorency]

* also fought super hard to keep auto alive which ended up clearing several mislynches

If you notice, I pulled for you on that one both privately and publicly, at personal risk. That's teamwork. FYI.

[Snerk]

Okay. So this seems weird. Making reads just for the sake of making reads is p r e t t y scummy I'd say. Everything is flimsy and not really taking a stance on anything after like four trillion days.

Wrong. I take plenty of stance on that list. You should compare that with some of my real flimsy read-lists I've made as scum.

Especially because a lot of this seems super made up and just posted for the sake of having some thread presence. Isn't wagon analysis kinda lol in multifaction stuff anyway? I duno. Maybe the Jabbz stuff holds some importance.

What was made up?

That coupled with Renata being "town, I guess" and then him coming into today wanting to kill her after she flipped in the night isn't a great look.

Jeez Louise. Read the posts before that. It was a joke.

He didn't seem to have any other progression throughout the rest of the day that would have warranted a flipped read on her.

^^

All of the reasons he has for Zack would almost always be reasons to read someone scum but still defaults to him being a villager.

You what?

All in all, I think there are a lot of holes in this, a lot of fluff.

It is what is it. Lazy half baked reads but it wasn't very scummy.

unvote, vote: Auto

[GeneralHankerchief]

1179

El Barto: 5 | Choxorn (1077), autolycus (1078), Al Sipsclar (1111), seireikhaan (1113), NotACop (1156)
autolycus: 5 | Montmorency (1073), Lewwyn (1097), El Barto (1110), Csargo (1123), Snerk (1179)
Manasi: 2 | Winston Hughes (1118), Zack (1161)

Round ends:

[Manasi]

Barto def the scummier of the two.

Vote: El Barto

[Manasi]

Ya Snerk sorry first game on this site so didnt really think of comparing meta.

When I say made up I mean really uncertain. Easy to say to make people believe that you believe it.

If that makes sense.

[Manasi]

Zack are you gonna vote on someone you actually wanna kill soon or nah?

[GeneralHankerchief]

1181

El Barto: 6| Choxorn (1077), autolycus (1078), Al Sipsclar (1111), seireikhaan (1113), NotACop (1156), Manasi (1181)
autolycus: 5 | Montmorency (1073), Lewwyn (1097), El Barto (1110), Csargo (1123), Snerk (1179)
Manasi: 2 | Winston Hughes (1118), Zack (1161)

Round ends:

[Snerk]

FWIW I'm very comfortable with a Barto lynch too.

[GeneralHankerchief]

5 minutes.

[Manasi]

Hm, no? Ok.

[El Barto]

Aaaaarrggh!

Hmm, vote: El Barto

Justify this vote. FoS: Al sipsclar, Manasi, Snerk

Vote: El Barto

I kinda doubt winston is mafia, just from tone. Not really in love with an autolycus lynch either. Fine with Barto walking the plank.

Heh, I finally start to convince people that every game should be a pirate ship mafia game. And with my dying breath, I curse autolycus.

[El Barto]

unvote, vote: Auto

Barto def the scummier of the two.

Vote: El Barto

Reached last page.

Manasi+Auto=teammates

[El Barto]

vote: el barto

Justify this, bandwaggoner!

[Montmorency]

Vote: Game changer

[GeneralHankerchief]

Voting closed.

[GeneralHankerchief]

"The art of government has produced nothing but monsters."
~ Louis-Antoine de Saint-Just

Day 4

"We haven't caught a Royalist in three days! They're clearly hiding among YOUR faction!"

"Oh yeah? So says a member of the group that's already had one traitor hidden among them already! How do we know you've gotten your house in order by now, hmm?"

"Everybody in my group has done their utmost to seek out and destroy the Royalists out there! Can you say the same for yours?"

"We've looked out for ourselves!"

"I would rather see France back under Bourbon rule than in the hands of *your* awful party!"

"How DARE you! You will all pay for this insult!"

And so the deliberations went. The President of the Convention figured that all of this lively discussion - all on the public record, of course - would make for some fun reading for historians decades and centuries in the future, but for now his mind was on the present. There were still Royalists to hunt, an important law was up for debate, and decorum was starting to break down.

At the very least, the Law of 22 Prarial seemed like it would pass without much opposition - after all, what government body in history had ever voted down measures to give themselves more power? But as for the day's death sentence, that was another matter, and the cause of so much consternation. Although some discussion was scattered around other sources, by day's end it looked to come down to autolycus and El Barto. autolycus, for his part, seemed rather cool and collected, perhaps as a result of him having survived a coin flip with his life as the stakes two days' prior to this. At various points in the day he was arguing his case in front of the Convention, laying out strategy for how to proceed from here, huddling up with his faction to discuss matters, and going over daily government business that didn't fall in the realm of Royalist hunting. Barto, for his part, was sporadically around, but did pop in every so often in his own indomitable style.

When the President banged his gavel to close the day's voting, though, it was Barto who was the Convention's choice. Whether by his constant presence or backhanded manners, autolycus had survived by the skin of his teeth once again.

"Ooh, does this mean I get to make a last speech before the people of Paris?" Barto asked. The president, confused at this enthusiasm, nodded. "Oh boy, this is going to great! I can't wait to harangue them on the virtues of republican living and other proposed strategies I have in mind that can further the progress of the Revolution. I think you'll in particular want to give my plans regarding maritime commerce a thought -"

"Save it for the crowd," the president said. "After all, you wouldn't want to repeat yourself." Placated by this, Barto happily walked along with the rest of the crowd to the city square where the guillotine awaited.

After the reading of charges, Barto did not, like his previous colleagues, immediately kneel into position. Instead, he strode up to the very front of the platform and launched into his address.

"Citoyens," he began, "Before we-"

BOOOOOOOOO!

Traitor!

Royalist scum!

BOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nobody wants to hear your poisonous words, Bourbon slime!

"But... but... but..." Barto tried to get out more of his speech but was drowned out by even louder jeering from the crowd. They started throwing things: rotten fruit, old shoes, rocks, anything they could get their hands on. He was physically unable to continue his prepared speech.

Having only gotten three last words out, El Barto meekly let the day's official proceedings come to a conclusion and mounted the guillotine without further protest. The blade, as always, got the final word of the day in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

El Barto has been lynched! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Jacques Roux, a Populist!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

Day 4 tally:

El Barto: 6 | Choxorn (1077), autolycus (1078), Al Sipsclar (1111), seireikhaan (1113), NotACop (1156), Manasi (1181)
autolycus: 5 | Montmorency (1073), Lewwyn (1097), El Barto (1110), Csargo (1123), Snerk (1179)
Manasi: 2 | Winston Hughes (1118), Zack (1161)

Law of 22 Prarial Yes/No vote:

Yes: 11 | Monty, khaan, Manasi, Choxorn, Lewwyn, Winston, NAC, Zack, autolycus, El Barto, Csargo
No: Snerk

Law of 22 Prarial passes. For Night 4 only, each faction has access to an additional vig shot and protection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is now Night 4! Please send in your orders.

Night 4 ends Monday, March 20, at 5:00 PM US Eastern Time (GMT-4).



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive (12):
Al Sipsclar
autolycus
Choxorn
Csargo
Lewwyn
Manasi
Montmorency
NotACop
seireikhaan
Snerk
Winston Hughes
Zack

Killed:
Fenn
Monstrdude
Logic
Kagemusha
Arakhor
BSmith
Askthepizzaguy
Renata

Guillotined:
Jabbz
atheotes
Dp101
El Barto

[GeneralHankerchief]

Resolution might come a bit later than normal this round. Thank you for your patience.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Night has ended, no more orders will be accepted.

Give me a bit to process.

[GeneralHankerchief]

"Death is not an eternal sleep. Death is the commencement of immortality."
~ Maximilien Robespierre

Night 4

With the passage of the Law of 22 Prarial, the members of the National Convention had voted themselves an enormous amount of power and oversight to deal with the Royalist threat. Would they act properly with this power? That remained to be seen, but the prognosis did not look good - after all, each faction had meticulously tallied up their grievances and causes for redress not only since the start of the current emergency, but since the creation of the Republic and the start of the Convention itself. Now, with the balance sheets growing ever-more lopsided, the time had come to settle accounts.


The first victim of the night's violence was autolycus. Even in this tense environment, auto had never ceased his practice of visiting his favorite salon and hobnobbing with his fellow intellectuals about whichever topic struck their fancy - whether it be political, philosophical, whimsical, or otherwise. Tonight, seeking to take his mind off things, auto had insisted that the topic be lighter.

"All right, fashion-wise, what do we think about the sans-culottes? I mean, I recognize that their style of dress has come to identify a political movement so it might be hard to separate that from the fashion, but could they look better? Is there any way we could parlay their style into a sort of high fashion?"

"I'm not sure," auto said. "I mean, how far do we want to take it? I understand that they don't wear the knee breeches which were obviously the height of style in years past, but what if we could work their trousers into it somehow? Perhaps color them purple? Anything - as long as it's not white, for obvious reasons - to get them off that awful earthy color. These are Parisians, not farmers for goodness sake."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," a third replied. "The entire point of the sans-culotte movement was a political statement. If that gets repurposed for material reasons-"

He never get to finish his statement, as at that very moment the doors to the salon burst open. An armed mob indiscriminately fired into the crowd, killing or wounding all of the patrons there, including autolycus.


Al Sipsclar was working late in his office, trying to keep up with all of the various political pamphlets that had been issued over the past few days in order to keep his finger on the pulse of French opinion. After all, with the Republic also came the fickle whims of popular thought, and all of the politicians in the nation would be unwise to treat popular opinion like they would have in the Ancien Régime.

These pamphlets represented all sides of the nascent political spectrum: Montagnard, Girondin, Populist, Militarist, even some hybrid pamplets, in addition to ultra-radical ones as well as those which almost might be considered quasi-Royalist, calling for a return to a constitutional monarchy as a possible solution to the emergency. One trend that Al Sipsclar had noticed over time was that, with more and more people finding a voice, they started to get shriller and louder, calling for more outlandish and dramatic measures, in an attempt to rise above the din and be heard.

I wonder if this trend will continue as revolution spreads across the Continent and the globe, Al wondered, but kept reading, making notes, searching for a solution, in the meantime. He was fully engrossed in his work, dead to the outside world.

Unfortunately, the outside world was not dead to him, a fact that Al learned the hard way as a brick crashed through his window, startling him from his near-hypnosis by the pamphlets.

"What is the meaning of-" he began, but quickly jumped back as a torch came through the hole in the window had just appeared. Oh no, his office was primarily made of wood!

He desperately searched for some water or other material with which to put the nascent fire out, but as he did, more bricks came through different windows, and more torches followed those bricks. After a while, a full conflagration had erupted, and Al knew that his office was a lost cause. He tried to evacuate through the front door, running out...

...and being sent sprawling back to his floor with an injured shoulder, courtesy of an unbudging object. Somebody had barricaded the front door from the outside! Al attempted to get up, nursing his injured shoulder, but by that time the flames were well on their way to completing their wicked work. They would not stop until everything - and everyone - in the building had burned to a crisp.


Elsewhere in the city, Snerk was trying to forget about the tense atmosphere, at least for one night, by going to his favorite tavern. There, at least, you were not judged. There, as long as you were there to eat, drink, and not start something, you would not be unfairly looked upon. Sometimes Snerk thought the world would run a lot more smoothly if everyone treated it like they did their favorite tavern, but alas, that was not the way of things.

And so Snerk sat at his favorite stool, nursing his favorite glass, ready to drink his favorite wine, preparing to order from his favorite bartend-

"Wait a minute," he said, looking up in surprise. "I've been coming here ever since I got elected to the Legislative Assembly and not once has anyone besides Éloise been here to serve drinks! Where is she and who are you?"

"Apologies citoyen," the new bartender replied. "Éloise is due before the Revolutionary Tribunal next week after being found in violation of the Law of Suspects. My name is Delphine, and I hope to continue the high level of service that my predecessor established. You are Snerk, right? Yes, the owner mentioned you. What's your usual again?"

Snerk, reeling from the shock and the realization that the Convention's laws impacted more than just those privy to its inner machinations, mumbled his usual order, which Delphine quickly prepared. Snerk took it gratefully and gulped it down a lot faster than he normally would have, but the poison was fast-acting. Within 30 seconds he was on the floor, dead to the world.


And so the murders continued, all for various purposes, but most committed under the auspices of the Law of 22 Prarial. Some were made in the name of hunting Royalists, targeting suspected traitors to the new republic. Some were made in the name of naked factionalism, trying to take control of the Convention for good or otherwise trying to right perceived wrongs. And it was possible that some - though most dared to think otherwise - were made by the dreaded Royalists themselves, ready to make good on their threat and take back the country.

Like the rationale for these deaths, the manner in which the murders were committed also varied widely. There had been deaths by gunshot, arson, and poison, but that night no means of killing another human being was off-limits. Some people were clubbed to death, others attacked by vicious dogs, others still stabbed, unsuspectingly, by acquaintances and strangers alike. Winston Hughes, never a strong swimmer, was pushed off one of Paris's many bridges and fell into the Seine, where he was carried along helplessly by the current and eventually drowned.

Smoke started to rise from various sources in the city. Not the pleasant white or light grey of people cooking delicious meals, nor even the darker shade that represented industry and progress. No, this smoke was the ugly black kind, always emanating from a red glow in the distance, that came from violence and chaos. At first it rose from one source - Al Sipsclar's office - but that number soon grew to two, then three, then five, then a dozen, then more. Nobody within the city limits got much sleep that night, not with first the city's fire brigades and later its National Guard hauling tail back and forth across the city to try to deal with the problems and restore some semblance of order. They were less than successful at this.

seireikhaan, like everyone else in the city, had gotten little sleep during this. He decided to go to the Temple of Reason - formerly known as Notre Dame - first to pray, but secondly to take it all in. So, climbing one of the legendary church's towers, he had done so, getting a lovely panoramic view of Paris as it burned.

He resolved to remember his thoughts and record them for posterity upon his return home, but he never got the chance. A forceful push caused him to lose his balance and tumble off the tower, meeting his end on the hard ground of the Île de la Cité below. And thus the night had claimed another victim. So it went.


Finally, there was Montmorency. He had had a good idea of what was going to happen, and at first holed himself up in his home, where, if he was going to die, at least he would do so in comfort. But as the night wore on, and the violence only grew, and the terrible reports kept pouring in, he realized this would not do. The motivation came from very deep inside, but it came on quickly and forcefully, and soon Monty was walking the streets of Paris, with no destination or goal in mind.

On his walk to nowhere, Monty started pondering. Pondering his life in the Ancien Régime, and then how it had dramatically changed since the Estates-General were called and beyond. How he had been elected as a young deputy, and taken the lead there, and joined the Jacobin Club, and signed the Tennis Court Oath, and proclaimed an end to the absolute rule of the monarchy, and gained more and more influence, and had been the leading advocate for Louis's death, and then kick-started the Terror, with a thousand other notable events in between.

The one constant through all of that, though, was Paris. Paris had always flourished despite - or because of - the upheaval around and within her. The salons were still busy and productive. The taverns, the markets, the places of business, they remained crowded and profitable. The people, Supreme Being bless them, were constantly pushing the people in charge, reminding them that the Revolution was something that was never finished. Paris was an ugly, demanding thing, but it had also kept its head. In that way, it was beautiful and perfect in its imperfections.

And now, on this night, it was losing all of that. The city was tearing itself apart. Not due to threat from a foreign invader at its doorstep, but doing so within. Because of Royalist infiltrators, or perhaps just factional politics. Was this his doing? Had he pushed things too far? What if he had taken a different course? He himself, and many in his faction, had talked a big game about the necessity of the Terror, and how harsh measures were required if France was to come out of the emergency in one piece, but now that... this... was staring at him in the face, he started to wonder if this was the right way of going about things.

He drew himself out of his own thoughts for a second to see where he was. He didn't immediately recognize it. There were no landmarks nearby, nothing that made the city famous. None of his friends or colleagues (to his knowledge) lived here. Just an anonymous street, then, one of thousands, where the true beating heart of the city had always lied.

He was not alone. Standing opposite from him, about twenty yards away, was a lone figure, holding up a musket, clearly aiming for him.

It was a straight shot. All of the buildings were closed, the windows boarded up. There were no alleyways to duck into. He had nowhere to run.

Sighing, Monty decided to at least get some satisfaction out of this before he met his end. "And who is ultimately to be responsible for my demise?" he called out to his soon-to-be assailant.

"You are, citoyen." There was a loud crack, followed shortly by a muted "thud" as the shot hit its target.

Montmorency bled out on that anonymous street, his last moments occupied by precisely what his attacker had meant by those last words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

autolycus has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Georges Danton, a Populist!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

Al Sipsclar has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Pierre Vergniaud, a Girondin!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

Snerk has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Marquis de Sade, a Montagnard!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

Winston Hughes has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Collot d'Herbois, a Populist!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

seireikhaan has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Jacques-Louis David, a Montagnard!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

Montmorency has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Augustin Robespierre, a Montagnard!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Actually Maximilien Robespierre, a Montagnard!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is now Day 5!

Voting will end Wednesday, March 22, at 5:00 PM US Eastern time (GMT-4).



Feedback will go out and Post 2 will be updated shortly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive (6):
Choxorn
Csargo
Lewwyn
Manasi
NotACop
Zack

Killed:
Fenn
Monstrdude
Logic
Kagemusha
Arakhor
BSmith
Askthepizzaguy
Renata
autolycus
Al Sipsclar
Snerk
Winston Hughes
seireikhaan
Montmorency

Guillotined:
Jabbz
atheotes
Dp101
El Barto

[Manasi]

Holy fucking heck.

Well that's a bloodbath and a half.

[GeneralHankerchief]

All feedback should now be out. Post 2 has been updated.

Please let me know if I've missed anything.

[Manasi]

Oh shit what it's final 6 how did this happen.

[Manasi]

How did I add an icon to my post I didn't mean to do that sorry friends.