Chicago Jazz mini mafia [Concluded]

[Splitpersonality]

It was a cold winter, evening, date December 20th, 1934. The cool air outside was a sharp contrast to the smooth warm sounds emminating (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AoPlAe23Ruo) from a nearby jazz club. The streets were mostly empty, save for a lone man walking down the street, carrying with him a rather large case, strapped to his back, and in his right hand a large bow.

https://i390.photobucket.com/albums/oo342/Hark34/57297.jpg

The man pulled his scarf up over his face, ":daisy:ing snow, :daisy:ing alarm not going off, :daisy:ing bass being so :daisy:ing heavy..." he muttered to himself, as he walked.

He arrived at his destination, and walked up the alleyway to the side entrance to the club, he knocked twice and a man poked his head out.

"Can I help you?" the large bouncer asked flatly.

"Yeah, you can let me in before I freeze to death, if you'd be so kind." the man replied.

"Sorry buddy, you're gonna have to go through the front unless you're playing tonight." the bouncer replied as he started to close the door.

"Why the :daisy: else do you think I have this bass on my back?" the man stuck his foot in the door, then his free left hand and pushed it open, "So let me in!" the man pushed through and was immediately met with the warm air of the club, and the smell of cigarettes. He pulled off his scarf, and his hat and looked at the bouncer.

"Hey, who do you think you are pal?" the bouncer stood in front of him, preparing to punch his face in.

The man with the bass removed his coat, placed all his outerwear together and threw it at the bouncer, "The name's James Archibald, and I think you best let me in so my band can get on that stage and play." he said flatly.

The bounced caught the coat with one hand, and looked at the band list on the clipboard in his other hand. He sighed, before showing the rude man where the rest of his band was.

--------


Chicago Jazz mini mafia!



I've been dying to do some writeups, and I dearly love jazz, so I figured what better way to satisfy both cravings than to have a Jazz mini mafia, set in the 30s!

Though the game is set in 1934, the music won't always have been produced by that time, but it'll be jazz, soft, smooth jazz, nonetheless!

7 people, unique roles and motives, but essentially it's 1 mafia v 6 town, I promise it's much simpler than my MGS: Mafia game :P

Expect overly complicated writeups for an extremely simple premise!
Hurry up, sign up now and be part of Splitpersonality's Jazz Octet!






Rules! Yeah we got rules, what about it!

1) No PM quoting, or paraphrasing. You can claim any role, but no backing it up with evidence. (The exceptions will be illustrated IN the PMs.)
2) No out of thread communication, at all.
3) Dead players are DEAD, they may talk and give ideas but may not PM or reveal anything.
4) Be good sports, don't get too angry (like I do), it's just a game and it's all for fun.
5) Anything else I come up with may be posted here before/during the first day/night phase of the game, so be aware of that.





Sign ups: 7/7 (Closed)
Guitar-ander3.1
Double bAss
Snareandburn
Cha-rlie Parker-otix
White_eyes:D
Chicag-otes
CulturedJazzFan

[Iskander 3.1]

I miss Chicago in the winter. IN

[Double A]

In!

[slashandburn]

I am in.:beam:

[Chaotix]

Innage.

I demand that my personal death song be "Take the A Train". :whip:

[Splitpersonality]

Hahaha nah bro, I'm gonna make your death song much worse.

Tiger rag (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6yMvzxDqsQ&feature=related)


Hold that tiger..

Hold that tiger...

Hold that tiger...


EDIT

I totally forgot how good this song really is... Take the A train - Duke Ellington (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrisYOEpADY&feature=related)

[White_eyes:D]

In:beatnik2:

[atheotes]

count me in

[Splitpersonality]

Alright, one more and we can start.

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

in! :yes:

[Splitpersonality]

Okay, we have enough people but I"m going to hold off starting it until I return home, as it'll keep me in a good set to be updating the game when I return home from school and stuff.

[Splitpersonality]

I'm sorry guys, there's some stuff going on right now, I will start the game tomorrow morning/afternoon, I really can't think straight or even begin to think about this game right now...

Sorry for the inconvenience.

[Splitpersonality]

The back alley of a club, downtown Chicago, December 20th 1934.

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2227/2172226050_285753f2ea.jpg



James Archibald opened the back door to the club, and stared out into the snowy back alley. He fastened his coat, and pulled his scarf up. The warm air and soft music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6IepfXPZPQ&feature=channel_page) of the club yet again contrasted the cold snowy streets of Chicago, but it mattered none, he was riding on the adrenaline rush of another good show, the slight drunkenness of some good drinks, and the pleasant tones of a warm, flatwound strung archtop guitar, complimented beautifully by a deep bass. He was in heaven at this moment, and was sad to be leaving the rest of the band like he was, but he had to get some sleep that night.

He propped the door open from the outside as he lifted his bass, and placed it outside, and leaned it against the wall. He stepped out, closed the door behind himself and picked up his bass, but halfway down the alleyway be paused, and patted himself, searching for something.

"Ah... :daisy:... I think I left my bow in there..." he cursed, then sighed, turning on his heels to walk back to the club.

He knocked gently on the door, "Hello? Bouncer? I think I left my bow in there... Hello? Anyone?"

He grabbed the handle and pulled the door towards himself, perhaps it wasn't locked, he didn't remember locking it, and if no one was there it must've been open. As he pulled the handle, someone from the otherside kicked the door quite hard, Archibald went flying backwards, and landed behind-first in the snow.

He brushed the snow off himself, and looked up, rather annoyed at this point he shouted at the large figure in the door.

"Hey you, :daisy:hole, what's the big idea? Knockin' me down like this."

The man hopped out of the doorway and stepped over Archibald, reaching down and offering him a hand.

"Er, sorry about that." the man said

"Yeah, you better be... :daisy:ing idiot..." Archibald said, taking the man's hand, and began to stand up.

He was met with a swift punch to the nose, which promptly broke it, with a gross crunch.

This punch, in combination with the alcohol in his system, caused Archibald to fall backwards, and become disoriented. He was too disoriented to stand up, or see his attacker pull out a small caliber snub-nose pistol and load a single bullet into it. He was far too disorientated then, to stop the man from placing the gun on his left temple, and pulling the trigger.


His assailant reached into his coat, pulled out the missing bow, and placed it on the bassist's chest, he then ran one way down the alleyway, and disappeared.



-------


The members of the band were gathered in the alleyway, the body in the center of their small circle.


They had all heard the shot from inside the club, and came rushing out at an instant. They were sitting in the backstage room, mostly talking, and had heard nothing save for the fatal shot.

For a long time they stood there, before someone finally spoke up.

"I think...." the man sighed, "I think one of us is responsible for this.."

The rest of the band was shocked, who could it have been?

"and I think we need to figure out who."



They all stood around, glancing suspiciously at each other. It seemed as if they were going to vote it out, and hopefully find the murderer was.





Townie Role PM Format:

You are:

Unique Name - Town

Specific story regarding how you came to live in chicago, what instrument you play, your general character and other details.

Good luck.


Regarding roles, you may reveal your name, your instrument in the band, and your story. NO direct quoting, no PMs outside the game, unless they are to me or through me in a specific case or two.

Of course no screenshots either.

Good luck everyone.


Alive: 7/7
Iskander 3.1
Double A
Slashandburn
Chaotix
White_eyes:D
Atheotes
CDF

Dead: 0/7


Begin day 1. Phase will end 9:00 PM EST tomorrow (Tuesday September 28th)

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

my jazzy friends let us relent!

Vote: abstain

[Splitpersonality]

Also, if there are any questions about your role, just send me a PM :D

[Chaotix]

This ain't cool, man. Who's gonna play bass wit' us now?

Vote: Abstain

I'mma hold my judgement till I hear all o' youse speak.

[Double A]

Yaaaar!

Hey anyone listen to Charlie Parker?

[slashandburn]

Agreed, man we should wait. Vote:Abstain

[Iskander 3.1]

Sweet, let's go to B Dubs.

[White_eyes:D]

*stops playing on his Saxaphone* Killing is not Jazz:no: Vote:abstain

[Double A]

Hey anyone seen Louis lately?

[Double A]

vote: No lynch

Death isn't good. Unless the victim is a Yankees fan. :wink:

[atheotes]

I cant believe that the man who gave me my opportunity is dead....Drumming will never be the same again without him in front of me...still we must use caution before we condemn anyone.

Vote: No Lynch

OOC: Can everyone post what musical insturment they play?

[Iskander 3.1]

Angrily sets his tenor sax down

What the :daisy:'s the matta wit you? The only :daisy:ing good team in baseball and you have to make a comment like that? What's the matta wit you? Just jealous cause da Bambino walked all over your Cubs in '32?

Vote: Double A

(OOC: I hate the Yankees. See here (http://www.theonion.com/content/node/27656)for why. Go Brew Crew! Well next year, maybe.)

[Splitpersonality]

Oh man, sorry guys I totally passed out in my bed, just woke up.


No Lynch 2 - (atheotes, Double A)


Double A - 1 (Iskander3.1)



The men shifted nervously where they stood, they all looked quite nervous, and by the end of the day decieded that enough men had died the previous night, they would take one more night to think before reconvening in the morning.


Alive: 7/7
Iskander 3.1
Double A
Slashandburn
Chaotix
White_eyes:D
Atheotes
CDF

Dead: 0/7

Begin night 1, phase will end 9pm EST Wednsday 30th, orders are due to me by then.

[Double A]

Angrily sets his tenor sax down

What the :daisy:'s the matta wit you? The only :daisy:ing good team in baseball and you have to make a comment like that? What's the matta wit you? Just jealous cause da Bambino walked all over your Cubs in '32?

Vote: Double A

(OOC: I hate the Yankees. See here (http://www.theonion.com/content/node/27656)for why. Go Brew Crew! Well next year, maybe.)

Hey I can't help it, being from Baaaston if you're notta Sox fan you're dead in a day:dunno:

[White_eyes:D]

I can't believe, I am going to do this...:sweatdrop:

Vote:No lynch "We have had enough bloodshed, anymore and I will be out of my groove"...:no:

And yes, I will not vote for anyone....makes this much harder....but my guy seems like the type to do this:shrug:

[atheotes]

Voting in the night phase? :inquisitive:

FOS: White_eyes

[White_eyes:D]

Voting in the night phase? :inquisitive:

FOS: White_eyes

this is a mini-Mafia...I didn't think they were "night phases":laugh4:

[Splitpersonality]

Round over, taking care of writeup.


EDIT:

here you are!


A small smokey club, downtown Chicago...

http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2008/02/28/nyregion/28kalua.cityroom.jpg



Guillermo Benitez sat in silence, his eyes locked on the hands of the guitarist on stage (http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/246944), though this guitarist was not alone, he was all that Guillermo saw that night. He watched each chord change, each finger held, each note played rang in his mind.

The man's fingers danced around the fretboard, and he held each chord strangely, the immediately noticeable thing was his reluctance to use his pinky and ring finger, instead opting to use just his index and middle. Regardless of the number of fingers used, it was clear this man was an extremely accomplished player.


Guillermo took a deep breath and sighed deeply, there was much he still needed to work on, for him to be able to approach the level of skill this man posessed.


He picked up his coat and started out of the club, more than motivated to go home and practice for some time, maybe a few hours, maybe more, he wasn't really sure of his plan, all he knew was he was going to play until he no longer wanted to.

As he stepped outside, he lit a cigarette in his mouth and took a drag on it, he had come a long way from when he first picked up the guitar, both as a guitarist and in physical distance. Sometimes he missed the small life he had with his family, but he was often far too occupied with the goings on of the big city to think about it. Plus there was so much more here to learn, and this made him smile a bit, there would always be more to learn.


He took another drag on his cigarette before turning and walking towards his apartment, halfway down the street however a man walking the opposite way bumped into him, knocking him down.

"Hey, watch it!" Guillermo said to the man as he stood up and brushed himself off.

"Terribly sorry sir, won't happen again." the other man replied, reaching over to shake his hand.


Guillermo reached back, slightly puzzled, and grabbed the man's hand to shake. As he did such he was met with a sharp stabbing pain in his stomach, he looked down to see a small knife sticking out of him. He coughed a few times, and slumped over the man who dragged him into a back alley.

The man threw Guillermo on the floor, stepped over him, reached down and quickly slit the man's throat.


When they found his body in the morning, Guillermo's fingers on his left hand were missing.




------




The men reconvened in the morning, the same man spoke up again.


"Okay, now it's easy to see it most likely is one of us. Let us take a vote on things again today, and see who we find the guiltiest..."

The other men quietly agreed, this time they were standing over the body of their guitarist and friend. Which one of them would be next? They had to do something...


Slashandburn is dead, he was the guitarist.



Alive: 6/7
Iskander 3.1
Double A
Chaotix
White_eyes:D
Atheotes
CDF

Dead: 1/7
Slashandburn


It is now day 2, phase will end 9pm tomorrow, Thursday October 1st at 9pm EST. Good luck town.

[Iskander 3.1]

I wanna hear Caravan with the drum sola!

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

huh, not much talk, hate for this to go to lurkers,

Vote: DoubleA

no basis to it, just want to get us voting.

[atheotes]

hmm...the mafia are always keen that someone is lynched... so Vote: CDF

[Chaotix]

This is true. CDF wants someone to die... and has no valid explanation for his vote. Why pick Double A over someone else?

Vote: CDF

[Double A]

And who in their right mind would want to kill me? Everyone. So that means CDF is either sane, or LYING!

[Splitpersonality]

Alright guys, because of lack of discussion, and my lack of doing work, I'm extenxing this another 24 hours.

Which is totally legal!

Come on town, get crackin'!

[Chaotix]

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.................

:sleeping:

[White_eyes:D]

Vote:No Lynch I will not be killing anyone though lynching or otherwise:bow:

[Iskander 3.1]

Sorry, fatherhood got in the way...thanks Split for extending this.

Here's the problem: if we keep voting "no lynch", the mafioso can just lurk his way to victory. By voting, we at least get people talking.

Vote: Double A

Double A, explain more about yourself and I will retract my vote.

[Double A]

You mean this right?


And who in their right mind would want to kill me? Everyone. So that means CDF is either sane, or LYING!

I meant that, if you want to kill me, you are probably sane or the mafia. If you are sane, wow that's amazing! But that also means you wouldn't be playing mafia on the org. Or even using the internet. (I was half joking by the way).

So to recap, only people who don't play mafia would want to kill me, so CDF is probably lying.

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

I am not particularly GOOD at mafia. Does that count?

[Double A]

On mafiascum it does. But this isn't mafiascum, so... I'll unvote if you do.

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

meh, I got what I wanted. Got us talking didn't it? :laugh4::laugh4:


Unvote: Double A, Vote Centurion1

He has been online, I know that much. Just drop by and talk a little man. :yes: need to stay active.

[Double A]

Right then... unvote: CDF, vote Saskai. He's not even playing, but I know for a fact that, if he was, he'd be guilty.

[Iskander 3.1]

Haha, nice AA. Unvote; Vote: Centurion1

Heck, why not?

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

Well I know for sure I do not want to get Centruion lynched before he has a chance to talk...

Unvote: Centurion1, Vote: Abstain

[Splitpersonality]

Writeup on it's way!


CDF - 2 (atheotes, Chaotix)


Sasaki - 1 (Double A)
Cent1 - 1 (Iskander)

Abstain - CDF


No lynch = W_E:D




The backalleys of chicago, December 21st 1934.

http://icons-pe.wunderground.com/data/wximagenew/w/Wintermute/95.jpg


The men stood around in the alleyway, a few accusations were thrown but really they each had little clue who had done the terrible crime, Remy Dupree (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hv7bC21nZs&feature=fvw) stood up, and pointed right at a random member of the band.

"I think he should talk more, he hasn't said a word yet!" He argued.


His argument however fell on deaf ears, and soon the men were accusing him for trying to kill innocent members.

"It's obviously you, no one else wants to even think about killing, and here you are throwing around accusations like some bigshot!" a man barked at him, "This ain't small town Louisiana anymore Remy, we don't do :daisy: like that here." he half yelled.

Another man jumped on Remy and placed his vote on him, by the end of the day they all took a silent ballot, and the man with the most votes was unfortunately Remy.

He slowly backed away from the rest of the band, his trumpet clutched tightly in his hand, he swung it back and forth, to deter anyone from moving closer.

"No! It wasn't me!" he pleaded with the band, "I didn't come all the way up here, leaving my home, my family, my way of life just to kill the only chance I've gotten to play music here! Sure... I had some disagreements over arrangements and solos, but nothing worth killing over!" he was still backing down the alleyway, away from the band who continued to follow him.

He started backpedaling faster, closer to the end of the alleyway, soon he would hit the street and he would turn and run for his life, but he needed to keep stalling.

He had an idea, he wouldn't like it, but it was better to live and deal with it than to die.

Remy picked up his trumpet and threw it as hard as he could at the closest man to him, the trumpet bounced off an arm and hit the ground, but Remy was already down the street by then, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to catch the band chasing him, he laughed at them and ran harder. He felt bad deserting his loved trumpet like that, but it was necessary, he ignored it and kept running.

One of the other men was feeling bold, Guillermo Benitez picked up the bent trumpet, and threw it as hard as he could down the alleyway.


It flew.... flew..... flew through the air,



and landed right square in the back of Remy's head.

Remy fell almost immediately, tripping over his own feet, and the curb, he landed face down in a small snowbank, and for a second all was quiet. He sat up, shook his head, looked to the right and saw his beautiful trumpet, still gleaming, though a little bent, and still as beautiful as ever. He grabbed it and put it to his lips to play one more time.


Remy played a beautiful high run on the trumpet... (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsSWeM8v3LI&feature=related)

As the final high C rang out, the band stopped in it's tracks, and the brass players all kind of smiled, Remy had finally hit his high note.


The note faded, and it was replaced with a similar note an octave or two down, the horn of a car. The band spun to look, and they were just in time to see Remy skull, and his prized trumped smashed by the wheels of the car.

There was nothing they could do, they had voted for him anyway. They all departed home, each hoping it would be the end.

CDF/Remy Dupree, Trumpet master, is now dead

Alive: 5/7
Iskander 3.1
Double A
Chaotix
White_eyes:D
Atheotes

Dead: 2/7
Slashandburn
CDF

It is now night 2, orders are due to me by Saturday October 3rd at 9pm

[Splitpersonality]

Been having problems posting in here...


Night over, writeup coming.




In a small bar, in chicago, December 21st 1934.

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/123/404089071_cfafefd213.jpg?v=0


Giovanni Rossini sat in a booth in the back of an dusty bar. He was sipping on some bourbon, for a while now, just sitting and drinking. Every once in a while he took a drag off of the lit cigarette sitting in front of him. (http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/102850)

He finished his glass, placed it down and exhaled. He stood up and walked his way to the bathroom, he had been there a bit, and he was drinking the whole time, so things took their natural course.


He took care of his business, through and through, and stepped up to the sink to wash his hands, as he did a man in a large coat, and a scarf stepped in the bathroom, and nodded to him.

"Are you... uh... Giovanni Rossini?" the man asked, rather oddly.

"Y... yeah?" Giovanni nervously replied, he had no idea who this man was or why he would be there...

The man merely smiled, and reached into the closet door. He pulled out a broom, and after sizing it up, broke it over his knee, he slotted one end into the door, jamming it shut, the other end of the broom was still in his hand as he approached Giovanni.

"Good, I had heard I might find you here now, the Don has sent me..." the man finished.


Giovanni reacted in an instant, he stepped forward, and grabbed the broom with one hand, with his other hand he swung at the head of the stranger. The man ducked, and let go of the broom, and Giovanni used this as leverage as he backed up to the door, and carefully removed the broom, while keeping his eyes on this stranger. He threw both halves of the broom down to the floor and kicked the door open. Though the bar was empty, it was certainly enough people to give an accurate testimony, this was Giovanni's plan.

"Don't you know not to mess wit' a guy while he's takin' a leak? The don's got a message for me? Well you can ask me at my table, now sit yer :daisy: down and we can do this the polite like way."

With that he sat down at his table, and ordered some bourbon. The other man sat down across from him, and grabbed one of the cups. He sneered at Giovanni, he was hoping for privacy, but this would do.

"So whaddya want from me?" Giovanni breaks the silence, taking a sip of his bourbon.

The other man places fidgets a bit with his hands, and takes a sip of his drink.

"Well," he starts, "The Don sent me, he said I might find you here in Chicago. You know... the Don really misses you in New York," the man smiles, delighting at this little mental game, "your departure from the scene has sig-NI-figantly effected his income, the departure of many musicians from New York to Chicago has really hurt us, but the boss was especially hurt by your betrayal." the man paused and took a drink.

He continued, "So he sent me out here to... take care of things. Nothing personal towards you, but it's my job, right? Right, but I was thinkin' anyway, maybe you'd be interested in helpin' me? I could see to it that the Don knew about it, I'm sure it might make up for your defection." the man finished for good this time, and smiled at Giovanni, before taking another sip.

Giovanni carefully leans across the table, grabbing the mobster by his collar, "You listen, and you listen to me good you goomba piece of :daisy:, I'm not in your god:daisy:ed mafia, and I'm not going to do your dirty work, whatever you're doing, leave me out of it. If you interrupt me again, like you so rudely did tonight, I'll just kill you in the bathroom instead of being polite, got it?" Giovanni was now panting, and fuming angry, he threw what was left of his bourbon in the mobster's face, grabbed his coat and walked out of the bar, but not before dropping the money for the drinks on his table.

The mobster remains momentarily, stunned at the events that occurred, how could anyone stand up to an entire mob like that, didn't he know who the Don was? It made no difference, the mobster shrugged at this thought, he was a target and he would die just like the rest of them, maybe even sooner because of his affront to the Don, but he would certainly die, make no mistake.

He finished the bourbon in his glass, nodded to the bartender, stood up and left... He had a plan in his head, and he needed to move fast if it was to work...


The appartment of Giovanni Rossini, on the first floor. December 22nd, 1934....


Giovanni Rossini safely arrived at home, he was quite stressed from the night and fumbled with his keys. After leaving the bar he stopped off at another bar to hide out before going home, in case the mobster had left to follow him, he stayed there for a few more hours, it was now around 2:30AM, if anyone else was on the streets he would be able to avoid them, as he would see them coming from miles away. The plan worked, and here he was, fumbling with his :daisy:ing keys.

"Come on," he complained, "Why are there so many keys? I only have two keys!" it was clear that he was agitated, but he got it nonetheless.

He sighed a relieved sigh, and opened the door, eager to sleep. He quickly spun around and double, tripple, quadruple locked his door, he wouldn't take any chances, he knew all those locks would come in handy some day!

He was quite pleased with himself by this point, but his nerves were still shot. He stepped into the kitchen and turned the light on, something seemed amiss but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Oh well," he thought, "probably just my nerves... I've really gone and :daisy:ed the dog now, I've got a whole mob coming down on me..."

He laughed quietly to himself at that thought, he was much smarter than those goons anyway.


He looked at the stove and tilted his head, he stepped over to it and noticed that one of the burners was on, and he had left the gas on. He laughed again to himself and shut both off, shaking his head.

He lit a cigarette, took a drag and went to place it on the corner of the ashtray while he rummaged through the fridge for something to drink, some milk maybe. However he completely missed the ashtray and the cigarette fell on the table, rolled off that, and landed on the floor with a light Plink!.

"Awww man... this floor's filthy..." Giovanni thought to himself, he picked the cigarette up and put it out in the ashtray. He was about to continue searching the fridge when he heard a knock at his door, he walked back to the entrance to his home and looked through the peephole, the man outside looked... oddly familiar, he was tall, in a nice coat, and he had a great big mustache.

"Yes?" Giovanni asked of the man.

"A thousand pardons sir, but I was wondering if that was your hat?" the mustachioed man pointed to a hat on the sidewalk, just outside of Giovanni's house.

"My hat? Oh man, of course my hat! Thank you sir, that is my hat, let me just grab it." Giovanni felt like quite the fool, he opened all the locks and stepped out, grabbing his hat off of the cold floor. He had been so drunk he forgot that he had worn his good hat out that night. He brushed the snow off of it and turned to smile at the stranger, but he was gone, puzzled he looked around for him.

He didn't see him so he continued to inspect his hat. Wondering how much of a fool he had been, forgetting about his favorite hat, the black one with the brown trim and bow that wrapped around it, and the uh... pinstripes...

"Waitaminute..." he said, "I don't own any hats..." Giovanni laughed to himself, placing the hat back down on the floor, he saw a small note.

He reached down to grab the note, but before he could read it, he was crushed by a piano which fell quite a few stories, out of the sky.

The only noise which sounded was a B flat, from a nearby tenor sax...


Iskander3.1/Giovanni Rossini (Tenor Saxophonist) - Has been killed.





Night 2 over.

It is now day 3, get voting! Votes due Sunday October 4th at 9PM, good luck!


Alive: 4/7
Double A
Chaotix
White_eyes:D
Atheotes

Dead: 3/7
Slashandburn
CDF
Iskander3.1

[slashandburn]

Angrily sets his tenor sax down

What the :daisy:'s the matta wit you? The only :daisy:ing good team in baseball and you have to make a comment like that? What's the matta wit you? Just jealous cause da Bambino walked all over your Cubs in '32?

Vote: Double A

(OOC: I hate the Yankees. See here (http://www.theonion.com/content/node/27656)for why. Go Brew Crew! Well next year, maybe.)

Iskander plays tenor sax. White eyes also stated to play sax. One of them is mafia.

[White_eyes:D]

Iskander plays tenor sax. White eyes also stated to play sax. One of them is mafia.

My mafia copy is dead......it must be one of the extras who have not claimed....:inquisitive:

Edit:
The baritone saxophone is the largest saxophone commonly seen in modern ensembles. The other common saxophones are the alto, tenor and soprano. It is a transposing instrument in the key of E♭, one octave lower than the alto saxophone, although Adolphe Sax had originally also produced a baritone saxophone in F intended for orchestral use. Despite its low register, music for the baritone saxophone is written in treble clef. It is also possible to read parts written in the bass clef for instruments pitched in C as if the part was in the treble clef, while adjusting the key signature from C to A and any accidentals as necessary.

[White_eyes:D]

I am Louis Knapp the Baritone Saxaphone player...I am sure he must be part of the band somewhere??:juggle2:

In either case Vote:No lynch.....My groove is staying steady:beatnik2:

[White_eyes:D]

Hey anyone seen Louis lately?

??? was this directed to me?? or just a lucky guess??:inquisitive:

Edit: Tell me your name....I think your my bro....:beam:

[Chaotix]

If you guys want to know my instrument, I'm the trombonist. If everyone reveals their instrument, we should be able to find the imposter among us.

[Double A]

??? was this directed to me?? or just a lucky guess??:inquisitive:

Edit: Tell me your name....I think your my bro....:beam:

Yep, Roger Knapp - Alto Sax Player

It says in my PM you play the Baritone so nothin wrong there.

[slashandburn]

Iskander claimed on page 1 to play tenor sax. Tenor sax was in the kill writeup.

[Double A]

Split, that was quite possibly one of the saddest things I've ever read in the lynch scene... I think I lost faith in humanity, please excuse me while I cry myself to sleep.

[slashandburn]

Wait Iskander's dead so only one who hasnt claimed is atheotes. You two are brothers and chaotix is the trombonist.

[White_eyes:D]

If we are wrong....we are dead...:shrug:

[White_eyes:D]

If you guys want to know my instrument, I'm the trombonist. If everyone reveals their instrument, we should be able to find the imposter among us.

What about your name??:stare:(We all have famous Jazz names....)

[White_eyes:D]

Things look bad for atheotes....He looks dead guilty in my eyes:inquisitive:

I still want to hear Chaotix's name though...:whip:

[Chaotix]

What about your name??:stare:(We all have famous Jazz names....)

Actually, I believe that none of us have famous jazz names. Split used a name generator to get all of the role names, so they are of little consequence in the actual game.

[White_eyes:D]

Why hide it then??:inquisitive:

You pulled one over on us before.....I want to know your on the level...:smash:

Edit: the fact that your not voting makes me freak as well....

[Double A]

preassure vote: Chaotix

[atheotes]

Things look bad for atheotes....He looks dead guilty in my eyes:inquisitive:

I still want to hear Chaotix's name though...:whip:

You need to get your eyes checked... its not a good thing to have it all white :clown:


I cant believe that the man who gave me my opportunity is dead....Drumming will never be the same again without him in front of me...still we must use caution before we condemn anyone.

Vote: No Lynch

OOC: Can everyone post what musical insturment they play?


my name is Jacques Legard....
if you 2 are brothers, then no choice but Vote: Chaotix

[White_eyes:D]

Unvote:No lynch
Pressure Vote:Atheotes to keep it tied for now....I get scum vibes for both of you.....:inquisitive:

Hopfully, you both get lynched:2thumbsup:

[atheotes]

yeah right...i am mafia...so i came in and made myself heard when there were no votes or pressure on me :rolleyes:

[Double A]

I think it's random...

[White_eyes:D]

yeah right...i am mafia...so i came in and made myself heard when there were no votes or pressure on me :rolleyes:

Pointless....I made the same agruement when I was mafia...:juggle2:

Plus, you have been posting during the night phase...If I didn't respect Chaotix's ability to be mafia...I would have wanted to lynch you pronto..:smoking: and you guys just had to kill my groove~:mecry:

[atheotes]

.If I didn't respect Chaotix's ability to be mafia...I would have wanted to lynch you pronto..:smoking:

and we would have lost the game... i was the first one to say what instrument i played and also called for everyone to post it. :shrug:

[White_eyes:D]

Yeah and the time when Reenk was Mafia in a game....he did that to try and save his :daisy: which ended up getting him lynched....your not the only one who looks at all the angles.....:inquisitive:

Frankly.....I think Chaotix is guilty....but I remain wary of you:inquisitive:

[Chaotix]

Yeah and the time when Reenk was Mafia in a game....he did that to try and save his :daisy: which ended up getting him lynched....your not the only one who looks at all the angles.....:inquisitive:

Frankly.....I think Chaotix is guilty....but I remain wary of you:inquisitive:

Ok... so I am guilty because I hadn't voted when at the time I posted nobody else had set down a vote, either? Or, failing that, I'm guilty because I'm good at being mafia (which I would myself question)? Because nobody else playing this game is capable of being a good mafioso?

I honestly think the names don't make a difference, but if you insist:

My name is Victor Ciprian, a trombonist and an Eastern-European immigrant.

Otherwise... if I'm hearing this correctly, the two living saxophone players (WE and Double A) are brothers and know each other to be innocent? And that leaves only atheotes besides me... what instrument does atheotes play? I find it odd that we haven't heard of a drummer yet... you really need a set of drums for any kind of band.

And obviously, I know myself to be innocent, so I'm gonna go with a total self-preservation vote- it will not only decide my life, but the fate of this game. Remember, if we don't get the mafia now, we lose.

Vote: atheotes.

[Double A]

unvote, vote: atheotes

I just have a gut feeling on this. If I'm wrong I need new guts.

atheotes has been acting a little weird all game, and a trombonist makes more sense than a, wait did he even reveal? I can't find it.

Anyway, unless that my brother is the mafia, which would be very cruel and the host would get a mean glare from me, I think atheotes is the guy who's been killing off our band members.

[atheotes]

Otherwise... if I'm hearing this correctly, the two living saxophone players (WE and Double A) are brothers and know each other to be innocent? And that leaves only atheotes besides me... what instrument does atheotes play? I find it odd that we haven't heard of a drummer yet... you really need a set of drums for any kind of band.


:laugh4: thanks... please see https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=2343298&postcount=23

[White_eyes:D]

I just have a gut feeling on this. If I'm wrong I need new guts.

Anyway, unless that my brother is the mafia, which would be very cruel and the host would get a mean glare from me, I think atheotes is the guy who's been killing off our band members.

You toke the words right out of my mouth....:laugh4:

[Splitpersonality]

http://s3.amazonaws.com/twitter_production/profile_images/106320715/Awesome_Face_bigger.png

[White_eyes:D]

Why post that??:dizzy2: "Vote:White_eyes:D....he is up to something":laugh4:

I will never forget Beskar's photoshopped picture of that...:juggle2:

[Double A]

Gah! Drums vs Trombone!

They're very serious about this then...

But then again, why would a Eastern European either play a trombone, Jazz, or even be in a mafia?

So maybe either the mafia wanted someone to start killing everyone in the band or kill them AND everyone else in the band.

So either they have assumed one of our friend's identities or they'd rather live with the guilt of their friends being dead. Something an immigrant probably wouldn't do, because making friends in a new country is harder than making friends in your home country. And it would be even worse if it was your bro. That's just scarily evil.

So that means atheotes is without a doubt the mafia!

To the mafia: to be honest, if Rossini didn't die I probably would have voted for him. :laugh4:

[Splitpersonality]

I posted it because I love the picture, I wish I had saved the photoshops lmao

[Chaotix]

:laugh4: thanks... please see https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=2343298&postcount=23

That makes sense, then- it was a small reference and I missed it, sorry. But that also means we can't even count on some sort of irregularity in instruments.

As for nationalities, I would've picked the Italian guy too... :laugh4:

But as far as why a Frenchman/Italian/Eastern European/Insert nationality here would be in a jazz band- after the 20's, jazz was popular everywhere. Several jazz band leaders, such as Paul Whiteman, boasted to have the best musicians of every culture in his band (oddly enough, he decided not to include the blacks that invented jazz in said band.)

[Splitpersonality]

(oddly enough, he decided not to include the blacks that invented jazz in said band.)

Which is precisely why the Original .Org-ieland Jazz Band is full of so many people of varying nationalities! :smash:

[White_eyes:D]

But it leaves no scum-tells.....can't say I approve, since the mafia can NIGHT-KILL:stare:

[Splitpersonality]

Well don't blame me for thinking I'd form a band free of violence and founded on the basis of the mutual love of jazz, jeez!

[White_eyes:D]

Well don't blame me for thinking I'd form a band free of violence and founded on the basis of the mutual love of jazz, jeez!

https://i173.photobucket.com/albums/w42/barrow_co2/Facepalm.jpg:wall::wall:
It's about balance.....you need something to help with clues if the mafia is going to run around killing in a mini-mafia....but if there is....then I just am horriable at this:laugh4:

[Splitpersonality]

EDIT:

Nevermind that, what I said above was a joke, everything is as balanced as it needs to be.

[White_eyes:D]

Well....even if the mafia wins this....it still was a good game:2thumbsup:(Mafia whooped me soundly:bow:)

I just dislike Recuitable Mafia for some reason:juggle2: (still can't pinpoint why?:shrug:)

[atheotes]

for what it is worth.... i am supposed to be the son of a French immigrant settled in Canada...I packed my kit and moved to Chicago

[atheotes]

WE and Double_A can take the blame for this loss as they are so sure that i am the mafia. Well played Chaotix! though you did not have anything to change their minds :wall:

[Double A]

WE and Double_A can take the blame for this loss as they are so sure that i am the mafia. Well played Chaotix! though you did not have anything to change their minds :wall:

You've both done that but it's harder to spell your name. So that means your guilty-er.

Can we double lynch?

[Splitpersonality]

The round, as it was predefined, is unfortunately over :devil:

Writeup and tally forthcoming.

atheotes - 3(White_eyes:D, Chaotix, Double A)


Chaoix - 1 (atheotes)


Atheotes shall be dead posthaste.




The band's mutual practice space, a large empty warehouse in Chicago. December 22nd 1934.

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2588/3723410572_78f5c0f159.jpg



As the accusations began to fly, the men became nervous, two brothers who had all but forgotten each other had reunited, and the band was now down to four members.


They decieded to meet here today to attempt to practice, even a little bit... (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp41roOzMLQ)


Things had gone smoothly for a bit, but the band could hardly practice with the threat of the mafia looming over their heads. Only an hour had passed before their harmonious playing stopped, and they began to get down to brass tacks. So much for the jazz...

The votes at first were shifted on a man, Victor Ciprian, who stood next to his rather large trombone.

"I don't think it can be me... you see... it's been very hard moving here, to America... why would I squander the good friends I have made, and the beautiful music, over something so trivial as a city rivalry? Fah, it couldn't possibly do that.... it must be him!" and with that he pointed at the drummer, Jacques Legard, "Since I know it is not myself, and you two are, brothers, yes? It has to be him..."

Everyone else sighed and followed his lead, they had no reason to fight it, his arguments were logical and his jib was cut quite cleanly and they had nothing else to go on, in truth.


So the ballots were counted, and it was decided that Jacques would be killed.


"You are making a mistake," Jacques said, stepping out from behind the drums to face his fate, he was sick of this bull:daisy: anyway, why was he going to be the one killed when he was completely straight with the band, heck, he was the first one to even start! Whatever... it was all over now.

The two brothers, Louis and Roger Knapp each grabbed a drumstick, and began hitting Jacques, and as expected he attempted to run, at least to escape it for a bit. Infact, his mind had changed, he didn't want to die.

He slowly stood up, through the barrage of wood pounding on his head, and face, and body, and he stumbled away a bit.

Victor picked up a cymbal off the top of the drumset and ran at Jacques, chasing him.

Jacques tripped and hit his face on the ground, breaking his nose.

He slowly rolled over, blood pouring around his face and partly clouding his vision.

"Non...." he thought, "Non! Je ne voudrais pas mourir, pas ici, et pas comme ceci..."

He began to sob gently as Victor stepped over him, his face concealing a wicked smile. Victor reached down with the cymbal, placed it to his throat, and jerked it away quickly, the cymbal was surprisingly sharp and slit Jacques throat quite easily.

He convulsed a bit, still crying but unable to make any noise, save for the exhalations out of his severed trachea.

As he convulsed, he picked up a drumstick lying just near him, he threw it as hard as he could at his drumset, that cursed, wretched thing. If not for it, he wouldn't be here, he wouldn't be dying, he would be back in Canada, living happily with his family.


The drumstick hit the snare, knocking it into the toms, the bass drum, and the hi-hat.


The resulting clatter sounded somewhat like a rimshot.

In his final thoughts, Jacques cursed the terrible drums one more time.




atheotes/Jacques Legard - Drummer - Is now dead.


Alive: 3/7
Double A
Chaotix
White_eyes:D

Dead: 3/7
Slashandburn
CDF
Iskander3.1
atheotes


It is now the final night, the last write-up will be in 24 hours, as I cannot find time to do it between now and then. :bow:

[Double A]

Oh :furious3:

Someone ban Chaotix QUICK!

[Splitpersonality]

Writeup coming...



A small house in the suburbs just outside of Chicago, the Knapp household...


http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/images/kmortimer/2006/02/08/1930skitchen4moda.jpg


Louis Knapp sat in the kitchen, nervously tapping his foot and looking around nervously. He hadn't seen his brother Roger in some time, he went out around eight, and it was now almost midnight.


Louis glanced out the window, eyeing the stars (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp41roOzMLQ) up in the sky, looking towards the city. He took a deep breath and sighed, still no sign of anyone at all coming down that winding road to his house. Still no sign of his brother, he wondered whether or not he would survive the night, he had hoped the mafia would come for him that night, maybe Roger could then escape, go back home and live with his mother again. Louis wished he could do the same, but he knew one of them had to die tonight, and he had almost wished his brother was the mafia, so that Victor would die, and the Knapps could escape together.

He laughed to himself, pouring himself a drink, what a ridiculous notion, his brother couldn't hurt anyone, let alone be a member of a mafia organization.



As Louis poured his drink, he heard the distinct noise of a car, he looked out the window and saw a car, his brothers?, approaching the house up that long winding road. He waited for it to approach, and noted that it was indeed his brothers car.


Louis fell back against the counter, barely holding himself up, and sighed a big breath of relief, he smiled to himself and ran to the door to greet his brother.

"Roger? Roger, are you there?" Louis shouted, running for the garage, he ran so quickly he tripped, and fell through the door, landing face first in the coat of his brother.

He knew it was him immediately, he could tell from the smell of the musty coat, it smelled just like the Viceroy cigarettes he was so fond of. In fact, it smelled like he had a lit one in his mouth right now, Louis looked up at his brother, and indeed saw a lit cigarette in his mouth, though there was only a slight glow he could tell it was lit.

"Roger come on, you know not to smoke in the house, take it ou-" the words trailed off, and Louis stood, saying nothing. He smiled at his brother and turned around, walking into the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter anyway, tomorrow we get the heck out of here, move back in with Mom and Dad, get out of this :daisy:-hole before we get killed. I'm already packed, and I've got most of your stuff ready too, sound good?"

He continued to walk to the kitchen, he finally heard from behind him.

"Sounds great!" and at this proclamation, he smiled even harder. Though the band was destroyed, they both still had each other, that was good enough for Louis. He continued into the kitchen, put away his drink and walked back to Roger. He had a pair of suitcases, one in each hand.

"Hey, Roger, how's about we leave tonight? Before anything bad happens to us, is that cool?" Louis stepped past him into the garage, he placed the bags in the trunk of the car and walked back in the house to get the last suitcase.

"Sounds fine by me, but hey, c'mere first."

Louis came down the stairs and stood right in front of him. He was immediately embraced in a warm hug, and he happily hugged back.

"What's this for?" Louis laughed, patting his brothers back.

"Because I'm sorry..." he said, his voice dripping with sorrow, and sadness.

"Sorry for wh-" Louis began, but before he could finish a pair of hands grabbed him, the right hand on his right temple, and the left hand on the left side of his jaw.

"Sorry for this." he uttered, as he pulled his arms apart in opposite directions, snapping Louis' neck with ease.


He slowly placed the body on the floor, and closed it's eyes, despite being dead he looked quite peaceful, that huge smile was still planted on his face. He took his coat off, and placed it over the body, and his hat too, and he placed that on his head, and on his chest he placed the carton of Viceroys, sans one, and a red rose.

He nodded a couple of times, sighed, then removed the luggage from the car, and drove it back into the city. He had an eventful day coming up.



White_eyes:D/Louis Knapp - Baritone Sax - is now dead...

There are 2 remaining people. Double A and Chaotix. I would like both of these persons to not say anything until the final writeup is complete. Thanks.


Alive: 2/7
Double A
Chaotix


Dead: 5/7
Slashandburn
CDF
Iskander3.1
atheotes
White_eyes:D

[Iskander 3.1]

A voice comes down from heaven/up from hell, not sure what type of guy my character was...

Blow your harmonica, son!

[Chaotix]

*giggles with excitement*

[Splitpersonality]

Just outside of the apartment of Victor Ciprian,

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2176/2386101324_61a277911b.jpg?v=0

Victor Ciprian wasn't taking any chances, he knew that it was down to himself and Roger Knapp, and he was going to survive god-:daisy:-it!

He quickly loaded his things into his car, he was planning on driving to the train station and taking the first train out of Chicago. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqB-uS-jmvc)

His friends were dead, he now had nothing to stay for in Chicago, the music he had loved for so long, he now despised. He sighed deeply as he packed the final bag into the car.


As he closed the trunk of his car, he heard footsteps rushing towards him from behind. He turned just in time to catch a steel pipe to the face.

He fell backwards, catching himself on the car, just barely, and darting backwards, trying to get a clear view of his assailant. His vision was clouded slightly, and there was blood pouring out of his left temple, further obscuring his view.

He backed up some more, to the steps of his house, and the man stepped closed towards him, waving the pipe at him.

He shouted something, but Victor couldn't make out what, it didn't matter anyway, he had to try to defend himself, somehow. He backed up into the doorway of his house, and opened it, thi gave him more room to move. The man continued advancing.

When the man reached the top of the stairs, he swung once again at Victor, who quickly ducked the attack and kicked the attacker.

The attacker fell backwards, which gave Victor enough time to run up a flight of stairs and get into his bedroom, which overlooked the sidewalk.

The attacked followed him up, but Victor had a plan. In his haste to finish the deed, the attacker charged Victor through the open bedroom door, and swung at him. Victor once again ducked the attack, but this time instead of kicking back, he grabbed the man and pulled, using his own body as leverage he pulled the man over him and swung him out the window.

The attacker fell out the window, and dropped the pipe, as he fell he cursed Victor, he cursed the whole band for being so dumb, and he cursed Jazz.


When he landed, it was with a sickening crunch, and then there was silence. Victor looked out the window, and saw his attacker's head speared through by a spire on the wrought-iron gate outside of his house.


Victor sighed a deep sigh, then walked outside, locking his house once more.


He looked at the body of his attacker, he could see clearly now, the face of his attacker.

It was Roger Knapp, one of the brothers, and the Alto saxaphone player of the band, and there he was, dead because of Victor.


"Now..." Victor thought, "I really need to hop on that train and get out of here..."

and with that he stood up, walked over to the car and drove for the train station...


Roger Knapp/Double A - Alto Sax - is now dead...


Alive1/7
Chaotix

Epilogue forthcoming...

[Iskander 3.1]

Zappa had a jazzy tune called "Ride my Face to Chicago." :2cents:

[Splitpersonality]

Would've been much better for the above writeup, ah oh well next time :D

[White_eyes:D]

Why is there a need for a Epilogue?:furious3:

[Splitpersonality]

To explain WHY your brother killed you.

[Splitpersonality]

Epilogue: A large high-rise building in Manhattan, New York City, New York. The office of Don C.

http://media-2.web.britannica.com/eb-media/79/67979-004-E309AACC.jpg

Victor Ciprian stood outside the large doors to the Don's office, he thought of his friends in Chicago, and he knew what he had to do. He loaded the bullets into his gun and cocked the hammer, finally he stepped through the door and walked up to the Don, pistol still in hand.


He stood opposite from the Don's desk, and stared at him. The anger was clearly written all over his face, he had half a mind to shoot the Don right now. He didn't however, he simply sighed.

"Next time, I'd like you to send a couple more guys please, and maybe you should make sure your contacts in Chicago are actually loyal to us. (http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/75580)"

The Don broke out into a smile, Victor didn't smile back.

"What happened to you?" the Don asked.

"One of the guys hit me, with a friggin lead pipe!" Victor laughed now, breaking out into a large smile. He placed his pistol down on the table, he walked around it and knelt at the Don, kissing his hand.


"You've done be a great service Vito, someday the Cipriani will be all yours, and you're on the road to proving to be a promising Don, I'm glad you're alright son, I'll be sure to take more care before I send you out like this again."

Vito stood up, and the Don did as well, they shared a warm hug, and good family love.



And this time, no one's neck got broken.



Game Results: Total Mafia Victory
Alive - Chaotix - Trombonist

Dead - The entire O.oJB

[White_eyes:D]

Edit:Good game:bow:

[Chaotix]

Awesome game, split, thanks for hosting! :2thumbsup:

Although I still don't understand why Double A killed white_eyes... the end would've been the same, though- my kill order was on white_eyes, too. :laugh4:

Sorry for having to trick all you guys... I pulled "Victor Ciprian" out of my :daisy:, my real name was Vito Cipriani and I knew it would've gotten me killed! :clown:

[White_eyes:D]

Edit:It's ok...:smiley:

[Chaotix]

and there were THREE MAFIA????:wall::wall::wall:

That's OVERKILL:stare:

No, to my knowledge I was the only mafia- I was also the only one killing.

On Day 1 I correctly guessed Iskander to be the recruitable by his NY Italian accent... unfortunately he declined an offer that he couldn't refuse... and had to pay the price.

I have absolutely no idea what was up with Double A... perhaps some sort of neutral?

[Iskander 3.1]

Wait, I could have been recruited? I wasn't aware of that!

[White_eyes:D]

Edit:Better to smile then to hurt those you care about....:bow:

[Splitpersonality]

Wait, I could have been recruited? I wasn't aware of that!

Yeah, if you would have answered the choices I gave you correctly you would've been recrutied, sadly I thought it was too early to be recruited so I tried to make Chaotix look as bad as possible, he in turn killed you for not joining him lol.


If you would've listened one more time you would've gotten your offer :sweatdrop:


Also sorry if it wasn't clear, Double A didn't kill White_eyes:D, it just appeared that way. Chaotix just stole Double A's coat, hat, cigarettes, and car.

I planned to make the epilogue explain this but I was running out of time, and high on motrin medicine, so I called it a night :(

[Iskander 3.1]

Ah, I see. Very good game, Split!