The following is a passage from the journal of one of the crewmen of the notorious pirate vessel, the Presence:
May 23rd, 1717
I’m still at a loss to explain how it all went wrong. Life on this ship has been absolute misery the past few days; a combination of extreme paranoia settling in with the growing sense of knowledge that I’m next. All of us to a man knew what we had signed on for when we joined the crew: a glorious but short life. I guess the “short” part is kicking in, but I never imagined the end would be like this. We’d take on a mission too big for us and get torn apart, or finally face our end in the form of one of those cursed British Man-O’Wars, but not this. Not the crew, men who I’d known and loved and shared drink with for years, getting picked off bit by bit in the night. Not a total breakdown of trust and an “every man for himself” mentality.
It all started right after our last raid. It was the most successful one I can remember, and I’ve been a part of this ship for more years than I’d like to count. We’d just looted Charleston through use of some brilliant tactics devised by our brilliant Captain, and then to top it off, just as we were leaving, a trade vessel carrying tons upon tons of sugar was entering the harbor, so naturally we raided that one too. Our Captain then turned the ship around, sailed right back into Charleston, and sold the sugar in the defenseless town at a 50% markup! That night was one of celebration and rowdiness.
The next morning, we set off to deposit our treasure back at base in Nassau. After making a quick pit stop to get the supplies needed to sustain our journey (rum), we were on our way. I know I said earlier that it had all started right after squeezing Charleston for every last piece of silver they had, but now that I think about it I suppose it wasn’t the case. After all, the two or so days of sailing it took to get to our pit stop were bliss. After that was taken care of, it all turned sour.
On the second morning of our sail back home, disaster struck. We were all woken up early by a shrill, terrifying scream. If we weren’t so scared of the possibilities we would have been grumbling, but it doesn’t take much to faze this crew and so up we went to the main deck to see whatever was the matter.
The answer greeted us as we emerged from below. Walking on the stairs, it was only natural that we were looking up. As doing so, we caught a glimpse of what was to be all the norm for the next several days. Our Captain, our brilliant, beloved Captain, was lashed to the mast and hung from the neck. Painted on his chest was the accursed English flag.
Somehow we were able to convene after that and take care of business. We elected a new captain, who promised that he’d find the scum who’d infiltrated the ship and send them to the end they so richly deserved. We held a quick funeral for our old, glorious leader and went back to work. It sickens me that his killers were present at the funeral, mourning him along with the rest of us. At the funeral, we vowed that his death would be avenged and that we would each take the effort to make sure that this was so.
Of course, we’ve failed. Not only have we not upheld our promise, but the deaths have continued. More hangings, and others, which I will get to shortly. At first, there were attempts at organization. Every day, we’d collect evidence, analyze behavior and vote for who we think killed the old Captain, for this is the way that free men do things. The problem is that we were wrong.
As the days wore on and we kept getting the vote wrong, organization broke down. The British dogs were still hanging people. We were all losing our trust in the system, and even worse, each other. More killings began to pop up at nights, some of them undoubtedly forms of vigilante justice, but some of them so barbaric that they could only have come from our rival crew, the rats from the Maven.
So now we have two enemies on board. We’re losing faithful crew members every night, friendships of a decade or more are being broken, and there’s talk of mutiny. People are killing to get a greater share of the loot raked in from the raid now, having abandoned any hope of defeating the enemy. An “every man for himself” mentality on a ship is never good.
Some of the superstitious are blaming the accursed treasure for it all, saying it started to go bad afterwards, that we pushed our luck too much with the British. Me… I’m past blaming anymore. I just want to make it back to Nassau alive.
If, by some miracle, I die and we manage to sort out the situation afterwards, consider this my last will and testament: I hereby give all of my treasure to Joanna at Milton’s Tavern, who was always the best at what she did.
Overview:
Welcome to Pirate Ship Mafia, what I hope will be the third successful Huge mafia game hosted on the .Org after Capo di Tutti Capi I and II, respectively. For those of you who know me for my classic Mafia series, this is something entirely different. Pirate Ship Mafia blends elements from Capo, Cosa Nuova II, Stig’s Beer Salesmen game and even the Last of the Romans PBM game from the Throne Room, with a new feature that will add another entire dimension to the game: treasure. Maintaining a perfect balance between team cooperation and individual competition will be the key to obtain victory.
Setting:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Basic rules:
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PMs:
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Voting:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The factions:
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Once you are dead:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The roles:
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Treasure and Wills:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Signing up:
I’m looking for 50 players to start the game. I think, with your help, it can be sufficiently epic and possibly even one of the greatest .Org Mafia games of all time. If you need any more motivation, please keep in mind that you get 10 extra treasure for every player you recruit (that player must PM me and explicitly state that you recruited them for the treasure bonus to kick in). :eyebrows: Without further ado, post here to sign up and best of luck to all!!!
Signed up (11/50):
Reenk Roink (courteously in)
seirei "I still can't get over those lost 3 minutes" khaan
Sigurd Fafnesbane (don't anger him, he's a viking AND an AM)
YLC (wonders what those letters used to stand for)
Seamus "I graciously let GH steal half of my Capo ideas" Fermanagh
glyphz (Reenk's protege)
Rythmic (halfhearted pirate)
pever "I am one of the few who can truthfully state I actually bothered to read the rules" green
Andres (probably wants all that referral treasure)
shlin28 (still operating off his BR3 high)
Aries "I can't be bothered to read the rules of the game I signed up for" 777777
Boudica