Mafia IX: Information and summary thread

This thread is only to be used to house the write-ups and relevant information from Mafia IX.

Post 128 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. It was a tranquil Spring day, the first truly beautiful weather the villagers had witnessed since they had hunkered in for the long, dark, cold winter back in the fall, several months ago. Finally, there looked to be rebirth. Finally, the sun was coming out again.

My, how quickly this would change.

A white, unmarked van slowly pulled up to Crazed Rabbit's house. Outside stepped a man, sharply-dressed save for the fact that he was wearing stereotypical 1950s deliveryman clothing. When Crazed Rabbit went to answer the door, he too was bemused by this man's clothing choice, but never got the chance to mention it.

"Telegram," said the deliveryman, handing CR an envelope.

"Telegram?" CR asked, eying the deliveryman while at the same time taking the envelope. "Those things are still around?"

"Well," the deliveryman said, "like everyone else, we're tightening the belt a bit with this economy. But yeah, despite phones and the internet and everything, there's still a market for telegrams. Chalk it up to them being obsolete enough to be classified as 'retro' and thus cool I guess, I don't know. I suppose it's a moot point, since it's paying my bills. Anyway, you'll sign for it?"

"Uh... sure," CR said, still off-guard by the strangeness of the entire encounter. He accepted a pen from the deliveryman and signed the paper on his clipboard, returning both to the deliveryman. He then attempted to tear open the envelope, with little success.

"Say, this is sealed pretty tightly," CR said. "Do you by any chance have a letter opener on you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," the deliveryman said, digging into his pockets for one. A second later, he came up with it, but instead of handing it to CR he instead moved quickly, slitting the unsuspecting homeowner's throat. CR fell to his knees, gasping for air that would not come.

"But... but why... not kill... me right a-... away?" he managed to choke out.

"All telegrams must be signed for," the deliveryman said with a flourish, and then walk out. He did not bother to see Crazed Rabbit expire in his own foyer.

Andres was out and enjoying the pleasant day along with the various flora and fauna of the Frontroom, taking in the sight of the golden sun dazzling its light on all the creatures of the earth. Yes, Andres was truly one with nature for the moment; he was mowing the lawn.

Mowing the lawn provided a nice bit of solitude for Andres. The ever-present sound of the motor conveniently tuned out any other annoying human and their annoying requests, allowing his thoughts to truly wander as he completed his task. In addition, it got him out of the house, and on a beautiful day such as this he jumped at the chance to get out and manicure the grass into uniform precision.

Andres didn't really have a set pattern for cutting the grass; he took whatever route fancied him that day. Today's route, as it would have it, had him cut a long stretch of grass while facing north. It was a very long stretch of grass, as a matter of fact. It often took Andres well over a minute to finish that stretch before turning the mower.

As he would have it, it only took well over a minute for someone to approach him from the south while (oddly) lugging a cooler, set the cooler down, take an icicle out of the cooler, and stab him with said icicle from said cooler. As Andres lay on his well-kept lawn, watching two puddles from his blood and the icicle form and then increase, the only thought that went through his head was that maybe the lawnmower's motor wasn't so pleasant after all. Maybe it was, as his wife had informed him on countless occasions, overly loud, obnoxious, and liable to make him miss something important.

In a certain office in the center of town...

"Hello?" the man said, picking up the phone. "Yes? What... oh... oh, no. O-okay. Yes." He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. It seemed as if the weight of the word had just been dropped on him all at once. After about a minute of despair, the man rose from his chair and walked over to a section of wall. On it was a plaque, entitled "Esteemed Predecessors". Below the plaque was a picture of a man who, despite his cowl, looked very much like a lumberjack:

https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/image...Assassin68.gif

The man brushed aside the picture, for behind it was a hole in the wall. In that hole was a thick binder. He took it out of the wall and examined the cover. "In Case of Mafia Assault on Frontroom," it read.

"Right then," Chief of Police Lemur said to himself, "Let's do this."

Thirty minutes later, he had gathered everyone in the town square and prepared to make an announcement. "All right, folks," he began. "About thirty minutes ago, I received a report of there being two separate murders in the town. Unfortunately, Crazed Rabbit and Andres are both dead, CR courtesy of his throat being slit and Andres due to a stab wound. I have reliable information that these murders are mafia hits, meaning that they're trying to wipe out our town."

There was an audible gasp among the people in the town square. The Frontroom was the Kingdom of Peace and Love! Why would anyone want to assault it?

"However folks, remain calm. I do have a plan," Lemur said. "Now then..." he muttered to himself, thumbing through the binder. "Ah, yes, it says so right here. In cases like this, democracy is the best defense against annihilation. You all know each other, surely you'll be able to figure out who the two traitors are amongst yourselves better than honest police work can. Therefore, it will be up to you to smoke out the mafia and lynch them. Every day until the murders stop, you will vote for who you think is guilty. At the end of the day, whoever has the most votes is lynched. Got it?"

The villagers nodded. "Good, then the first day of voting begins. Let's hope it's the last day, too. Best of luck, everyone."

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

Still alive: (32)
Yaseikhaan
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Csargo
johnhughthom
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Sigurd
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
atheotes
shlin28
Diamondeye
Winston Hughes
Double A
Centurion1
Chaotix
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres

It is now Day 1! Voting will close in around 24 hours.

Post 271 of main thread.

The sun crept ever lower into the sky, a sign that voting for the day was nearly complete. The villagers of the Frontroom had been a lively bunch for the entire day, taking up their task with gusto and flinging around accusations like there was no tomorrow. For some of them, this would be the truth.

One of the earliest of such accusations was directed at Diamondeye. Some people initially questioned the validity of this accusation, especially considering the fact that the accusation was made up entirely of rhetoric and no actual information or evidence, but it was popular nevertheless. As a matter of fact, it was only in the middle of the day when Diamondeye gave a defense of himself that the votes started shifting elsewhere. Soon, Renata appeared to be in very hot water. As a matter of fact, the votes were even tied at one point.

"All right..." Chief of Police Lemur muttered to himself, looking alternatively at his watch and the setting sun. "Voting will close in five seconds... four... three..."

"WAIT!" shouted one villager, and then another right after him. "I don't like my vote! Move me into the 'abstain' column!" The other villager shouted his like-minded change just as time expired. Renata breathed a huge sigh of relief. Diamondeye groaned.

"Okay, Diamondeye," Lemur said, "Step right up to my new execution platform. It's still somewhat under construction to be able to handle more... elaborate... methods of death, so right now it's just a platform. But it'll still suffice." He paused, leafing through his binder. "Ah, yes, before I'm to execute you, it's customary that the condemned is allowed a set of last words. So, uh, any last words?"

"Not really," Diamondeye said, the gravity of the entire situation still not fully clear to him. "Uh, sorry, I guess, and good luck catching the two mafiosi since you screwed up with me."

The entire (suitably large) crowd gathered in, as if they have been conditioned to expect an elaborate and cool execution. However, they were to be denied, as Lemur simply took out a pistol and unceremoniously blasted Diamondeye in the head.

"What?" said Lemur as the crowd started to mutter with disapproval. "I'm still new to this Chief of Police stuff! Give me some time to get on my feet and cook up some really creative executions! They'll be awesome, I promise! But... uh... let's hope we never have to use them and that you were on-target with your choice today, and all that jazz. Good night, folks!"

Day 1 tally:

Diamondeye: 6 (khaan, Beefy, ATPG, TinCow, Renata, Kage) :skull:
Renata: 5 (Diamondeye, Joooray, Winston, atheotes, Sasaki)
Yaseikhaan: 3 (Secura, AVSM, Split)
Psychonaut: 1 (Centurion)
Centurion1: 1 (Beskar)
White_eyes:D: 1 (Psychonaut)
Sasaki Kojiro: 1 (Methos)
Csargo: 1 (pevergreen)
Beefy187: 1 (woad&fangs)
atheotes: 1 (Csargo)
TinCow: 1 (Thermal)
Beskar: 1 (Double A)
A Very Super Market: 1 (Subotan)

Abstained: 5 (Chaotix, Ibn-Khaldun, Reenk, shlin, White_eyes)
Didn't vote: 3 (johnhughthom, Sigurd, Captain Blackadder)

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

Still alive: (31)
Yaseikhaan
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Csargo
johnhughthom
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Sigurd
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
atheotes
shlin28
Winston Hughes
Double A
Centurion1
Chaotix
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres

Executed:
Diamondeye

Congratulations on surviving your first full phase. It is now Night 2! Orders in 24 hours, please.

Post 309 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Despite the horrible deaths of yesterday, many villagers were still determined to take advantage of the beautiful weather and go outside to partake in various leisure activities. One such villager was atheotes, and his leisure activity of choice was walking. Normally, he took the scenic route around the Frontroom Park (where he got the visit the osmium-rich pond and the ducks), but today he decided to hit the denser part of the town. Buildings flanked the street.

atheotes paused to examine the architecture, not really paying attention to much else. Therefore, he was taken by surprised when somebody else's voice rang out.

He heard someone screaming "atheotes, Watch Out! There is a red dot on your chest! It's a Sniper!!!"

The man threw atheotes what appeared to be a bulletproof vest, and he put it on without much thought. Not noticing that it was a vest covered with C-4 explosives!

It was too late to take off the vest though, the button was pushed, and atheotes went KABLOOEE!

A laser pointer was found at the scene...

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Double A had decided to sleep late. After the long execution vote of yesterday, Double A realized that he had not yet begun his St. Patrick's Day celebrations. He decided that it was only fair to all the Irish out there that he would have to start making up ground, and quickly. So he drank. And drank. And drank some more, going strong on Guinness (which he had never had before) until roughly 4:30 AM, when he finally passed out.

As such, it took the man at the door well over a dozen doorbell rings before Double A finally rejoined the world and stumbled downstairs to answer the door.

"Carpenter," the man said, dressed in overalls and carrying a bag of tools in one of his hands. A white van was parked outside the house. "Need a patio built? Porch reinforced? Sunroom added to your house? I'm your man!"

"...gurgh?" Double A managed to mutter after unsuccessfully trying to comprehend the man at the door.

"Well, all righty then," the man said cheerfully, and then let himself in the house. Looking around the house, he didn't waste any time at all giving his appraisal of the situation.

"Hmm, this'll do, perhaps here - no, here's better, yes, here. We could make it 12x18, not too bad a size really, when you think about it. Roofing would be a different story of course, but we'll burn that bridge when we come to it - sorry, did I say 'burn'? I meant 'cross', of course. Why in Heaven's name would I say 'burn'? I mean, what's the point of burning a bridge when you come to it? You do that, you can't cross the bridge at all, which isn't a very efficient use of your time. If you were absolutely insistent on burning bridges, you should probably do it after you cross, that way nobody gets to follow you across, which could be useful, I suppose, depending on the situation you're in-" He finally paused, glancing at the still-out-of-it Double A. His eyes were barely open, feeling around for a lightswitch that was on the other side of the wall.

"Oh, there's no point in keeping up this charade any more," the carpenter said. "You're much too hung over to do anything about me anyway. Reaching into his tool bag, he brought out his staple gun and made one adjustment to the house before leaving. The south wall of the foyer now had a Double A-sized ornament stapled to it.

Later that day, Chief of Police Lemur gathered everyone in the Frontroom square in order to make an announcement.

"All right people," he said, "Obviously, there were two more deaths today. Double A was found dead from puncture wounds and massive loss of blood. atheotes died from a stratagem so deadly and so original I had never even thought about such a method before. No, as a matter of fact I had never even envisioned such an original and creative kill. As a matter of fact, I don't think anybody has. Ever." He finally stopped, staring out at the crowd as if to drive home a point.

"Anyway, yeah, so that's where we stand. The mafia are still obviously loose, so you guys get to try again. I wish you better luck this time!"

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

Still alive: (29)
Yaseikhaan
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Csargo
johnhughthom
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Sigurd
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
shlin28
Winston Hughes
Centurion1
Chaotix
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A

Executed:
Diamondeye

It is now Day 2! The round will last approximately 24 hours.

Post 397 of main thread.

Day Two of voting had officially ended. All in all the day was a bit more subdued than yesterday, although there were still several interesting discussions that happened. Several of the townspeople took very professorial tones when discussing their cases - although truth be told it was more about the theory of wider detective work than actual cases on people - and others, much to the chagrin of the official vote-counters, voted for targets that had no chance of getting lynched.

Early in the day though, Chaotix set himself to be the main target. However, this was not because he was the object of the passionate-but-random bandwagon that doomed Diamondeye. Instead, he was bandwagoned because he spoke out against that exact type of bandwagon; too loudly, some reasoned. "Almost as if he had something to hide," one villager would say afterwards.

Chaotix, however, would not lie down and die, instead trying to engage the "professorial" townies with academic logic of his own. This endeavor was mildly successful, but the increasingly-verbose Chaotix, forgetting how he got into this situation in the first place, probably kept talking too much for his own good.

"See, now, folks," he said, "the problem is with random lynches is that they're just that: random! They fail to factor in the data or the context of the situation, which means that in reality their percent chance of success is actually lower than what it should be because the Mafia know this and are thus able to manipulate the context to make it less likely that the 'random' votes will attract them, which means that in reality random votes are not random at all! So, faced with this parcel of knowledge, we should instead not randomly, but purposefully, vote for those who would randomly vote for others, since their randomness is precisely the purpose and unrandomness that dooms us all! So, in conclusion, the random achieves predetermined, manipulated results, and only by fighting the random can we truly embrace it! Uh, mind getting your votes off me now?"

General bewilderment and silence followed this discourse.

Chaotix tried to reword his argument so that the unenlightened peons would be able to better understand the majesty of his rhetoric, but Chief of Police Lemur stepped in and formally called a halt to voting. "A pretty speech my friend, but it's too little, too late. You have the most votes. Step on up to the execution platform now."

Softly cursing, Chaotix did as he was told, still muttering under his breath about the value of randomness in voting. As he mounted the steps to the execution platform he changed the subject, openly about to ask Lemur a question. "You know, Chief, so what do I-WAAAAAAGH!" On the final step, Chaotix had failed to notice the placement of a banana peel and slipped on it, falling face forward.

Fortunately, there was something to break his fall. Unfortunately, it was a giant spike. Chaotix fell right into it, the spike impaling him through the mouth.

Lemur shook his head. "Should've kept his mouth shut," he said.

Day 2 tally:

Chaotix: 5 (Renata, Joooray, Csargo, ATPG, Sasaki) :skull:
Methos: 4 (Beskar, shlin, Secura, Chaotix)
Subotan: 3 (khaan, TinCow, john)
Secura: 2 (Psychonaut, Blackadder)
Sasaki Kojiro: 1 (White_eyes)
White_eyes:D: 1 (Reenk)
Yaseikhaan: 1 (Methos)
Joooray: 1 (Beefy)
Renata: 1 (Centurion)
woad&fangs: 1 (Kage)
Beskar: 1 (Ibn-Khaldun)
Psychonaut: 1 (Winston)
Beefy187: 1 (woad)
TinCow: 1 (Thermal)

Abstained: 1 (pevergreen)
Didn't vote: 4 (Sigurd, Kage, Subotan, CDF)

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

Still alive: (28)
Yaseikhaan
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Csargo
johnhughthom
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Sigurd
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
shlin28
Winston Hughes
Centurion1
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix

Post 433 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. The unmarked van was once again puttering through the sleepy streets, searching for its next target. After a few minutes of driving, the mafioso found a house he liked, parked it, and once again walked out.

*ding dong*

Centurion1, still dressed in his nightgown and sleeping cap, opened the door after about a minute. He wore a very drowsy expression on his face. "...yes...?" he mumbled.

"Accountant," said the man at the door, stepping into the house without being invited. "It's tax season, you know! Nowadays more people than ever are getting audited because they didn't file their taxes on time. You don't want the government taking more money just because you were a little late mailing some papers, do you?"

"I don't think that's much of a problem considering I'm likely to die in the next few days," Centurion said.

"Nonsense, nonsense," the accountant said, far too cheerily. "Say hypothetically for a moment that you survive this. You're alive, sure, but all of this is bound to be a traumatizing experience. You might even have PTSS afterwards. The last thing you're going to want to do is some soul-crushing pencil-pushing, right? No, you just want to relax and recuperate! So why don't you worry about staying alive and I worry about making sure your finances are in order?"

Centurion thought about it, but it was far too early to really mount a defense to this man's quick tongue. "Well... all right."

"Excellent, excellent," the account said, continuing his penchant for repeating the first statement in his speeches twice. "Now then, the first thing we need to worry about is excess paper. You really don't need more than ten or so sheets that tell you all about your finances, so the rest of it's just liable to get in your way and royally confuse you. So, today we're going to do nothing more than get rid of those papers. Do you have a shredder by any chance?" Centurion nodded, pointing to the room it was in. "Well, all right then," said the accountant, "let's head on over then, by all means!"

The two of them walked to the room that substituted for Centurion's office. In it were several filing cabinets and a small if serviceable paper shredder mounted over a trash can. Taking note of his surroundings, the accountant started directing Centurion. "Okay," he said, "why don't you go into that first cabinet on the left and bring me every paper in there?" Centurion complied, and as his back was to the accountant, the accountant made his way to the shredder and stealthily unplugged it.

"Here they are," said Centurion, turning around with a large handful of papers.

"Right," said the accountant, "Why don't you just start shredding them then?" Centurion did so, but quickly turned to the accountant.

"It doesn't work," he said. "That's odd, I was just playing with it a couple weeks ago and it seemed fine..."

"That brand of shredder is notoriously unreliable," the accountant said, quickly cutting Centurion off before he could think things through. "Here, I've got my own." He rummaged through his bag and somehow managed to pull out a very large, industrial-strength shredder that had no business fitting in a standard business bag. Upon seeing Centurion gaze upon the size of the shredder, he chuckled. "In my business, sometimes you have to shred a *lot* of paper. This bad boy takes care of the business quickly for you. Anyway, try it out for yourself!"

Centurion did so, noting the sharpness of the saws as he put his first pieces of paper in.

"Keep going, keep going!" the accountant said, smoothly stepping out from next to the trash can and moving behind Centurion. As Centurion got more and more involved in the task, the accountant decided it was finally time to act. He gave Centurion a little nudge and Centurion toppled over forward, falling over, before he could stop himself, directly into the industrial-strength shredder. The shredder was so efficient that it even was able to stop Centurion's guts from splashing out and ruining all the walls, instead having all of it collect in the trash can.

"Now that's efficient shredding," the mafioso said, walking back to his van.

The Frontroom Caves were for the most part unexplored. Most of the villagers regarded them as dark, dank, disgusting, and scary. Sure, they were interesting ecological features, but if asked, most of the villagers would say that some ecological features are best left to nature, and that's that.

Csargo was not one of these people, however. An amateur spelunker, he had explored the caves many times, finding lots of interesting features. He only indulged himself a couple of times a year, as spelunking equipment was expensive and difficult to maintain, but today was one of those days. Plus, he figured that the day's excursion would serve as a good hiding place for a mafia attack.

Entering the mouth of the cave, Csargo lowered himself down to the "atrium", if you will, and saw the usual paths: Left, right, and center. He had gone center and right many times, but never to the left. "Might as well today," he said to himself, and then headed left.

He quickly realized why he had usually headed to the right and center. While there was water to the right and lots of interesting paths and rocks in the center, the left path just kept going straight, deep into the cave, getting darker and darker. Ignoring a path off to the left which looked like it lead to a singular room, Csargo decided to keep heading straight. "I want to see how deep this cave actually goes," he said, and kept walking.

About thirty seconds later, a very large spider skittered by him. Stopping in his tracks, Csargo looked all around, wondering where the spider could possibly have come from. He was about to shake it off and keep walking when three more spiders, all relatively enormous, crawled by, one of them starting to climb up his leg before he hurriedly brushed it off.

It was at this point where Csargo realized exactly how far away from rescue he actually was. He had been walking down this path for a good fifteen minutes. The air was particularly dank and foul down here, as if there hadn't been very many disturbances to circulate it in a very long time. It was incredibly dark too, the only source of light seeming to come from...

"...that room off to the side," Csargo mentioned to himself, now wanting to get out of this cave as quickly as possible. "Maybe it's where the spiders are coming from, maybe there's an exit that nobody knows about!" He started running now, stopping at the room where he saw something he did not expect at all.

"Or maybe it's where somebody decided would be a good spot to park a giant box full of poisonous, hostile spiders," the mafioso said, carrying a torch and "inadvertently" dropping the box on the ground, allowing all the numerous spiders to crawl out and slowly, up Csargo. Screaming like a girl, he struggled to brush them off, but there were too many and then they started to bite. His screams grew shriller but they did nothing to placate the spiders, which had just brought him to his knees.

It was only when they had fully swarmed Csargo's body and were starting to eat his eyes did the mafioso leave and make his way back aboveground.

Later that day, Chief of Police Lemur gathered everyone in the Frontroom Square in order to make an announcement.

"All right people," he said. "Unfortunately, at least one of your choices these past two days was wrong, because we have two more deaths on our hands today. Centurion1 got shredded into oblivion and Csargo has gone missing, presumed dead. So, here we go again. Let's hope you're up to it, boys!"

"Wait a minute," shouted one villager, "How about you do some actual detective work on this for a moment? I mean, that had to be a big shredder in order to fully kill a person, right? Why not run a search on the shredder, get its serial number, and found out who bought it and where? You know, something that will actually get us somewhere!"

"Yeah!" a couple villagers shouted in agreement. "Stop leaving the burden on us!"

"Enough of this silly talk!" shouted Lemur. "Are you telling me you people have something against democracy? Against freedom? Are you telling me the Kingdom of Peace and Love doesn't believe in the value of individualism? Why do you hate freedom?"

Shamed into silence, the villagers once again began the task of voting.

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

Still alive: (28)
Yaseikhaan
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
johnhughthom
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Sigurd
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
shlin28
Winston Hughes
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix

Note: Due to my sleep schedule, this round will last longer than usual so I don't have to be up until 2am a night before I have an 8:30 class. Therefore, the round will last 36 hours or so.

Post 511 of main thread.

Yaseikhaan had somehow acquired a podium, much to the general chagrin of the villagers of the Frontroom. He had been at the pulpit all day, masterfully interweaving proclamations of the glory of Northern Iowa with harangues about how Thermal Mercury was guilty and deserved to die (while conveniently, of course, not even thinking about the possibility of evidence to side the argument in either direction). In addition to this, he was decked out in purple robes with gold trim. All in all, according to him, he gave off the appearance of a gleaming beacon of light in an otherwise hopeless town. However, the villagers mostly regarded him as an annoying blight who needed to be removed.

"And by the grace that is Panther Pride, I say once again that Thermal Mercury has brought this pestilence upon the town, and therefore must be removed, much like how the University of Kansas was removed from the NCAA Tournament by the #9 seed Northern Iowa on Saturday night! Can I get an amen on this, brothers and sisters?! I say, can I get a hallelujah?! Hallelujah! Hallelujah indeed! Strong and fearless we shall strike forth and eliminate our opposition, much like how Northern Iowa will strike forth and eliminate Michigan State in the Sweet 16 on Thursday!" And thus the harangue went on, for hours.

Finally, mercifully, as the sun was setting, Chief of Police Lemur called an end to voting and pontificating alike. "All right khaan," he said, "you have the most votes by a lot. Come on, get down from the pulpit and come on up to the execution platform." khaan did as he was ordered, noticing that there was a large metal pole mounted at the back of the platform that was not there previously. He said nothing as Lemur instructed him to wrap his arms behind the pole and begun tying them there using some rope.

"For today's execution, I have invented a new type of incendiary device that explodes on contact with human flesh only; heavier than a grenade but packing a bit more punch. I've formed it into the shape of a basketball for familiarity's sake. Unfortunately, the device is a lot heavier than I originally anticipated, so I needed to call in someone from the outside to handle it. Therefore, the deliverer of khaan's execution will be University of Kansas point guard Sherron Collins."

khaan, despite his predicament, burst out laughing as Collins gripped the basketball-bomb and prepared to chuck it. "Don't you have a game to prepare for?" he yelled. "Oh wait, that's right, you don't, BECAUSE WE ENDED YOUR SEASON! Ha ha!" Collins, absolutely glowering, shot the ball at khaan but it went wide left.

Lemur retrieved the ball without comment as khaan kept up his barrage of insults and heckling. Collins, lining up for his second shot, came up short as the ball barely made it to the execution platform.

"AIRRRRR BALLLLLLLL!!!" khaan jeered.

And thus it went for the better part of 15 minutes. khaan mercilessly heckled Collins who, try as he might, was unable to shoot the ball-bomb with any accuracy. Finally, Collins, his face absolutely red with rage, stared khaan down while all the while whispering in Lemur's ear.

"Uh, right..." Lemur said with a questioning expression on his face. Collins nodded, and then Lemur shrugged. "Okay khaan, this is going to be it for real. Have you any last words?"

Collins started charging at khaan, leaping into the air, and suddenly khaan understood. "IN THE NAME OF EGLSEDER, AND KOCH, AND FAROKHMANESH, MAY PEACE AND VICTORIES COME UPON YOU ALL!" he bellowed, right before Collins slam-dunked the ball-bomb on khaan's head, the explosion killing them both.

Day 3 tally:
Yaseikhaan: 8 (Sasaki, Beefy, Thermal, Beskar, Blackadder, Methos, Subotan, john) :skull:
Thermal Mercury: 4 (khaan, woad, ATPG, TinCow)
Askthepizzaguy: 2 (Reenk, Ibn-Khaldun)
Sasaki Kojiro: 2 (White_eyes, Kage)
Psychonaut: 1 (Winston)
Split: 1 (Psychonaut)
shlin28: 1 (pever)
Kagemusha: 1 (Renata)
pevergreen: 1 (shlin)

Abstained: 3 (Secura, Joooray, Split)
Didn't vote 2: (Sigurd, CDF)

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

Still alive: (25)
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
johnhughthom
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Sigurd
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
shlin28
Winston Hughes
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan

Post 539 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. The white van was filled to the very brim with equipment for today's kill.

*ding dong*

Winston Hughes opened the door, already dressed for the day's activities. This was a switch from the mafioso's previous targets, which had been mostly still half-asleep or groggy.

"Oven installation," the man at the door said. "I'm here to help deliver and install the oven you ordered-" He was cut off.

"It's about time you got here," Winston said, "I was told to expect you three hours ago!"

The installer couldn't help but be surprised at this. "Wait... really?"

"Yes, really, Winston said. Now, are you going to install me an oven or are you just going to stand there looking stupid?"

"No, sir, of course not," the installer said, recovering quickly. "It's just that I was told to be at your house... in fifteen minutes, actually. I thought I was early. Right then, let me just go out to the van and start getting things ready."

"You got it," Winston said. "Need any help with bringing anything in?"

"Nope, I can handle it!" the installer called out, already on the way back to his van. "This is an odd coincidence," he said to himself. "He actually was expecting somebody to install his oven? That is *so* weird. I've got to finish this thing up and get out of here before the actual oven installer comes and complicates things." After a minute of rummaging around with the van, he emerged with a plan, among other things.

Walking back up to the doorway, the installer put his plan in action. "As a thank you for ordering with us as well as an apology for having to wait so long, I'd like to offer you this complimentary pizza paddle. Now you can be like the professional pizzerias when handling your delicious pies!"

"Uh, thanks..." Winston said, taken a bit aback, "But I'm not really sure I'll ever need this..."

"YOU'LL TAKE THE PIZZA PADDLE AND LIKE IT!" the mafioso shouted, whacking Winston upside the head with the pizza paddle. Winston spilled to the ground, out cold. Looking around for any signs of neighbors, the mafioso, now looking slightly mad with paranoia, took out a shovel and started digging. Thirty minutes later, he had buried Winston alive on his own front lawn before driving off.

Unlike Winston, johnhughthom had just gotten up and was in the process of his usual morning rituals. These included, in order, waking up, getting up, shaving, showering, having breakfast, and brushing his teeth. Right now, john had finished with getting up, and now, still half-asleep, he was shaving.

Unbeknownst to him, john's electric razor would not work today because, only minutes ago, someone had strategically detonated a low-power EMP right outside his own bathroom window. Naturally, when john turned his razor on, nothing happened. Muttering about the fact that batteries were increasingly unreliable, john reached for his charger and plugged his razor in. Of course, the razor still didn't work.

"What the...?" john said.

*CRASH!!!* His bathroom window shattered open as the mafioso climbed through, evidently having picked up a ladder beforehand. "Here, use this!" he said, handing a straight, cut-throat razor to john. "In a world where we can't trust electricity, some of the old ways still work! Perhaps this experience will persuade you to join a more naturalist lifestyle! Help end humanity's slavish reliance on our electronic masters!"

john simply stood there, dumbfounded.

"Ah, wait," said the mafioso, "You don't know how to use one of these? It's okay, I'll show you," now gripping the razor and standing at john's side. "Well, basically, you stand, and lift up your chin, and just start scraping, but not too much, because you're liable to-" john suddenly went down to his knees, his hands at his throat, gasping for air.

"...cut your throat," the mafioso finished, smirking. He shimmied out of the window and climbed back down.

Later that day, Chief of Police Lemur gathered the remaining villagers in the Frontroom Square in order to make an announcement.

"All right everyone," he said, "It looks like we have four crimes to deal with today. In addition to the two new murders, there has also been an act of terrorism with the detonation of an EMP. Most importantly though, let it be noted that an oven installation service has failed to keep its appointment! Had the actual installer shown up at poor Winston's door at the designated time, he might have been more on guard when the mafioso had come to call! Unfortunately, we're only here today to discuss the two murders, so get on that in the meantime. I'll make some headway with the other two crimes."

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

Still alive: (23)
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Sigurd
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
shlin28
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan

Wrath of God Warnings are now in affect. Do not tempt fate.

Tie vote between Sigurd and Ibn-Khaldun.

In case you're unfamiliar with how I resolve tie votes, I do a runoff between the players with the most votes. Therefore, all previous votes are wiped and you are only allowed to vote for either Sigurd or Ibn. You have 24 hours, and your participation (or lack thereof) will be factored into whether or not I put you on the chopping block for WoGs. Good luck!

Day 4 tally:
Sigurd: 4 (Beskar, ATPG, Subotan, Methos)
Ibn-Khaldun: 4 (Psychonaut, woad, Sasaki, TinCow)
Sasaki Kojiro: 3 (Thermal, Joooray, pever)
Captain Blackadder: 2 (Renata, Secura)
Beskar: 1 (Sigurd)
TinCow: 1 (Kage)
Askthepizzaguy: 1 (Ibn)
Reenk Roink: 1 (White_eyes)
White_eyes:D: 1 (Reenk)

Abstained: 2 (Beefy, shlin)
Didn't vote: 3 (Blackadder, Drizzt, Split)

Post 676 of main thread.

In the beginning of the day, it seemed as if there was going to be an open "competition" for the most votes, an anything-goes affair. The votes were spread far and wide, and delivered fast and furious. Nobody was safe because the votes were spread so thin. Finally, though, there did seem to be some separation from the pack. Both Ibn-Khaldun and Sasaki Kojiro seemed to be accumulating pluralities of votes.

Meanwhile, Sigurd sat back and watched all this from his easy chair that he had somehow managed to drag from his house and plant in the Frontroom Square a couple of days back. Sitting back and enjoying his book, A Darkness at Sethanon, Sigurd sipped some lemonade and quietly observed the action. Yessir, it was truly the little things in life that made it worth living. Despite all of the chaos swirling around him, Sigurd and his easy chair were an island of serenity and calm, a beacon of-

"Hey, waitaminute!" one villager suddenly shouted, pointing at Sigurd. "He hasn't done or said anything since this started! What's your opinion on all this, Sigurd?"

Taken aback, Sigurd had very little time to react. "Oh, uh... he did it," he said, pointing the finger directly back at his accuser. Once this deed was done, he went right back to his novel and lemonade. Naturally, this reaction was not quite enough to satisfy the villagers, and Sigurd accumulated a decent amount of votes in short order.

"All right, time's up," said Chief of Police Lemur a few minutes later. "Hmm, looks like we have a tie vote between Ibn-Khaldun and Sigurd. All right, well, I guess there's only one way to do this: runoff! So let's all vote again to see who is guil-"

"Sigurd," the villagers all said, pointing their fingers as one at the man in the easy chair.

"Well, that simplifies things," said Lemur, sprinkling something into Sigurd's drink while nobody was looking. "You three, help me haul this chair up to the execution platform. He wants to live comfy, he'll die comfy too." With a grunt, they hauled the easy chair and struggled to carry it up to the platform. After about a couple minutes' toil, they were finally successful. Panting and sweating from the effort, they looked at the carefree Sigurd with utter disdain.

"Ahh," Sigurd said, "I can't think of very many better ways for a man to go out than this. Many thanks for the dignified death, Lemur." He took a sip of his lemonade. "Now then, only one more page to go, and I'll finally have finished the book I've been having dreams abou-"

He slumped over in his chair, dead.

Day 4a tally:

Sigurd: 14 (everybody) :skull:
Ibn-Khaldun: 3 (Blackadder, Kage, Thermal)

Abstained: 1 (Sigurd)
Didn't vote: 5

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

Still alive: (22)
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
White_eyes:D
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
shlin28
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd

Night will end in approximately 22 hours.

Post 690 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. As usual, the white van was already out, doing its normal morning errand... OF DEATH.

*ding dong*

spL1tp3r50naL1ty opened the door. "Yes?" He wore a neutral expression on his face until he saw the man at the door's uniform.

"Pizza delivery," the deliveryman said. "You ordered two Neapolitan pies, one all cheese, the other half pepperoni, half sausage?"

"What? No..." Split said, slightly overwhelmed by the glorious sight of someone bringing him food at nine in the morning.

"This is a delivery for 'spL1tp3r50naL1ty' at nine-two-one BKS Boulevard, right?"

"Well, yes," Split said, slowly becoming intoxicated by the near-omnipotent aroma that the pizza was giving off, "that is me, but I still didn't order this pizza. I mean, who orders a pizza at nine in the morning?!"

"Yeah, my boss did seem a little bit skeptical when the order came in," the deliveryman said, "but hey, who is he to pass up a business opportunity at a time when things are slow? Are you suuuuuuuure you don't want this, then?" He opened the first box slightly, giving Split's nostrils a taste of the most wonderful scent in the world at full power.

"Well - it - would - be - a - shame - to - see - so - much - pizza - go - to - waste" Split said, now in a near-trance from the full blast of the smell.

"That's the spirit," the deliveryman said, grinning. He stepped inside, found Split's kitchen, and set the pizza boxes down on the counter, waiting off to the side. The excuse, if needed, would be that he was waiting for Split to pay him. Split, however, went straight for the pizza.

"Oh dear," he muttered upon opening the box. "I'm afraid that it's not cut. You don't happen to have a pizza cutter on you, do you?"

"As a matter of fact - I DO!" the mafioso yelled while jumping on top of Split in what was an entirely unnecessary move. Wrestling the still-dazed Split to the ground, he took out a pizza cutter, and in a theatrical roar plunged it into Split's throat. As the murdered Split's blood poured out further and further into the kitchen floor, the mafioso filched through his wallet, took exactly $25.53 in cash, plus $4 more for the tip.

White_eyes:D, not one really known for his trust in others, had been holding true to form ever since the attacks on the Frontroom had started. Aside from the voting sessions, he had for the most part hunkered down and clammed up, turning his house into a veritable fortress. He had asked the Chief of Police about the other kills, and he had learned. There was no way some yahoo with a white van with some service to offer was going to come into his house and kill him. Thanks to his booby traps, the mafioso would be dead before he even got to the doorbell.

All of this was well and good, but there was only one problem: White_eyes was getting sick.

It had started off upon returning home from the very first day of voting, during which the mafioso had stealthily injected the virus into his system without anybody noticing. At first, he had tried to pass it off as a cold, and then a 48-hour bug, but now, five days in, there was no denying it. White_eyes had something big.

Sighing, he logged onto the internet and plugged in his symptoms: Food not having any discernible effect on him, some sort of fungal infection growing on his arms. It was weird, certainly, but the results that came back at him were even clearer: Dutch elm disease.

"Dutch elm disease?" White_eyes said to himself. "Isn't that for trees? Dutch elm disease? Seriously?"

Naturally, since Dutch elm disease was normally a disease that trees caught, there was no readily-available set of pills for him to take. So he had to dig a little deeper. However, much to his delighted surprise, he found a combination medical doctor/tree specialist who had set up his practice in the Frontroom!

Spending the next 30 minutes disabling his various alarms and booby traps, he made the call to the doctor, who graciously agreed to come out and make a house call. He pulled up to the house several minutes later, toting a medical kit and what White_eyes observed to be a very large crate.

"Right then," said the doctor, after settling White_eyes down in his favorite chair, "Dutch elm disease, while rare in humans, is actually not unheard of. There have been, by my count, six documentations of it in humans since 1973. Because of its rarity, though, the treatment process is somewhat complicated. Are you sure you want to continue with this?"

"Yes, of course," said White_eyes. "I don't want to die from a disease that kills trees!"

"Right then," said the doctor, "let's get started." He took out a syringe and loaded it with some liquid. "This first injection I'm giving you will inform the viral cells that you are not, in fact, a Dutch elm tree by way of its passage through your system. This bit of information will serve to confuse the virus, which will weaken it and leave it more prone to the next series of injections."

"...that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," said White_eyes, his paranoia suddenly ratcheting back up.

"Fine then, enjoy living with Dutch elm disease." He got up, prepared to leave.

"No... wait," White_eyes said, sighing. "I'm sorry. Do it."

"Right then." And the doctor proceeded to inject White_eyes with the fluid. Immediately after the injection was finished, a cold jolt went through White_eyes's body and he found it more difficult to move his limbs or head.

"What... do to me?" he muttered, speech also coming harder.

"Shhh, easy now," the mafioso said, eyes not leaving his watch. He was evidently waiting for a certain amount of time to elapse. "Right then," he said, after the time had elapsed. "What I have just injected you with is a drug called Pancuronium, which as you have just discovered, is a very potent muscle relaxing agent. While causing paralysis, however, it has no anesthetic properties whatsoever, which means you are going to be able to fully enjoy the show I've prepared for you."

White_eyes, eyes white with fear, was unable to speak.

"Yes, good. No foolish remarks. Instead, you are going to sit here and be a captive audience. You know, you spent so much time studying the killer with the van and preparing yourself for that; instead, you should have been looking for the other set of kills going on. Surely you remember Csargo's untimely demise at the hands of spiders? Child's play compared with what I have in store for you." And with that, he unexpectedly walked out of the house, leaving the helpless White_eyes wondering what in God's name was going on.

The mafioso returned two minutes later, walking, ironically, right through the front door, carrying the very large crate that White_eyes had seen earlier. Setting it down and opening it, the mafioso stood back and watched. Suddenly White_eyes understood.

"Enjoy your slow death, White_eyes:D. Emphasis, of course, on 'slow'."

And as he turned around to leave again, a battalion of snapping turtles sauntered out of the crate and slowly made their way to their paralyzed captive. Starting by taking his toes one by one, they worked their way up White_eyes's body, feasting on his skin, his muscles, his fat, his fingers, and, eventually, his eyes. Yes, his juicy, delicious, white eyes.

Later that day, Chief of Police Lemur gathered everyone to the Frontroom Square in order to make an announcement.

"All right everyone," he said, "I think we officially start declaring this situation an emergency. Our numbers are in danger of being halved, something which I really haven't heard of since Spanish Flu. That was a disease. This is people. You can actually do something about this, so do something about this!"

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

Still alive: (20)
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
shlin28
Thermal Mercury
Cultured Drizzt fan
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd

Post 776 of main thread.

After five days of voting, the townies had begun to settle into their routine. Get up, normal morning actions, wait to get killed (or not), realize that they had been spared for today, continue on with life as usual, wait to be summoned to the Frontroom Square. Discuss, defend self, maybe accuse others, vote. Go back home, try to relax, sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The usual motions-within-motions were even starting to show up during the voting periods. Someone would make an accusation early on in the day, that accusation would pick up steam and gain more votes, other bandwagons would appear, a bunch of votes would be thrown out in random directions, there would be a final effort to spare the initial target, but ultimately the initial target would go down. This was the case with probably three out of the five executions, maybe more. Including today.

One might even say that the entire execution process was becoming... well... boring. Oh, certainly this wasn't the case for the day's target, shlin28, who started babbling and gibbering about his innocence almost immediately after he started getting votes, but to everybody else, who was safe, nothing really seemed out of the ordinary.

Even when shlin28 made a pledge to the town that he would attend the rest of the executions in women's clothing if he was spared for the day, and, since that failed, would use his various contacts to put together a glorious carnival for the Frontroom sometime in the summer, the rest of the town just didn't seem to care. It was nothing more than business as usual for them, a sad indicator of everyone's psyche on Day 5 of the mafia assault.

Eventually, Chief of Police Lemur called an end to voting, declared shlin as the day's condemned, and dragged him to the execution platform. "shlin," he said, "Any last words before your sentence is carried out?"

"Nah," said shlin, "I think the town's made it pretty clear that they want me gone. I mean, they must be pretty convinced of my guilt if they're going to pass up a carnival complete with lions and candy and ferris wheels and the like in order for a chance to kill me."

"All right then," said Lemur, fishing a walkie-talkie out of his pocket. "Base, this is Robot Unicorn. Proceed to make dreams come true." Putting the walkie-talkie away, he addressed the full crowd again.

"For this execution," he said, "I've called in a little outside help. The local air field nearby has perfected a form of ultra-precision bombing, where they can neutralize a single target without destroying any of the landscape. I've agreed to let them use shlin as practice. This is what we call a 'mutually beneficial agreement'." As always, general apathy proceeded this statement, despite the gravity of what Lemur was saying.

There was about five minutes of silence, and then, little by little, they could see three black specks in the distance. They zoomed by overhead, the sound of their engines finally kicking in, and then everybody could see it. Another dark shape, heading straight down, directly for shlin's head. Everybody half-watched as the object - a regular anvil - made contact with shlin's head, creating the most beautiful sound in the world and killing shlin instantly. Still there was no reaction.

"Wait a sec..." Lemur muttered, spying another black shape coming straight down. "Aw, come on! They were only supposed to drop *one* anvil! One! Everybody clear out! Out of the way!!!"

Finally, realizing their lives were at stake, the villagers started to care and began jostling at each other for position. The exodus out of the Frontroom Square bordered on a stampede, but somehow everybody made it to safety. Everybody, that is, except for Cultured Drizzt fan, who was not quick enough and took the anvil right on the head.

Day 5 tally:
shlin28: 3 (ATPG, Blackadder, shlin) :skull:
Methos: 2 (Psychonaut, Ibn)
Thermal Mercury: 2 (woad, Joooray)
Subotan: 2 (Sasaki, TinCow)
ATPG: 1 (Thermal)
TinCow: 1 (Secura)
Ibn-Khaldun: 1 (Renata)
Sasaki Kojiro: 1 (Methos)
Reenk Roink: 1 (Subotan)
Renata: 1 (Beskar)*

Abstained: 1 (Beefy)
Didn't vote: 4 (Drizzt, Kage, pever, Reenk)

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

Still alive: (18)
Sasaki Kojiro
Secura
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
Kagemusha
Subotan
Beskar
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28

Post 789 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. However, this was not to be the case for very long, as the mafioso once again started the engine of his white van.

*ding dong*

Secura opened the door with a puzzled look on her face. "Yes?" she asked.

"Meals on Wheels," the deliveryman said. "Here's your day's delivery, ma'am." He held out a couple of delicious-smelling prepackaged platters, one of which looked like something Italian inside. The expression he wore was perfectly legitimate, which only served to add to Secura's confusion. After nearly a week of door-to-door killings, he was getting pretty good at this.

"Thanks, but I never signed up for this program. I'm quite capable of fending for myself, food-wise, actually."

Now, of course, the deliveryman launched into his usual routine of there being a clerical mixup, so why not take advantage of the error. "Hmm, there must have been a clerical mixup," he said. "Why not take advantage of the error? I mean, this *is* your address and you *are* Secura, right?" He passed her an official-looking piece of paper.

Secura was wavering. "Well, I mean, it's definitely me, so I don't know how you guys got my name, but I definitely didn't sign up for this... is that Italian?" she said, eying one of the platters.

"Indeed it is," the deliveryman confirmed.

That was enough for Secura. "Well, who am I to pass up a free meal? Come on in, let's eat!" The deliveryman nodded, and, smirking, followed Secura in. "Italian first," she said. "Might as well satisfy my craving for it." She opened the platter to find a glorious heaping of pasta.

"Hmm, seems like everything's in order," she said, taking in the scent of her unexpected meal. "Do I provide my own cheese?"

"Ah, no," the deliveryman said, "my apologies. I forgot to include it earlier. I was in a rush for time, you see, so I just grabbed a block of it and hoofed it out." He stopped talking and set the block of Parmesan on the table.

"Unfortunately, I don't have a grater," said Secura. "Sorry to be such a pest, but do you have one of those as well?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," said the mafioso, whipping out the cheese grater and, before Secura could do anything, knocking her over the head with it. She crumbled to the floor, out cold.

The mafioso paused, unsure of what to do for the first time. He stopped, stared at the grater, stared at Secura, and stared at the grater again. "How in God's name am I supposed to kill anybody with a cheese grater?" he said out loud, and then stared at Secura again. He was truly and totally puzzled about where to go from here.

A couple of minutes passed, and the mafioso stood there, still without any ideas. Having nothing better to do, he sat down and started eating the pasta. It was pretty good, but he wasn't quite in the mood for carbs. It was still too early in the day. Getting up from the table, he walked around the kitchen, stepping around Secura, examining the artwork on her wall. Most of it was standard still lifes, nothing really standing out. There were apples on the windowsill. He started opening the cabinets at random, and then counting the number of seconds that elapsed between the oven clock changing minutes and his watch doing the same.

Finally, some movement. Secura was starting to stir. Panicked, the mafioso let instinct take over and just shoved the cheese grater in her mouth. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed the staple gun he had used before and attached her arms to the floor. "Sorry," he muttered before leaving. "If it's any consolation, I'll use a better weapon tomorrow."

A few lonely townspeople had gathered together in the Frontroom bar to drown their sorrows and talk about the glory days. It was only morning, but a few of them were already long into it. Depression, after all, is a great motivator for certain types of activity.

Aside from the emotional reasons of gathering together in a time of crisis, there was also a logical one: safety in numbers. So far, every single one of the mafioso's attacks had been on an isolated target. If the trend held, then all of the bar patrons would be safe. So there they sat, drinking the day away, knowing that their collective solitude would not be disturbed.

Suddenly, the doors burst open. "OH MY GOD IT'S A MAFIOSO RIDING A MAD COW AND CARRYING AN OLD WEST GUN!!!" the mafioso bellowed, firing said gun into the air a few times for added effect.

Everybody spit out their drink in surprise. More than a few people even soiled themselves in shock and fear. After a second though, everyone started running, bolting in every conceivable direction. The mafioso, though, was too concerned about theatrics for the moment to actually care about catching his prey... yet. He was still adding to the effect.

Finally, once the last few of them drew closer to the bar's exit, the mafioso stopped posturing and begun his chase. "HYAW, BESSIE!" he shouted, turning his cow towards the door. Slapping her side, Bessie began galloping towards the exit, her bell clanging just as the last of the patrons exited the bar. She kicked the door open again, and the mafioso and his, er, steed were out in the open air. He quickly scanned the roads, looking for people. The closest group was headed east, and he thus urged Bessie to go that way.

Bessie mooed.

The group, seeing this, picked up their speed, not wanting to be the mafioso's victim. "Come on!" one of them urged. "We can't let this happen!" But alas, it was not to be. One of the group, Beskar, tripped over a loose piece of gravel and was sent sprawling to the ground. As luck would have it, he landed awkwardly, twisting his ankle. Beskar wasn't doing any more running.

"Come on, people!" he yelled, pleading for help. "Don't leave me here!" The rest of the people in the group, feeling sick to their stomach, had to ignore his pleas for their own safety. It was a riff on the ageless adage: I don't have to outrun the mafioso riding the mad cow, I just have to outrun you.

Beskar felt a rope go around his person. The mafioso, adding insult to injury, had decided to lasso him. "Entirely unnecessary," he said as the mafioso and Bessie trotted by.

"Silence," the mafioso said, dismounting his cow. "Dinner is served, Bessie!" The mad cow mooed appreciatively and opened her maw wide.

Later that day, Chief of Police Lemur gathered everybody in the Frontroom Square in order to make an announcement.

"All right everyone," he said, "There have been two more kills today, both of them pretty weird. I think for everyone's sakes, both for our lives and the fact that we don't want to be subject to the whims of a clearly ridiculous organization, we should persist and kill the mafia quickly. Good luck!

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

Still alive: (16)
Sasaki Kojiro
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
Kagemusha
Subotan
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
TinCow
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D
Secura
Beskar

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28

Tie vote between TinCow and pevergreen. You guys know the drill. See you in 24 hours.

Day 6 tally:
TinCow: 5 (Joooray, Thermal, Ibn, Kage, Reenk)
pevergreen: 5 (Sasaki, TinCow, ATPG, Subotan, Renata)
Askthepizzaguy: 2 (Methos, pever)
Kagemusha: 1 (Blackadder)
Sasaki Kojiro: 1 (Beefy)
Thermal Mercury: 1 (Psychonaut)

Abstained: 1 (woad&fangs)
Didn't vote: Nobody! :medievalcheers:

Post 943 of main thread.

It was a very odd scene in the Frontroom indeed on the evening of the 6th day of voting. The early part of the day was its usual chaotic self, with several votes being thrown around in multiple different directions. As always though, eventually two clear favorites were established: TinCow and pevergreen. And so the usual posturing and politicking began.

When the day ended, though, Chief of Police Lemur informed everybody that the vote was tied between the two and thus the proceedings were not over. So, the ritual began anew, with the town starkly divided between the two candidates. One of the main divisions seemed to be that there was a solid voting bloc beginning to form that included TinCow, and that for the good of the town it needed to be broken up. However, this was countered by statements saying that voting blocs were needed to overcome the mafia and forcibly lynch them.

All of a sudden, though, the day shifted to the realm of the weird when pevergreen took the stand and made a passionate case... for his own lynching. He argued fervently that he was the better candidate for the lynch and that the town would be best served if he was no longer around. Naturally, this puzzled some townies, so much so that pever's case probably didn't have the desired effect. Indeed, when Lemur closed voting the second time, there was still a tie.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," said TinCow, taking matters into his own hands. "pever's lying, *I'm* the better lynch candidate. Therefore, I'll take it upon myself to cast the deciding vote!"

Everybody watched in awe as the clearly insane TinCow ran up to the execution platform and began pouring oil all over his body.

"There will be no tomb for TinCow," he began muttering. "No long, slow sleep of death embalmed. I shall burn, like the heathen kings of old. Bring wood and oil!"

"Uh, TinCow, we already have both," Lemur said, clearly pointing out the wood and oil.

"Silence!" TinCow commanded. "You are ruining the moment! Such is the doom of man!" Now fully drenched in oil, he struck a match. Instantly engulfed in flames, he ran off screaming, all the way to the edge of the Frontroom Courtyard where he dropped 1,000 feet to the ground below as the forces of Mordor were continuing their assault where he finally burned out, leaving the rest of the Frontroom to scratch their heads, wondering what on Earth had just happened.

Day 6a tally:
TinCow: 7 (Ibn, Kage, Thermal, Reenk, Methos, Joooray, TinCow) :skull:
pevergreen: 5 (Renata, Sasaki, ATPG, Subotan, pever)

Abstained: 2 (Psychonaut, Beefy)
Didn't vote: 2 (Blackadder, woad)

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


Still alive: (15)
Sasaki Kojiro
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
Kagemusha
Subotan
Captain Blackadder
Joooray
pevergreen
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D
Secura
Beskar

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28
TinCow

It is now Night 7! Orders due tomorrow at 17:00 US Eastern.

Post 951 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. The white van had pulled up to yet another house, picking another target.

*ding dong*

Joooray opened the door, staring at the mafioso.

"Mafioso," the mafioso said simply, trying a different tactic. "I'm here to bludgeon you to death with a rolling pin and then flatten you."

"Okay, come on in," Joooray said, obviously taking some time to process what had just been said to him. "Kitchen's on the lef-wait, what?" That was as far as he was able to get, as the mafioso, true to his word, had taken out a rolling pin and started beating Joooray with it.

"Hey! Ow! Quit it!" Joooray screamed in protest, trying to back away from the mafioso but never quite succeeding. Desperate to gain some distance, Joooray searched around the room for something, anything, that could be used in self-defense. The best thing he came up with was a flowerpot. "Better than nothing," he muttered, still taking a vicious beating from the rolling pin. He gripped the pot and chucked it at the mafioso, who had to pause and break the incoming pot apart with his rolling pin.

This diversion provided Joooray all the separation he needed, as he sprinted upstairs and out of sight. The mafioso, deciding that a slow and deliberate pursuit was more psychologically prudent in this situation, slowly made his way up the stairs, calling out for Joooray. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he said, in one of the single-most tired cliches in existence. "You can't hide from my rolling pin!" he said, his voice rising. "It only stops beating you once you're dead, and you ain't dead yet! Do not deprive the rolling pin of justice, Joooray!"

Finally, something snapped. Joooray leaped into view from seemingly nowhere and tackled the mafioso. Together the two of them tumbled down the stairs, Joooray landing on top. After delivering one solid punch to the jaw, Joooray scrambled to get up and ran out the door, in the direction of the mafioso's van.

"Think I'll drive this right up to the police station!" he called out gloatingly, for the mafioso had no chance of catching up to him. "Surely Lemur will be able to find something in there that points to you! Have fun getting your neck measured!" he cried, turning the key and jamming the gas pedal, speeding out of sight.

The mafioso calmly took a detonator out of his pocket and pressed the button. He could hear the explosion and see a brief flash of light. Strolling up the street a couple houses, he came upon the ruins of his van and Joooray, mortally wounded but still alive, sprawled out on the ground, coughing and panting.

Kneeling on the ground, the mafioso wordlessly proceeded to hit Joooray with the rolling pin until he finally expired.

Later in the day, pevergreen had decided to visit the Frontroom zoo. The animals still seemed to be well cared-for despite the rapid drop in the town's human population, and for this pever was glad. An animal lover at heart, pever hated to see suffering of any kind. Indeed, the various animal noises soothed him. The majestic roar of the lion, the thunderous growl of the bear, the incessant call of the howler monkey, the somewhat demented-sounding "moo" of the cow...

...waitaminute, that last part can't be right, thought pever. There were obviously no cows at the zoo. pever put it out of his mind as he kept walking. He was at the elephant exhibit now, marveling at the sheer power that was their trunks, the prehistoric wonder of their ivory tusks, their somewhat demented mooing sound...

...there it was again. Now officially disturbed, pever began walking at a brisk pace not coincidentally towards the zoo's exit. He thought he was home free, but passing through the bird exhibit, he heard a distinctly un-avian moo. This is when pever decided to abandon all shreds of dignity and flat-out ran for the exit.

He didn't get very far though. A dart of some kind had pierced his neck. pever stopped and reached up to pull it out, but before he did he crumpled to the ground. Struggling to get a good look at his predator before he lost consciousness, he saw a man in a cowboy hat riding a clearly mad cow. The man looked down and regarded pever with curiosity.

"You know, the signs all say not to feed the animals. However, they only apply in the actual exhibits. You, my friend, are on the zoo's main path and thus fair game. Dinner is served, Bessie!"

The last thing pever heard before losing consciousness for good was a very appreciative "moo".

Later that day, Chief of Police Lemur gathered the remaining villagers in the Frontroom Square in order to make an announcement.

"All right everyone," he began, "Look, the mafia have been here for a week and we still haven't gotten rid of them yet. Their influence is clearly felt. Nobody trusts one another anymore and our numbers are almost in the single digits. For everyone's sake, start getting this right!

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

Still alive: (13)
Sasaki Kojiro
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Methos
Kagemusha
Subotan
Captain Blackadder
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D
Secura
Beskar
Joooray
pevergreen

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28
TinCow

Voting will close at 17:00 US Eastern, although I may not be around then due to a train ride that day (I'm going home for Easter). If that's the case, keep voting until I expressly close it.

Post 1040 of main thread.

A chill wind blew through Frontroom Square as the day's voting proceedings were wrapping up. The more superstitious among the remaining townspeople attributed this to the fact that there were exactly thirteen of them left; a bad omen indeed. Out of those thirteen, one or more traitors lurked among them, being their comrades in the day but plotting to kill them once the sun went down.

Nevertheless, the voting continued.

Perhaps inspired by Chief of Police Lemur's speech, the villagers had finally decided to adapt a serious tone in their discussions, realizing that there was no more time to dawdle. The thirteen of them being left, aside from being a bad omen, was also indicative of how close the townspeople were edging to extinction. There weren't that more days for them to get things right, and they all knew it. Cases started to get more serious, accusations started to get more sober, and tempers started to run high.

However, not all of the town was fully ingratiated into this "buckle down" mode, at least not yet. This was evidenced by them choosing to lynch the person who had the biggest - but not necessarily the most accurate - case against him: Methos.

Methos, for his part, took to his defense with gusto, but was perhaps a little bit too shrill and not logical enough. For the most part, his arguments consisted of him shrilly screaming that certain townspeople had too much power and they shouldn't be blindly followed in case they were the ones who were leading the town astray.

"You people need to think for yourselves!" he cried out. "Stop following the loudest people because it's convenient! Our lives are all at stake here! Convenience doesn't mean squat when you're six feet under! Think, people! THINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"All right, that's enough," said Lemur, putting an end to Methos's diatribe. "A select group of townies may have all the power, but I'm still Chief of Police here, which means I'm still in charge of the executions. And for today, I've used my knowledge of physics to devise what I hope will be a particularly entertaining execution for you all."

Lemur paused for a second, directing everyone's attention to the execution platform. "As you may be able to notice, the platform is weighted. This is because I have made some minor adjustments to it overnight. Below the platform, out of sight, is a rope that is only kept taut because of the weight. If left slack, it will no longer hold up the pile of rocks I have positioned on the building above, meaning the rocks will come tumbling down and crush the life out of Methos. However, there is one way you can prolong your life, my friend. My modifications have also taken into account short bursts of weight to keep you going. Therefore, you shall dance to a progressively faster rendition of 'Yakety Sax', staying with the beat of course. If you stop dancing, or don't keep up with the beat, then it's rock pile time. But since I'm so magnanimous, I'll allow you to go free if you can survive the entire song. So... let's get dancing!"

Lemur queued up the song and nervously, Methos started to dance, doing his best to keep up in time with the classic saxophone-driven song from Benny Hill. However, this was no easy task. It started out difficult, and, as the song wore on and sped up, became impossible. Methos was able to last for a little over two minutes before he finally tired out. Everyone, Methos included, looked up as they heard the sounds of the pile of rocks being shifted.

However, they did not fall on Methos. Instead, they fell on a large block of wood jutting out from one of the platform's sides. This wood was obviously connected with the part of the platform that Lemur had modified, for Methos was sent flying dozens of feet into the air.

"Pull!" Lemur yelled, and then, taking aim at Methos, blew him out of the sky with a hunting rifle that had appeared from seemingly nowhere.

"What?" he said, not looking even remotely sheepish to the rest of the town. "I'm going duck hunting in a couple of days and this is good practice! What are you all looking at! Go home!"

Day 7 tally:
Methos: 6 (ATPG, Renata, Blackadder, woad, Beefy, Ibn) :skull:
woad&fangs: 2 (Sasaki, Methos)
Beefy187: 1 (Kage)
Sasaki Kojiro: 1 (Subotan)
Askthepizzaguy: 1 (Reenk)
Renata: 1 (Thermal)
Thermal Mercury: 1 (Psychonaut)

Abstained: 0
Didn't vote: 0

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

Still alive: (12)
Sasaki Kojiro
Askthepizzaguy
Beefy187
Kagemusha
Subotan
Captain Blackadder
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D
Secura
Beskar
Joooray
pevergreen

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28
TinCow
Methos

Post 1051 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. The white van, obliterated as part of necessity in yesterday's murder, had been replaced. The mafioso's new vehicle mooed as she sauntered down the street.

*ding dong*

Beefy187 opened the door, staring past the mafioso, instead at Bessie. "That's a very... interesting cow," he said, perhaps seeing something in common with Bessie. "Anyway, what can I help you with?"

"Salesman," the mafioso said, taking out a giant pot from behind him. "I'm here to sell giant pots as a representative of, uh, the Make-a-Wish Foundation. Yeah, that's it. If you buy a pot, you get to help a dying child's greatest wish come true. Could I interest you in a demonstration?"

"Well, I don't really need a giant pot," said Beefy, "but I'd like nothing more than to put a smile on a child's face. After all, with so many horrible things happening the world, I like to think there's a little good out there."

"That's the spirit," said the salesman, stepping into the house uninvited. "As a matter of fact, you'll learn that giant pots can be quite useful, especially if cooking for a large quantity of people. Ultimately they save stove space and even make for more uniform meals, since the quality of the food in question is less dependent on each individual pot's quirks and composition. Here, let me show you what can happen with certain types of foods. My first example will by cheese fondue, provided by the lovely Miss Bessie who is currently parked outside."

"Ooh, sounds tasty," said Beefy.

"It is," agreed the salesman. "You'll also find that, contrary to science, it doesn't take as long as you'd expect to fully boil items due to the large surface area. That's another quality about the pot that I think you'll particularly enjoy. See, look, the fondue's already starting to heat up," the salesman said. "Why don't you lean over there and really get a good look at it... yeah, that's good, a little more..."

When Beefy had fully invested himself in determining the current state of the cheese fondue, the mafioso, whistling a little tune, calmly gave Beefy a little push and sent him tumbling into the giant pot, where he boiled at a rather quick pace along with the rest of the fondue.

Deep underground, Captain Blackadder was slaving away at his pet project. Relatively quiet and uninvested in the town's larger concerns, Blackadder had more important things on his mind. The Frontroom's particle accelerator, far larger than the Large Hadron Collider, would finally be operating at full capacity today after years of preparation. What importance was a few deaths when compared the the potential discovery of the Higgs-Bosun and the revelation of the greatest mysteries of the universe?

"Powering up," he said to himself, reading off the notifications on his computer screen, "all systems operational, wait, what? Fatal error in Quadrant 13? What could possibly be going on over there?" He tried to work around it, but the computer simply refused to allow the accelerator to operate while the problem in Quadrant 13 went unresolved. Grumbling to himself, Blackadder got in his cart and drove off to the quadrant in question.

Upon arrival, he immediately saw the problem: Someone had drilled a man-sized hole in the actual accelerator, which naturally caused the computer to abort the operation. As he stared at the hole in puzzlement, he did not notice the mafioso approaching him from behind with a frying pan, whacking him in the back of the head. Blackadder crumpled to the ground, momentarily unconscious. Using this time wisely, the mafioso quickly picked Blackadder up and stuffed him into the hole, managing to weld it shut right before Blackadder woke up.

After banging on the metal a few times, Blackadder realized it was useless and took in his surroundings. After all his work in helping the particle accelerator become operational, Blackadder had never quite been in the inside. It was here, after all, in the bowls of the accelerator itself where the science would be done, and perhaps, history would be made...

He heard a low hum, progressively getting louder. It was then, Blackadder realized, that there were some drawbacks to witnessing history up close. As a matter of fact, these were the very last thoughts that went through his head before two separate atoms smashed into him simultaneously, both traveling at the beyond-fatal 99.999999% of light speed.

Later that day, Chief of Police Lemur gathered everyone in the Frontroom Square in order to make an announcement.

"All right everyone," he said, "Here's where we're at. We're down to ten left. Assuming the usual pattern of their being two kills per night holds, you have three rounds to get this right before we're all wiped out. Hopefully, it won't get down to that, but that's where we're at. Good luck, and may the Force be with you."

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

Still alive: (10)
Sasaki Kojiro
Askthepizzaguy
Kagemusha
Subotan
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D
Secura
Beskar
Joooray
pevergreen
Beefy187
Captain Blackadder

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28
TinCow
Methos

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

Announcement: Mafia IX has officially entered the endgame phase (yes, I have official designations). Until the game ends, the following rule changes will be in effect:

- Abstain is no longer allowed; you must vote for a living target in order for your vote to be registered as valid.
- WoGs are still in effect, so there are still no free rides.
- The "make or break" round, if there is one, will be extended to 48 hours, as is customary.

This round will most likely be 24 hours, however, there is a chance it will be extended to 36 depending on how tired I feel tomorrow night. I'll let you know closer to the deadline.

Best of luck to all parties! :bow:

Post 1149 of main thread.

Sunset.

It had been a long and trying day for Subotan, not to mention the rest of the week-plus. He had been dodging mafia assaults and villager attempts to get himself lynched, and, it seemed like he was finally going to settle in and buckle down; be a vital contributor to the town's final push to save themselves. Of course, that was right when the hammer fell.

The town's wisest scholars and most trusted voices had named him as the mafioso, building the best case they could against him. The votes, in turn, followed, and Subotan was left gibbering, doing his best not to simply repeat Methos's argument of the day before. He realized that this wouldn't do anything to dissuade the town from lynching him, though, and as the day wore on instead tried a different tactic.

Poring through the Frontroom Library, Subotan returned at sunset carrying a mountain of books. Several of them looked quite ancient, dating all the way back to 2006. This method was unorthodox for sure, but he figured it was his best shot of staying alive and avoiding whatever sick and twisted and diabolical lynch mechanism the Chief of Police had dreamed up for him.

"Okay, Subotan," Lemur said, "The jig is up. It's time."

"No," said Subotan, "Your jig is up, Chief, or should I say, Mister Former Mafioso!" Everybody gasped in shock. "Is it true?" someone cried out.

"Oh, it's true," replied Subotan, taking out one of the thinner, older-looking tones. "It's all right here in the Frontroom Chronicles, if you know where to look for it. Looks like Lemur tried to disguise his past by putting it in the absolute last place anybody would look for it - a library - but he didn't hide it well enough! Behold, ladies and gentlemen of the Frontroom, the truth shall set you free! Evidence that, back in 2006, Lemur was an integral part of a very similar operation to what's going on now! He was allegedly lynched, but obviously he survived and he's been worming his way to the inside ever since! Well, my fine-feathered friend, now you're exposed! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Lemur sighed. "I was wondering when this would come up. Subotan, you idiot, you haven't read the fully story. Yes, I was part of a mafia operation in 2006. But that was just a one-time thing! I got out as soon as I was lynched and I later served the Frontroom with distinction in later Mafia assaults!"

"I don't remember this at all," said one particularly wizened villager.

"Pipe down back there," Lemur said. "It's all moot anyway. The main point is, right now, I'm the Chief of Police! And, as a symbol of my office... I have a gun!" He suddenly whipped out a bazooka and fired the projectile high into the twilight sky, causing everyone to scream and start running in chaos. Within seconds, the Frontroom Square was entirely empty, save for two people: Subotan and Lemur.

Reloading his bazooka, Lemur stared icily at Subotan, who suddenly realized how exposed he actually was. "There will be no dissent in the Lemur regime," he said, aiming and firing the bazooka once more.

Day 8 tally:
Subotan: 5 (Sasaki, ATPG, Psychonaut, Thermal, woad) :skull:
Sasaki Kojiro: 3 (Ibn, Kage, Renata)
Thermal Mercury: 1 (Subotan)
Askthepizzaguy: 1 (Reenk)

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

Still alive: (9)
Sasaki Kojiro
Askthepizzaguy
Kagemusha
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D
Secura
Beskar
Joooray
pevergreen
Beefy187
Captain Blackadder

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28
TinCow
Methos
Subotan

Orders are due at 13:00 US Eastern tomorrow.

Post 1169 of main thread.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet.

A lone cow made her way down the peaceful village's main street. There would be no more singlehanded door-to-door murders that took far too much time and effort. No, this time, the mad cow would have a true feast indeed. She would be going straight to the source: The Chief of Police's office.

For his part, Lemur was having another relatively relaxing day, keeping himself busy by reading Better Homes and Gardens until the inevitable news of the murders came. Therefore, he was surprised to hear a knock at the door, though it was certainly not the sharp, crisp knocks he had come to expect as Chief of Police.

He opened the door to find himself staring face to face with a very hungry mad cow. Bessie, upon spotting her prey, mooed. Lemur, quickly realizing exactly what was going on, attempted to slam the door in Bessie's face, but the cow was too quick, powering her way into the office and sending Lemur scrambling around the room.

The two parties, man and cow, ran around the room in circles for a couple of minutes before Lemur finally displayed signs of intelligence that had allowed humans to evolve and become higher than cows many millennia ago: He jumped on top of his desk, and, in a fluid motion, grabbed his office chair and used it as a shield, much like the lion tamers of old used it as separation.

"Yah! Back, you devil!" Lemur shouted, brandishing the chair at the cow. Bessie mooed her disappointment, unsuccessfully trying the topple the desk over a few times before she tried a different strategy. Standing up on her hind hooves (defying the laws of physics in doing so, but Lemur was in no mood to think about the implications of this act at the moment), Bessie fired a concentrated blast of milk from her udder straight at the Chief of Police's face.

The blast took Lemur completely by surprise and blew him back, sending him tumbling off the desk. Bessie ran around the desk, closing in for the kill, but Lemur was able to crawl away, getting up on his feet and running out of the door in time. The office had been completely trashed, but it was a death trap waiting to happen and Lemur had gotten out of there alive.

If there was present in the town to be at Frontroom Square that day, they would have witnessed their Chief of Police bursting out of the door at a full sprint, followed a couple of seconds later by a cow galloping at high speed and steadily gaining ground on Lemur. Yes, Lemur had gotten out of the office, but now he had a *lot* of open ground to cover and Bessie was closing fast.

"This can't end here this can't end here this can't end here" he kept repeating to himself, focusing every possible iota of his energy into getting to the one place that might just save him: The execution platform. As his legs slowly started turning to stone, Lemur kept sprinting, hearing Bessie's bell clanging madly behind him, her incessant hoofbeats, her breathing in and out. With maybe a half a stride to spare, Lemur finally made it, diving under a hole in the platform.

Generally protected by the platform now, Lemur was allowed to pause and catch his breath. However, the cow would not give up so easily. She started snapping at Lemur's legs, the platform, anything she could get her mouth on. Lemur could feel the cow's hot, moist breath pass over his face as she continued her tireless efforts.

Eventually, Bessie backed up a couple of steps and executed a full-on charge, obliterating the execution platform and leaving Lemur horribly exposed. Bessie mooed in triumph as she prepared to feast on her victory.

Lemur, however, wasn't done yet. He simply rolled out of the way a couple of times. And as soon as the cow, in pursuit, occupied the same piece of land he had been hiding on before he had to move, Lemur pressed a secret button on his standard-issue utility belt.

The rumbling sound took place in a split second, just enough time for Bessie to look down at where she was standing in confusion. Then, the ground opened and a small rocket exploded upwards, carrying Bessie - now holding on for dear life - as it climbed higher and higher into the sky and out of view.

Lemur, now standing up to watch it all, brushed himself off and shook his head, trying to contemplate it all. Just as he turned away to head back into his office, he heard an odd tinkling sound from behind him. Turning around, he saw that a small piece of metal had impacted the ground, a piece that hadn't been there before. He bent down to pick up and saw that there were some words that had been engraved in the metal.

They read:

"Bessie"

"If found please return to Subotan and Chaotix"

"REWARD"

Lemur exhaled, the moment hitting him. Finally, after eight hellish days, it was over. Somehow, the town had managed to save itself. It was over. They were saved. Lemur cracked a smile, and then began to laugh. Hysterically. Almost immediately in retrospect, the situation was a lot more hilarious than it had been when all of their lives were at stake.

He would go back to the office and clean up. He would take the time to personally call the nine survivors of the attack and inform them that they had nothing else to fear. But first, the Frontroom Chief of Police, the Keeper of the Kingdom of Peace and Love, would enjoy a drink. After all, he had earned it.

Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad, after all.

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

Here is the final status list. Congratulations to those who survived.

Survived: (9)
Sasaki Kojiro
Askthepizzaguy
Kagemusha
Renata
Thermal Mercury
Ibn-Khaldun
woad&fangs
Psychonaut
Reenk Roink

Wrath of God:
Cultured Drizzt fan

Killed:
Crazed Rabbit
Andres
atheotes
Double A
Centurion1
Csargo
Winston Hughes
johnhughthom
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
White_eyes:D
Secura
Beskar
Joooray
pevergreen
Beefy187
Captain Blackadder

Executed:
Diamondeye
Chaotix
Yaseikhaan
Sigurd
shlin28
TinCow
Methos
Subotan

Result:

TOWNSPEOPLE VICTORY! :medievalcheers:

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

And with that, ladies and gentlemen, Mafia IX is over. A big "thanks for playing!" to everybody who joined, especially our two gallant mafiosi: Chaotix and Subotan! I've already spoken to them in private but I'll say it again here: Winning this game as a mafioso is hard and they are to be commended for their noble efforts.

However, of course, it was not enough, so with that I offer a big congratulations and applause to the victorious townies! :cheerleader:

Commentary and my usual essay will be up soon; I'm aiming for the weekend.

Essay on vanilla games:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I’ll discuss this more in my commentary, but it’s worth pointing out again that I had not hosted a game in my Mafia series since June 2008, an almost two-year break. In that time, a lot about the Gameroom has changed. There’s been an almost complete turnover of the regulars since then, for one thing. For an old dinosaur like me, it’s pretty startling when the majority of the players don’t have any connection with a series with as much history to it as Mafia does. This saddens me a little bit for a couple of reasons. One, I happen to like vanilla games. It’s how I made my bones in the Gameroom and a lot of my best memories here come from vanilla games. Two, nobody seems to be picking up where I leave off, for reasons that I’ll explain later. Three, as we have demonstrated here, as well as in Godfather 3, vanilla games are a great way to improve your play on both sides. In this essay, I’ll describe how we got here and what this means for the Gameroom.

Back in the beginning (2006), the great majority of the games hosted were either vanilla or very close to it. This was the case for a couple of reasons. First of all, there was either no queue or very few willing hosts. As a result, you had me hosting five large games in a five-to-six month period. There really wasn’t enough demand for the kind of games we see nowadays. Secondly, the very first non-vanilla game, “Gotta Have More Mafia” had a ton of roles and, while entertaining, was widely seen as confusing and not really worth it when you already had the simple-but-effective setup of the vanilla games. By that point, there had already been what I consider the first truly “great” game of the Gameroom: Mafia III. It was that game which made me finally realize that this thing wasn’t going to be just a flash in the pan. Why bother overly exerting yourself as a host when enough drama can come from the simple setups?

As a result, when hosts did opt for more elaborate setups, it was usually in moderation. The greatest example of this was Silver Rusher’s Godfather series. Designed to be a bridge between my vanilla Mafia series and the more role-intensive Gotta Have More Mafia, “The Godfather” was widely seen as a success and its sequel, Godfather 2, is still my favorite game I’ve ever been a player in. It’s worthy to note that “The Godfather” series is now considered vanilla.

As the Gameroom received more traffic and there were more players willing to try their hand at hosting, they all wanted to occupy their own special niches. The “vanilla” niche, my niche, was already occupied, and so everyone else went for more role-heavy games. Another side effect of the Gameroom’s growth was that, because of the queue, I got to host less, thus providing less opportunity to continue the vanilla tradition.

2007 saw the first installment Seamus Fermanagh’s Capo di Tutti Capi series, the hallmarks of which were a wide variety of roles and the fact that every player now had something to do every night phase, as opposed to just waiting out the nights to see if they had survived. Capo I shattered all kinds of participation records and brought in a huge amount of players and interest into the Gameroom. I hosted Mafia VI immediately afterwards, but after that, I was not able to host for several months, by far the longest I’d ever had to wait.

After Mafia VII, in the fall of 2007, I took some time off from the Gameroom due to overload, participating in very few games. In the meantime, traffic continued to grow. Sigurd’s Midgard Saga premiered, another very role-heavy game that drew a lot of interest. By the time I returned, Capo II started and was immediately followed up by Netherworld Mafia. By now the waits on the Queue were long enough where most hosts were putting a lot of work into their games, trying to tweak it so everything was exactly right. They had more time to put in a lot of roles and still make sure everything was balanced, in short. When Mafia VIII came around, I had not hosted in about nine months.

As we approach the present day, I need to say less. Role-heavy games were still prevalent. Activity exploded in early 2009 with a string of excellent games. After a failed attempt at hosting Pirate Ship Mafia, I decided to try my hand at resurrecting the Godfather series, eschewing Mafia IX. After that, we had The Settlement, Inishmore, Rubicon, and Capo III. Then I did Pirate Ship Mafia, successfully this time. And thus, the nine-month break between Mafias VII and VIII became a twenty-month break between VIII and IX.

Again, due to niches and the Gameroom’s new preference for having something to do at night, there were really no vanilla games in that long gap. Everyone else figured that was my niche, and I personally wanted to break out of my niche and try other things as well after three years and eight games of doing the exact same thing.

So, coming back to March and April of 2010, we had almost a vacuum of sorts. Out of the 34 players signed up for Mafia IX, only 14 had played in a previous game in the Mafia series. A handful more played in Godfather 3. During a conversation I had with one of the new players, that player informed that, while they were personally very excited and intrigued about the game, at least one other didn’t really see how the mafia could ever be caught without any pro-town roles being present. At first, I despaired, wondering if natural progress had left my beloved series in the evolutionary dustbin, but then I realized that this was exactly what I wanted. By way of this game being around, I could hopefully teach the nonbelievers about the value of vanilla games; educate them on the perks of analysis and give them the benefit of dramatic endgames like had been done in games past.

I think that’s been done, for the most part. While the endgame wasn’t quite on the level as it was in the past, Subotan eventually met his doom due to good townie behavior: taking the initiative, doing your own in-thread detective work. The town had to sink or swim, and they decided to swim. It’s my hope that the players here will see that they’re not handicapped by the pro-town roles and they have not just a hope, but a very good chance, of catching the mafia if they put their minds to it.

In an ideal world, there would be one vanilla game every couple of months or so in order to keep the players’ instincts sharp and to allow new blood to experience one fairly on in their Gameroom experiences. However, I know those days are long gone. It’s still my niche, even though it was the first time I had hosted one in three games and my next game will also be role-intensive. I guess it will always be my niche.

Therefore, it’s up to everybody to look to this game, as well as the other vanilla games in the past, as an example of how to be a good player. Otherwise, the town’s crutch of pro-town roles will just grow heavier and heavier, and nobody will be able to fathom even playing a vanilla mafia game out of fear that it’s unwinnable. And, aside from the meta implications of this, it would also simply be a crying shame.

Game commentary:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Game Start

Mafia: Chaotix and Subotan

It felt a little weird again hosting Mafia after all this time. For once, I didn’t have to look to other games for inspiration or rules clarifications. The game I was hosting was truly mine. And, like riding a bike for the first time after a long, cold, dark winter, it felt good.

Still though, too much time had passed since Mafia VIII to be entirely the same. The Gameroom had evolved; maybe it matured, maybe not, but it definitely evolved. The players’ connection to the First Golden Age of Mafia, late 2006 to early 2007 (the second one being Spring to Fall of 2009), was all but gone. My primary goal for this game was to provide all of the new blood a link to the past, to see the game played in its purest form. Hopefully, this would entail the formulas that I had been extraordinarily lucky with in the past: Excellent mafiosi and a slow buildup of action leading up to a truly dramatic endgame.

As far as the first part of the formula, random.org served me well. Chaotix had been a Gameroom mainstay for a while now and was a solid, consistent player. Subotan was a bit newer, bursting onto the scene as one of the Four Horsemen in Pirate Ship Mafia and showing a lot of promise in general. He was using that experience to create a game of his own (which I eagerly look forward to taking part) in June, but for now he would have to use an entirely skill set to get through this one unscathed.

As for the other players, I noted with pleasure that a lot of old and new friends had signed up. Especially pleasing were the additions of Kagemusha and Crazed Rabbit, the only two Orgahs to take part in every single Mafia game and, perhaps coincidentally, the only two to survive and win as mafiosi. All in all, we had 34 players, which I consider an accomplishment considering this game took place alongside the mammoth that was CR’s The Shadow Fort.

After I sent my customary PM to the mafia (as well as one to the townies, which prompted a PM from an unsuspecting Reenk Roink that said he had gotten his hopes up for nothing since I never used to send townie PMs :laugh4:) I waited for the mafia to send in their kills and we were ready to go.

Day 1

Subotan kills Crazed Rabbit
Chaotix “kills” Andres

The game stumbled out of the gate a bit when I received a PM from spL1tp3r50naL1ty informing me that a nasty storm had knocked the power out of Chaotix’s house and that he wasn’t sure when he’d get it back. Cursing to myself, I had flashbacks to khaan’s sudden disappearance in Mafia VIII and my mind was already racing, wondering what to do in the case of me needing to WoG Chaotix so early in the game. However, the worrying was all for naught. Chaotix PM’d me during the round saying he was back and Subotan was able to fill in nicely before anybody got suspicious about why I was late with the first kills.

All in all, Subotan’s targets for the round were pretty high-profile, though his reasoning for taking CR out was to give him more time to host Shadow Fort. The gamble paid off, as neither victim was very active during the game.

A subplot of this game was the new Frontroom Chief of Police’s baptism by fire, of sorts. The old Frontroom mod Beirut had filled the NPC role for the previous eight games in the series but hung up his robes sometime after Mafia VIII had concluded. After I had obtained permission from Lemur to take up Beirut’s old mantle, I wrote what I hoped was a nice little homage/transition scene in the traditional space after the kills.

Once the actual round started, Csargo got things going in high fashion by lodging his standard Sasaki vote, the first of many that Sasaki would receive in this game (but never enough to actually lynch him). However, one post later, Yaseikhaan began a ridiculous bandwagon on Diamondeye that quickly picked up steam probably because it was a) Round 1, and b) the most forceful opinion anyone had lodged in the entire round, even though, in typical khaan style, there was absolutely no reasoning.

In other votes, more were thrown around in several directions, as per standard, and Reenk brought back an old favorite: The courteous abstention. There was also a small backlash against khaan, and Renata would pick up a lot of votes near the end once Diamondeye logged on and defended himself against khaan’s weirdness. However, he ended up being one vote short.

Executed: Diamondeye

Day 2

Chaotix kills atheotes
Subotan kills Double A

This round was an absolute dagger for the mafia that started off poorly for them and ended up worse. Chaotix’s kill of atheotes was an interesting choice, due to the popular conception that “atheotes is always mafia”. I personally had atheotes pegged as a midgame lynch myself. In addition, he used the classic “sniper kill” on atheotes, although that thing’s now been used so much that any WIFOM value is probably gone.

Things started ramping up in the second post after the round, where khaan’s daily bandwagon target was Subotan. Chaotix, probably wary that it was this exact strategy that had gotten Diamondeye the last round and that Subotan was now subject to the same fate, attacked khaan with this post:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Chaotix

Vote: khaan

We do NOT need another runaway bandwagon this round. Last time was forgivable since it was Day 1... but let's not continue that tradition longer than it needs to go.

I say, since there's absolutely nothing else to go on, we start voting by good old behavioral analysis. And I think we are due an explanation from our new eager bandwagon-starter, khaan. Pressure vote for now.

---

This post was in poor form for a couple of reasons. First of all, it was lodged very early on in the phase, before Chaotix had a chance to gauge town reaction to the continuance of khaan’s strategy. Second, it was far too serious for the still-goofy early game. Had Chaotix sat back and waited, he might have seen a more natural bandwagon on khaan emerge and thus a threat be removed (indeed, Sasaki had already voted for him one post prior, and the only vote on Subotan at that point was khaan’s own).

I believe that Chaotix became a victim of the classic “overly paranoid mafioso” disease that’s hit all of us from time to time (even me) where you tend to overreact to and overanalyze every perceived threat, real or not. He immediately got into trouble over use of his wording and it just went downhill from there, as his defense and general behavior was far too serious for that point in the game.

A final effort to save himself and switch the vote to Methos was not enough for the mafioso. Yes, Chaotix had spared his partner from the wrath of khaan, but at the cost of his own life. Subotan would now have to make Mafia history and fly solo for probably eight rounds in order to win the game. To put this feat into a bit of perspective, the only mafioso to ever survive more than one round than his partner was Crazed Rabbit, and that was because he had decided to discard The Truth in order to win.

All in all, I think Lemur said it best during Chaotix’s lynch write-up:

Quote:

---

”Should have kept his mouth shut.”

---

Executed: Chaotix

Day 3

Subotan kills Centurion1 and Csargo

This entire round was khaan’s last hurrah. After two rounds of being the center of the action, people were finally tired of his antics and, without an odd, overly-serious backlash to distract them, the town was ready to silence him. khaan, for his part, couldn’t really care that much as his school, the University of Northern Iowa, had just delivered Kansas one of the biggest March Madness upsets of all time.

In other news, during this round a couple of allegations were pointed towards a couple different forum members apparently due to the content of the write-ups. However, they were all off, because I was writing every word in this game save for Subotan’s nightly weapon choices.

This round marked the transition from the goofy beginning game to the long slog of the midgame, where the lynches would be to whittle down the suspects list more than anything else. The transition from the midgame to the endgame varies from game to game, but I usually do it when the player list is at either 10 or in the single digits, in which case there would be three rounds left regardless of the outcome. Here, this would make the midgame last a whopping five rounds.

All things considered, the town’s lynch for this round was probably a good choice as they got to move on from endless khaan bandwagon drama. khaan was the runaway lynch this round, with Subotan jumping on the bandwagon for once to get revenge for Chaotix, and I got to flex a bit of creative muscle with probably my favorite lynch scene I’ve ever written.

Executed: Yaseikhaan

Day 4

Subotan kills Winston Hughes and johnhughthom

With Winston’s death began the “door-to-door mafioso’s” string of kills framing Askthepizzaguy. Interestingly enough, I didn’t originally see the ATPG connection until it was pointed out in the thread by ATPG himself. A quick PM conversation with Subotan said that he didn’t mean it that way either, but he would soon piggyback off all of the WIFOM and continue gunning for ATPG in the writeup right until the very end.

With the advent of the midgame, the lurkers began to be targeted, first up being Sigurd and Cultured Drizzt fan. General sentiment was that CDF had disappeared .Orgwide and wasn’t deliberately avoiding the game, therefore the town would leave CDF to his fate. Sigurd, however, was a different matter. After making the most blatant “I’m around, don’t WoG me” post I had ever seen:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Sigurd

vote: Beskar

bla bla bla bla bla...

Happy?

---

…the votes began to pile up, and thus Sigurd’s onetime “lurker victory” performance in Chicago Soirée from well over a year ago was invoked yet again. Sigurd, beyond fed up with catch-all excuse to lynch him, took umbrage to this and carefully explained why the “Soirée justification” was becoming tiresome (for future reference, he was mafia in a disproportionate amount of games in that time period and thus had to lurk in one of them, and it had also happened a grand total of one time and thus wasn’t fair to hang over his head for the rest of eternity), but it was really a doomed effort and everybody knew it.

Town doctrine in the midgame, especially early on in the midgame, is to get rid of the lurkers, and Sigurd was far and away the chief lurker of Mafia IX (exempting CDF). This was ultimately shown in the tallies, as Sigurd beat out the nonlurkers Sasaki and eventually Ibn-Khaldun in a tiebreaker to get the chop.

Executed: Sigurd

Day 5

Subotan kills spL1tp3r50naL1ty and White_eyes:D

I quite liked the kill I wrote up for White_eyes, which made me a bit disappointed when WE blasted it in the thread. As has been pointed out, the only thing the mafia did when sending me the kills was give me the final weapon to be used. Everything before that was totally at my discretion. Therefore, when some of the weapons used got really outlandish, I had to be a little bit creative to arrive at that final kill. The White_eyes kill was the greatest example of this.

Subotan informed me that WE would be devoured by a swarm of snapping turtles. Upon writing the kill, the first challenge that I had to overcome was that White_eyes would have to be first put into a position to be devoured by the turtles, since turtles are not known to be the greatest of predators. I decided that this would be best met if WE had a paralyzing agent in his system at the time of the attack. Of course now, the next challenge was the origin of that paralyzing agent. After a bit of a thought, the origin story would be that White_eyes had to call in a doctor or someone he trusted because he had a weird disease (I picked Dutch elm disease for personal reasons). Then of course, I had to think up a reason why White_eyes would have that disease in the first place, and thus came the backstory of the mafioso secretly injecting him with it in a prior voting session. All in all, from snapping turtles, I worked backward, got all the details to fit in nicely, and came up with a (mostly) satisfying kill.

(As a side note: It’s interesting to note the Gameroom’s evolution when it comes to analysis of the kill write-ups. If this were in years past, I’m sure the town would have been hung up on Pancuronium, trying to figure out who among them would have a knowledge of medical drugs. Better for the players in the long run, perhaps, but far less amusing from a host’s perspective.)

In terms of the actual in-game events from the round, it was the standard midpoint bad lynch. Votes were really thrown around haphazardly; ATPG had a minor bandwagon going on him in what was probably the mafia’s high-water mark in their repeated attempts to frame him. Methos got a couple of votes, prophesying his fate later on in the game, and Sasaki’s attack on [B]Secura[B]’s lack of commitment to voting garnered her some suspicion as well. Subotan, exhibiting his game’s trademark of avoiding bandwagons like the plague, went the other way and voted Reenk. Finally, Subotan himself gained two votes from the bloc of Sasaki and TinCow.

However, the round’s “winner” was shlin28, who was executed with a whopping three votes, one of them being his own. In an interesting bit of trivia, shlin was also lynched around this point in the game in Godfather with a similar lack of reasoning.

Executed: shlin28

Day 6

Subotan “kills” Secura and Beskar

The architect of these two kills was actually Chaotix, stepping in for a temporarily AWOL Subotan. Subotan later returned and approved of the kills and their methods however, so unlike in Mafia VIII there won’t be endless speculation of how things would have turned out if Subotan himself was around. In any case, I was glad Chaotix was still helping his team out so long after his own demise.

This round was also the first appearance of the mad cow Bessie, which is probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever written and also one of the things I’m most proud of in this game. Bessie would provide endless amusement for me after I realized the door-to-door killer would continue killing with only pizza-related items.

The early target of the round was Kagemusha, who was once again going deep into the game, seemingly immune from death due to the Curse. ATPG and TinCow also received a lot of votes. All in all, we had a pretty factionalized round at this point in the game, probably due to backlash from shlin’s lynch the day before.

The factionalization gave way to the round’s main argument: Kage leading the backlash against the game’s “power trio” of Sasaki, TinCow, and ATPG voting in the same way. This particular argument had a lot of metagame aspects in it, which meant I was more naturally attracted to it and followed it more closely than I normally would have. Basically, Kage was chastising the three for apparently discouraging the rest of the town from thinking for itself, while ATPG was defending himself by saying that it was just a one-time strategy. In the end, both sides had their merits and I’ll refrain from further comment on the matter, though if you held a gun to my head I’d probably take Kage’s side.

The major side effect of the argument, though, was that Kage’s position convinced Sasaki that he was innocent and thus once again the old survivor lived to fight another day. Instead, the new wagon was directed at pevergreen, under the basis that the kill choices would make a lot of sense if pever was a mafioso. The end result was a tie between pever and TinCow.

In one of the weirdest tiebreaker rounds I’ve ever been witness to (and trust me, I’ve seen some truly weird ones), both pever and TinCow voted for themselves instead of each other; pever because he thought that TinCow would be more helpful in the endgame than him, and TinCow because he hadn’t been paying much attention so far and that he wanted to focus his efforts on Shadow Fort. In the end though, pevergreen self-voted first, thus making his suicidal strategy make him appear innocent to the townies. TinCow’s self-vote was actually the effective one, then.

Executed: TinCow

Day 7

Subotan kills Joooray and pevergreen

Subotan and Chaotix had apparently decided that pever’s strategy during the previous day’s tiebreaker period was much too risky and he had to be removed. I’m not sure if this was the proper move or not. We were still in the midgame after all and the town *thought* they could afford one more lynch before they really got serious with the suspects (although in actuality, they had two or three more lynches to spare, since everybody was operating under the assumption that they were still facing two mafiosi).

I haven’t really spoken much about Subotan’s performance in the thread to this point, which is probably a mark in Subotan’s favor. He was doing quite well in staying low, out of the limelight, while the more visible suspects were identified and either disposed of or spared. However, I was starting to think of the endgame implications of his strategy. Subotan’s biggest problem was precisely what had allowed him to cruise through six rounds so far: He didn’t put himself out there enough.

I’d most closely associate Subotan’s performance in this game with that of Kommodus from way back in Mafia III. Kommodus, at that point, had only played one game on the .Org, but had already gained a reputation for being verbose and analytical, already well on his way to becoming the legendary figure of the Gameroom that he is. His problem in Mafia III, though, was that he didn’t hold true to the pattern. Yes, he was able to skate by until the endgame, but when the suspicions finally turned his way, he had no way of refuting them. As Kommodus himself later put it at the end of Godfather 1, perhaps the best way to survive the endgame is to put yourself at risk in the midgame:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Kommodus

My tactics depended on totally avoiding suspicion, and once accused I couldn't defend myself effectively. You, on the other hand, seemed to laugh in the face of multiple accusations, and successfully defended yourself each time.

---

It remained to be seen if Subotan would avoid Kommodus’s fate, but so far he was doing quite well (almost too well, considering the above). Once again he sailed through a round without coming under much of anything.

However, the same couldn’t be said for a lot of other people. The Power Triad officially split this round, with Sasaki gunning for the Subotan-like woad&fangs and ATPG unleashing one of his trademark wall-of-text posts that implicated Methos. I started having flashbacks to Godfather 3 for more than one reason. Interestingly enough, the only one to vote for Subotan was woad himself, precisely for the same reason he was under suspicion from Sasaki. :laugh4:

All in all, I’d attribute Methos’s WIFOM-heavy behavior to him being a relatively new player and thus not quite yet being fully attuned to Gameroom catechism of townie behavior (doubly so in vanilla games), but of course the rest of the townies didn’t pick up on this and strung him up. I wonder exactly how many new players we’ve lynched over the years for the same exact reasons.

Executed: Methos

Day 8

Subotan kills Beefy187 and Captain Blackadder

With the deaths of Beefy and Blackadder, there were ten total players left. The endgame had finally arrived, and Subotan would have to survive three more lynches in order to secure his place in Mafia history. In his way were the following players:

• Reenk Roink, not quite as verbose as usual but still as contrarian as ever. I thought that Reenk would either be an early kill by the mafia or one of the final scapegoats, perhaps to shield Subotan since he had likeminded posting behavior.
• Psychonaut, also a bit low-profile but dependable, another potential “Subotan shield”. He had been going after Thermal a bit recently, but since he wasn’t as high-profile as Reenk, I had him marked down as a probable kill.
• Ibn-Khaldun, who, after surviving several early rounds of suspicion had fallen off the map, almost entirely. Contrary to Subotan, he spent a lot of time in bandwagons. I had him down as a probable kill.
• Renata, another early/midgame survivor, she had been a thoughtful poster, arguing with Kage a lot in the thread. For her non-willingness to simply follow the Gameroom heavyweights, I had her as lasting to the end.
• Thermal Mercury, the initial scapegoat of Day 8. Another thoughtful poster, he was the one most spooked by all of the ATPG frame attempts. As such, I had Subotan as leaving him alive long enough to lynch ATPG, and then disposing of him afterwards.
• woad&fangs, Sasaki’s bête noire through most of the latter half of the game. Right idea, wrong person, Sasaki. Subotan was probably going to leave woad alive longer than he should have been. If this were still the midgame, woad was probably the likely lynch target this round, but with the endgame everyone buckled down and took their suspicions elsewhere.
• Askthepizzaguy, probably the person Subotan was trying hardest to take down. He had gone into “analysis mode” the round before with a misguided lynch on Methos, but realized his mistake after the writeup. Subotan may or may not have successfully gotten him lynched, as it looked like Sasaki was in more danger than ATPG. If Subotan had ever gotten the chance to realize this in the endgame, ATPG would have been dead meat.
• Sasaki Kojiro, the man who had gotten a vote every single round, the man who was so dangerous in the endgame. Subotan was trying to get ATPG lynched but probably should have been focusing his efforts on Sasaki, who looked to be in more trouble. Had Subotan survived, I had marked Sasaki’s fate down as eventually getting lynched, perhaps in the final round, due to nothing more than sheer town paranoia.
• Kagemusha, the old survivor. Kage more than anyone else always seemed to make it to the endgame, being one of the final three survivors in Mafias VI and VIII, Crazed Rabbit’s final victim in Mafia VII, and of course the winner of Mafia I. Chaotix and Subotan were wary of killing him due to fear of their loss being attributed to the Curse that bears his name, and Kage once again seemed to rise to the occasion in the moments where he was most in danger, avoiding a sure lynch on Day 6. Kage would once again probably make it to the final round.

Subotan was probably hoping that, true to form, woad would be the day’s target, or barring that, the early bandwagon on Thermal (helped by some encouragement from the dead) would hold. Psychonaut also was under fire for perceived insecurity in one of his posts.

Of course, things went differently. Sasaki did his reread of the thread and, as usual, sniffed out the right suspect, shifting his focus towards Subotan. Subo’s low-key behavior finally came back to bite him, as he only stepped it up to be his usual serious, thoughtful self when he was briefly under fire early on in the game.

Subotan, posting from an iphone due to lack of internet at a relative’s house, gave the best defense that he could, but once again it was the defense itself that hurt him more than anything else (see: TevashSzat, Godfather 3, The), as his ever-growing list of attackers cited the fact that he seemed to be overly concerned about this one particular thread if he was taking the time to post long, coherent defenses from at iphone at a relative’s house.

All of a sudden, it happened again. Subotan went from a man on an easy cruise to in serious trouble, and it looked like I would go 2-for-11 in Large or Huge games in terms of having a mafia victory. Subotan’s nearest competitor was (of course) Sasaki, with one vote each being thrown in the direction of Thermal and ATPG. Even if both of those votes were to come off their respective targets and onto Sasaki, it still would have been a 5-5 tie, and it would have only been a matter of time anyway.

Due to an unexpected all-nighter I had to pull the night of the final writeup, I gave Subotan a 12-hour stay of execution, but in the end the result was the same. The mafia had gone down to defeat once again.

Executed: Subotan

Game finish

I think the killer round for the Mafia was Day 2, even more so than Day 8. You have to expect to take casualties in the endgame unless you play a perfect game. Chaotix’s early downfall meant that Subotan had lost his wingman, but more important than that, he had lost his margin of error.

All in all, Mafia IX was very entertaining, even if the endgame drama didn’t live up to some of them from games past (if you’re interested, Mafias III, V, VI, and VIII especially are very good reads), and I feel as if I accomplished my mission of reintroducing vanilla mafia to a whole new generation of Gameroom players. Hopefully you’ll all still be around this fall when I host my next, non-vanilla game, and then in June of 2011 where we celebrate Mafia’s fifth anniversary with the sure-to-be epic Mafia X. :yes:

Congratulations to Chaotix and Subotan for a game very well played, even if you guys came up a bit short at the end. As I’ve told you in the thread and via PM, it’s hard to win as Mafia, and your effort was more than commendable. And of course, congrats to the townies of the game for once again saving the Frontroom. :bow:

So, as I officially bring Mafia IX to a close, I leave you all with this one thought: Beware of rocket-propelled cows in the night.