French Revolution Mafia [Concluded]

[NotACop]

Unvote: atheotes
Vote: NAC

6-5 NAC

Just vote atheotes already.

Well excuse me for trying to get more of a feel on my top scum suspect

[Montmorency]

Final 30 seconds. Who wants to be a hero?

[GeneralHankerchief]

Voting closed.

[GeneralHankerchief]

"This is a nation of monkeys with the throat of parrots."
~ Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès

Day 2

A relatively less intense day of discussion suddenly became a lot more interesting after the shock death of Arakhor, with a few people decrying the action - apparently orchestrated by Manasi - and others resorting to gallows humor as a coping mechanism. What was most noticeable, though, was that the votes moved around very quickly and fluidly after Arakhor's death.

Eventually, after much debate, the vote coalesced around two unlucky suspects: NotACop, who was around for the later period and seemed to be actively discharging his duty as a Convention member and looking for Royalists (emphasis on seemed to be, according to some), and atheotes, who conversely appeared to be taking inspiration from the Stoics when facing his possible impending death. After a final flurry, everybody looked to the President to provide closure.

"Citoyens," he said, "the final count has been tallied and it is a tie." Everybody gasped. Surely one of the emergency measures passed during the Terror would have provided for this eventuality, right? After all, these were all learned men, educated lawyers and politicians and some even merchants, and they had studied their philosophy, and were deeply invested in the matters of justice, and about a thousand other different things which all pointed to a sensible yet just solution in matters such as these. So what was it to be?

"Keeping with the true spirit of the Revolution," the president continued, "We will honor the great tradition of our republican colleagues and forbears and keep their wisdom in mind when resolving this issue. The most just, the most natural, the most fair way of breaking this tie is..." - everybody held their breaths...

"Random chance!"

"WHAT?!" The shout was unison, from all of the supposedly enlightened Convention members, to a couple of shocked guards, to NotACop and atheotes themselves. Weren't they supposed to defend themselves before a special tribunal or something? Appeal directly to a smaller body, maybe have the president himself cast the deciding vote? Apparently the rules of the Convention provided for nothing for this.

What they did provide for, however, was fantastic theater. Everybody gathered in close as the president fished a coin out of his pocket and showed it to the two possible victims.

"NotACop, atheotes, this coin, mined from ore in the Alps, struck in the mint of Lyon, is a true Revolutionary symbol, and it will decide your fates today. This is heads," showing them a side displaying the image of Marianne, a popular figure representing the people of France and the Revolution, "And this is tails," showing them the reverse, an engraving of the storming of the Bastille. "NotACop, you have the honor of calling it in the air."

"Wait, why does he get to call it in the air?" said atheotes. "What determines this? I want to call it in the air! Let me decide my own fate!"

"Now hold on a minute," NAC responded, "This doesn't get to be decided like this! He doesn't get to call it in the air just because he wants it! I demand a preliminary coin flip to determine who gets to call the ultimate coin flip while it's in the air!"

"Yes, agreed! Although... who gets to call *that* one in the air?"

"Oh for the love of-" the President sighed, before cutting himself and everyone else off. "I will deal with the preliminary coin flip. NotACop, you're heads. atheotes, you're tails. Whichever side the coin lands face-up on gets to call the big one. Agreed?"

"Agreed," both said.

"Very well," said the president, and flipped it. The Storming of the Bastille faced the crowd.

"YESSSSSSS!" atheotes visibly cheered, gloating over his preliminary victory as NAC swore loudly. The celebration went on entirely too long, as atheotes started an elaborate victory dance routine.

"Dude, the real coin hasn't even been flipped yet!" someone in the crowd called out.

"I know, but now that I control the call I can't lose!" atheotes replied. "I was so happy when I was assigned tails, because tails never fails! And now I'm guaranteed to stake it on tails, and I couldn't be happier! This is as good as over, I say! Toodle-oo, Royalist scum!"

"Alright, settle down," the president said. "This is the final flip. atheotes, you have the honor of calling it in the air," he finished, flipping the coin.

"TAILS!" atheotes called.

Marianne's face greeted the crowd. atheotes had indeed gotten to decide his own fate, with all of the consequences attached to it.

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

atheotes has been lynched! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Abbé Sieyès, a Girondin!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

Day 2 tally:

atheotes: 6 | Choxorn (741), ATPG (744), autolycus (759), Lewwyn (767), Zack (805), NotACop (840)
NotACop: 6 | Snerk (771), BSmith (780), Renata (798), Csargo (801), Dp101 (825), Montmorency (839)
Dp101: 2 | seireikhaan (689), Al Sipsclar (716)
El Barto: 1 | Manasi (702)
Winston Hughes: 1 | atheotes (811)

Not voting: 2 | Winston Hughes, El Barto

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

It is now Night 2! Please send in your orders.

Night 2 ends 1:00 PM US Eastern Time on Tuesday, March 14 (GMT-4).



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

Still alive (17):
Al Sipsclar
Askthepizzaguy
autolycus
BSmith
Choxorn
Csargo
Dp101
El Barto
Lewwyn
Manasi
Montmorency
NotACop
Renata
seireikhaan
Snerk
Winston Hughes
Zack

Killed:
Fenn
Monstrdude
Logic
Kagemusha
Arakhor

Guillotined:
Jabbz
atheotes

[GeneralHankerchief]

Announcement: Though I will attempt to avoid this, the night phase may run a little bit long due to me dealing with an impending snowstorm (shoveling, etc) tomorrow.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Night has ended, no more orders will be accepted.

Processing now, should be up in 30 or so.

[GeneralHankerchief]

"A sans culotte always has his sabre well-sharpened, ready to cut off the ears of all opponents of the Revolution."
~ Antoine-François Momoro

Night 2

The Parisian mob had always been the single greatest driver of the Revolution. From the storming of the Bastille in 1789, to the Women's March on Versailles which dragged Louis XVI and the royal family back to the city proper, from the unfortunate September Massacres, they were always present to remind people that while high political rhetoric was wonderful and all, ultimately it was their will that mattered the most. Despite this, the politicians and higher-ups always seemed to forget them, to take them for granted, after a while - at least until they struck again in the most spectacular way possible. Thus was the cycle renewed.

Was tonight the night they struck again? One street preacher was certainly doing the best to make this the case, gathering a larger and larger crowd as the evening wore on and whipping his listeners up into a greater and greater frenzy. Waxing poetic about the evils of nobility, avarice, and counter-Revolution, he finished off his harangue by demanding action.

"Go, my children! Go, you true fathers of the Revolution! Go out and remind them all that it was upon the backs and blood of the sans culottes that this country was built, and that they are beholden to you! Go forth and take back your Revolution!"

A primal roar of assent, emanating from the bellies of the mob and working their way up until it got out of their throats, greeted this. Weapons, both military-grade and handmade, clanged against each other. The torches came out. The sans culottes were on the march.


They marched through the streets of Paris, not really looting anything - this was not their style, after all, and shopkeepers were more likely than not to be one of them. They were focused. They were out for blood, ready to take back their revolution (from who, though, was never specified, nor was it thought about much), but they were focused. And, after about an hour's worth of walking and picking up even more like-minded people along the way, they had found their target.

BSmith was in his office, going over the latest reports of possible counterrevolutionaries and Royalist sympathizers from the various regions of France. Obviously Paris had the most - it was the biggest, after all, plus the most important - but nowhere in France was truly safe. The Vendée, in the midst of a nasty civil uprising, had its share, as did the problematic city of Lyon as well as most places in Brittany. Toulon, menaced by the British fleet, was another highlight. BSmith sighed. So much to do, so little time. Anybody who ever said that fomenting revolution was easy work was full of it, he decided.

As he pored over the papers and wrote down a few reports of his own, BSmith gradually became aware of an increasing noise that appeared to be drawing closer to him. At first he put it out of his mind, but as the volume only grew louder he finally put his papers down and made his way to a window.

Facing him was a giant mob, finally stopped after their long walk, torches held alight, weapons of all sorts raised, staring right back at him. The din stopped in an instant, now that the people realized that they were at their target. BSmith, meanwhile, paled. Him? Really him? It was probably him, he was the only person in this neighborhood who was a member of the Convention, at least to the best of his knowledge. But if him, why him? The sans culottes in the past had either targeted indiscriminately (like in the September Massacres) or else were at a member of the Royal family. What had BSmith possibly done to get this much attention from the people of Paris?

There was no sense in talking down the mob - after all, he had nothing to give them. There was also no sense in fighting - he couldn't guess their numbers, but knew there were a lot more of them then there was of him, plus they were armed. The best hope was to surrender immediately, throw himself on the mercy of the people of Paris, and try to sort things out later.

Gulping, he collected himself, walked away from the window, said a quick prayer, and then opened the front door, arms raised, ready to face the crowd.

It was a noble gesture, but a futile one. The sans culottes were not taking prisoners. BSmith was torn apart.


The work didn't take long. After about a minute or two of frenzy, the mob assembled outside BSmith's house cheered in victory upon the completion of their work. But they were not sated. After all, they had gathered this huge crowd, walked a decent portion of the city... all just for one man? Hadn't the speaker who had whipped up this mob told them to fully take back their Revolution? No, some of them reasoned. There was still work to be done.

The large crowd scattered in dozens of different groups, all going off and continuing their "takeback" in whichever way they saw best fit. Some of them went to taverns, deciding to liquor up before going elsewhere (or home). Some went to the fancy parts of town, looking to break into some houses and go through correspondences to see if there were any new Mirabeaus among the elite. Some went off in search of guards, looking to pick a fight. And some decided to just walk around, aiming to kill the first Convention member they came across.

This unlucky casualty of the wrath of the sans-culottes was Askthepizzaguy. Having attended the meeting of the Jacobin club earlier that night, he had lingered, wanting to discuss a private matter with one of the other members, and so was out on the streets when the mob came marching. Pizza heard them coming, took one look at their faces, and gulped. Unlike BSmith, he was under no such pretensions about what was about to happen, and he didn't spend any time particularly wondering about why.

He ran. He didn't have a particular destination in mind, perhaps one of the Parisian churches in hopes of invoking the ancient law of sanctuary, perhaps one of his friends' homes (or one of his enemies', if he judged a door and walls wouldn't stop the mob). In the meantime, though, he kept running, turning streets at random, hoping to just get away from the mob.

What Pizza didn't realize, though, was that this was not a unified mob. Had he come across the one large group earlier when they were going after BSmith, this would have been a good strategy. However, this was not earlier. Their initial purpose was broken. Now the people were just looking to kill at random. Now they were split into groups.

Rounding another corner, Pizza literally ran straight into a group of about a dozen. A few of them crumbled over in surprise, but more of them stayed on their feet, able to avoid the collision. They saw their companions rise and they also saw the newcomer, so pale and panicky, with the unmistakable dress and manner of someone who was in politics, who looked like he had been caught doing a very bad thing.

The last thing Askthepizzaguy saw was a set of eyes, full of righteous fury, illuminated by the glow of a torch.

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

BSmith has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Jacques Nicolas Billaud-Varenne, a Montagnard!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

Askthepizzaguy has been killed! He was:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Charlotte Corday, a Girondin!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Not a Royalist.

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

It is now Day 3!

Voting will end Thursday, March 16 at 1:00 PM US Eastern time (GMT-4).



Feedback will go out shortly.

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

Still alive (15):
Al Sipsclar
autolycus
Choxorn
Csargo
Dp101
El Barto
Lewwyn
Manasi
Montmorency
NotACop
Renata
seireikhaan
Snerk
Winston Hughes
Zack

Killed:
Fenn
Monstrdude
Logic
Kagemusha
Arakhor
BSmith
Askthepizzaguy

Guillotined:
Jabbz
atheotes

[Winston Hughes]

Peut-être que vous êtes tous des scums.

[Montmorency]

Alright, who killed BSmith? He was one of the best of us.

[Renata]

We didn't kill anybody.

[Montmorency]

And some decided to just walk around, aiming to kill the first Convention member they came across.

Going by this writeup, I suspect Mafia activated some special ability that would kill townies randomly, e.g. Incite Riot or whatever.

[Zack]

Going by this writeup, I suspect Mafia activated some special ability that would kill townies randomly, e.g. Incite Riot or whatever.

Nope.

[Montmorency]

Did you do it, then?

Vote: Winston

[Renata]

[b[]vote: Winston[/b]

Bon soir, mon cher.

[Winston Hughes]

Did you do it, then?

Vote: Winston

Can you give me a reason?

[Renata]

Vote: Winston Hughes

[Montmorency]

Whatever other people's reason is.

[Renata]

I don't know about Monty, but I gots one.

Sooh was scummy, lol.

[Winston Hughes]

Yeah, she was. But I'm not.

[Zack]

Did you do it, then?

Vote: Winston

Not intentionally.

[Zack]

Vote: Csargo

[Montmorency]

Not intentionally.

What does that mean?

[Dp101]

Going by this writeup, I suspect Mafia activated some special ability that would kill townies randomly, e.g. Incite Riot or whatever.

Is it normal for there to be clues in the writeup like that? As in, is this kind of analysis something we should have been doing the whole game?

[Montmorency]

By the way, I consider auto lock clear for his performance yesterday. Don't touch him.

[Zack]

What does that mean?

[Winston Hughes]

Vote: Csargo

Why?

[Zack]

Why?

Would you prefer Snerk?

[Winston Hughes]

Would you prefer Snerk?

Between those who are in the poe right now, I have yet to arrive at any preference.

That's why I'd like to know your reasons.

[Zack]

Between those who are in the poe right now, I have yet to arrive at any preference.

That's why I'd like to know your reasons.

[Montmorency]

My faction holstered last night. Which individuals acted?