Prologue
Rays from the setting sun glinted off the high golden towers of the ancient gothic cathedral, brilliantly illuminating its stained glass windows. The view from the outside was enough to stop most people in their tracks and make them stand in awe; it was as if the spire was a shining tower of white-hot flame. Even in a northern city such as this, where fiery autumn sunsets were as common as the falling leaves, this particular evening delivered scenes of beauty certain to be remembered.
The few individuals gathered inside the cathedral, however, would see none of it. They were cut off from the sunlight, gathered in a long, narrow dining hall deep underneath the sanctuary. The only light illuminating their private concourse came from the dim chandeliers hanging over the table and the few candles in holders on the walls.
The man seated at the head of the table was a fearsome spectacle. An ancient man with thick silver hair and lean, rugged features, he emanated an aura of command, power, and purpose. Despite his age, he held himself perfectly erect, and in his eyes burned a fire not found in many far younger than himself. He was dressed impeccably in a fine white tuxedo, trimmed with blood red.
The men and women occupying other places at the table were listening attentively to the voice of the “patriarch.” About a half dozen in number, they were each identically dressed in sharp black suits. In the general public each would have cut a remarkable figure, but here, in the presence of their leader, they looked drab. They varied in age, but all were far younger than the man at the head of the table.
“…throughout our long centuries of existence, we have been misunderstood,” the patriarch was saying. “We have been feared, hated, hunted, and killed by the lesser men of this world, who see naught beyond their narrow vision. Always have we sought only to protect and preserve what is rightfully ours, and to occasionally guide and correct the development of the larger societies around us.”
“Without the subtle leadership we have provided, civilization would have remained mired in barbarity!” he continued, his voice thundering throughout the hall. “Yet all that is seen are the regrettable methods which we are forced to use to achieve our ends. No one sees the far greater evils that would be done were we to remove our influence.”
His voice grew quieter. “And that is how it must always remain,” he said. “You who are only now entering this family, the Cosa Nuova, understand the necessity of complete confidentiality. I do not need to remind you, for your education has long prepared you for this moment. Always remember it, for this is the day that you step out of the obscurity of the past and into the immortality that belongs to the Legendary – to those who have changed their world.”
He gazed slowly about the room, his eyes lingering on each of the neophytes. No one moved or spoke. The terrible silence dripped with anticipation.
Finally, he nodded. “It is time,” he said simply.
Having finished his speech, the patriarch rose swiftly from his seat; the neophytes quickly followed in unison. He turned and strode smartly to the end of the hall and through a high doorway there. The rest formed a single-file line and followed him through the door, the last turning to shut the double doors behind him.
The room in which they found themselves was dark and had a high ceiling. In each of the room’s six corners stood a high pillar reaching up into the darkness. The room was empty except for an ornate altar which stood at the far end, about waist-high. Resting on the altar were several burning candles, a short stack of small paper pictures, and a knife.
The aged man strode purposefully up to the altar and stepped behind it. The neophytes gathered around the front of the altar in a semi-circle, waiting several paces back.
The patriarch nodded to the first neophyte, who stepped forward and held out his right hand. He gave no reaction as his leader seized the knife and made a small cut on his pointer finger. Instead he calmly took the picture that was offered him and smeared some of his own blood on it. He gazed contemplatively at the picture for a few moments – it was of St. Augustine, his family’s patron saint. Deliberately, he held the picture over a candle until it caught fire.
The neophyte began to speak, his oath long memorized and painstakingly rehearsed. “I choose to enter this secret organization to protect my family and brothers,” he said. “I swear not to divulge this secret, and to obey with love and Omerta.” As he spoke, more and more of the image was consumed by the fire. He began quickly passing it back and forth between his hands to ease the pain of the burning. “As this saint burns – so will burn my soul if I fail to keep my oath,” he continued. “I enter alive into this organization and can only leave dead.”
As he finished, the last of the image was consumed by the fire, leaving only ash. He had suffered some burns on his hands, but still showed no reaction. Finally, he bowed his head and waited for the expected words.
He didn’t have to wait long. “Your oath has been heard, my son,” said the patriarch. “And it will not be forgotten. Your family is our family, and your fate is our fate, until death separates us.”
The neophyte stepped back to his original place in the semicircle, and the next stepped forward. The ritual repeated itself with exacting precision until all of them had bound themselves securely to the Cosa Nuova.
At last the solemn ceremony was complete. Before dismissing the newly initiated members, the patriarch spoke a few final words.
“A task of utmost gravity lies before us,” he said. “In a few days several of you will be chosen to carry it out. You will not know fear, pain, or regret, and you will not fail. You are Cosa Nuova.”
Welcome to Cosa Nuova: A New Mafia!
Basic Rules (for those who haven’t played before)
A small number of players will be selected at random as “Mafia.” The rest of the players are simple villagers. The goal of the mafia is to kill all of the villagers, while the goal of the villagers is to identify and execute the mafia.
The game progresses in turns. At the beginning of each turn, the mafia will send me private messages indicating who they wish to kill, as well as the method they wish to use. I will then post the kills in a story format. Everyone then votes publicly on who they think is guilty. At the end of a set period of time (approximately 24 hours after the kills are posted), the person with the most votes is executed.
The game progresses like this until either the mafia are all executed, or until all the villagers have all been killed.
How to Vote
As in other recent games, I expect you to vote like this: Vote: Kommodus. Please make your votes bold – that will make it much easier for me to tally the votes. If you don’t follow this method, I’ll still try to count your vote, but I can’t guarantee anything. If your vote gets missed because you didn’t follow this rule, there won’t be any recounts.
If you wish to retract an earlier vote and cast a new vote, please use the following format:
Unvote: GeneralHankerchief
Vote: Kommodus
Technically you don’t need the “unvote” part, but it makes it a little clearer to all the participants what you are doing.
How Many Mafia? And What Other Roles?
I’m going to keep this game simple, and largely similar to GeneralHankerchief’s tried-and-true formula. With apologies to those who like lots of roles, I don’t have the time or the private message box capacity to deal with too many.
The number of mafia will be determined after signups are complete. I’ll use a computer simulation to attempt to balance the game properly. It will probably be two or three at most. The number of kills the mafia are allowed to make per turn will also be determined this way.
Other likely roles include:
Detective: A villager who can “investigate” one player each turn and determine whether or not they are mafia.
Doctor: A villager who can “protect” one player each turn, preventing the mafia from killing that player.
Again, the existence and number of players holding each of the above roles will be determined by computer simulation after signups are complete.
What About Player Inactivity?
My rules will be clearly defined in this area. To prevent players from “lurking” and not participating in the discussion, anyone who misses three voting rounds in a row, or a total of five voting rounds throughout the game, will be ejected from the game. As you can tell, this is pretty lenient.
However, my method of getting rid of you won’t be the “Wrath of God” event that’s become popular in other games. Oh no – I’ll be far less merciful than that. I’ll most likely write a story in which you off yourself in a hilarious and idiotic fashion worthy of a Darwin award. Needless to say, you don’t want this, so please stay active. It’s more fun that way anyway.
If you don’t want to vote, but want to avoid this fate, simply do this: Vote: Abstain.
Other Rules
As per Sasaki’s suggestion, when you are claiming your role, you may not post screenshots. You can post quotes if you want, since everyone knows how easy those are to fake.
After you are dead, whether you are killed or executed, you may still discuss who you think is guilty. I find that this makes games livelier and more fun. Of course, you may not vote once dead.
If you are mafia, you may not reveal your role. You may not “confess,” as has been done in the past. If you are a villager and claim to be mafia, this will be an automatic suicide. See the section on player inactivity for your fate.
Enough Rules Already, Let’s Get Going!
To sign up, simply post in this thread and say you are interested! A number of people have already signed up; I’ll create a list shortly.
Currently Signed Up:
Big King Sanctaphrax
Cowhead418
Crazed Rabbit
Csar
Destroyer of Hope
discovery1
Divine Wind
Dutch_guy
Evil_Maniac From Mars
GeneralHankerchief
Glaucus
Peasant Phill
Sasaki Kojiro
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Silver Rusher
Orb
Byzantine Mercenary
AggonyDuck
King Henry V
Proletariat
Tiberius
Drisos
Sir Moody
Reenk Roink
Zalmoxis
ByzantineKnight
doc_bean
Xiahou
Kagemusha
Leet Eriksson
Seamus Fermanagh
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