Capo di Tutti Capi IV [Concluded]

[DaveShack]

I guess people want to see what happened first, which is understandable. Edit: to clarify, I was responding to the "nothing happening" posts...

No complaints surfaced, that's good. My commiserations to the host, and since nobody else has said it, I for one can live with a speed bump or two along the way. And I really appreciate the notice, lets me know to use today as a "honey do" day instead of sitting by the computer and ignoring the family.

Thinking ahead to the impending day, we have a selection and a lynch, right? I found yesterday's lynch method to be quite different, though I haven't had the pleasure of Capo before so have nothing to compare to. Nevertheless I'm satisfied, for now, to select: GH for another term.

[DaveShack]

So if some one leaves a group, they're dead?

Leaving a group openly, by declining an invitation, is one thing. Deserting is another. I know I'd be pissed if no shows resulted in a bunch of wasted time.

[Askthepizzaguy]

So if some one leaves a group, they're dead?

Depends on the circumstances. If it can be shown it's the group organizer's fault because the organizer assumed too much, or if others in the group fail to send in orders, then it is legitimate cause to leave a group at any time.

If someone opts-out with 24 hours notice (start of night phase) no reason is even required.

If someone opts-out with 12 hours notice and a good reason, that's fine.

If someone opts-out with less than 12 hours to go, they're going to be considered a traitor and will be directly blamed for group failures, and assumed to be mafia.

[DaveShack]

However, if the organizer has assumed incorrectly that they wish to be signed up again, that's the organizer's fault and the organizer should have prepared for 1 drop out due to error.

I heard about someone who didn't like that kind of assumption, but carried on with the assignment anyway. But I'd say it's best not to assume anything about the next night.

[Askthepizzaguy]

I heard about someone who didn't like that kind of assumption, but carried on with the assignment anyway. But I'd say it's best not to assume anything about the next night.

Yeah, and ordinarily I wouldn't, but with peeps who need protection every night, I can't afford not to make some assumptions. They're sort of persuasive and it gets people involved in the security of Fatlington.

That said, a chance at protecting folks is better than none, but I won't hold anyone responsible but myself if someone was in a group because I said so, and they didn't say so. We'll be cutting down on that tomorrow and I'll be more proactive about confirming people before locking.

[Moros]

I understand your frustration Pizza, but it sounds a bit drastic. On the other hand it's not a bad idea to get us more work done.

[Askthepizzaguy]

Speaking of which, lets' save some time and a whole lot of PM headaches.

• If you'd like to opt-in to my groups automatically, PM me and state your preference. I'll maintain a list with your name on it.
• If you'd like to opt-out and never get another message or invite from me again, PM me, and I'll consider you someone I'm not allowed to pester.

Feel free to change your mind later with another PM message.

[Askthepizzaguy]

I understand your frustration Pizza, but it sounds a bit drastic. On the other hand it's not a bad idea to get us more work done.

The drastic part is the consequences of being a traitor intentionally. Surely that requires some drastic consequences.

It is a reflection of not only my own personal frustration, but you know those folks out there who want to become doctors, detectives, vigilantes, wiseguys, rogue detectives, and surgeons? They're risking their lives and investing their time in something that doesn't work. They're going to get super ticked off at folks who intentionally sabotage them.

I won't be responsible for what happens if people backstab their group partners.

I will be responsible if it is my fault, and I'm putting policies in place to ensure it will never be my fault again.

[Moros]

The drastic part is the consequences of being a traitor intentionally. Surely that requires some drastic consequences.

It is a reflection of not only my own personal frustration, but you know those folks out there who want to become doctors, detectives, vigilantes, wiseguys, rogue detectives, and surgeons? They're risking their lives and investing their time in something that doesn't work. They're going to get super ticked off at folks who intentionally sabotage them.

I won't be responsible for what happens if people backstab their group partners.

I will be responsible if it is my fault, and I'm putting policies in place to ensure it will never be my fault again.

Yeah, I guess you are quite right. I was just a bit surprised about this decision of yours. Actually its mostly sad it had to happen.

[DaveShack]

I don't think this is so much a decision as it's good insight into reality. Someone who backstabs a townie group is most likely scum or potential scum. And if they have a good excuse they shouldn't face repercussions. Sounds like a good policy all around.

[Askthepizzaguy]

Oh god.

I've become a politician.

Great, now I'm Senator Askthepizzaguy. I've become my own worst nightmare.

[White_eyes:D]

Depends on the circumstances. If it can be shown it's the group organizer's fault because the organizer assumed too much, or if others in the group fail to send in orders, then it is legitimate cause to leave a group at any time.

If someone opts-out with 24 hours notice (start of night phase) no reason is even required.

If someone opts-out with 12 hours notice and a good reason, that's fine.

If someone opts-out with less than 12 hours to go, they're going to be considered a traitor and will be directly blamed for group failures, and assumed to be mafia.

Good guideline, it is surprising that we are even having trouble with this. I know I never had this problem in Capo 3.

[Askthepizzaguy]

Good guideline, it is surprising that we are even having trouble with this. I know I never had this problem in Capo 3.

• A lot of new players
• It's still early in the game, sending orders isn't familiar yet
• People are less sure which path they want to take
• My groups are the ones most likely to be targeted for infiltration and disruption since they're being coordinated together, thus they're a bigger threat.

All of this is expected and I should have more adequately prepared for it, I just have RL concerns this time I didn't have last time.

[White_eyes:D]

People need to get used to sending in orders early, I know it sucks to spam peoples inbox's but you do what you need to do. The path that one should take if townie or wiseguy is...."Go with the flow", You can't predict what will happen and getting infiltrated is par for the course right now. Paranoia and bailing out of groups at the last second get you lynched/killed. I know I am "Mr.Paranoid himself" but its a little weird finding people more paranoid then me.

[Askthepizzaguy]

People need to get used to sending in orders early, I know it sucks to spam peoples inbox's but you do what you need to do. The path that one should take if townie or wiseguy is...."Go with the flow", You can't predict what will happen and getting infiltrated is par for the course right now. Paranoia and bailing out of groups at the last second get you lynched/killed. I know I am "Mr.Paranoid himself" but its a little weird finding people more paranoid then me.

You did well in Capo III though, you were one of the few peeps consistently in my corner, and I was revealed to be neutral and a murderer.

You've never been more correct on a call, mister White_Eyes. And I concur with your present plan. Seems you're on your game with this Capo business.

[Xenoneb]

I really feel your pain, ATPG. I got 13 people, and ended up making a protection group that night. That's all.

[Ishmael]

Hi guys, unfortunately I'll be away from a computer until 4pm tomorrow Australian EST (about 31 hours by my mental calculations). Try not to lynch me while I'm out . From what I gather, we vote to lynch today but don't select the director? In which case, I'll vote: abstain (as I have no idea what the deal is with Subotan/TS). Sorry to bail on you guys, I'll be back for tomorrow's day phase.

[DaveShack]

While we're on this lull, I'll take the opportunity to ask what's up with that mailing list thing. I had given some contact info but never received any of the mass mailings -- or any email for that matter.
daveshack {dot} cfc {at} gmail {dot} com

[El Barto]

Oh god.

I've become a politician.

Great, now I'm Senator Askthepizzaguy. I've become my own worst nightmare.

You have not been elected. Is this legal?

While we're on this lull, I'll take the opportunity to ask what's up with that mailing list thing. I had given some contact info but never received any of the mass mailings -- or any email for that matter.

I don't hold much with email contact, but I check my inbox here at least once a day.

[Askthepizzaguy]

I really feel your pain, ATPG. I got 13 people, and ended up making a protection group that night. That's all.

This is a tragic waste of resources, manpower, and time, and a travesty of the highest order.

This I cannot accept. This will cease to be the case from now on. I want all organizers on board with the new system. You do as you will, but we become much more organized and we hold members accountable, and by accountable, I mean if they betray you then we will account for the many places they end up, and every piece that can be found.

[El Barto]

So if some one leaves a group, they're dead?

How? They might get killed, but no rule states anything about leaving groups. Still, after the mess you made on Night One…

[Xenoneb]

How? They might get killed, but no rule states anything about leaving groups.

Depends on the circumstances. If it can be shown it's the group organizer's fault because the organizer assumed too much, or if others in the group fail to send in orders, then it is legitimate cause to leave a group at any time.

If someone opts-out with 24 hours notice (start of night phase) no reason is even required.

If someone opts-out with 12 hours notice and a good reason, that's fine.

If someone opts-out with less than 12 hours to go, they're going to be considered a traitor and will be directly blamed for group failures, and assumed to be mafia.

This.

[El Barto]

Yes, I know, but it's not exactly the same as 'being dead' per the rules.

[Seamus Fermanagh]

“Destoyed and left to face the suffering a shttered fragment is all that remains a shttered fragment of the strength once left before destroyed and left alone alone no emotions left hatred is all that can survive existance persistance in the vain hope to to return alive when fighting is but a reflex on all sides blades are drawn…”
….The Slaughter Begins
….Day of Contempt


Night Two -- The Streets of Fatlington


Cal King – sometimes known as a completely inoffensive name strode briskly out of the lobby of the Convention Center, hat low to keep out the drizzle. He had barely reached the curb when the gunmen stood up and started hammering at him with revolvers and a shotgun.

He went down quickly, but before one of the trio of gunmen could move forward to make sure of their kill, a bus pulled up between them and Cal. As they move forward to flank the bus, a trio of balaclava-covered men grabbed Montmorency up bodily and spirited him back into the lobby of the convention center – and the waiting cadre of Fatlington’s finest.

Seeing this, the lead gunman signaled his two fellow shooters, shook his head that they were not enough, and sent them back to the shadows.

King was dazed but alive and more or less unhurt – and quite happy with whoever had sowed the armor plates into his coat and hat. They had come in handy.


El Barto had made it to the front stoop of his brownstone without any trouble at all. The night was drizzly, but not truly cold. Unknown to him, four well-hidden gunmen were standing up at various places across from his doorway as El Barto was reaching for his keys.

“Meeeeew….”

Hearing the kitten at the front of the side alley next to his brownstone, El Barto immediately swung himself over the railing, hopping down to see to the poor kitten’s needs – and neatly missing the barrage of gunfire that hammered his door. Another pair of gunmen opened fire from behind the brownstone, shooting down the alley. El Barto ducked down, but before he could think of anything to do to avoid his fate, the grate he was on collapsed and deposited him in the basement of his own home. Against all the odds, he hadn’t even taken a graze.

Hearing sirens, the gunmen moved back into the shadows and away from harm. El Barto, still a little stunned at his own blind luck, looked at the gently purring kitten still cradled in one arm.

“I think I’m gonna name you ‘Felix.’”


Master Necromanver was sitting outside, on the steps of his townhouse, staring off into the distance. He had been sitting there for quite some time, with a blank expression on his face.

A car pulled up to the curb, and a man in a trenchcoat and fedora stepped out of it. The glowing sign on top of the vehicle made plain who it was that was approaching. The man in the trenchcoat and fedora walked up the steps, carrying a steaming box of pizza.

"Pizza delivery for a Mister, sorry, Master.... Necro.... man...ver?"

Necromanver looked up at the man in bewilderment. "First of all, it's Master Necromancer, you've clearly got it misspelled. And I didn't order any pizza for delivery."

The man in the trenchcoat just stood there. "Do you mean you wanted to place it for take-out instead?"

"No, actually, I didn't order pizza for take-out either."

"That's funny...." sniffed the man in the trenchcoat. "The Pizza has been ordered to take YOU out!"

The man in the trenchcoat opened the box of pizza and planted it into the face of Master Necromanver. The scalding hot cheese and sauce caused the man to jump to his feet, screaming in pain. The man then drew his tommy gun and began shooting at the feet of his victim.

"Dance for me, Master Necromanver! Dance for your life!"

"Why are you doing this?" shouted Master in a panic, as he fumbled for the doorknob behind him.

"Because I can! Because I hate deadbeats like you clogging up the fair streets of Fatlington! And because you ordered pizza last week and you forgot to tip the pizza guy!"

Master Necromanver managed to open the door to his home and rush inside before further damage was done. He slammed the door and locked it, and then hid under his couch and cried like a little girl. Somehow, he escaped with his life.... just barely.


ELITEWARMAN8GINGYBREADMENMILK had just stepped out of his favorite ‘hole-in-the-wall’ restaurant and was striding over to a cart selling hot, salted cashews when a masked man stepped sideways from the alley between two stores and shattered Elite’s right kneecap with a sharp swing from a mashie-niblick. Elite went down, shouting in pain, and trying to both run away and reach for his weapon at the same time – time he didn’t have.

Four more attackers appeared from the crowd and started swinging socks – each one with a 4 ounce can of salted cashews in the toe – at Elite. The blows rained down, hammering his head, ribs, neck and face, punctuated every so often with a swinging smash from the 1st attacker’s golf club. In a minute, Elite was a battered wreck; in three he was singing in the choir eternal.

One of the attackers went over to the hot nuts cart, rolled it toward Elite’s body, and dumped the steaming hot cashews onto his fresh corpse. The first attacker produced a bottle of milk, smashing it over the corpse with his golf club.

No words were spoken as the assailants slipped away into the shadows.


Cahoma wasn’t at all happy with events in Fatlington. Like any prudent Fatling he was now wearing body armor and carrying for his own self defense. The armor came in handy.

Four gunmen opened fire as he passed Iron Felix’s, rapid short bursts forcing him to run and duck for cover repeatedly…and forcing him ever closer to the alley between the five-and-dime and the pet shop. Forced into the alley, he expected to be greeted by a fusillade of fire.

He was surprised to find the alley deserted, the alley lamp still lit, and a clear run to the next block where he knew a couple of Fatlington’s finest would be patrolling. He made good his escape before the shooters could follow.


Chaotix walked carefully back to his apartment, someone had died last night – from a bazooka for pity’s sake, and many people had been attacked as well. Chaotix was in no mood to be another name in the obituaries. He was somewhat prepared therefore when the car filled with armed men drove at him and ducked into an alleyway. He ducked into a side alley as the four assailants approached him from the two main entrances. He rounded the corner and ducked into a small storage room. He peered around, willing his eyes to become accustomed to the dark shadows of the small room. He wasn’t ready, however, when nothing at all happened.

"Alright, already, where are they?,” he said softly to himself.

A fifth figure – dressed in a brightish, all-blue suit, with white shirt and black tie…and a matching snug blue ski mask leaned out of the shadows. A cigarette dangled from his masked lips.

The blue-suited man spoke quietly but clearly, "Juste derrière vous," [I]and drove the balisong knife into Chaotix’s lower back with en economical and efficient upwards thrust. Chaotix collapsed to his knees and fell forward, a dull red stain spreading to mar the back of his jacket. The figure in blue flicked his cigarette butt onto the body, pulled another from his silver case and lit it, and then walked calmly away.

It was pure chance really, that Chaotix had stuck the leather hip-flask, filled with his favorite tomato juice, into his beltline at the back right of his outfit. The flask had been neatly transfixed, but the cut Chaotix himself received was no more than a tiny puncture. Chaotix had had a lucky night.


Montmorency was headed home via the boardwalk when a quartet of bikers came bouncing up the entry steps and turning onto the boards behind him – motors roaring. They were dressed head to toe in black leather and each sported a bandanna on their ski-masked heads – red, white, and blue flag bandannas.

He didn’t hesitate, just leapt from the boardwalk onto the soft sand below. The bikes roared past above him, but couldn’t get down to the sands fast enough to prevent him making his way into a nearby apartment building. Nobody had been there to cut off his escape.


Moros police would later insure his girlfriends – all four – had almost certainly never felt any pain. His car had been hit from behind in a silly fender-bender, but Moros had fled the scene rather than stopping.

Rather than heading for the restaurant where he had arranged to meet one of his quartet of “we’re pretty close” friends for a bit of dinner, Moros had headed straight for his safehouse. He’d arrived without trouble and entered the room without a hitch, locking its bar locks behind him.

Police surmised that he had been surprised to see an open window in his carefully protected apartment. The shot that killed him had come through the open window, obviously fired by a skilled marksman, and had pithed his brain stem neatly.

The police couldn’t explain the map of the Alaska territory that had been nailed to the door of the saferoom, nor the writing – ‘Seward’s Folly’ – on the fringe of the map. All of the four women were moved to tears, only one asked about a will.


Askthe pizzaguy stood on the porch of his bungalow, pacing and looking at his watch. He’d been there for six minutes and thirty-four seconds. A shadowy figure 60 yards down the street stood up and opened up on the porch with a Tommy gun.

“About time,” muttered ATPG as he dropped to the floor of the porch.

A series of five armored plates slid rapidly upward, moving in a smooth and uniform fashion, protecting the porch completely.

“Very smooth,” said Pizza to himself, “very smooth indeed.”

He had had faith that he would be protected, that he would have no problems at all, and his faith had been rewarded….at least this time.


To all appearances, it was a chance meeting. For one of them, it had been. The conversation was soft – a ski mask does not make for easy conversation – and only took a few minutes.

“Think about it, and call me if you’re interested.”

“No need to wait that long.”

“Good, very good.”


Pharoah had already turned in when the phone rang. It was his buddy from his old homestead, A.C., so he didn’t brush him off and enjoyed the chat. The phone call, however, made sure that he never heard the glass break at his back door, or the steps of his assailants as they came up the stairs and poised outside his room.

“So anyway, it’s nice enough round here, but Atlantic City was loads better, I mean you really just can’t…”

Pharoah never finished the thought as a quintet of attackers burst through the door wielding mops, brooms, and – in one case – a rug beater. What the weapons lacked in elegance, they made up for in violence as the five attackers poked, swatted and battered poor Pharoah, his phone, and his pillows into ruin. The attackers left their tools and went away.

Pharoah died, hours later, never regaining consciousness.


10:52AM, Tuesday, 30 October 1951
The Executive Meeting Room (Small Ballroom)
Fatlington Convention Center
Fatlington, New Jersey


“…so that’s as much as we are sure of. We’ll be adding information from the post mortem reviews as soon as they are completed.”

Fermanagh looked out at the committee.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better. Do your best.”

Generalhankerchief strode to the podium, once again dressed in business gray. Another day had begun, and the committee still had a long way to go to save Fatlington, and they all knew it.



OOC

Day Three, lynch vote and selection for director for days 4 & 5, begins:

Phase ends:

Remember, do NOT edit a post with a vote in it; post the change in a separate post.

Results etc. as soon as I can get to them.



Attacked: a completely inoffensive name (n2), Askthepizzaguy (n1, n2), Cahoma (n2), Chaotix (n2), Earthling (n1), El Barto (n2), Master Necromanver (n2), Montmorency (n2), Raskolnikov (n1), Slash and earn (n1),

Wounded: Slysnake (n1)

Killed: Captain Black Adder (n1), ELITEWARMAN8GINGYBREADMENMILK (n2), Moros (n2), Pharoah (n2)

Lynched: Earthling (d2)

[U}Active[/U]:

a completely inoffensive name
AggonyKing
Ameranth
Andres
Arjos
Askthepizzaguy
B Ray
Backwards Logic
Beefy187
Believer
Beskar
Bestrfcplayer
BillMc
Bow-wow-wow
BSmith
ByzantineKnight
Cahoma
Camikaze
Cecil XIX
Chaotix
Choxorn
Clitsome
cpdwane
Craterus
Crazed Rabbit
DaveShack
dcmort93
Death is yonder
Diamondeye
Diana Abnoba
Double A
Drunk Clown
edse
El Barto
Erebus
Frozen In Ice
fubbleskag
fyremarble
GamezRule
GeneralHankerchief
gibsonsg91921
gnarley charlie
God Emperor
Guiri
hero di classico
Ibn-Khaldun
Ironside
Issaikhaan
Ishmael
Jarema
J.D.
Johhog
johnhughthom
Jolt
Kagemusha
kennigit
Khazaar
Krill
landlubber
LazyMcCrow
Lewwyn
Lord Brennus
Lord Winter
Major Robert Dump
Master Necromanver
Memnon
Monk
Montmorency
Neri
Nictel
Nightbringer
Niklas
O!TheLastDays!
Peasant Phil
Populous Romanus
Psychonaut
qlphz
Raskolnikov
Renata
Riedquat
Robbiecon
Romanic
Sasaki Kojiro
Scienter
scottishranger
Secura
Seon
shlin28
Sigurd
Silver Jan
SisterCoyote
Skotsko
slash and earn
slysnake
Sprig
sturmhauke
Subotan
Suburban Plankton
taillesskangaru
Thefluffyone93
The Stranger
Tincow
Tratorix
ULC
Visorslash
White_eyes:D
Winston Hughes
woad&fangs
Xehh II

[Xenoneb]

Voting time!

[Xenoneb]

Okay. For now,
Select:The Stranger
Vote: The Stranger

[landlubber]

I'd rather not elect someone who'll most likely be lynched today.
Select: General Handkerchief.
Vote: ACIN.

[gibsonsg91921]

Select: GeneralHankerchief
Vote: ACIN

[Visor]

Vote: A completely inoffensive name

[glyphz]

Vote: The_Stranger