Capo di Tutti Capi IV [Concluded]

[Nightbringer]

don't worry about it. You guys are quite the heroes for jumping in and saving this game. It would be unfair of us to expect perfection. :)

[Askthepizzaguy]

I second that emotion.

Generalhankerchief and issaikhaan, you got my vote for cohosts of the year. This game was a beast to play, hosting it is 10 times harder.

[Krill]

don't worry about it. You guys are quite the heroes for jumping in and saving this game. It would be unfair of us to expect perfection. :)

I second that emotion.

Generalhankerchief and issaikhaan, you got my vote for cohosts of the year. This game was a beast to play, hosting it is 10 times harder.

Agreed.

[Double A]

Quick word of warning: I'm an idiot and leave things to do until the very last possible minute. Because of this I may be passed out from exhaustion when the lynch period ends tomorrow. Expect delays.

We are same.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Good luck with your procrastination. Take your time, we can wait.

[Death is yonder]

We definitely understand and it would be churlish of us to complain when you are doing a volunteer service for us absolutely free and out of your own spare time too

Vote: Abstain

[GeneralHankerchief]

Voting closed as of a while ago.

Going 27 hours without sleep and counting, give me a bit.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Please send your orders to GeneralHankerchief ONLY. Do not send them to khaan.

"O' beautiful, for spacious skies
But now those skies are threatening
They're beating plowshares into swords
For this tired old man that we elected king
Armchair warriors often fail
And we've been poisoned by thse fairy tales
The lawyers clean up all the details
Since daddy had to lie

But I know a place where we can go
And wash away this sin
We'll sit and watch the clouds toll by
And the tall grass waze in the wind
Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair spill all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence"
...The End of the Innocence
...Don Henley


Sunset, 6:59PM, Saturday 18 November 1951
Arrivederci Public Beach
Fatlington, New Jersey



Renata didn't bother attending the meeting. There was little point to these meetings anymore... the mafia seemed to own everything in town, and there was nothing further to be said, less still to be voted on. So, she reclined in her folding chair, sipping mai tais. Expecting company, she didn't even look up when a man wearing sandals and a big Hawaiian shirt and dark sunglasses walked up to her, holding a briefcase.

"Where's your goon squad?" asked Renata.

-"I'm retired. There's no need for any of that anymore. I'm thinking of taking some time off, spending a lot of it with the family."

"Where's your gun?"

-"I never really cared for guns. In this business you use what tools you have. Personally, I prefer things with a bit more flair and creativity."

"Let's get on with it." Renata said, as she took another sip.

-"Get on with what? What are you talking about?"

"You're obviously here to kill me. While I find this conversation fascinating, I'd prefer to end it with dignity."

-"I'm not here to kill you. Remember, I'm not the Director anymore. That's someone else's job."

"So what are you here for?"

-"I wanted to discuss family matters. This fighting needs to stop. Enough people have died already."

"You mean, you've killed enough people?"

-"However you want to look at it. The point is, we've done what we needed to. Anything further is bad for business."

Renata finished her mai tai and kept staring off into the sunset. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you killed my friends."

-"Hey, they were always loyal to you. They never would have come and worked for a guy like me."

"No, of course not. They had integrity and decency."

-"I'm really not such a bad guy, once you get to know me. They would have been just fine, working for me."

"Or dead."

-"So you'd rather die than walk away from them, even now?"

"Absolutely. Friends don't betray friends."

-"Even dead friends?"

"Especially dead friends."

-"In this business you can't really afford to have friends. You gotta do what's necessary. If you're a businessman, you have to make business decisions. You let people get too close, they can manipulate you into losing everything."

"You mean like you did?"

Askthepizzaguy nodded. "It's a tough business. You have to kill to stay alive. Gotta leave people behind the moment they start saying things they shouldn't, or making plans that don't include you. It's a filthy game, a dirty way to make a living. But you know, my son and daughter don't need to know where the money comes from. They just need to have a safe roof over their head. And I make sure that they have everything that they need, and I make sure it is possible that they have anything they could ever want."

Renata smiled faintly. "I understand that sentiment."

-"Do you also understand then, that although a businessman is ruthless, he's ruthless for a purpose? That there's more to life than just the money? That he's got values, and those values are to place the good of the Family above all other concerns?"

"Oh, I understand those values. Look at me, Clemenza. I've risked everything for the good of my family, for all the good it did for them. My last act on this Earth should have been to kill you for what you've done to them."

-"Do you still have that Derringer?"

"Here, take it. Useless anyway."

-"No, you see... the most common problem with the Derringer is its likelihood of a misfire. You have to wait with the gun pointed in a safe direction, then carefully remove the magazine, extract any misfired cartridge, then check to see if there is anything obstructing it. I see here that the firing mechanism is slightly misaligned. You shouldn't throw away a gun like this, its small size makes it perfect for concealing and using unexpectedly."

"Yeah, I got that part. I did try to kill you with it."

-"There we are. Good as new. Should work fine now." said Askthepizzaguy, as he handed her back the Derringer. Renata accepted the weapon cautiously, sitting in disbelief that the former Director was handing her the murder weapon. But not questioning why, she thought about it for two seconds, and then lifted the weapon and fired.


Askthepizzaguy held up his hand, showing Renata. "I of course removed the bullet. I, for one, intend to make it off this beach in one piece. Have a lovely rest of your evening." The man turned and walked back up to the boardwalk, where he stopped to grab a slice of pizza at the corner shop. Renata watched him carefully, as she reached down into her belongings and found another bullet for her gun.

Time to finish the job...

That's when she saw the new Director walking towards her, alone. Whatever he was planning, it could wait. She lifted the Derringer and addressed the newcomers. "Listen up, I'm going to go kill Don Clemenza, since none of you have the courage to do so. If you want to try and stop me, it's your funeral."

“Oh, do try and shoot me,” the Director said. “Try and aim for the head, I’m wearing a flak jacket.”

Renata’s gun wavered, her resolve suddenly weakening. “What?” she asked.

The director shrugged. “Just observed that people tend to drop their guns in confusion when I say that. Then I don’t have to do this,”

Director snapped his fingers. A gunshot, and the gun was blown out of Renata’s hands. “Now that we are all behaving like polite friends, let’s sit down and discuss matters, shall we? I brought tea. And crackers.”

As Renata sat numbly back on the chair, the director pulled another one in front of it. “Here, have a drink,” he said, producing a tea cup seemingly out of nowhere and pouring warm black tea from it. He tossed a packet of crackers next to it.”

“Good, isn’t it?” the Director said as Renata sipped from the cup. “Well, it better be because that’s the last tea that you will ever be having. There is no sense to knocking oneself out with alcohol before the end. If I die, I want to see it coming.”

“So you are still carrying out Clemenza's wishes? You ever try thinking for yourselves? Just give me five minutes. I'll kill the Pizza man or die trying. Won't that fulfill the Committee's wishes beyond their wildest dreams?" Renata spat.

The director shrugged. “Many people’s first impulse when fighting against a mega-entity such as the mafia is to aim for the head. Boom! Headshot!” Director chuckled. “No. Killing the head will not do anything. Just another idiot will come by and take his or her place. May make the place a bit more interesting, though, which is always nice.”

Director sighed as he leaned back on the chair. “Can you believe it?” he said, laughing. “Hundreds of people in this city, dead! And it all happened in a time period of 3 weeks. The rest of the people in this city is fleeing or is going to die pretty soon. It’s much quieter here now. That’s nice too. No, I don't think I'll let you kill the pizza man.”

Renata groaned in frustration. “So what, is this the time you kill me? What are you going to do, dip me in acid? Is the tea I just drank filled with laxatives that will make me fart out my own intestines? Is it going to make my head explode? Or maybe you are going to feed me to your pet octopus?”

“I was thinking…” the director said. “Of just shooting you,” he pulled out a small pistol. A revolver.

Renata tilted her head to the side. Then she burst into laughter.

“What,” the director said, smiling. “What were you expecting from Pizza and me, a dance? Maybe a night out with a flash of the dagger at the end?”

“That’s lame!” she said. “What, are you so lacking in-“

The director threw the gun into her hands. Her eyes widened as she examined it. It was not a trick gun, the weight was just about right. She opened the cartridges to see that it was, indeed, a fully loaded weapon.

Director stood up, picking up the briefcase on the side in the process. “You see,” the director said. “Every lynch so far has gone entirely according to whatever the director was planning on. Introduce a little uncertainty, I say. Whatever you do with that revolver is entirely up to you, but you are not leaving this house. If you do, teams of snipers I set up will kill you. Or would they? Maybe they’ll miss. Maybe I am lying. Of course, they are going to kill you if you kill me. I heard that bleeding out from a sniper’s bullet is a painful way to go.”

“Damn you,” Renata said.

“I get that a lot,” the Director said, nonchalant. He slung the briefcase over his shoulders and walked away from the house towards the docks. As he did so, he heard a single gunshot from a distance, although he was unsure whether or not it was sniper fire or a sound from a muffled revolver. He shrugged and threw the briefcase into the sea and walked away, which quickly turned into a mad dash for safety when the briefcase exploded, sending columns of water and wet sand everywhere and began breaking apart the dock.




"Fare well, Donna Corleone. I hope wherever you are now, it's a far, far better place. Riposa in pace, bellissima."

Don Clemenza took a look at the new Director, watching him trudge toward his car, dripping wet and covered in sand. The Director was holding yet another pistol in his hands.

“I saw you ruin my game,” Don Clemenza said. Director smirked. “It’s as much as mine as it is yours.” The Director leveled the pistol against the Don.

“You can’t be serious,” Don said simply.

“Maybe I just don’t care,” Director said with the smirk turning into an insane grin. He wiped away salty water dripping into his eyes with the left hand. “It’s a game, after all.” He pulled the trigger.

*BANG!* said the flag that emerged out of the gun. Director waved the gun around innocuously. “I was just kidding.”

“Funny,” the Don said.

“More drinks?” the waiter said, coming out of the café. Director pointed the gun at the waiter and pulled the trigger again. The gunpowder hidden behind the flag detonated, launching the flag, and it’s specially sharpened tip, out of the barrel and into the waiter’s heart.

“No, I was not,” the Director continued. “Well, see yah tomorrow, man. Wet clothes are damn heavy. I’ll be back with a tank next time.”

Askthepizzaguy let out a small chuckle as he saw the Director walk away. He threw a wad of money to the body of the waiter.

“Keep the change.”


OOC

Night Twenty Two orders are due:


Please send your orders to GeneralHankerchief ONLY. Do not send them to khaan.


Lynch vote tally:

Renata: enough

[Renata]

Coulda been worse.

[Seon]

Yes, I could have fed you to my giant octopus, including all the horror that comes with being eaten by a giant tentacled monster.

[Askthepizzaguy]

My writeup was far better. You had to do a little editing for continuity, if you were going to change the ending.

Where did the house come from? And were there goons with the director or not? You gotta make the story agree with itself.

[Montmorency]

I'm not quite sure how she even died. Was it a bullet wound, or the bomb in the briefcase?

[Seon]

To be fair, I was working on the other story when I got the call. I meshed them together because, well, it was nice. Apparently spending only 30 minutes on meshing them together was a bad idea.

So you can still see the seams, fine. No need to worry. Renata's still dead from a gunshot wound.

[Askthepizzaguy]

I'm not quite sure how she even died. Was it a bullet wound, or the bomb in the briefcase?

In my version, the suitcase kills her. And it also makes sense.

[Seon]

Unfortunately I am not a supervillain and thusly have no power over passage of time, which, if I did, I would surely have used to go back in time to fix some continuity problems (along with a plethora of other errors) that I missed fixing the first time around. That's what one gets when trying to mesh one writeup with the other, I suppose.

Anyways, it's about time for this game to end, no? Well, I believe that it is quite time for the Director to high-tail it out of this city, along with a massive over-seas bank account gathered by selling off assets of the dead.

[Nightbringer]

I enjoyed reading the write-up.

In any case, do we get to have a party now, or do we still have uninvited guests?

[classical_hero]

There is one more uninvited guest here, so you will have to get rid of him, but everything is taken care of an the end is nigh.

[Askthepizzaguy]

The question is who gets the boot.

It's been discussed, I mean O!TLD is inactive and has been for a while, so giving the commies a mercy killing was the first option.

Of the doctors, Beefy's abstains/no-votes on critical rounds the townies could have used his vote, plus I don't think he has his five protects anyway, makes him another candidate.

Death is yonder for being a big old pain in my buttocks. But that's actually a good thing, so... maybe he gets spared.



Or you guys could always lynch me and stuff.

[Visor]

I'm replacing TLD.

[Askthepizzaguy]

Just in case anyone is curious, here's the ending I wrote. Everything else should be the same.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

-"Do you still have that Derringer?"

"Here, take it. Useless anyway."

-"No, you see... the most common problem with the Derringer is its likelihood of a misfire. You have to wait with the gun pointed in a safe direction, then carefully remove the magazine, extract any misfired cartridge, then check to see if there is anything obstructing it. I see here that the firing mechanism is slightly misaligned. You shouldn't throw away a gun like this, its small size makes it perfect for concealing and using unexpectedly."

"Yeah, I got that part. I did try to kill you with it."

-"There we are. Good as new. Should work fine now." said Askthepizzaguy, as he handed her back the Derringer. Renata accepted the weapon cautiously, sitting in disbelief that the former Director was handing her the murder weapon. But not questioning why, she thought about it for two seconds, and then lifted the weapon and fired.


Askthepizzaguy held up his hand, showing Renata. "I of course removed the bullet. I, for one, intend to make it off this beach in one piece. Have a lovely rest of your evening." The man turned and walked back up to the boardwalk, where he stopped to grab a slice of pizza at the corner shop. Renata watched him carefully, as she reached down into her belongings and found another bullet for her gun.

Time to finish the job...

That's when she saw the new Director walking towards her, with his squad of goons. Whatever they were planning, it could wait. She lifted the Derringer and addressed the newcomers. "Listen up, I'm going to go kill Don Clemenza, since none of you have the courage to do so. If you want to try and stop me, it's your funeral." The Director, Seon, held up his hand, indicating to the goons not to open fire. They surrounded the chair, weapons pointed directly at the day's lynchee.

Seon began his practiced speech. "You've been declared guilty by the Committee of Vigilance, and I'm authorized to...." "Authorized to what? Carry out Clemenza's wishes? You ever try thinking for yourselves? Just give me five minutes. I'll kill the Pizza man or die trying. Won't that fulfill the Committee's wishes beyond their wildest dreams?"

Seon thought about it for a moment, and then looked at Renata strangely.

"Where'd you get that briefcase?" he asked. "What briefcase?" asked Renata.

Seon didn't bother to respond, he just bolted toward the ocean, as fast as he could run. Even his goon squad wondered what was happening. They just kept their guns pointed at Renata. She looked down and saw the unfamiliar briefcase, and it dawned on her.




"Pizza..."





She lifted the Derringer in one final act of defiance, and began squeezing the trigger, prompting one of the goons to react instinctively and shoot the Derringer out of her hands. She cursed at them in Italian, and then again in French, and then once again in English. Askthepizzaguy waved at them from a safe distance, as he munched on his snack.

The explosion killed every single one of the Director's hired goons, and it burned so hot that the particular section of sandy beach they were standing on turned into glass. The blast tore a huge hole in the ground, and sent tiny bits of coarse sand in every direction, with enough speed and force to kill someone caught in the blast radius.

Seon managed to dive into the cold ocean water, sparing his life.

"Fare well, Donna Corleone. I hope wherever you are now, it's a far, far better place. Riposa in pace, bellissima."

Don Clemenza took a look at the new Director, watching him trudge toward his car, dripping wet and covered in sand.

"I see you're taking to your new assignment with much enthusiasm, Mister Director. I love how you just dove right in."

Seon looked at him coldly. "I do have a tank, you know" warned Seon.

"Yes, I know. I look forward to seeing it in action, if you can catch me in such a slow and bulky vehicle." said Askthepizzaguy. He stepped into his Jaguar and sped off into the night.

They could always lynch him tomorrow...

[Visor]

I enjoyed reading the write-up.

In any case, do we get to have a party now, or do we still have uninvited guests?

I thought Seon did a good job as well.

[Double A]

I'm replacing TLD.

Isn't "Visorslash is always scum, even when he's not," the one and only TWC Mafia rule?

[classical_hero]

I am a new man, due to my death.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Night has ended, no more orders will be accepted.

[GeneralHankerchief]

"What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt"
...Hurt
...Trent Reznor


Night Twenty Two -- The Streets of Fatlington


It was raining in Fatlington, a hard, cold November downpour that ended all thoughts of nighttime excursions. There may have been something icier mixed in. Sleet, maybe. Nobody knew. Nobody cared.


Death is yonder sat inside his house, pondering. He had his gun nearby but didn't think he'd need it. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

Keeping him company were SisterCoyote and Beefy187. They were all that remained of their little clique, the last remaining do-gooders in Fatlington. They would stay together and fight to the end. And yet... what was the point? They had failed. There mission was to keep the Committee of Vigilance strong. They knew they had failed two weeks ago.

"Maybe they'll come," SisterCoyote said. "Maybe we'll be able to take out one more of their guys."

"What's the point?" DiY responded. "They outnumber us. Even with you guys here, if they wanted to overwhelm us, they could easily do so. They leave us be because we're no threat to them. What are we going to do, actually attack them? We're not murderers. They control the numbers on the Committee, we can't touch them there. They leave us alone because we're just not important enough to kill." He sunk deeper into his misery.

"We saved a few people. We tried to make a difference. We're going to be recognized by the AMA for our medical skills." Now Beefy chimed in.

"Medals to put up on our walls. Medals to display to people that never visit. Our friends are dead. Ted Williams is the greatest hitter of all time, playing right now up in Boston. You think he's happy with his statistics? No, and you know why? Because the Red Sox will never win the World Series, and he knows it. When you don't win the ultimate prize, the rest of it is meaningless."

The door knocked twice, breaking the uneasy silence that fell over the group. It was about as friendly and polite as a knock could be. Beefy went to answer the door, DiY and SisterCoyote both reaching for their guns.

It wasn't an attacker. It was Oh! TheLastDays!, dripping wet from the rain. "I'm not armed," he said, opening up all of his pockets. "Can I speak to DiY alone, please?"

DiY nodded. "Guys, go get yourselves something to drink. TLD won't kill me."

Without prompting, TLD sat down and began his pitch. "You're done here in Fatlington," he said. "So am I. No time like the present to move on."

"On? Where?"

"To greener pastures. Russia, eventually."

DiY sat in his chair, shocked. "You're-?"

"A Communist, yes. I'm actually a nuclear scientist who's looking to formally defect to the Soviets. When you've seen as much as I have, you tend to get disenchanted with things here. This mess in Fatlington only confirms it in my mind. I was told there was a communist cell operating in this town who would help extricate my to Russia. I made contact with them... but then they died. So now I need to find some other route. My plan is to hop around, find another cell - possibly in New York - and then go from there. Do you want to come with me? We could work together, and I know you're as eager to put this place behind you as I am. This kind of thing doesn't happen in Russia, you know. There, it's a much more ordered, ideal society. What do you say?"

DiY sighed. It sounded good, it really did. And the man did have some Communist sympathies. But...

"I don't know," he said. The man sounded exhausted. "I feel like a die just rolled in my head and a number came up that wasn't good for you. I'm not really ready to do anything right now. Maybe there's still something I can do here."

"There isn't, and you know it! We failed, all of us. But over in Russia, you can make a difference! Comrade Stalin will reward you for your medical expertise. You'll become a Hero of the Soviet Union, properly recognized for your efforts on a greater scale."

"In another time, I might agree with you," DiY said. "But not now. Now, I'm just... tired. Godspeed, though."

Seeing that his case was pointless, TLD bowed, exited the house, and began driving off to points unknown. His time in Fatlington was done. Hopefully his time in America would soon draw to a close as well.

Meanwhile, Death is yonder, SisterCoyote, and Beefy, spent the remainder of the night in silence, waiting for an attack that would never come.


Killing... killing was fun. Killing was good. Killing was healthy. Killing was a natural part of life. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He was refertilizing the earth. What was a meager human life when all of Mother Nature benefited?

This was one of LazyMcCrow's many justifications for murder. They changed from night to night, week to week. Sometimes he didn't even need one. Rationing really didn't matter. Killing did. Killing was enough. And yet...

Now there was to be no more killing. He had been able to do it easily enough under the watchful eye of the Fatlington Police Department, that was true. But now the FPD was no longer in charge. And the only people left to kill were the ring of doctors, who would all save each other, and the Clemenza faction, who would immediately enact terrible retribution on him. That was no fun.

Surely, there was no work left to be done in Fatlington. It had exhausted its potential. With this in mind, Lazy went back over his body of work during the brief time in the Shore town. A kill here and there. A ton of work done with the various mafia factions, but there was no fun in that. He never got to use his red knife, never really got to savor any of the kills. Those didn't count.

Ignoring the number of mafia-related kills, Lazy went back over the totals. The number was depressingly low. The Committee of Vigilance started out numbering 117. That was a lot of prime targets. It had been active for three full weeks, quite a long time. And yet Lazy had only managed to drop three or four of that 117 during those three weeks. So depressing, really. There was such promise. Fatlington was every serial killer's dream. And he had only managed to take out three or four people. Hell, other serial killers sometimes killed that many people in that period of time under normal conditions.

And now the window of opportunity had closed. Lazy would drive off in the morning, looking for a place to hunt. He still lived, but he knew that he would never get a better chance to practice his craft than the one he had just squandered. He hoped the continued killing would drown out his brain's regrets in the future, but he wasn't so sure.


At the penthouse of the Hotel Abbatoir...



Don Clemenza, Askthepizzaguy, sat in his thronelike chair, staring out at the gray expanse of the town of Fatlington. He could see nothing. All of it was blocked by the clouds and the rain and the darkness. Still he stared. There was nothing to see, however, no matter how hard he looked. Even the lights on the city streets far below were few and far between.

Why wouldn't they be? The town had been gutted in the past three weeks. Fatlington had the highest murder rate in the country now, mostly thanks to his work. It wasn't even close. Even New York didn't have the raw amount of killings that Fatlington did this year, and The City had millions more people. If you examined the numbers on a murders per capita basis, they were even more skewed in Fatlington's "favor".

Fatlington had now seen four outbreaks of killings since 1947, two in 1951 alone. It had become famous nationwide for the sheer amount of murders and gang activity it had seen. The local politicians had tried to shun the town's reputation of being a gangster's haven. They didn't do well at it. Several savvy entrepreneurs had gone the opposite route of opening up mafia-themed businesses in an effort to capitalize on the town's new reputation. These were far more successful - until the killings started again.

Fatlington's tourism revenue had cratered since 1947, dropping 42% in a mere four years. 1952's numbers were projected to be even worse, and this was before the new outbreak of murders in October and November. The Committee of Vigilance was starting to receive unwanted attention for its entire existence, most notably its rampant corruption, potential extralegal practices, and most notably its draconian justice procedures, with one outside observer calling it "something that has been completely unseen in Western civilization for over a millennium."

The town's population had dropped as well. A big part of it was from the murders, of course, but an even bigger part was due to its effects. Nobody wanted to be next. Sure, the people in the Committee of Vigilance were the primary targets, but there was also the collateral damage from the murders. People were afraid to go outside anymore. They were afraid to patronize the places they had been going to for years in the fear that errant gunfire would claim their lives as well. Many families moved away. Nobody wanted to raise their kids in this environment.

Businesses were particularly feeling the effects. Their clientele was dropping massively. Murders. People afraid to go out. People outright leaving Fatlington. Fewer tourists coming in every summer. Massive repair costs when their establishments were shot up again and again and again. Fewer people to do the work. Even the roads leading to their establishments were a crapshoot now. You never knew when there might be a charred shell of a car blocking traffic in both directions or when the mafia had set up a roadblock to prevent their target from escaping. Many businesses had outright packed up and left Fatlington.

Askthepizzaguy sat in his thronelike chair overlooking the ruin of the town he had just inherited, utterly alone. He had guards, of course; some were outside the Hotel, some were in the lobby, more were in his hallway, still more were at his front door. But these were just underlings, after all. People whose job it was to follow orders. He had given them all choices, he said to himself. He enabled them to choose this route. He had given them their lives and happiness and victory, and they were better off for it.

They were now enjoying the spoils of their victory. Director Seon would see to it that the Committee formally disbanded in the morning. The incessant cycle of vote/do things at night would finally end. And then? Then, the Clemenza family would have full control over the town.

In town, on the beach, the waves lapped up onto the shore, the same as they had always done. There was the incessant patter of the rain on whatever solid object it came into contact with first. All the rest was silent.

The buildings had been boarded up. The people had moved on. The Clemenza family was all that was left. And now they got to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Askthepizzaguy, the Capo di Tutti Capi, sat in his thronelike chair overlooking the town, seeing nothing and hearing nothing. Outside, the rain continued to pour down.


OOC

Capo di Tutti Capi IV ends with a mafia family victory. Don Clemenza is now Capo di Tutti Capi!

If you're wondering about your individual victory condition... you figure it out. khaan and I are done.

It's been a great ride (if a bit long), thanks to everyone for playing. This was not an easy game to host, especially not stepping in midway, but we're honored that the Gameroom Anniversary, which started back in June, ended on such a big note. You may now begin posting your commentaries, of which I'm sure there are many.


List of players by fate:

Attacked = 65: Askthepizzaguy (n1, n2, n4, n5, n8, n21), Raskolnikov (n1), Slash and earn (n1, n6), slysnake (n1, n3), Earthling (n1), a completely inoffensive name (n2), Master Necromanver (n2), Cahoma (n2), El Barto (n2), Montmorency (n2, n4), Chaotix (n2, n3, n11, n12, n19), taillesskangaru (n3), Secura (n3), Ameranth (n3), Craterus (n3), Cecil XIX (n3, n6), johnhughthom (n4), Ishmael (n4), Drunk Clown (n4, n5), Psychonaut (n5), Suburban Plankton (n4), Sasaki Kojiro (n4), scottishranger (n4, n10), edse (n5), Erebus (n5, n6, n15), Diana Abnoba (n6, n10), J.D. (n6), Zack (n6), Camikaze (n7), Hero di Classico (n7), Diamondeye (n7, n9), guiri (n8), Khazaar (n8, n9, n11), Riedquat (n8), robbiecon (n8), Scienter (n8 x2), sturmhauke (n8), Jarema (n9), Oh! TheLastDays! (n10, n17, n18), qlyphz (n10, n12), Psychonaut (n11), Crazed Rabbit (n12), Erebus (n12), BillMC (n12), Secura (n13), Beefy (n13), white eyes (n13), B_Ray (n14), Renata (n14, n15), Tiaexz (n14), Kennigit (n15), gibsons (n15), Believer (n16), Death is Yonder (n16, n20), shlin28 (n16), Seon (n17), hero di classico (n18), autolycus (n19, n21), Ironside (n19)

Wounded = 22: Slysnake (n1, n3), Lord Brennus (n3), Tratorix (n4), edse (n5), Erebus (n6), Psychonaut (n6), Choxorn (n7), dcmort93 (n7), Zack (n7), guiri (n8), Monk (n8), Sasaki (n9), Lewwyn (N11), Neri (N11), Scottishranger (n13, n18), Sturmhauke (n13), BillMC (n14), The Stranger (n14), Winston Hughes (n14), Renata (n18)

Killed = 76: Captain Black Adder [townie] (n1), Pharoah [townie] (n2), Moros [luca] (n2), ELITEWARMAN8GINGYBREADMENMILK [townie] (n2), TinCow [detective] (n3), Xenoneb [townie] (n3), El Barto [detective] (n3), Arjos [FBI chief] (n3), Ameranth [wiseguy] (n4), Lord Winter [wiseguy] (n4), Suburban Plankton [detective] (n5), slysnake [townie] (n5), Lord Brennus [townie] (n5), Bow-wow-wow [townie] (n5), ByzantineKnight [townie] (n6), Kagemusha [serial killer] (n6), Tratorix [FBI] (n6), Raskolnikov [wiseguy] (n6), Nictel [wiseguy] (n6), J.D. [wiseguy] (n6), Visorslash [communist leader] (n7), Cecil XIX [townie] (n7), Drunk Clown [luca] (n7), Johnhughthom [wiseguy] (n7), Jolt [Made] (n7), Romanic [wiseguy] (n7), fubbleskag [doctor] (n8), Ibn-Khaldun [townie] (n8), Memnon [townie] (n8), robbiecon [townie] (n8), Andres [Special Agent] (n8), Camikaze [Made] (n8), Frozen in Ice [wiseguy] (n8), woad&fangs [townie] (n9), Zack [townie] (n9), Zim [Luca] (n9), Choxorn [townie] (n9), dcmort93 [townie] (n9), Diamondeye [wiseguy] (n10), AggonyKing [townie] (n10), God Emperor [made] (n10), Skotsko [made] (n10), slash and earn [townie] (n10), thefluffyone93 [rogue detective] (n10), Craterus [townie] (n11), Peasant Phill [Don] (n11), Sasaki [Don] (n11), ULC [townie] (n11), Khazaar [townie] (n12), Johhog [Wiseguy] (n12), qlyphz [townie] (n12), Lewwyn [made] (n13), Monk [townie] (n13), Yaropolk [townie] (n13), Cahoma [Luca] (n14), guiri [townie] (n14), Psychonaut [detective] (n14), Scienter [Made] (n14), B_Ray [townie] (n16), gnarlycharlie [Don] (n16), Sigurd [communist recruit] (n16), Sprig [Made] (n16), Clitsome [communist] (n17), fyremarble [don] (n17), gibsonsg91921 [luca] (n17), Winston Hughes [made] (n17), Backwards Logic [Made] (n18), Believer [FBI] (n18), GamezRule [don] (n18), kennigit [Made] (n18), Secura [rogue] (n18), Bsmith [wiseguy] (n19), Jarema [made] (n19), Neri [made] (n19), Tiaexz [made] (n19), White eyes [wiseguy] (n19), Xehh II [wiseguy] (n19), Hero Di Classico [Made] (n21)


Lynched = 21: Earthling [townie] (d2), a completely inoffensive name [townie] (d3), Subotan [wiseguy] (d3), Major Robert Dump [wiseguy] (d4), Ishmael [communist] (d5), Montmorency [wiseguy] (d6), landlubber [Made] (d8), Captain Blackadder [townie] (d9), Riedquat [townie] (d10), Edse [surgeon] (d11), Populus Romanus [surgeon] (d12), Crazed Rabbit [made] (d13), Sturmhauke (d15) [townie], The Stranger (d15) [rogue], BillMC [detective] (d16), Erebus (d17) [townie], shlin28 [townie] (d18), Scottishranger [don] (d19), Chaotix (d20) [Made], Ironside (d21) [rogue], Renata (d22) [Don]

Wogged = 5: bestrfcplayer (n6), cpdwane [townie] (n4), Master Necromanver [Don] (n4), taillesskangaru [townie] (n4), Silver Jan [townie] (d16)

Added: Autolycus (d4)

Survived (14):

Askthepizzaguy [Don], Autolycus [Made], Beefy187 [surgeon], DaveShack [Shyster], Death is yonder [surgeon], Diana Abnoba [Made], Double A [Made], Krill [Made], LazyMcCrow [serial killer], Nightbringer [surgeon], Niklas [Made], O!TheLastDays! [Communist defector], Seon [surgeon], SisterCoyote [surgeon]

[Ishmael]

I'd like to greatly thank all of our hosts - Seamus for creating this great game, and GH and issaikhaan for selflessly taking over the hosting. And of course, well done to the Clemenza!

For those who are curious and/or don't already have them, here are both of the Communist QT's:

Communist1
Communist2

[johnhughthom]

Congratulations to the winners, and thank you to Seamus, khaan and GH for hosting.

[GeneralHankerchief]

I'd just like to point out that somehow, I managed to end up with no access to any of the Quicktopics throughout the entire game, so this will provide for some interesting reading on my part.

[seireikhaan]

It's been... well... an adventure, to say the least. Congratulations to the Clemenza for their victory. I'd like to thank everyone who played for their patience with us as we tried to get bearings on the game. I'd like to thank GH, for being partner in crime during the whole experience and being generally awesome. I'd like to thank Pizza for bringing in so many people to get this game to a level we've never seen. It's truly astonishing. And, of course, I'd like to thank Seamus for starting this game and bringing the anny to such a conclusion.


I'm sure there's more, but I will do something a bit more detailed later on the actual events of the game and and what was going on behind the scenes.

[classical_hero]

Think this cause for a celebration.


There is unfortunately on name not on the living list. :(

It will be fun to see how man QTs started by ATPG there are.

[Montmorency]

I really do think Tincow should embed some "ending" music in the Gameroom page.