Mafia V Extravaganza!: Streets of Betaville (Mafia wins!)

keepithowitis said:
What, like not saying anything at all? There's reasons for that.

Yeah, they're in the Mafia

They could be gone, or not read the lynches, or not care, or be too lazy to either say 'Lynch ____' or 'No Lynch'.

If we kill off a lazy player who didn't contribute to the game THEN WE KILLED A LAZY PLAYER WHO DIDN'T CONTRIBUTE TO THE GAME

Quite frankly, if we kill off someone who is "lazy" or "doesn't care" in this game, that's an acceptable loss in my books.

This game is tough in that there's not a good way to determine who is who.

Welcome to going back over previous votes and WILD ACCUSATIONS! Listen, this isn't Rocket Surgery, its a game where we put ourselves to death. Live a little and take a chance.
 
I've been meaning to update this a while ago. College is a bitch.

It's pretty obvious JCD is killed. I would have liked to give him the honor of writing him a proper death which I haven't had time to do (and currently, I'm stressing over a lab report that I don't see myself finishing in time).
If there's too much impatience, I suppose I'll have to skip it... :(

Um...JCD died. He was in the Mafia
It is Night 10
 
Flaming_Tiki_God said:
I've been meaning to update this a while ago. College is a b****.

It's pretty obvious JCD is killed. I would have liked to give him the honor of writing him a proper death which I haven't had time to do (and currently, I'm stressing over a lab report that I don't see myself finishing in time).
If there's too much impatience, I suppose I'll have to skip it... :(

Um...JCD died. He was in the Mafia
It is Night 10

Finish your lab report, young brother. Never fear, for Blair is here!

Right...

It was a dark and stormy night. The remaining Mafia (however many there were) were sitting rather comfortably in a pile of their own filth. As you do. JCD, the most modest of the Mafia (as a pederast, not a pedophile, he'd always tried to follow the maxim "If there's grass on the wicket, you're good to play cricket, but if the pitch is bare, you shouldn't go there."), didn't want to add to the pile of feces. He'd been brought up in a nice society, before being tempted by the constant stream of murder and innuendo the Mafia, and Betaville as a whole had offered.

Running away from his father's millions, and his mother's scorn, he'd dedicated his life to the ways of the Samurai, and had dutifully showed respect to all creatures, believing honor to be the most important quality of life, holding it above the last breath in his body.

This was before the dildoes.

Now, a talented swordsman, but dishonored, and ashamed, he excused himself from the company of his bedfellows, and took a walk. As the lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled, above the constant pitter-patter of rain drops, JCD heard the sound of thousands of footsteps, marching purposefully, all in unison. Turning, and lifting the wide straw hat above his eyes, he saw the army that Betaville had bribed, to save them the bloodshed of the next lynching.

Four thousand strong, the army stood, with their hands on the blades. JCD looked skyward, to see the clouds above him part, and the sun shine through, bathing him in a circle of light. At last, he thought. My chance for redemption is now.

Throwing aside his cloak, and drawing his sword, he took stance, and prepared for what he knew to be his last stand. As the enemy rushed forth, the scene went silent, as JCD whispered the words "For Kurosawa..."

Slashing, back and forth, felling foe after bloody foe, driving his sword through flesh and bone, drowning the steel in blood. As the bladelust took hold, his eyes flashed red, and everything slowed down. He moved perfectly, his sword rising of its own accord to block incoming strikes, whirling over his head to cut short the flights of countless arrows, shattering shields beneath the force of his blows, until the last of the army toppled to the ground, lifeless.

The next lynching will have to be done by the townfolk themselves, he thought. None shall survive without blood on their hands. With that, he knelt before the pile of corpses, sheathed his katana, the sword which used to represent honor, and peace, and drew his tanto.

Removing his hat, and looking up at the rainbow in the sky, he plunged the knife into his abdomen, and swiftly drew it across his stomach. As he fell to the ground, with his last breath, he whispered "Please... Forgive me..."

In a final act of unparalleled heroism, against all odds, JCD redeemed his honor, and died with a smile on his face. His body was placed on a pyre, and pushed out to sea, and the ashes from his cremation rose to the heavens.

JCD died. He was in the Mafia.
 
And like the wind singing with breeze a whisper was heard from his dying corpse: "I'm gay"

Jcd died. He was in the mafia. And he was gay.
 
Every Townie Down in Betaville Liked Christmas a lot...
But JCD,Who lived just north of Betaville, Did NOT!
JCD hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, His heart or his shoes,
He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Townies,
Staring down from his cave with a sour, Mafia frown,
At the warm lighted windows below in their town.
For he knew every Townie down in Betaville beneath,
Was busy now, hanging a mistletoe wreath.
"And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer,
"Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Mafia fingers nervously drumming,
"I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!"
For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Townie girls and boys,
Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!
Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's one thing he hated! The NOISE!
NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the Townies, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST!
FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would feast on Beta-pudding, and rare Beta-roast beast.
Which was something JCD couldn't stand in the least!
And THEN They'd do something He liked least of all!
Every Townie down in Betaville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing.
They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the Townies would start singing!
They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING!
SING! SING! SING!
And the more JCD thought of this Townie ChristmasSing,
The more JCD thought, "I must stop this whole thing!"
"Why, for fifty-three years I've put up with it now!"
"I MUST stop this Christmas from coming! But HOW?"
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
JCD GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" JCD laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Mafia trick!"
"With this coat and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick!"
"All I need is a reindeer..." JCD looked around.
But, since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the old fucker? No! JCD simply said,
"If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!"
So he called his dog, Tank. Then he took some red thread,
And he tied a big horn on the top of his head.
THEN He loaded some bags And some old empty sacks,
On a ramshackle sleigh And he hitched up old Tank.
Then JCD said, "Giddap!" And the sleigh started down,
Toward the homes where the Townies Lay asnooze in their town.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
All the Townies were all dreaming sweet dreams without care.
When he came to the first little house on the square.
"This is stop number one," the old Fucker Claus hissed,
And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch.
But, if Santa could do it, then so could JCD.
He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue.
Where the little Townie stockings all hung in a row.
"These stockings," he grinned, "are the first things to go!"
Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room, and he took every present!
Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums!
Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums!
And he stuffed them in bags. Then JCD, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Townies' feast!
He took the Beta-pudding! He took the roast beast!
He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash.
Why, that JCD even took their last can of Beta-hash!
Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.
"And NOW!" grinned JCD, "I will stuff up the tree!"
And JCD grabbed the tree, and he started to shove,
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small Townie!
Little Chris-Crime-Lou Townie, who was not more than two.
JCD had been caught by this tiny Townie daughter,
Who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water.
She stared at JCD and said, "Santy Claus, why,â€
 
And just like that... Used came down from the heavens
You've got lots of time when you work a 4 to 7
Down in Alaska, amidst all the snow
Is the perfect place to put on a show
In a troubled world tainted by FTG's lab reports
We needed someone to come with some speedy retorts
There've been many causes as to what killed JCD
Whether it was ninja skills or taking presents from trees,
Somehow the Townies brought him to his knees.
They took no heed to his cries and his pleas,
He eventually died, as it is plain to see.
One story had him sent to the sea
His ashes blowing on the wind through the trees
Another one placed him as the f**king Grinch,
And damn, that motherf**ker was quite the b****.
The death of JCD
As you can all see.
He was a Mafioso.
Now, let me be.
 
Night 10 results

In the darkest corners of the night
In the soul of every shadow
Is where the Mafia takes delight
And revels in its place called home
And under a sky smothered in cloud
All remnants of sun and moon were hid
And the thunder made deafening sounds
As the lightning was generous in hits
And in the maelstrom, the Mob thrived
From the chaos, they came in bands
And never did they feel more alive
Than when Death held their hands
As if making a pact with the clouds
To walk upon them without fail
These bodies grew to be proud
Of this alliance without bail
So they walked in Death’s footsteps
Across blooming and florid lands
And wherever they wondered became home
As long as they clung to Death’s hands
And tonight, following Death’s lead,
They found themselves on Nick’s doorstep
And with a grand knock and a ring
The door opened and they greeted NickKmet
“May we enter,â€
 
Ok, so right now we have 6 days to kill 2 mafia members. No cops, and nothing to lead us but instinct. I suspect keepithowitis and trippysmurf, but that's just me.
 
6 days if we lynch everyday. Which I guess we are going to have too. We'll never know more then we do now. I've made up a list of everyones posting habbits that should help. I'll post it in about 5 hours.

Hopefully that will be of use. I have a feeling I'll be dying next.
 
Okay, so here's everyones post history for the first 8 days. Counts the number of posts per day. I didn't count night time posts. I don't care much for who voted for who, since other the following cops we didn't know who was guilty and who wasnt'.

Longo: 0 1 2 1 2 2 0 0
Kapow: 0 2 2 1 1 1 1 0
Rekkie: 2 3 1 2 3 3 6 5
Thetank 0 1 3 1 1 1 2 1
Chris_Crime 1 1 1 0 1 1 1 0
Keepithowitis 1 2 4 0 2 0 0 3
HK47 1 1 1 0 0 0 1 1
Guan Yu 0 0 2 1 0 1 2 1
Tylzen 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2
Used 2 1 2 1 1 2 3 2
Rainemaida 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 0
Crazycracker 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 11
Nesman 1 2 1 1 2 0 1 0
Trippysmurf 5 1 3 1 1 2 2 2
Toomie 0 0 3 0 1 0 0 1

So i would say look for people who post a lot around here but not much in the topic maybe. Personally Tylzen looks surprisous to me, 1 or 2 posts per day...enough to keep you in the game avoiding surprisious while also keeping under the radar. But honestly there's no proof. See if you guys can come up with anything from this, I'm going to bed.
 

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