Werewolf
Moderators: AArdvark, Ice Cream Jonsey
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It's a foggy morning in Zahnburg. The usual morning sounds can be heard through the dense fog.
But one is missing.
Everyone heard gsdgsd, the town printer and well-known alcoholic, at his usual carousing the previous night: the singing, the shattering ceramic jugs, the belligerent ranting, the copious vomiting.
Usually, when this happens, his groans the next morning, punctuated by miserable retching, are audible throughout the village.
The townsfolk look at each other, and wordlessly march to gsdgsd's house. They open the door. Nothing can prepare them for the horror within.
You see, an alcoholic printer accumulates a lot of fucked-up paper that he can't use. And when you combine that with years of puking blood from hemorrhaging ulcers irritated by cheap potato vodka, and a personal philosophy that regards tossing a sheet of grimy newsprint over the top of a puddle of bloody puke as a thorough housecleaning, then you've got a room that's a hideous paper-mache construction, like a giant hornet's nest, made of congealed blood, matted paper, and alkie vomit.
In this momument to a vile life lived badly, the corpse of gsdgsd barely registers; even with the face chewed off and the stomach removed, it's far less grotesque than the surroundings.
The stomach must have been full, too. Unsteady, bloody wolf prints weave away from the open back window towards the forest. Halfway to the dark trees, a puddle of wolf vomit, with a single eyeball floating in it, testifies to the potency of that cheap vodka.
Someone lights a torch and tosses it into the house, which goes up like an alcohol-impregnated hornet's nest. A thin rivulet of molten lead trickles from the burning printing press and flows sluggishly down the gutter.
The six that remain assemble under the gallows. Someone will pay for what happened to gsdgsd. But will it be a werewolf?
But one is missing.
Everyone heard gsdgsd, the town printer and well-known alcoholic, at his usual carousing the previous night: the singing, the shattering ceramic jugs, the belligerent ranting, the copious vomiting.
Usually, when this happens, his groans the next morning, punctuated by miserable retching, are audible throughout the village.
The townsfolk look at each other, and wordlessly march to gsdgsd's house. They open the door. Nothing can prepare them for the horror within.
You see, an alcoholic printer accumulates a lot of fucked-up paper that he can't use. And when you combine that with years of puking blood from hemorrhaging ulcers irritated by cheap potato vodka, and a personal philosophy that regards tossing a sheet of grimy newsprint over the top of a puddle of bloody puke as a thorough housecleaning, then you've got a room that's a hideous paper-mache construction, like a giant hornet's nest, made of congealed blood, matted paper, and alkie vomit.
In this momument to a vile life lived badly, the corpse of gsdgsd barely registers; even with the face chewed off and the stomach removed, it's far less grotesque than the surroundings.
The stomach must have been full, too. Unsteady, bloody wolf prints weave away from the open back window towards the forest. Halfway to the dark trees, a puddle of wolf vomit, with a single eyeball floating in it, testifies to the potency of that cheap vodka.
Someone lights a torch and tosses it into the house, which goes up like an alcohol-impregnated hornet's nest. A thin rivulet of molten lead trickles from the burning printing press and flows sluggishly down the gutter.
The six that remain assemble under the gallows. Someone will pay for what happened to gsdgsd. But will it be a werewolf?
- Ice Cream Jonsey
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- Ice Cream Jonsey
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Vitriola's on my list.
You want to play with the creeping maw, expect to get your head chomped off. But I'll deal with you tomorrow. Jack seems to be in contact with important people. Of course, the odds are good that the seer was CGG, Greg or Lysander and you goddamn wolves killed him.
I vote for Worm.
You want to play with the creeping maw, expect to get your head chomped off. But I'll deal with you tomorrow. Jack seems to be in contact with important people. Of course, the odds are good that the seer was CGG, Greg or Lysander and you goddamn wolves killed him.
I vote for Worm.
the dark and gritty...Ice Cream Jonsey!
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- Ice Cream Jonsey
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The villagers lay hold of the screaming, flailing Ice Cream Jonsey. To think they'd all trusted him as their tanner for many years, and here he was, probably a werewolf.
Well, they'd soon see about that.
They stripped him naked and tied him firmly between two trees at the edge of the forest. One of the other villagers triumphantly passed out the collection of knives that ICJ had used to flay the animals whose hides he'd cured over the years.
They started on the wrists and ankles, just inside the bonds. The villagers didn't have a lot of practice, though, and even if he's restrained, it's difficult to meticulously flay someone who's struggling and screaming in horrific agony. As he lost blood, ICJ's strength ebbed; his twitching and writhing grew fainter; his shrieks diminished to moans to a breathy whisper, and then silence.
When the villagers looked up from their grisly work, they noticed something. All three of Jonsey's eyes were open, staring sightlessly, including the one in the center of his forehead.
The villagers had killed their seer. Only five remained: two werewolves, four peasants. All of them knew that come morning, there'd be only four. And then there'd be no more peasants than werewolves, and then there'd be no more peasants.
Then it was night. Then it was morning, and that's exactly what happened.
Werewolves Have Won
Well, they'd soon see about that.
They stripped him naked and tied him firmly between two trees at the edge of the forest. One of the other villagers triumphantly passed out the collection of knives that ICJ had used to flay the animals whose hides he'd cured over the years.
They started on the wrists and ankles, just inside the bonds. The villagers didn't have a lot of practice, though, and even if he's restrained, it's difficult to meticulously flay someone who's struggling and screaming in horrific agony. As he lost blood, ICJ's strength ebbed; his twitching and writhing grew fainter; his shrieks diminished to moans to a breathy whisper, and then silence.
When the villagers looked up from their grisly work, they noticed something. All three of Jonsey's eyes were open, staring sightlessly, including the one in the center of his forehead.
The villagers had killed their seer. Only five remained: two werewolves, four peasants. All of them knew that come morning, there'd be only four. And then there'd be no more peasants than werewolves, and then there'd be no more peasants.
Then it was night. Then it was morning, and that's exactly what happened.
Werewolves Have Won
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So, my apologies.
We should have had one more player, so that the game would not end with a night killing. I misread the rules and didn't realize the moderator was supposed to be included in the total, and that that number should be odd.
Anyone want to play again, with a better number of players?
Bruce
We should have had one more player, so that the game would not end with a night killing. I misread the rules and didn't realize the moderator was supposed to be included in the total, and that that number should be odd.
Anyone want to play again, with a better number of players?
Bruce
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- Ice Cream Jonsey
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- Ice Cream Jonsey
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That game was over before way too short a time.
Is there a way to play another game? And not kill someone before they had a chance to move? Just kill Knuckles the first night. He won't be playing otherwise and you can all read Bruce's descriptions of his death, which I am sure would be great.
Is there a way to play another game? And not kill someone before they had a chance to move? Just kill Knuckles the first night. He won't be playing otherwise and you can all read Bruce's descriptions of his death, which I am sure would be great.
the dark and gritty...Ice Cream Jonsey!
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We can try that.
Start off each day with an odd number of villagers alive. And the first night, someone not playing--like KNuckles--can have been killed, so the villagers know they need to do some lynching. Of course, they're totally guessing, except for the werewolves, because the seer hasn't seen anyone yet.
So, we could do it this way, or we could do the hapless victim but at least have the right odd-even count.
What do y'all think?
Also, I want to propose a new rule: if somehow I fuck up and we have an even number at the start of a day, if there's a tie in the voting, no one gets lynched that day, which gets us back to an odd number at the start of the day.
Bruce
Start off each day with an odd number of villagers alive. And the first night, someone not playing--like KNuckles--can have been killed, so the villagers know they need to do some lynching. Of course, they're totally guessing, except for the werewolves, because the seer hasn't seen anyone yet.
So, we could do it this way, or we could do the hapless victim but at least have the right odd-even count.
What do y'all think?
Also, I want to propose a new rule: if somehow I fuck up and we have an even number at the start of a day, if there's a tie in the voting, no one gets lynched that day, which gets us back to an odd number at the start of the day.
Bruce