| Mafia II: Redux | |
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| Game information | |
| Host | Unreality |
| Link | Mafia II: Redux |
| Size | 12 Players (Medium) |
| Start Date | July 05, 2009 |
| Winning Faction | Goodies |
| Roster | #, player
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| First to Die | Shadow |
| Last Remaining | Surge, Einkil, Slick, SparrowHawk, Seahorse |
| MVP | - |
| Awards | - |
Mafia II: Redux was a game designed and hosted by Unreality based on the Mafia series of games.
It began on July 05, 2009 and ended in a Goodies win in D4 (July, 13th).
Game Mechanics[]
Rules[]
- Due to our access to BTSC forums, the Mafia can chat 24/7, not "only at night". The OP has been edited to show this
- I was asked about the Defender-leak scenario ("If the Defender dies, the Vigilante's identity is squeaked to the Grim Reaper if the GR is still alive!") ... this occurs no matter how the Defender dies
- Just a tip: as a result of our using the archaic ruleset of the old-school Mafia II, we really get to see how playstyles and "typical" RDs change over time....
- Spy- can spy on anyone every even-numbered day. They PM me who they want to spy on, and I reply, revealing that person's role
- I had forgotten that myself ^ (there are other things that are a little different that are strange now, for example the Vigilante kills on nights 3,5,7,etc) ... It'll be interesting to see how all this pans out. On one hand, it looks like the baddies have a lot of obstacles, but same with the innocents
clarification:
- the GR and Illusionist do not know each other but both know the Vigilante of course (by logical deduction) but the Vigilante does not know the identites of the GR or the Illusionist (at least yet, or at least for sure). The Vigilante and Defender don't have BTSC of course so the Defender doesn't know or is known by any of the above except for the Vig
Role Description[]
12 people:
3 Mafiosos 1 Grim Reaper 8 Innocents
- Mafia - win by killing all the Innocents and the Grim Reaper. Every night they choose one person to bump off via PMs. Also, any night, but not two nights in a row, the Mafia can opt to "rough up" someone, in which two implications are given:
- do not continue your line of accusations, or we will kill you
- do not reveal that you were roughed up, or we will kill you
- Roughing up is an option for the Mafia, and can have outcomes that aren't always good for the Mafia- so only do this if you've thought about it and want to.
- Also, at the beginning of the game, the Mafia is informed of who the Bomb is
- Grim Reaper - wins by killing the Vigilante (if this happens early enough, we will play for "second place"). The Grim Reaper kills every even-numbered night
Innocents - win by killing the Mafia and the Grim Reaper. During the day, a lynching vote occurs just like in Mafia 1, and the condemned person gets publicly executed and their role revealed
EACH INNOCENT HAS A SPECIAL ROLE:
- Doctor- save someone every night by PMing me. If this person is targeted for death by the Mafia and/or Grim Reaper, the person will be saved by the Doctor and live. The Doctor cannot save himself/herself, nor can the Doctor save the same person two times in a row
- Vigilante- knows who the Defender is. The Vigilante kills for the Innocents every odd-numbered night, except for the 1st night. Can choose not to kill
- Defender- knows who the Vigilante is. While the Defender is alive, the Vigilante cannot die, and gets out of every death situation with badass awesomeness. If the Defender dies, the Vigilante's identity is squeaked to the Grim Reaper if the GR is still alive!
- Inspector- PMed, by me, one Mafia identity at the beginning of every odd-numbered day (1st, 3rd and 5th for the three Mafiosos. The order is determined ahead of time and disregards whether the Mafioso is dead or alive... the Mafiosos do not know in what order they will be revealed to the Inspector)
- Sage- At the start of every even day, the Sage learns who the Doctor has been saving (for all nights after the Doctor dies, it will be as if the Doctor saved the Sage every night) as well as how many BADDIES are alive total {basically same as before, just changed a little and written better}
- Spy- can spy on anyone every even-numbered day. They PM me who they want to spy on, and I reply, revealing that person's role
- Bomb- knows who the Inspector is. When (if) the Bomb dies, there is a half chance that they will take their killer down with them. If their killer is the Mafia, a random Mafioso will be killed- however the Mafia is informed at the beginning of the game who the Bomb is. If the Bomb's killer is the Grim Reaper, the Grim Reaper would blow up. If the Bomb is lynched, the player who was most outspoken for the lynching (chosen by me) is blown up. If I can't decide, I pick randomly from the players that voted for the Bomb
- Illusionist- every even-numbered night (the same night that the Grim Reaper kills), the Illusionist can make illusionary copies of one person to protect them ONLY from the Grim Reaper (the Mafia ain't fooled). The Illusionist cannot protect themself, nor can they protect the same person twice in a row. When (if) the Grim Reaper dies, the Illusionist's role may be obselete- or it may morph into something else altogether.
Host's Summary[]
Game Idea and Expectations[]
I'm sure you're all familiar with Awesomeville... the central town of Mafia, Mafia II, and Mafia IV, Awesomeville is a place that has gone through many trials, conflicts, lynchings, arguments, deceptions and mafia uprisings than any other populated area in history. There is no better place to feel the invisible tide of past battles... but these aren't battles with soldiers slashing each other on a battlefield. These are battles carried out in secret, in darkness... these are struggles of tension and suspense. These battles are stories, stories of webs of lies cast like nets across a city. There are no armies in these battles. The battles are between justice and injustice, between innocence and crime... these battles are struggles of right and wrong and yin and yang and most impotantly, struggles of survival, struggles of elimination, struggles of the most suited victors... these struggles are won by those best fit to survive, by those with the wit and talent and luck and vivacity required to live on and win with glory, by those with the fighting spirit - a spirit that can only exist in harmony if it can be mantled along with the sword, with the gun, with the Penguin Pistol ©, with the cannon.
You all know what's at stake... the future of Awesomeville, and perhaps all of Content Phoenix. This is a focal point, a turning point, a momentous time in history. This is the final war in Awesomeville, the last battle, the end of the dynamic duel that is Mafia... The epic conclusion of Content Phoenix, hosted by the Host Gods Unreality and Frost, called Multimafia aka Mafia VIII, will occur later. That's different... THIS, Mafia II Redux, is NOW!
For while that very same Frost is away up north in Pengville, watching the events unfold in Mafia V... Unreality has been in the sky, watching something entirely different happen in Awesomeville. Something that would sway the course of the town forever. All was the same as it had been that for that crazy second battle, Mafia II... some of the people were different, yes, but many were the same. Much was restored to a middle balance, only to be re-upsetted by the re-arrival of the mafia. Mafia II Redux was inevitable from the start... and strangely enough, it happened fairly quickly after the original Mafia II, starting 4 days after the anniversary of Mafia II.
Enough hype. Here it is. Mafia II Redux. The end of the past and the beginning of the future. I'm randomizing the roles as we speak (or as I speak tongue.gif)
What better way to kick it off than the original intro? {changes in red ;D}
Game[]
Special commendations[]
Host disappointments[]
Alternate endings[]
Winning Faction[]
- Surge - Illusionist/Delusionist
- Einkil - Vigilante
- akaslickster - Defender
- JarZe - Doctor
- sparrowhawk - Sage
- Seahorse - Bomb
- Cherry Lane - Spy
- Grimtooth - Inspector
Day and Night Posts[]
| Intro |
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"Tell us the story of Awesomeville again, grandma!" the little grandkids shrieked excitedly. At the sign of her reluctant face, they pleaded even more. "Pleeeeease, grandma! All those villains and spies and mafiosos!" The grandma's eyes twinkled as she remembered her days as a boat hijacker in the canyon river behind the now-peaceful desert town of Tumbleweed, Zazarazalaf. "Alright, kids," she gave in, smiling. "But go to bed straight after the story." The kids huddled excitedly around the old lady, eager to hear the story again. "Awesomeville was a relatively normal, suburban town to the north of here, but still in the Zazarazalaf region," the grandma started. "North of the desert. In fact, the weather was always good in Awesomeville, leading to its growth. Not like Tumbleweed, where the same families have lived for generations. No, kids, Awesomeville had a diverse population, and was located on a major trade route to the capital city of Denbrain. Due to the money that flowed through Awesomeville, the Mafia soon set up a small cell of operations within the town. However, they were at first unaware that a mysterious Grim Reaper had already taken up residence in Awesomeville, and eager to test out his scythe. Once the Innocents of Awesomeville discovered they were being preyed on at night, they become an angry mob, lynching one person every day." The grandchildrens' eyes twinkled as they imagined Mafiosos and Grim Reapers burning at the stake and being hanged and shot and drowned and and... "Yes, their war against the baddies was short-lasted, though," the grandma said sadly, though she was not sad at all. She herself was a terrorist agent from the neighboring country of Quarky. "Due to a mistake by the Host God known only as Unreality due to his unreal nature in our real world, the Mafia was too strong, and although the Grim Reaper was burned at the stake quite early in the war, the Mafia took control of Awesomeville, killing the Innocents that stood in their way and setting it up as the center of the Mafia in our good country of Content Phoenix. Now, the sultan of Content Phoenix, a man named Phoenix, was not happy with the Mafia, and sent the Fiery Armies to root out Unawesomeville and make it Awesome again." "Yay!" the kids screamed in delight as the grandma told the tale of how the Mafiosos were slaughtered and their operation thrown out of the town. "Oh, that's not all," the grandma chuckled, with the hint of a cold smile. "Do you really think the Grim Reaper stays dead for long? No, he was back in Awesomeville, living like a peaceful citizen for a few years after the rebuilding. In fact, I think he was acting mayor for a couple months. Good guy, Reapy. But his bloodlust and connection to mysterious nighttime deaths could not be quelled for long. Soon he would be back to prey on Awesomeville." The kids stared in horror. "But that's not all," the grandma continued. "The Mafia, rankled at Sultan Phoenix's hasty cleanup of Awesomeville in the name of Unreality, started rebuilding their cell within Awesomeville, claiming to the Host God that the game would be fairer this time. Of course, Unreality knew this. He had optimized the rules of the game, making it better and awesomer than Mafia I." "It's a game, grandma?" the kids asked confusedly. "Never mind," the grandma said hastily, just as confused as her grandkids. Why had she said those strange words about a 'game'? This was no game! "Anyway," she continued. "My point is, the Mafia was back. And the Grim Reaper was back to old ways, too. Another hard time was coming for the sleepy town of Awesomeville, kids. But the Innocents were more prepared this time, thanks to the sultan. They were ready to fight back." (below are the changes in red, added at end of Mafia II original intro) "What happened then, Grandma?" the kids demanded. "Well... Mafia II ended with the Innocents taking control, I believe. But soon after there was an invasion of baddies... in which every baddie faction pretty much won! That was truly nuts... but in the end, we were left with the all-girls Mafia of CL, Nayana, Yoruichi-san and Kat taking control of the no-longer-peaceful town. But similar to the events right before Mafia II, there was a weeding out, a restoration. The Mafiosas went into hiding, but still ruled the town with an iron fist... the town that was repopulated when they realized they needed people to rule over with an iron fist. So, over time, the balance of Awesomeville returned while other fights went on in other regions of Awesomeville. But soon the people were tired of this shadowy crime ring controlling the markets... they knew that tensions were at a breaking point and there had to be a winner and a loser. There had to be an end, a final revolution. A final victory. One last time, blood would flow in the streets of Awesomeville." |
| Night One: Serenade of Fire |
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The Man yawned in his living room, eyes drooping as the TV droned about the recent Mafia upheavals. The new don was creating a darker agenda, they said. Bla bla bla, the Man thought. Z, Z, Z... Outside, on the Man's wide grassy lawn, another man stood, dressed in black leather assassin clothes. This was a professional Mafia hitman, disconnected from the Mafia bosses except for a few exchanged cell phones and bank cards. This lethal assassin stood calmly in the short, dewy grass. Biding his time. He knew that he would only have one shot. He flexed his gloved fingers tenderly. Every muscle had to be ready for the unexpected. Inside the house, the man yawned, flailing his head back carelessly. Thud. The bullet embedded itself in the wall with a cloud of wood dust. The headshot had just missed. "What..was...that.mmm" the Man mumbled. His eyes, glazed with sleep, drifted to the ceiling where the TV's glow cast different shades of light. A car drove by outside and cast moving shadows through the window, causing dark shapes to fly across the ceiling. The Man's eyes snapped open with an adrenaline-induced intensity: he swore he had just seen the silhouette of a man standing near the window, taking aim. The Man rolled off the couch, hitting the floor with a bump and peered out the window. A dark form was standing there. Poof! The bullet hit the couch. Outside the window, the assassin knew the game was up. The sniper rifle had failed twice due to circumstantial reasons. This was absolutely ridiculous! Nobody was this lucky. A stroke of anger hit the assassin... he was going to finish this, and now! The anger was replaced by a sort of secret lust as the assassin withdrew his M202A1 FLASH. He fit the flamethrower/rocketlauncher hybrid snugly on his shoulder and aimed. This baby would give the Man quite a serenade of fire. Inside the house, the Man was looking up at the window, blood pumping adrenaline through his system like chemical lightning. The Man considered his options. He could run... but where to? He could hide... but how? That would be equivalent to running, as the killer was right outside the window. Then... he wracked his brain... he could negotiate. Then he glanced at the bullets embedded in the wall and couch. These were expensive sniper bullets and this shadowy silhouette was a professional, no doubt about it. That left one option: fight. Outside, the assassin was about to slink away from the window and toward the back side of the house, using the glancing tree-shadow from another passing car to hide his movement. The car approached, and the moving shadows vaulted across the lawn toward him, ready to sweep him up away from the window... CRASH!!!! A couch hurtled through the window in an explosion of glass, flying through a maelstrom of silica shards as it rammed the assassin in his left side... it had all happened before he knew what hit him, and he fell with a sickening thud into the grass, crushed on the left by a smelly couch and impaled on the right by broken glass. The Man jumped through the window, landing on the couch and rolling off onto the grass just outside the radius of glass. He cautiously stepped forward, keeping his eyes glued on the still figure of the assassin. Every so often the Man would flick down and check to see where he could place his toes. He crept closer to the fallen assassin, inching toward that sniper rifle that had skidded out from under the shadow of the couch. Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the couch flared into the sky amid a raised whirlwind of glass (pulled up by air pressure due to the vacuum caused by the sudden raising of the couch ;D) and the assassin vaulted up, spinning as his hands increased their radius from the body, pulling out long, sharp knives in the process. The sniper rifle was kicked far away into the wet grass. The Man was flung backwards by an accidental kick to the jaw, and this saved him from a vorpal blade slash. He hit the grass and tumbled over, coming back to his feet as the assassin landed among blasted glass and sliced couch pieces, folding into a strategic crouch, focused only on the Man, and nothing else. "Ummmmm," said the Man. "What now?" "You've gotten lucky so far," the assassin growled. "Not this time." He lunged forward with the dual swords, slashing closer and closer to the Man, who backed up slowly, watching the pattern of flashing steel. When the assassin struck, so did the Man, grabbing the hilt of one of the sword and wrenching around a half-circle, causing the assassin to spin around the man's back. The man flipped and grabbed the assassin's other wrist... now the assassin was standing directly behind the Man and facing the same way, pulled flat against him by the Man's deathgrip on his wrists. The swords hung out over empty air, useless. Both moved at the same time: the Man kneed the assassin's right wrist, jarring the sword loose. Then he dove after it, catching it midair, while the assassin brought his foot up in an attempt to connect with the Man's groin. This plan failed, but the Man's did not: he grabbed the sword, hit the ground, rolled, and launched up, spinning to face the assassin. "Impossible," the assassin breathed... and flung himself at this skilled enemy, sword dancing in exotic, rapid-motion manuevres. The Man countered his foes's blows (rhymage ;D) and held his own against the onslaught, even sneaking in his own signature moves, forcing the assassin back to middle ground. But the assassin was an assassin after all, and he was sent here to kill the Man and not mess around with swordfighting. So he switched to one-handed parries, as if to show off his fencing skills, while secretly reaching back and grabbing a concealed pistol. The Man noticed the motion, and the assassin noticed the Man noticing the motion. They both knew it would end right here, right now. It all happened lightning-fast. The assassin hacked sideways with the sword, shattering steel and causing both parties to let go of the hilts; as he did this, he whipped the pistol forward and fired out a single shot. The Man, meanwhile, had leapt at the assassin with his feet, hitting the hitman's knees and rebounded upwards. The Man used the assassin as a backflip brace, vaulting overhead as the bullet blasted between his legs and arms... time slowed to a crawl... the man was an upside-down arch at the assassin's head level... the shock wave from the bullet was tickling his hair... the assassin looked on in surprise, slowly reaiming the pistol... the Man curved around overhead... BAM! Time returned to normal and the Man flopped lifelessly into the grass with a spurt of blood. The assassin smirked, and leaned down to finish the job, flipping this unexpected nemesis over. "Who are you?" the assassin seethed. "Why did you take so long to die? Are you the Vigilante? The Grim Reaper?" "If I was one of those, I wouldn't die," replied the Man with a smile, and reached out with his hand. The assassin looked down, confused, as the Man groped toward the assassin's right abdomenal area. Was this some kind of death throe? With a jolt, the assassin remembered the shard of glass still impaled in his right side (he had been ignoring it due to the adrenaline rush, combined with painkiller drugs he had taken beforehand). The Man found the shard and crushed it inward with his hand. The assassin screamed in pain and fury and collapsed unconscious almost instantly (soon to be dead - it was a fatal wound). The Man got up and hobbled back to his house, hand cusped over a bullethole in his side. Just a flesh wound, just a flesh wound. It is now Day One! Nobody is dead! The townies have gathered in Awesomeville Square, confused and angry. The news about Mafia upheavals is true then, they say. That means this is the first lynching.... and they certainly know about lynchings. Awesomeville Square has been the site of many lynchings, near escapes, total escapes, final battles, momentous explosions and successful jihads. It carries a lot of Mafia history - you are truly among the Square of the Great today, here to add your piece to the evolving story ;D {Day One ends in 24 hours, about 1pm EST} |
| Day One: Bandwagon |
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"Start talkin', GC!" Cherry Lane yelled, and the crowd veered toward this target like bloodthirsty sharks... then it diverted again, switching to target Shadow. "Eh," Shadow said flippantly as the mob bore down on him. "I don't care about this anyway." As the votes racked up against him, he walked calmly to the lynching post. "You, sir, do this lynching post a dishonor!" spat the executioner. "Many a baddie has died with valor and glory on this very podium... see that bloodstain? A man was killed here once with a Penguin Pistol © and it was very entertaining... but you? You're scum!" "Scum! Scum! Scum!" the crowd chanted, escalating from a murmer into a roar. "I'm afraid we've started a bandwagon we can't take back..." Surge observed. "I know," was GC's reply. "I hate to do it, but my own ass was on the line too." "...Scum! Scum! Scum!" the chant was shaking the cobbled square now, and Shadow walked up to the noose. "Meh," he said again. "It's stacked in favor against us anyway, so I don't really care, meh." "He is a baddie!" the executioner exclaimed, and Shadow's words traveled quickly around the group. "He said 'us'; he's a Mafioso!" the mob declared. "Meh. I'd just like to be hung now, please," Shadow started, but the executioner glared at him. "You deserve no such honor, Mafioso!" the executioner shouted and swept the axe off his back and cut down the Mafioso in front of the screaming, successful crowd. "Well good job," Shadow mumbled (the axe had gone through so cleanly that the top half of his body was still resting on his torso) "... the first successful bandwagon I've ever seen. Pity it had to be my own bandwagoning..." Then the top half of his body slumped off and the crowd cheered harder. Success on day one! Things were looking up so far for the Innocents - but these things are like gusts of wind and can change in an instant. The truly good games swing back and forth, tottering at the edge of determined victory before whipping back to the other side of the balance... how will Mafia II Redux pan out? It's up to you! AND SO BEGINS NIGHT TWO! |
| Night Two: Early Harvest |
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The moon was massive: a pale, luminescent circlet disc hanging in the dark heavens, splattered with a canopy of stars. The Grim Reaper looked up to enjoy the view. Said spectral shade of death was walking through a field of tall grass, using its scythe as a walking stick. "Aahhh," the Grim Reaper hissed, emitting a fresh cloud of decay. "Who thought wreaths from the darkest depths of the underworld couldn't enjoy the night sky?" In the distance, the backside of the target's house loomed. Cherry Lane's house "Why are you on the roof?" someone called from street. "It's my annual rooftop picnic," CL called back. "Care to join me?" "In the middle of the night?" the man on the street laughed, waved and kept on walking. CL chuckled. "That's good to see," said a soft voice behind her. "That's a good way to die; to end with comedy." CL barely had time to whip around and see an imposing figure of a Mafioso before she tumbled off the roof, accompanied by a basket of fruit and sandwiches. At the field of grass With a sound like a whisper, the Grim Reaper emerged from the tall grass; a blotted shadow among Nature's bosom. "What do we have heeeere?" the Grim Reaper snickered, looking at the slightly-ajar back door. "Someone has already been to this household?" The Grim Reaper listened, amplifying its hearing radius, sensing the slightest tremors, the clickety-clacks of mice feet, the creaks of wood, the ancient calls of ancient stone... and there, someone's voice, infinitely loud: "This should help you." Another voice, slightly more muffled: "Thanks." The Grim Reaper cocked its head to the side. Was that the voice of its victim? It had to be! Who else was in the house? ... there was only way to find out. The Grim Reaper sprinted across the open back lawn and dove onto the wall, clambering up like a spider. When the ghastly apparition got to the first-floor window, it peered in, zooming in with its otherworldy vision. There! A whisp of light from the TV covered up the motion of a second person, but the Grim Reaper was focused only on the target: their victim. The victim traversed the hall toward the window, causing the GR to drop down and hang onto the windowsill with bony, rotting fingers... the other arm dangled down, holding the trusted scythe. The victim must have seen the quick movement and went to look out of the window... the GR cursed its fast motion... the victim was about to make a discover... there were no other options left... The victim opened the window and the Grim Reaper somersaulted in from below the sill with a showy swish of the scythe. The GR rolled over the carpet and sprang up again, twisting around midair to face the victim, who swallowed and backed up, toward the wall. "What do you want with me?" the victim snapped. "What have I done?" "Death calllllssss you," hissed the Grim Reaper, ignoring the victim's question. "Okay, I get that part," mumbled the victim, inching along the wall toward the window. The Grim Reaper raised the scythe to strike - and the victim jumped out of the window. "Heh," the GR chuckled. "Nobody can survive such a fall." It looked out of the window - and the roles from a minute ago were reversed! The victim, hanging onto the windowsill, swung into the room, hitting the GR in the chest with both feet, riding the GR like a surfboard onto the floor and then rolling off, sprinting down the hallway to safety. The GR, hissing and spitting with uncontrollable anger, floated to its feet and came roaring down the hallway, a blur of darkness. Electricity in the house flickered and went off. The chase was on. The GR whirred through the house like a bolt of intelligent, sly lightning, turning corners, whipping through doors with a crackling intensity and relentlessly hunting down its prey. Then suddenly, this lightning was hit with a bullet. The Grim Reaper collapsed to the side, bleeding a gaseous essence of death. The victim was pointing an old-school pistol at the spot where the GR had just been. Now the victim curled his/her arm to point at the ground where the GR was getting up, beyond angry. "You aren't immortal anymore," the victim observed. "Neither are you," the Grim Reaper snarled, leaping into the air and slashing with the scythe. The victim ducked down, torso parallel with the floor as the scytheblade flew overhead like metallic mortality. "That remains to be seen," was the victim's reply, brandishing the pistol and aiming for another shot. The Grim Reaper saw the insignia on the side with a gasp: Penguin Pistol © !!! "This is the original Vigilante pistol!" the GR shrieked. "How did you get it???" "Let's just say it gets passed down in the profession," the Vigilante grinned and fired a shot - but the GR was too fast, and did a front flip, avoiding the bullet and bearing down viciously with the scythe. "You know you can't kill me!" the Vigilante laughed, sideswiping the scytheblade with a powerful lateral of the pistol. "My Defender is alive and well!" "You could call this... an early harvest," the GR chuckled, and brought the scythe back with such blinding speed it sliced the Penguin Pistol © in half and continued through the Vigilante's arm. The Vigilante looked down in utter surprise at his/her bleeding stump. Laughing, the GR slashed through the other wrist. "Yes you can't be killed... but let's see how many limbs I can chop off before your precious Defender arrives..." The Vigilante stared down at the separated Penguin Pistol ©, shocked by the demise of the legendary icon of the Vigilante name. The Vigilante then looked up into the cold yet fiery eyes of the phantasm of death, and realized this was the end. Maybe there was some kind of loophole. Maybe the GR had risen to new heights of power. Maybe the Defender was tangled up in something. Maybe, maybe, maybe... ... the GR brought the scythe down, straight through the abdomen of the Vigilante, and then again through the neck. The unthinkable had occurred! The Vigilante was as lacerated as that Penguin Pistol ©... the Grim Reaper cackled maniacally, also clueless as to how it happened. Was the game over this early? Why had the Vigilante died? Then the truth came into the light with sudden clarity. The Vigilante was wisps of shadowy light! The Grim Reaper was slicing apart a figment, an image, an illusion... an illusion! The fading hologram of the Vigilante guffawed as it sank away into the air, wisps of invisible vapor. The illusionary Penguin Pistol © disappeared, as well as the bullet holes and bullet wounds. The Grim Reaper threw down its scythe and screamed to the heavaens, a scream of unparalleled anger and determination. When the phantasm bent down to pick up the scythe, its eyes were consumed by an ungodly fire. "I will find you, hunt you down and kill you." In the Defender's secure basement "I can't thank you enough," the Vigilante told the Illusionist. "It was my duty... but doesn't the Grim Reaper know your identity now, as do I?" the Illusionist inquired. "Yes... but it can't be helped, can it?" the Vigilante pointed out. "The GR would anway if/when the Defender dies. The Innocents can get through this... but the Grim Reaper is angrier than ever and we need to be careful. You need to be careful." "Carefulness is not a luxury we can afford," the Illusionist grinned, and vaulted out of a window. Awesomeville Square Day Two begins now, and will end at 2:15 PM EST tomorrow, Friday, July 10th smile.gif Thanks to CL for playing and good luck to the remaining players The next-day newspaper was all about "CL's accidental demise" and her "fall from a late-night picnic adventure" but everyone knew the truth: it was murder. There would be blood to pay on Day Two... clarification:
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| Day Two: The Intrusion of Confusion Shatters the Illusion |
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The crowd was half-and-half weighed between Surge and GC... tangled nets of conspiracy and complexity were being cast across the lynchers, from Surge's sacrificial idea to the hunches of Sparrowhawk to the analysis of Grimtooth to the pleas of Grey Cells... these figures shouted and argued and debated throughout the day (only stopping for a hefty meal of course), and the town square was packed with interested - and angry - citizens. The message to the Mafia was clear: "We aren't afraid of you and we're striking back!" Eventually GC's vacuous claims and empty hints fell short of sedating the crowd's raging tide... as the clock ticked down, GC and Surge were pushed alternatingly up to the podium... sweat trickled down Einkil's face as the suspense drew to a close... 10 ... 9 ... 8 .. 7 .. 6 .. 5 . 4 . 3 2 ONE and GC was shot point blank from a shooter squad! As the sun sets on Day Two, Night Three begins... with the reduction of one more Mafioso, who gave his signature maniacal laugh before dying. "Mwahahahahahahaaa!" GC cackled. "Buwahahahahaaaaaaaaaa... two Mafiosos taken down in two lynches? Unheard of! The goodie luck - or skill? - has been tremendous! But do not think less of us, oh we are waiting in the wings... there is... one more of us..." he put his hand on his multiple gunshots to staunch the wound, but it was too late. Grey Cells was gone, and with him, another third of the Mafia potentiality. But there was still one third left. And you know what they say about cats backed into corners. |
| Night Three: Gas Leak |
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Grimtooth opened the door. "I'm here to fix my problem," the technician said, looking slightly out of breath. "Er, I meant your problem. Well 'your problem is my problem', hehe, company motto. So they're the same thing. So, uh, yeah... where is this gas leak?" "Uh, what gas leak?" Grimtooth said sharply, observing this visitor. They definitely looked out of breath. Running from something, perhaps? Police sirens could be heard wailing in the distance. With the death of GC, the cops had ransacked known Mafia hideouts and the final Mafioso/a was said to be in hiding. Somewhere. Here. "I think you better come in," Grimtooth murmured, ushering the 'technician' inside. "This will only take a minute and I'll be outta yer hair," the newcomer replied. "Well now that you mention it... there might have been a gas leak in the natural gas intake pump outside... we better go look," Grimtooth said ponderingly. "Aye," said the technician. "We better do that." Tension in the room was high as they headed out the backporch door into the moonlight. C'mon, Doctor, Grimtooth was silently begging. Where are you? On the way out, he had snatched something from the kitchen. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. "Well looky here, just a little cut," said the technician, observing the valve. "It'll only take me a few minutes. You can go back inside if you want." "Sure, sure," said Grimtooth suspiciously, wandering back to the house, fitting on a pair of spectacles. The moonlight created a mirrored surface and Grimtooth watched the 'technician' fuddle with the equipment. What was he going to do? Make an explosion? He had to have some way of trapping the gas in that case... this Mafioso was an idiot. Lighting a match would just burn his own face off. Grimtooth chuckled and headed back inside. That's when he heard the gunshot. Confused and cautious, he crept back outside, the kitchen knife clutched in his shirt. "You damn repairmen are too quick," someone was saying. "I can't have you patching up the little leak I made." "No, please - I - I'm just doing my job!" As Grimtooth rounded the corner, a drop of sweat on his forehead, held still by suspense (now he was really wishing for a doctor), he took the knife out of his shirt, ready, and peered around the corner... The technician, who was really a technician, was laying on the ground, a bulet in his side. A dark-clad figure held a long gun (fitted with silencer) pointed at his head. "I'm just doing my job!" the repairman sobbed. "That's exactly the prob-" the Mafioso/a's wind was knocked right out of 'em as Grimtooth dove into this foe, causing them to topple earthward. "Go, run, get out of here!" Grimtooth shouted, and the technician needed no second telling, scrambling off into the night (and ready to raise the town into another angry mob of course!) With a snarl the Mafioso/a pushed Grimtooth aside and took the slash in the gas valve, fitting the end of itself back into itself in a kind of loop. "Why bother?" Grimtooth roared, as the last Mafia member trained a steady gun on him. "Why my house?" "The police will be here any second," the Mafioso/a declared. "We don't have time for explanations." Dff. Dff. Two bullets. Chest. Head. Grimtooth collapsed, already dead. If a Doctor were on the wings, they would need to move in in the next minute or Grimtooth was permanently deceased. Wasting no time, the masked killer dragged Grimtooth inside the house, and found a matchbox. Time was ticking. The clock was ticking. The sirens grew louder. Breath hoarse from exertion, the Mafioso/a dashed outside with the matchbox and came around to the side of the house, almost slipping on the streak of Grimtooth's blood. The shadowy figure rattled open the matchbox... the police were pulling onto the other end of the street, cars swerving as they roared, flashing red and blue... the matchbox was empty! Empty! No, wait - just half a match was left, splintered at one end. The Mafioso/a picked it up with trembling fingers and struck it, holding it up with the awe of some kind of beacon that could save your life and your legacy. Because it was. One chance here. The police cars pulled up and the cops sprinted up to the main steps of Grimtooth's house. The technician had given them the right location. It was down to the wire. One cop saw the dark silhouette by the corner and it was over. Now or never - the Mafioso/a set fire to the plastic tubing, and dashed away. The cops followed, shouting and running and fumbling with flashlights. They were right by the house... this was the final chance for the Mafioso/a to get to a safe place... BOOOOOM! The house exploded from the inside out, various natural gas ducts erupting into flames and quickly expanding outwards. The house became a virulent fireball within seconds, and the police were thrown clear in the blast of wind and gaseous debris. The explosion behind, the uncertain future above, the Mafioso/a ran from the flames and to the cover of darkness.
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| Day Three: Three for Three |
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"You're killing an Innocent! An Innocent!" Kat declared angrily. "C'mon mousebrains! You only have a few minutes to change your minds! We can still direct the kill on a REAL baddie - such as sparrowhawk!" "We're sorry Kat..." said JarZe. "Yes, if you ARE the Illusionist as you claim," Einkil commented. "Then we'll be dead on tomorrow... but you waited so long before contradicting previous people's claims... I mean what were we to do?" "No, no, wait!" Kat cried, as the civilians rushed forward with torches. Her voice deepened, expanded to dark areas. "STOP." And the townspeople stopped, shocked. "I DETACHED MYSELF FROM IMMORTALITY TO DEFEAT MY FINAL FOE... I COULD'VE KILLED TONIGHT, YOU KNOW. I COULD BE SO CLOSE TO VICTORY... I KNOW THE VIGILANTE'S IDENTITY... BUT THIS CHANCE HAS BEEN ROBBED BY YOU FOOLISH INNOCENTS!" With that, the Grim Reaper twisted around in a flash of vapor and surged through the crowd, knocking over onlookers in a hasty blur to get to the street. There was a second of confusion, then the crowd rushed after this enemy, roaring in pursuit. "I am not the Illusionist, fools!" the GR's voice hissed backwards as the shadowy gaseous form blasted through the streets, chased by the townsfolk. "The Illusionist may have preventing my early harvest on the second night, but they are weak compared to the forces of darkness! They are all weak! I - WILL - PREVAIL - eventually." With that the powers of the underworld collapsed and the vapor distinegrated as the townsfolk and their non-ignorance of Kat's identity tumbled into its midst. "Curse... you...." the voice reverberated as Kat faded away. The Grim Reaper was gone... for now. But you know the Grim Reaper always comes back ;D |
| Day Three Addendum |
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As the citizens of Awesomeville dispersed to await Night Four, the Illusionist remained behind. Their skin was boiling, rippling, changing... they were growing... "Wh-what's happening to me?" the Illusionist cried, as his/her hair fell out in bunches. "No! Noooo!" Muscles bulged outward as clothes tore like rags. The skin was hardening like tough callous, and looked almost reptilian. The face was much the same, however, and amid steam and ripped clothes, said one simple fact: "I'm no longer the Illusionist." Another pause. Everyone was looking back at this figure, their face and identity obscured from view by a sudden cloud of fog. "I... I am the Delusionist!!!" the Delusionist roared, and pounded its own chest with the powerful fists. "These fists are made... to kill!" "But only on even nights," the Vigilante piped up. "I kill on odd nights." "Yes..." the Delusionist realized. "I get worn out. I can only kill every other night. Even nights. Yes. I do that now." "Did the skullbone expansion crush the speech center in his/her brain?" Dawh wondered, as the Delusionist lumbered off... |
| Night Four: Intersection |
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The Delusionist lumbered down the street, one thing in mind: their target. The last Mafioso prowled the streets, headed toward the same intersection. They had a bone to pick. The Doctor crept between houses, watching the intersection carefully. They were planning on saving someone from death tonight. Down another road on: a mom pushing a kid on a stroller. It was late evening, the forerunner of this intense night. The four-way intersection loomed like a beacon, a climax of suspense... the Delusionist shook the streets in its massive approach... the Mafioso fit a silencer on a black pistol, cracking his/her neck, ready for the upcoming encounter... the mom, on the street across from the Delusionist, gave a yelp and turned around, sprinting back home. That gave it up. It was now or never. Tonight was the night that something was going down. The Delusionist sprinted into the center, catching sight of JarZe, its target. The Doctor ran forward, pulling out a surgery case. He/she had a bad feeling about this. The Mafioso caught sight of Surge and also rushed to the intersection, vivid. The pistol raised. The fist clobbered... JarZe dodged to the side... a bullet spat out... the Delusionist roared... the Mafioso ran to the side to avoid a kick... the Delusionist roared in pain... JarZe ran sideways... another spitting sound as a bullet fired at the Mafioso's target... dodge... roar... a fist clobbered down like a boulder hammer into the street, causing a meteoric impact crater. The Mafioso jumped onto this fist as it launched into the air and fired three more shots directly into the Delusionist... the Doctor scrambled up the other side of this hulking, angry, behemoth. Greenish reptilian blood sprayed everywhere and the Delusionist hurled the Mafioso off, who slid across the asphalt like a toy. The Doctor swung around to the Delusionist's chest and started fixing up the bullets... the Delusionist wasn't going to die on the Doctor's watch! The Delusionist, through its blurred vision, caught sight of its target, and start pounding the fists against its chest. By the time the Doctor had patched up the Delusionist's wounds, JarZe had been beaten to a pulp... the dead Innocent slid to the ground. The Delusionist turned to look for the Mafioso, who had disappeared... ... one baddie was still left alive. The final baddie was hanging on by a mere thread... but JarZe had fallen; one less foe to conquer. As the night ended, Day Four began... sorry for the awkward-ish night post, what happened was kind of unique and I don't know how I could've done it with revealing less than I did. Anyway, thanks for playing, JarZe biggrin.gif |
| Day Four: Square Triumphant |
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The remaining players of Mafia II Redux stood in a circle, a tight circle, in Awesomeville square... many games had ended here before, with anything from explosions to fights. Now only one baddie was left. And he was in the center of the circle. "Sorry Ross," Einkil said. "But even if you're Innocent, our best bet is to-" Ross pulled out his signature Mafioso pistol and shot Einkil point blank in the heart. Or would have, if Slick the Defender had not leapt to his Vigilante's defense. The Defender tackled Einkil (who took the bullet in the arm) and rolled into Sparrowhawk the Sage, who tripped sideways into Seahorse. Ross laughed as they fell like dominoes... then froze, as did everyone, at the terrified look on seahorse's face as he toppled back and forth, on the verge of falling into the center of the circle. The bombswitch had accidentally broken loose and was dangling on a live wire. The bomb could go off any second. Ross backed up slowly, gun in hand. Slick pulled Einkil to safety. JarZe's medical equipment was nearby, and Slick knew how to use it. Seahorse had a panicked look... Surge backed away as well... "There's no choice," Ross said suddenly. "Cut one of the wires. Red or blue. Who cares!" "Shut up, Mafioso!" Surge snarled. "You know what, I may dabble in the fine art of illegal monetary trafficking as well as being a member in a complex family structure that goes back through centuries of tradition, what do you care?" Ross snapped back. "I care when you start killing people!" Surge and Ross were fuming, glaring at each other. "Uh, guys, Ross is actually right," seahorse muttered, taking out a pair of miniature scissors. The live wire zapped and sizzled. Seahorse reached deep within himself and popped open a tab. Three wires dangled inside. Red, Blue and Green. "Red!" Ross yelled. "Blue!" Surge called. Seahorse grabbed the green wire and cut. The live wire fell dead. The Bomb was now inactive. "Excellent," Ross's lip curled and he fired a round straight into Seahorse's gut... which of course bounced right off the metal plating and buried itself in Ross's intestine. The Mafioso screamed in pain, flailing to the side and tripping over the Defender. Slick reached up and swatted the gun away as Surge barreled after Rossbeemer. Seahorse was busy fixing himself up, and Slick was busy fixing Einkil up. That left Surge. "You know you've lost!" Surge cried as his skin rippled and bulged outward. Become the Delusionist was a transitionary thing... but Surge instinctively knew that this was the last time he would endure the painful process. The ability to kill would end with the need to kill: that was the difference between a vigilante like him and a murderer like Ross. Ross turned around to give Surge a quick glance, and almost tripped - Surge had doubled in size, a massive behemoth of a man. The Delusionist, formerly the Illusionist. "You know, maybe I could've pulled out a win!" Ross shouted as he pumped more energy into his stride. "If we hadn't've lynched the Grim Reaper, I could've maybe pulled a miracle outta my ass!" Surge chuckled as he chased down this Mafioso. "Yeah but think of what we've accomplished. Day One lynch: Mafioso. Day Two lynch: Mafioso. Day Three lynch: Grim Reaper. Day Four lynch: Mafioso. Bam bam bam bam. Perfect record! 4/4! Amazing! Never before done!" "Some of that was luck," Ross argued, running faster as he searched for the concealed knife in his jacket. "And let's face it: we had some pretty epic kills too. Sure our night one strike against the Vigilante was a cool fight but a failed kill... but the next two nights we nailed CL the Spy and Grimtooth the Inspector. Bam bam." "Last night you went after me... I remember now," Surge murmured. "Good thing the Doctor saved me, eh?" His legs, grown to the size of tree trunks, were rapidly covering the distance between the Delusionist and Ross. The two were on some obscure side road now. "Some way to pay back the Doctor!" laughed Ross. "You crushed poor JarZe to death right afterwards." "All signs pointed to him!" Surge argued, and, angered by Ross's taunting, leapt forward, smashing into the raod like a massive meteor. When the dust cleared and the behemoth got up, he was already shrinking. A steaming crater opened up before him. His head ached, and his skin was tightening back to normal. He knew he was done being the Delusionist. He was the Illusionist. And Ross was dead. The Mafioso was a flat pancake, finished once and for all. Surge whistled. "Four for four." He turned back to bring the news to his fellow surviving Innocents. This was the last conflict to grace Awesomeville Square... ever. Every faction had tried their hardest and put in their best... considering the occasional bias of the original Mafia II rules, everyone did pretty damn good. As Surge limped into Awesomeville Square, he knew it was Square Triumphant. The final skirmish had ended in a victory of well-deserved peace for Awesomeville and its inhabitants. Long live the tough Innocents of Awesomeville! Congrats Innocents and good game everyone ;D Thanks for playing! |
End of Game Roster[]
- Surge - Illusionist/Delusionist
- Einkil - Vigilante
- akaslickster - Defender
- JarZe - Doctor - Crushed by the Delusionist! N4
- GC - Mafioso - Welcomed by the firing squad! D2
- sparrowhawk - Sage
- rossbeemer - Mafioso - Body slammed by Surge! D4
- Shadow - Mafioso - Chopped in two! D1
- Seahorse - Bomb
- Cherry Lane - Spy - Toppled off of the roof! N2
- Fox - Grim Reaper - Banished back to the underworld! D3
- Grimtooth - Inspector - Shot and then blown up! N3
Actions[]
| List of actions |
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Night One
Day One
Night Two
Day Two
Night Three
Day Three
Day Three Addendum
Night Four
Day Four
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